On "Wild"

I'm finding it difficult to categorize my reaction to the first half of Wild. The closest I believe I can come is that the reading makes me feel like voyeur; some mixture of the subject matter and the prose elicits the guilty fascination of someone privvy to the intimate, painful details of a stranger's life. I would offer sympathy, but I don't know her, and frankly don't feel like we would be compatible friends either.

So on I trudge, turning page after page of painful thoughts and memories, listening (in a way) to a woman recount the multitude of difficutlties in her life that lead to one particular action.

I'm also unsure whether or not I'm supposed to draw something from her experience, as well. The tone of the book suggests that there is a greater meaning in her persistence in walking the trail, but all I see is a woman so scarred by her experiences that she finds an obsession that she can't let go of despite her own procrastinaation of preparation and lack of experience. The most amazing aspect of thie experience so far to me is that she hasn't managed to accientally kill herself.

Overall, I'm bemused. I don't quite know how to react to either Staryed or her experiences. Perhaps I'll be able to parse out my reaction once I reach the end of the book.