On my bookshelf, part deux

Note: Tomorrow is my day for homeschooling thoughts. I'm a bit behind because of the sick baby situation, but hope to be caught up by the morning.

I figured that while I was on a roll with the library books (I didn't drop a single one in spaghetti sauce, returned them basically on-time, and managed to shield them from both baby spit-up and other excretions), I should check out a few more. The verdict?

One I loved.

And the other? 

Let's just say that if it weren't a library book, I would have repurposed it to clean H's backside.

To start on a cheerful note, I thoroughly enjoyed The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. I hadn't expected to like it to the degree that I did, primarily because of the cutesy title. The book is written in letter form, and I was pleased with how richly developed many of the characters are. Yes, this is still a "beach read," but I really savored it-- the letter style meant that I could easily read it in small snippets of time as I nursed, folded laundry during quiet time, and lay in bed at night.

Unfortunately, the other book did NOT live up to whatever expectations I might have had going into it. I should have known this would be the case when I heard that Oprah liked it. I simply cannot find it in myself to like anything she likes, just because she likes it.

Eat, Pray, Love was the most narcissistic excuse for a book I've read in a long time, if ever. Setting aside the Christian-bashing (Catholic-bashing in particular), I still found Elizabeth Gilbert impossible to respect. If, at even one point in the book, she had said, "You know, I really did a terrible thing to my husband. I wish we had tried counseling together. I wish we had visited Italy together. Or gone to India. Together. Or Indonesia, or any other I-country. Or done any of the ridiculous things I did to 'discover myself' together before I chucked him to the curb and then made ridiculous excuses for my guilt. Maybe it would have worked. Maybe not. But at least I would have tried," then I could have at least respected her a bit. 

Instead, Gilbert spends a good portion of the book explaining how terribly miserable she was with her husband, even though she can't name a single fault of his. Then she falls in lust with a person who doesn't really want her, and who makes this rather clear to her, and then she tries to convince us this is love. Umm, right. 

I'll skip complaining about Italy, mainly because it just makes me hungry to think about the mass quantities of gelato and pizza she consumed. However, India drove me right up the wall, between the celebrity hotspot of an ashram and the former Catholic nun (!) who tells her that "Guilt's just your ego's way of tricking you into thinking that you've made moral progress."

Really???

Please raise your hand if the FORMER part of "former Catholic nun" comes as a surprise.

Anyone?

Finally, Gilbert ends up in Indonesia with someone JUST. LIKE. HERSELF. Someone who, having been married before, will settle for someone who doesn't give 100% to the relationship and who convinces himself that's enough. Ridiculous.

I have to stop here. I'm feeling annoyed that I've spent this much time thinking about someone who has spent way too much time thinking about herself.