Ah I loved this book. It wasn't what I was expecting -- I thought it might be some jolly, smart-arse snide thing about yoga cults. There's a sharp look at the world of western yogics, for sure. But this is a deep, thoughtful and yet incredibly funny bit of memoir. Alice Williams is both a really normal, normally-vulnerable, conflicted woman, and an exceptionally astute observer of herself and others, the strange world we're so familiar with, a world of hidden pain and pretentious wellness. She spares herself not at all in this memoir, and her portraits of fellow-travellers in eating disorder support groups, yoga training, Buddhist acolytes and her own family are tender, adamantine and cheeringly honest. I will say this as I am one of the supporting characters. But if I say it's a good book, it's because I'm a smart reader and I really think it is.
There's no bullshit here. Just a woman working through her own pain, bravely and steadily, and finding she's not the only one. If you read this you will find the same thing.
Bad Yogi -- really an excellent book, basically.