that doesn't think Cheryl Strayed's book, Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Coast Trail, is a fantastic memoir. I'm reading it because of my love for backpacking alone, and so far, I identify with many of her experiences as a novice in the woods.
But...
Maybe I've been turned into a sceptic of the memoir genre by the likes of James Frey, but I can't help keeping an ear out for parts that just don't ring true to me. And I can't help finding them either.
Did REI sell snow shovels back in the mid-90s when Cheryl went to buy one at an REI near Minneapolis and happened upon the guidebook that made her mental bulb light up with idea for the hike? I've never seen them for sale at an REI, but maybe it's because I've never looked for them.
Do lawyers in MN not care that notary publics practice law without licenses in the state? That's what the NP that Cheryl and her husband Paul loved so much seemed to do when she reviewed the 60+ pages of their do-it-themselves divorce papers. In Virginia, where I've been a NP and a paralegal, all an NP can do is notarize signatures.
The whiskey flask and the gun in Frank's car were very convenient. I suspect that if she really did search the car, all she found was the red licorice.
And it seems to me that so far, the only bad relationship that Cheryl was ever in was the one with herself. I was as insecure and self-loathing as Cheryl was in my 20s and 30s and had horrible relationships with a slew of men, and always worried that I didn't really have any friends. She seems to have a slew of friends (instead of bad relationships) and to be a good friend to them all, despite her self-destructive behavior. Maybe because she's an extrovert (I'm an introvert).
I believe that the skeleton of the story is true--that her mother's death sent into a spiral of grief, that she used sex and drugs to dull the pain, cheated on her husband, got divorced, and decided to hike the PCT while she fiugred things out. But I also think she embellished the story.
To be updated...
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