In perusing reviews of Elizabeth Gilbert's book to figure out if the rest is worth reading, I came across the following from the New Yorker, written by Ariel Levy. (Yes, I do admit, it did pad my intellectual ego, reading more than the first 1/3 of the article before losing interest.) Here is the gist of the review, which caught my eye.
"Ultimately, Gilbert is clear about what she, like most people, wants: everything. We want intimacy and autonomy, security and stimulation, reassurance and novelty, coziness and thrills. But we can’t have it. Gilbert understands this, yet she tries to convince herself and her readers that she has found a loophole. She tells herself a familiar story, that her marriage will be different. And she is, of course, right—everyone’s marriage is different. But everyone’s marriage is a compromise."
Am I really being unrealistic to want every one of those things listed? Of course, as my favorite aunt always says, if you require perfection, you get nothing. But come on. What the heck is so unattainable about that? Anyone?
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