Committed by Elizabeth Gilbert

Well, life has been quite the whirlwind of excitement lately--as it tends to become--so even though I finished Committed by Elizabeth Gilbert *gulp* nearly two weeks ago, this is the first minute I've actually sat down to blog about it. (I'm giving you this explanation in consideration of your feelings since I know you've all just been weeping into your pillows every night wondering when I was going to tell you what I think of this book.)

(Okay, I apologize for that over-the-top sarcasm...)

Committed was a little bit different than I expected. Knowing that Gilbert wrote it after (during?) she and her fiance were traveling aimlessly around waiting to get the go-ahead for a green card wedding, I expected it to be similar to Eat, Pray, Love, and to include more about her actual traveling. (I believe I was slightly misled when I read an excerpt from the book, which happened to be one of the few portions which was about the people she met during her travels.) Most of the book consists of Gilbert's thoughts on the abundant research she's done on marriage. As a marriage skeptic trying to come to peace with marriage, Gilbert tries to uncover as much as she possibly can about marriage--the good and the bad. She shares various theories, statistics, words from experts, and stories from her own family (some of my favorite parts).

Even though it wasn't quite like I expected, I loved Committed from the get-go. Reading Gilbert's personal and down-to-earth writing was like a breath of fresh air. I've said it several times and I'll say it again: Gilbert is one of my writing role models. I hope that someday my writing will be as real as hers is.

That said, this book brought me face-to-face with my ideas about marriage. I won't get political (heaven forbid), so I'll stay out of that ballpark; my experience with the book was actually much more personal, since I'm very comfortable with my political views on marriage. I started to really think about marriage in relation to myself. 

Why Did I Decide to Study French?

This is the question I was pondering--well, more like grumbling--to myself as I struggled to stay awake, doing French homework, in the wee hours of this morning. I admit I ask myself this question often enough (particularly when my teacher is trying to explain the pronunciation difference between the words "tu" and "tout"). Having grown up in California, I'm quite aware that Spanish--or even Chinese or Arabic--is the more useful language. Who on earth speaks French in the middle of Utah, after all?

But as I was walking to school this morning I was gently reminded of all the reasons I decided to take French in the first place. I was walking with two of my classmates, Tyler and Sadie, discussing why we chose to take French instead of the ever-so-useful Spanish, and Tyler said that there's more to a language than usefulness.

And I remembered everything that's always drawn me to French. The way the vowels flow over the consonants, the gentle lilt of the words. The way it sounds foreign and exotic, but yet inspires some form of deja vu, some distant memory prodding my consciousness, a whispered call from an age of romance and castles and knights in armor.

My dad spent two years in France before he was married, living among the people and learning the language. I remember occasionally asking him at the dinner table to say something in French. He would indulge me, his voice lowering to a gentle murmur. I remember just the way his voice would change, even the way his expression would change, as though he were a different man. Then, of course, I would ask him what he said, and it would always be something like "you have smelly feet." But even my father's silly phrases had the delicate beauty of French.

I knew I wanted to learn French when I read Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat Pray Love. She writes about her love of Italian; she loves the way it sounds and she's determined to learn it even though it's only spoken in one small country. Every word is delicious to her. I feel that way about French (when I'm not having conjugations pounded into my brain). It's not just about being able to talk to people. It's about having this language, a central piece of a cultural puzzle, burned into your being. Learning a language changes who you are--and every language has the potential to change you in a different way.

Now, there are certainly practical reasons for learning French. France is the most visited country in the world, so it's a very important language in the tourism industry, which is where I'm hoping to go with my career. French is very valuable for an English major; much of the Western canon was originally written in French (much more so than Spanish). But at the core of it is that I love French. I want to master the sounds and the words and that subtle, lilting tone. I want the words to come spilling out of my mouth without any effort, a rhythmic singing. I want French to be part of me.

So I trudge through the tests. And the pronunciation. And the conjugations. And the grammar. Why? Because it's worth it. 

Eat Pray Love

From the beginning of this blog, I fully intended to write about all the books I read.  I really did.  And then, somehow…that just hasn’t happened yet.

            I’m not really sure why, since I’ve been reading quite a bit lately.  In fact, reading takes up about half of all my waking hours this summer.  So I’ve decided to start getting some of my book thoughts out there.

