Eat Pray Love: One Woman's Search For Everything Across Italy, India And Indonesia

Eat Pray Love: One Woman's Search For Everything Across Italy, India And Indonesia

Hardcover | February 16, 2006

byElizabeth Gilbert

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This beautifully written, heartfelt memoir touched a nerve among both readers and reviewers. Elizabeth Gilbert tells how she made the difficult choice to leave behind all the trappings of modern American success (marriage, house in the country, career) and find, instead, what she truly wanted from life. Setting out for a year to study three different aspects of her nature amid three different cultures, Gilbert explored the art of pleasure in Italy and the art of devotion in India, and then a balance between the two on the Indonesian island of Bali. By turns rapturous and rueful, this wise and funny author (whom Booklist calls “Anne Lamott’s hip, yoga- practicing, footloose younger sister”) is poised to garner yet more adoring fans.
 

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Eat Pray Love: One Woman's Search For Everything Across Italy, India And Indonesia

Hardcover | February 16, 2006
In stock online Not available in stores
$31.13 online $36.00 (save 13%)

From the Publisher

This beautifully written, heartfelt memoir touched a nerve among both readers and reviewers. Elizabeth Gilbert tells how she made the difficult choice to leave behind all the trappings of modern American success (marriage, house in the country, career) and find, instead, what she truly wanted from life. Setting out for a year to study three different aspects of her nature amid three different cult...

Elizabeth Gilbert is the author of a short story collection, Pilgrims-a finalist for the PEN/Hemingway Award, and winner of the 1999 John C. Zacharis First Book Award from Ploughshares-and a novel, Stern Men. A Pushcart Prize winner and National Magazine Award-nominated journalist, she works as writer-at-large for GQ. Her journalism has been published in Harper's Bazaar, Spin, and The New York Times Magazine, and her...

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Format:HardcoverDimensions:352 pages, 9.25 × 6.2 × 1.17 inPublished:February 16, 2006Publisher:Penguin Publishing GroupLanguage:English

The following ISBNs are associated with this title:

ISBN - 10:0670034711

ISBN - 13:9780670034710

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Reviews

Rated 5 out of 5 by from Definitely on your must-read list!!! “Eat, Pray, Love” has thrived as being see as an effective memoir, tying together many aspects that create these beautiful pieces; self-discovery, drama and conflict and so many more. Not only has Gilbert created a story that has inspired many, including myself, to step foot on our own journey of self-discoveries but has brought something so spiritual to many lives, touching many that thought they would remain untouched. The drama within “Eat, Pray, Love” may not be like the typical romance novels for one reason only: it’s real. Gilbert trusts readers with the hurt and the anger of her wronged relationships but as well as the beauty and wholeness during her mediations and spiritual experiences. Throughout the whole memoir, there is this rawness behind every emotion that is written to page, allowing for that much more of a moving experience for all of Gilbert’s readers. The conflict that Gilbert faces is not often with others, but with herself. As she discovers more about herself, we are able to see that struggle between what used to be and what is currently happening. Readers can relate (though it may not be in the same situation) to the struggle that Gilbert goes through on a day to day basis during her year abroad with herself. She fights off old habits and tries to create new ones while trying to escape the negativity that follows close behind her, displaying a brilliant way to overcome such matters. The self-discovery in this memoir is the key aspect through her whole journey. Gilbert suffers immensely but also empowers this spiritual nature that seems almost surreal. She brings readers along to not only discover who she is, but advice that everyone in life could use. It is definitely a must-read. You will not be disappointed.
Date published: 2016-04-01
