The subtitle of this autobiographical
account of one woman’s lone trek following the Pacific Crest Trail in
California and Oregon is “A Journey from Lost to Found.” A habitual scoffer at
sentimentality and neatly packaged memoirs which promise to both warm and rend
your heart, it nearly put me off reading this book. I’m heartily glad it
didn’t.
Cheryl Strayed was twenty two when
her mother was diagnosed with lung cancer and died, aged forty five. Her family
rapidly drifted apart, her marriage ended and Strayed fell into a spiral of
casual sex and heroin. A chance purchase of a hiking guide book proved
inspirational – and with no experience of long-distance hiking, Strayed found
herself setting out on an eleven hundred mile walk across the west coast of the
USA, alone. Facing bears, landslides, rattlesnakes, empty water tanks in the
Mojave Desert and bolting llamas, plus just the sheer intensity of walking
miles each day across mountain ranges and through deserts, in snow, rain and
blistering heat, Strayed’s account is instantly absorbing.
The emotional honesty and exact
detailing of both Strayed’s journey and the events which led her to take such a
courageous and drastic step to reclaim her life and her sense of self are
gripping. No word is superfluous or sentimental; the fine detail in everything
from how her body changes under the stress and rigours of trail life to holding
her mother for the last time create an almost tactile empathy in reading. It’s
very rare for a book to make me cry, yet I found myself properly weeping over
some of the passages here – all exquisitely written with such precise
descriptions of intangible and yet almost universal human experiences of loss,
emptiness, longing and existence, they strike a whole guitar’s worth of chords.
They stick in the mind in such a way that it shapes your own consideration of
those feelings, and it’s a rare writer which achieves this.
It’s by no means a sad book, however.
There is humour, both wry and raucous, and there is, naturally for a tale
concerned with both physical and metaphorical journeys, lightness and joy and a
happy ending. Another running theme is that of the kindness of strangers, and
Strayed is indeed lucky with the helpful, generous souls she meets along the
way. There is a definite subtle feminist subtext, questioning our attitudes to
a woman who travels alone, and how she is perceived alternatively as humorous,
courageous, foolish, crazy or admirable.
I would thoroughly recommend this
book, and also Strayed’s collected writing taken from her vastly popular
internet agony aunt column, “Tiny Beautiful Things.” For anyone who favours
emotional honesty and personal discovery, in fiction and in life, this book is
a fine account which marries both with exceptional writing. It also may inspire
you to take a journey of your own.
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