Really not sure what the author thought readers would make of this one. Seeing as the author is a FEMALE TRAVEL WRITER, I'd assume she'd be fairly aware that her targeted demographic (i.e. the people who might unfortunately pick up her book) would be... oh! WOMEN INTERESTED IN TRAVEL. And yet...
The author spends half the book slagging off the entire female population! My favourite extract (for sheer ridiculousness):
"To this day most of my closest friends are men. I don't know why. Maybe it's because I grew up with an older brother and his friends were there so often that I never saw boys as an 'us and them' binary. Perhaps it's because I didn't enjoy the kind of things I was expected to do with girls - shopping, applying make-up, getting excited about cupcakes - and the activities I love to do (hiking, camping, kayaking) are seen as much less feminine and attract more men than women. Or maybe it's because I've always been more of a straight talker, I say things as I see them, and most of the other women I know don't seem to like that quality in another woman. In any case, I've always found relationships with women more tricky, more multi-layered."
Also, WHAT is that line about women getting excited about cupcakes?? Where has that come from!!
Please, someone tell me, what is Phoebe Smith's problem? For a book centred around pilgrimage - and thus, spirituality, true self, etc. etc., - she's hardly what I'd call enlightened. She criticises women at every turn and, several times, massively generalises them. She insists on putting half the world population in this little tiny box and throwing it off the edge of a cliff to reinforce gender stereotypes. All this is done with the goal of distinguishing herself as special. It all felt very 'pick-me' girl, and was honestly infuriating.
Anyway, to begin with I thought I just didn't enjoy her writing. Bad editing, zero transitions between memories and present events, and her descriptions of pilgrim trails read as lifted Wikipedia entries. She also insisted on carrying through a crappy metaphor about losing her voice because she was in a band as a teenage all the way through the book - "the singer who cannot sing". Please stop.
But as I continued (heroically) on, I realised: nope. I also dislike her. As a person. Which I really wasn't sure about mentioning, but she recounts literally everything that has happened to her as some massive - and unfailingly unique - trauma. Goes as far as to say the universe had "conspired" to overshadow her mother's death with 9/11. Seriously, I'm not kidding. And the birth of her baby with the coronavirus pandemic. And honestly, I'm sure they were both difficult times, but pull your head out of your arse there, girl. Not only that, you've just spent half the book slagging off other women (and KNOWINGLY getting it off with their partners), saying how all the men crowded around you at a wedding because the women were only capable of talking about breastfeeding and nappies. And then you get accidentally pregnant and suddenly you find that behaviour acceptable.
So essentially, the author shows zero empathy or interest in anyone's issues, but doesn't understand why nobody is bending over backwards when she runs into (mainly self-inflicted) difficulties. Also STOP SAYING EVERYONE ABANDONS YOU. At points, she was even claiming friends had abandoned her by letting HER drift away from the friendship.
To summarise the book: nothing is Phoebe Smith's fault (ever) and everything is tougher for her. She also made a point of comparing herself to others at every step, to highlight her uniqueness.
Two stars instead of one as, by the end, I'd decided the book was satire (noone could possibly be this self-obsessed and self-pitying), which made the whole ordeal a lot more enjoyable.