Rated 5 out of 5 by from This book is a must-read on your to-do list!! “Eat, Pray, Love” has thrived as being see as an effective memoir, tying together many aspects that create these beautiful pieces; self-discovery, drama and conflict and so many more. Not only has Gilbert created a story that has inspired many, including myself, to step foot on our own journey of self-discoveries but has brought something so spiritual to many lives, touching many that thought they would remain untouched. The drama within “Eat, Pray, Love” may not be like the typical romance novels for one reason only: it’s real. Gilbert trusts readers with the hurt and the anger of her wronged relationships but as well as the beauty and wholeness during her mediations and spiritual experiences. Throughout the whole memoir, there is this rawness behind every emotion that is written to page, allowing for that much more of a moving experience for all of Gilbert’s readers. The conflict that Gilbert faces is not often with others, but with herself. As she discovers more about herself, we are able to see that struggle between what used to be and what is currently happening. Readers can relate (though it may not be in the same situation) to the struggle that Gilbert goes through on a day to day basis during her year abroad with herself. She fights off old habits and tries to create new ones while trying to escape the negativity that follows close behind her, displaying a brilliant way to overcome such matters. The self-discovery in this memoir is the key aspect through her whole journey. Gilbert suffers immensely but also empowers this spiritual nature that seems almost surreal. She brings readers along to not only discover who she is, but advice that everyone in life could use. It is definitely a must-read. You will not be disappointed.
Date published: 2016-04-01
Rated 2 out of 5 by from Can not get through it! I have tried to get through this book...I am about halfway and it is absolute torture. I want to finish it just so I can say I read it but it is such a bore to me. Maybe it is my mindset...I truly do not understand what all the hype is about. I am putting it back on my shelf and maybe reconsider reading in the future.
Date published: 2010-09-11
Rated 5 out of 5 by from Eat, pray, love What a wonderful book! I enjoyed every minute of it.
Date published: 2008-01-14
Rated 5 out of 5 by from The book everyone needs to read Elizabeth Gilbert takes the reader on a wild and enchanting ride through three different counties over the course of one year in her life in this addictive memoir. The book starts while she is going through a horrible period in her marriage where she is unbelievably unhappy. She decides to end her marriage, and to start to try to find herself again. This involved taking up Italian classes, which she had always wanted to do, but put off because life was always too busy. Suddenly within a few months she sells almost everything she owned, puts the precious stuff in to storage and moves to Italy. This starts the year of her life where she travels through Italy, India, and finally Indonesia. While in Italy she eats and takes in all and any of the pleasures of amazing Italian food; in India she prays and finds spirituality, and in Indonesia she...well...the title is self explanatory. The most amazing part of this wonderful story in the humor she finds in the mundane of everyday life. She spins a web with words that enables the reader to actually be able to envision the places she visits, from the gray waters of Venice, to the volcanic beaches of Indonesia. Plus she is very insightful and the reader is able to see themselves in her as she tries to reconstruct herself. This book is one that everyone should read, because seeing this woman try to help herself become a better person reminds ourselves that we all should try to become better people everyday as well, even if we aren't traveling the world.
Date published: 2006-07-09
Rated 5 out of 5 by from Wonderful Elizabeth Gilbert has a wonderful sense of humour and is a very visual writer. I felt like hoping on a plane to India to meditate. Enjoyed in very much, a real page turner.
Date published: 2006-07-09
Rated 5 out of 5 by from Excellent Enjoyed the book very much. Even though the writer is going on a painful journey, she inputs a great deal of humour into the story. I felt like moving to India to meditate.
Date published: 2006-07-08
Rated 4 out of 5 by from I adored it! For those of us who are still searching, for those of us who are still longing, for those of us who are still dreaming of going on a journey around the world and down the path of self discovery and self indulgence Thank you Elizabeth Gilbert! This book will make you green with envy and inspire you to jump on a plane, look at your life, find peace, find your God and have some Gelato! You'll laugh, you'll cry and you'll drool over the Italian food!
Date published: 2006-06-07

