Steve and I crawled into bed last night, eager to tackle the books we’re reading. Steve’s about halfway through A DAY LATE AND A DOLLAR SHORT by Spike Van Cleve, and I’m reading Cheryl Strayed’s WILD.
As soon as WILD hit the book stores, I knew it was something I’d want to read – it had all the elements that appealed to my outdoor sensibilities, and focused on a topic I was curious about: hiking the Pacific Crest Trail. (I sometimes imagine myself walking across America, and have mentioned this to Steve, knowing it’s something I’ll probably only fantasize about, and never actually do.) But after reading a couple of Amazon reviews that put me off, I didn’t buy Strayed’s book.
Then, recently, I stumbled on an interview in Mourning Goats, in which Cheryl Strayed said she writes like a motherfucker, meaning she’s fierce, and pursues it all out. This resonated – hugely – and so I decided to set my reluctance aside, and order Strayed’s book. I’m about three-quarters of the way through, and while I find some of the author’s decisions frustrating and even outlandish, I admire her drive to push forward. All in all, the book’s a terrific read.
(As an aside, the little lump beneath the red comforter is our black Lab, Donner.)