I’ve been reading Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat, Pray, Love and I am not only fascinated with her story, I’m compelled to be a better writer. Rather, I wish I could write better, now, instantly. That compelling feeling is more of a knee-jerk reaction, nearly a jealousy, but not quite.
Her words are lyrical, yet earthy. She makes you want to befriend her instantly. She makes you want to travel to those wonderful countries – seeking out gurus and chefs and old men and young children who cannot speak English, but what does it matter?
Gilbert also makes me not want to have a divorce, nor a sad messy love affair. Her anguish over those lost loves is conveyed with a visceral despondence.
Oh, and she makes us hunger, mostly for that glorious pasta and pizza, but steadily a desire takes hold for enlightenment, self-actualization and contentment.
And I'm not even finished yet.
Bravo Liz - Bravo.