After reading The Last American Man, I fell in love with Elizabeth Gilbert's voice. Her pop culture references, her use of the word "fuckin'," the scattered "duh"s and "um"s - it's my language. Except so much better.
She continues this natural style in Eat, Pray, Love, except she turns the lens on herself. After a divorce, a devastating love affair, then financial problems, Gilbert finds herself drained and listless. Several "coincidences" occur and she realizes that she is looking for spiritual guidance.
The book is a journal of her travels through "The Three I's" - Italy, India, and Indonesia. Each pearl of a story represents a bead on a meditation string, though it is hard to imagine God's response to ruminations on gelato, swearing in Italian, sex (and lack of it), and self-doubt.
The self-doubt rolls into self-pity, which is hard to stomach when knowing Gilbert is a successful writer... in Rome. Or a yoga retreat. Or Bali. And, though loneliness follows one anywhere on a globe, I never got the sense of bone-aching depression, except in the first few "beads."
Still, I rooted for Gilbert's happiness and yoga enlightenment. I wanted her to find love again. And, I found a new desire to study meditation practices. This book is not for everyone, but it did touch me.
4.0 out of 5.0 East India Cocktails.