If you like memoirs about women who struggle with body image and personal relationships, take yoga, get deeper into their issues, travel to India, learn a few things, and come home to some interesting conclusions, DO NOT BE FOOLED INTO READING THIS. It is just not a good addition to the genre.
I pressed on, and managed to finish within a few hours of my last update. It's quite astounding how bad this book is, consider how much promise I had thought it held. A few times, I was convinced I had some weird WIlliam S BUrroughs version where the first chapter had been chopped up into pieces, the words reconfigured in different orders yet saying the same thing over and over again. No but really, the author seems like a person with a lot to offer, but what kind of world are we living in where a book so clearly unfinished is allowed to go to print based, I assume, on the author's (vast, vast) connections with famous (famous, so, so famous) people? I love yoga/eating disorder/trip to india memoirs, check my 'read' shelf for a small plethora. But this attempt is unfinished, and it reads as though the authors journey is unfinished, and rather circular. I might like to read something by her called "wisdom for teachers', since those moments held the most substance. Reading other reactions from readers who seem to have enjoyed the book, I wonder if I'm just not the target market, and if perhaps this book is aimed at a different generation. One of inconsolable whiners with too many friends in publishing.