I think how much you like a book (or a movie or a piece of art, etc.) all depends on your situation and how you feel at the moment. I picked up Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert over a year ago, when it was the go-to-book for every book club out there. What was the hype, I needed to know.
I bought this (this was before I discovered the library) and about 50 pages in, I put it back on my bookshelf, completely uninspired and even sort of angry. Who was this woman who, at only 31, gave up on her marriage, dumped her husband, and then proceded to play the victim? Give me a break.
Now the movie is out, and as a huge fan of Julia Roberts, I rummaged through my books and picked it up again. I figured I had better read it before I went to see the movie, cause, more likely than not, the movie would probably ruin the chances that I EVER read the book. Plus BF had gone to see it with his mother already, and he actually said it was pretty good (?!?!) Read this to see why I’m surprised.
I think I’m in a completely different mindset now, cause I found that…I don’t hate it anymore. I couldn’t remember any of the first 50 pages (yep, that’s how strong an impression it made on me first time around), but I no longer feel anger towards Gilbert. If anything, I feel…worried.
I’ll make up my mind on whether I like it or not once I finish, but undeniably, it offers some great quotes that hit home…sometimes way too close for comfort.
“It all begins when the object of your adoration bestows upon you a heady, hallucinogenic dose of something you never even dared to admit that you wanted — an emotional speedball, perhaps, of thunderous love and roiling excitement. Soon you start craving that intense attention, with the hungry obsession of any junkie. When the drug is withheld, you promptly turn sick, crazy and depleted (not to mention resentful of the dealer who encouraged this addiction in the first place but who now refuses to pony up the good stuff anymore — despite the fact that you know he has it hidden somewhere, goddamn it, because he used to give it to you for free).”
“…both pleasure and devotion require a stress-free space in which to flourish and I’d been living in a giant trash compactor of nonstop anxiety.”