I’m currently reading “Eat, Pray, Love” by Elizabeth Gilbert. It’s that airy fairy finding yourself mid-life crisis book that Oprah made famous with her book club. I think it’s even one of her FAVOURITE THINGS. OMG OPRAH GIVE IT TO ME FOR FREE AND THROW IN A CAR *POSITIVITY SQUEAL*.
I’ve had a few conversations with people about it. Obviously, living in Indonesia, quite a few people around the traps have read it because a third of the book is set in Bali. A lot of the people I associate with are lovable cynical bastards, so of course, they think it’s a load of self-indulgent tripe.
I’m inclined to agree so far.
Conversing with a coworker who had “read the Bali bit while waiting for my wife at the doctors,” we generally agreed that it fits into the slot of solving-your-midlife-crisis-through-yoga books that Oprah audiences seem to love so much, that’s the only reason we could come up with for its huge success.
While her writing is not bad at all, it’s more the clap happy American “self-help book pretending not to be a self-help book” act that I can’t deal with. She’s trying to deny that she’s a self-obsessed yuppie through most of the passages I have read so far, but it’s NOT true.
I mean, books that reference spirituality and finding ones self aren’t usually my cup of tea anyway, so it’s probably just a genre issue. If you love guff about middle class people solving their post-divorce mental health issues by galavanting around the world and eating prosciutto and going to temples, then fine, read away.
I just don’t understand how books like this can be heaped with so much literary praise though. It’s no more insightful than most personal blogs.
I summarized the first third of the book, set in Italy, for another coworker today. Here’s my synopsis:
I have depression and want a divorce
I’m in Italy
Italy is wonderful
I’m eating lots of food
I speak Italian now
EAT EAT EAT BELLISIMO AMORE MISC ITALIAN WORDS BUFFALO MOZARELLA EAT EAT EAT
I’m less sad.
Italy is beautiful.
EAT EAT EAT HAHA I SPEAK ITALIAN AND YOU DON’T SO I’VE STOPPED EVEN BOTHERING TO TRANSLATE STUFF COS I’M SO SMUG EAT EAT EAT
My pants don’t fit.
Let’s have a cry about how amazingly transformative all this food and Italian has been.
Now I’m going to India.
I expect the next section will replace the word EAT with PRAY and the Italian lessons with Yoga classes. If she gushes about praying as much as she gushes about pasta, I highly doubt I’m going to make it through to the section set in Bali.
Now I don’t want to come over all bitchy like (even though I clearly find my soul and happiness through the gentle art of being snarky), but yes, it’s great that you solved your mental health issues and found happiness by taking a year of travel and I truly wish the author all the health in the world, but I don’t like the book.
PS. On another note, I’m going on a spiritual journey to find myself to Komodo Island for the next week so won’t be blogging for a bit. When I’m back, expect some spiritual musings on how spiritually enlightening it was to go snorkeling and how beautiful all the people we met were and how eating grilled fish was the height of pleasure. Or, expect anecdotes about how the dragons almost ate me but then I squealed and runned away. And expect shitloads of photos!
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One of the best parts about going home (besides seeing friends and family and all of that) is reading my hometown newspaper, the Border Mail.
It’s always full of interesting stories, and I do try and keep up with it when I am in Sydney (my coworkers can attest to this… I am always forwarding them crap from it).
Lately there have been a few stories that have grabbed my attention.
-There was a big story in when I was down home about how anyone caught buying Underbelly DVDs in Albury (which is in NSW) and taking them back to Wodonga (a 5 minute drive from Albury, in Victoria, where Underbelly has been banned from being screened to due to court proceedings) will face the full consequences of the law. Good luck policing that one. Are they going to search cars?
-Lately there has been a massive war in the letters page over whether it is rude to stare at baby twins in prams that has had the whole town talking.
It started with this letter;
To all the sticky beaks, well-wishers and the plain just rude people, stop looking in our pram.
We
are 4-month-old twin babies and wherever we go people are leaning in
our pram breathing smoky, germy breath on us, needing to know if we are
girls – yes we have pink dresses on. are we identical – no.
Yes we are cute and yes our mum is very lucky.
We
are human beings not a stage show for you to invite your kids or your
sister over to have a look after you have stopped us in our tracks, we
have somewhere to be as well. what gives you the right to stand in
front of the pram and stop us from walking down the street.
We are
twins and that does not give you the right to invade our personal
space, people with single babies dont get this nearly as much or if
ever.
…
So if you’re one of those people who just can’t resist
looking in someone’s pram and stopping mothers or fathers in the street
just think how would you feel if your car got stopped every five metres
on the road and people poked their head in the window and asked you a
million obvious questions.
We don’t care what your story is just leave us alone.
This controversial letter prompted a huge backlash from people who thought it was rude, unAustralian, all manner of things. Then more people chimed in to support the obviously stressed young mum, and it was going back and forth and back and forth.
And now, there has been a final part of the story. A last response from the mother;
"To all the negative people who
responded to my letter regarding people looking in my pram, I didn’t
realise that I would be the talking point at a lot of places in
Albury-Wodonga.
I did not ask in here for your opinion only that you keep your heads and hands out of my pram and leave me alone. Only I tried to write it nicely the first time.
I
don’t want people stopping me in the street and I am sick of trying to
get somewhere only to be stopped twenty times, so just leave me alone."
The scary thing is, people are STILL probably talking about their outrage over these letters.
-There is a suburb/housing estate in Albury called Norris Park. And a plucky young local signwriter then decided to rename it "Chuck Norris Park". See here. Then, someone else decided to redo the whole thing as Mr T Park. See here. (from Albury Wodonga Online, the Border Mail doesn’t have the stories online).
The council, of course was pretty pissed off. And then, the cheeky signwriters started fueding. Apparently, the first one only used vinyl stick on letters that were easy to remove, while the second prankster used paint. The first one believed that the second’s action were really irresponsible. Hilarious!
The local paper is always worth a read. I don’t know whether it’s because there are more quirky characters down there, less serious news, or the paper is a bit tabloid and maybe the editors and journos just see the humor in it all, but you usually find a laugh in there somewhere.
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