Lisa Michaels' writing is often fresh and beautiful, and that alone makes this memoir worth reading. There were some places, deep in the book where it dragged a bit for me, not sure why, maybe just that I got tired of her particular angsts. Or, digging a bit more, I realize I got annoyed with, wearied by her anger towards her father, her hostility towards his wife. Not being in her situation, and her youthfulness myself, it was easier to see how hard she was being on both of them.
However, the ending in the mountains of Nepal, and the way she tells of her encounter with her own (possible, really likely) death brings the whole book to another very powerful level. To convey this I will let Lisa Michaels speak for herself: "It's difficult to build suspense in a tale of peril in the first person. The story survives, so it gives up its ending. But as I went through that day, I didn't know how it would end. That was the terror. (Or I could say, that is the terror, for all of us live with the ignorance of our fates,though we manage to submerge that fact for long stretches.)"