I am listening to Stephen Metcalf, Katie Roiphe and Julia
Turner discuss Eat, Pray, Love by
Elizabeth Gilbert on the Slate Audio Book
Club podcast.
Metcalf hates Eat,
Pray, Love. Did he just say that he hates the book, hates the author, and
hates anyone who would try to defend either the book or the author? It’s hard
to tell. It feels as if Metcalf makes sentences by pulling words from an
enormous bag, a bag that contains adjectives
and adverbs in high proportion. He takes these words and flings them into the air, creating
sentences of sidereal splendour, sentences that are as inaccessible as the
stars – at least for me. He is a caffeinated personality, Metcalf, and I like
him.
Roiphe loves Eat,
Pray, Love. She has written an article for Slate in which she describes it
as “…a transcendently great beach book.” She is suggesting to Metcalf that he
take a breath, that his hate is irrational, that the book has heart, even if it
is pulseless artificial heart - a Dick Cheney heart. Metcalf can rant all he
likes, Roiphe will not placate him; she is not that kind of woman. There is a
palpable tension between them, but they have more in common than they realise. And
he likes her: of course he does.
Turner likes Eat,
Pray, Love. She is ready to talk about Gilbert’s book, but finds herself,
rather reluctantly, in the middle of a group therapy session. She wonders if
her colleagues, Metcalf and Roiphe, will leave the room holding hands, but she
dare not say as much.
Metcalf is vitriolic. He detests Elizabeth Gilbert and tells
his fellow book clubbers this in emphatic tones. The listener, in this case me,
sees through Metcalf’s wordy criticism. His dislike of Gilbert is simple: she is
a manipulator - her book reveals this - and Metcalf will not be manipulated by
a woman. Oh no, Metcalf likes women who play it straight - like Katie Roiphe,
for example.
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