            I want to start with Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, which I actually read some weeks ago, so bear with me if I have some trouble remembering names, places, etc.

            As I imagine most of you have noticed, Eat Pray Love has been a huge hit in our country since the day it was published.  And why not?  In the spirit of all the latest American trends, the book is packed with fanciful world travels that are taken up in the name of soul-searching; deep spiritual insights that are attached to no particular denomination, but generally revolve around meditation and Yoga; miraculous financial donations that help a single mother in another part of the world to get a house; the wonderful feminist vow of abstinence in order to become a strong woman independent of any man; the early (but not too early) breaking of this vow and passionate sex.  And, of course, the whole thing is a true story.  In the view of modern America, what’s not to love?

           I admit it. I did love this book.  But not for its trendiness.  I didn’t run out and take up meditating an hour a day, like I imagine some people did after reading this book (and they probably dropped the practice in less than a week).  I loved it because I decided from the beginning that I wasn’t going to love it for the same reasons that everyone else loves it.  If there was any truth in that book, I decided to discover it for myself.

            One of the things I like about Elizabeth Gilbert is that she really, genuinely believes in the trends she follows (most of them, anyway). I had to admire that. 

            But I should probably start at the beginning.

            I had been very excited to read Gilbert’s book, having seen the movie a couple times and really liking it.  I had certain expectations of the book.  Those expectations were fulfilled in practically every way.

            The book was kind of, well, obvious.  But that was okay, because I expected it to be well-written, funny, lighthearted but with a good dose of sober, inspiring and above all, enjoyable, and it was all these things.

            Probably my favorite part of the book (and, from other reviews I’ve read, everyone else’s least favorite part) was the Italy portion at the beginning of the book.  This was partly because I’ve been to Italy and I absolutely love it, and partly because I could sort of relate to Gilbert’s experience there (not so with India and Indonesia).  I loved that she was looking to enjoy pleasure – real pleasure, not sitting in front of a TV and “vegging.”  That’s something that I’ve always believed in, and I really liked her description and experience of it, although it didn’t get as much space as the other portions of the book.

            India would have to be my second favorite.  Like Gilbert, I felt very introspective as I read this part.  She has quite a talent for immersing her readers in her own emotions, and I was beginning to examine myself and my capacity for patience, harmony and love – and what these vague words really mean relating to me.  I had my own realizations regarding my own religious beliefs that were completely different than Gilbert’s realizations.  I liked that Gilbert actually seemed to be meaning for that to happen.  Generally, when I come to different conclusions as I’m reading a book than the author did, I imagine the author would be none too happy to discover that her book didn’t achieve what she meant it to achieve.  But in the case of Gilbert, I felt that she didn’t expect everyone to think the same way and the same things that she thinks.  Actually, I don’t think she wants anyone to come to the same conclusions she did.  It seemed to me that she was encouraging me to have my own spiritual experience, not to take a piece out of hers. 

            Then there was Indonesia, which was…well…even after all this time, I’m not sure what to think of it.  What did she learn there?  It’s not easy to say.  I guess she learned how to be a normal person again.

            The Bali portion was generally enjoyable, but this is the part where she breaks her vow of abstinence for the man she’s in love with.  Okay, that’s better than it could be, although not in my particular line of belief, but I already know she has a different belief system than I do.  My problem isn’t with the fact that she does it…it’s just…I feel pretty awkward when memoirs get so personal.  I mean, if this was a novel, it wouldn’t be that bad – nothing is explicit or anything.  But heck, I don’t even know Elizabeth Gilbert, and yet I now know all these things about her private life.  It’s one thing to read about her eating pizza and meditating; it’s totally another to read about her personal, private life with a man.  I just don’t understand why anyone would put something like that out into the world for any random stranger to read (actually, several million random strangers).  But that’s the world today: nothing is private, everything is shared with everyone else.  And the fact that the book ends on this note of modern trendiness is a little disheartening. 

            Overall, I wouldn’t skip this book just because of its popularity.  I needed a fun read, and this was definitely a fun read without being fluff.  It met all my expectations to a T and even offered a few pearls of wisdom at times.  3 stars.