Extra Content

Read from the Book

1I wish Giovanni would kiss me.Oh, but there are so many reasons why this would be a terrible idea. To begin with, Giovanni is ten years younger than I am, and, like most Italian guys in their twenties, he still lives with his mother. These facts alone make him an unlikely romantic partner for me, given that I am a professional American woman in my mid-thirties, who has just come through a failed marriage and a devastating, interminable divorce, followed immediately by a passionate love affair that ended in sickening heartbreak. This loss upon loss has left me feeling sad and brittle and about seven thousand years old. Purely as a matter of principle I wouldn't inflict my sorry, busted-up old self on the lovely, unsullied Giovanni. Not to mention that I have finally arrived at that age where a woman starts to question whether the wisest way to get over the loss of one beautiful brown-eyed young man is indeed to promptly invite another one into her bed. This is why I have been alone for many months now. This is why, in fact, I have decided to spend this entire year in celibacy.To which the savvy observer might inquire: 'Then why did you come to Italy?'To which I can only reply—especially when looking across the table at handsome Giovanni— 'Excellent question.'Giovanni is my Tandem Exchange Partner. That sounds like an innuendo, but unfortunately it's not. All it really means is that we meet a few evenings a week here in Rome to practice each other's languages. We speak first in Italian, and he is patient with me; then we speak in English, and I am patient with him. I discovered Giovanni a few weeks after I'd arrived in Rome, thanks to that big Internet cafÈ at the Piazza Barbarini, across the street from that fountain with the sculpture of that sexy merman blowing into his conch shell. He (Giovanni, that is—not the merman) had posted a flier on the bulletin board explaining that a native Italian speaker was seeking a native English speaker for conversational language practice. Right beside his appeal was another flier with the same request, word-for-word identical in every way, right down to the typeface. The only difference was the contact information. One flier listed an e-mail address for somebody named Giovanni; the other introduced somebody named Dario. But even the home phone number was the same.Using my keen intuitive powers, I e-mailed both men at the same time, asking in Italian, "Are you perhaps brothers?"It was Giovanni who wrote back this very provocativo message: "Even better. Twins!"Yes—much better. Tall, dark and handsome identical twenty-five-year-old twins, as it turned out, with those giant brown liquid-center Italian eyes that just unstitch me. After meeting the boys in person, I began to wonder if perhaps I should adjust my rule somewhat about remaining celibate this year. For instance, perhaps I could remain totally celibate except for keeping a pair of handsome twenty-five-year-old Italian twin brothers as lovers. Which was slightly reminiscent of a friend of mine who is vegetarian except for bacon, but nonetheless ... I was already composing my letter to Penthouse:In the flickering, candlelit shadows of the Roman café, it was impossible to tell whose hands were caress—But, no.No and no.I chopped tvhe fantasy off in mid-word. This was not my moment to be seeking romance and (as day follows night) to further complicate my already knotty life. This was my moment to look for the kind of healing and peace that can only come from solitude.Anyway, by now, by the middle of November, the shy, studious Giovanni and I have become dear buddies. As for Dario—the more razzle-dazzle swinger brother of the two—I have introduced him to my adorable little Swedish friend Sofie, and how they've been sharing their evenings in Rome is another kind of Tandem Exchange altogether. But Giovanni and I, we only talk. Well, we eat and we talk. We have been eating and talking for many pleasant weeks now, sharing pizzas and gentle grammatical corrections, and tonight has been no exception. A lovely evening of new idioms and fresh mozzarella.Now it is midnight and foggy, and Giovanni is walking me home to my apartment through these back streets of Rome, which meander organically around the ancient buildings like bayou streams snaking around shadowy clumps of cypress groves. Now we are at my door. We face each other. He gives me a warm hug. This is an improvement; for the first few weeks, he would only shake my hand. I think if I were to stay in Italy for another three years, he might actually get up the juice to kiss me. On the other hand, he might just kiss me right now, tonight, right here by my door ... there's still a chance ... I mean we're pressed up against each other's bodies beneath this moonlight ... and of course it would be a terrible mistake ... but it's still such a wonderful possibility that he might actually do it right now ... that he might just bend down ... and ... and ... Nope.He separates himself from the embrace."Good night, my dear Liz," he says."Buona notte, caro mio," I reply.I walk up the stairs to my fourth-floor apartment, all alone. I let myself into my tiny little studio, all alone. I shut the door behind me. Another solitary bedtime in Rome. Another long night's sleep ahead of me, with nobody and nothing in my bed except a pile of Italian phrasebooks and dictionaries.I am alone, I am all alone, I am completely alone.Grasping this reality, I let go of my bag, drop to my knees and press my forehead against the floor. There, I offer up to the universe a fervent prayer of thanks.First in English.Then in Italian.And then—just to get the point across—in Sanskrit.2And since I am already down there in supplication on the floor, let me hold that position as I reach back in time three years earlier to the moment when this entire story began—a moment which also found me in this exact same posture: on my knees, on a floor, praying.Everything else about the three-years-ago scene was different, though. That time, I was not in Rome but in the upstairs bathroom of the big house in the suburbs of New York which I'd recently purchased with my husband. It was a cold November, around three o'clock in the morning. My husband was sleeping in our bed. I was hiding in the bathroom for something like the forty-seventh consecutive night, and—just as during all those nights before—I was sobbing. Sobbing so hard, in fact, that a great lake of tears and snot was spreading before me on the bathroom tiles, a veritable Lake Inferior (if you will) of all my shame and fear and confusion and grief.I don't want to be married anymore.I was trying so hard not to know this, but the truth kept insisting itself to me.I don't want to be married anymore. I don't want to live in this big house. I don't want to have a baby.But I was supposed to want to have a baby. I was thirty-one years old. My husband and I—who had been together for eight years, married for six—had built our entire life around the common expectation that, after passing the doddering old age of thirty, I would want to settle down and have children. By then, we mutually anticipated, I would have grown weary of traveling and would be happy to live in a big, busy household full of children and homemade quilts, with a garden in the backyard and a cozy stew bubbling on the stovetop. (The fact that this was a fairly accurate portrait of my own mother is a quick indicator of how difficult it once was for me to tell the difference between myself and the powerful woman who had raised me.) But I didn't—as I was appalled to be finding out—want any of these things. Instead, as my twenties had come to a close, that deadline of THIRTY had loomed over me like a death sentence, and I discovered that I did not want to be pregnant. I kept waiting to want to have a baby, but it didnt happen. And I know what it feels like to want something, believe me. I well know what desire feels like. But it wasn't there. Moreover, I couldn't stop thinking about what my sister had said to me once, as she was breast-feeding her firstborn: 'Having a baby is like getting a tattoo on your face. You really need to be certain it's what you want before you commit.'How could I turn back now, though? Everything was in place. This was supposed to be the year. In fact, we'd been trying to get pregnant for a few months already. But nothing had happened (aside from the fact that—in an almost sarcastic mockery of pregnancy—I was experiencing psychosomatic morning sickness, nervously throwing up my breakfast every day). And every month when I got my period I would find myself whispering furtively in the bathroom: Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you for giving me one more month to live ...