By laying bare a great unspoken truth of adulthood-that many things in life don’t turn out the way you want them to, and that you can and must live through them anyway-Wild feels real in many ways that many books about ‘finding oneself’ do not.” -Melanie Rehak, Slate It is voice-billowing with energy, precise-that carries Wild. “Dazzlingly beautiful.” - Los Angeles Times “An addictive, gorgeous book that not only entertains, but leaves us the better for having read it.” “Strayed’s language is so vivid, sharp, and compelling that you feel the heat of the desert, the frigid ice of the High Sierra and the breathtaking power of one remarkable woman finding her way-and herself-one brave step at a time.” - People (4 stars) Garth Stein, author of The Art of Racing in the Rain An incredible journey, both inward and outward.”

Riveting.” -Dwight Garner, The New York Times The cumulative welling up I experienced during Wild was partly a response to that too infrequent sight: that of a writer finding her voice, and sustaining it, right in front of your eyes. Strayed hammers home her hard-won sentences like a box of nails. “This isn’t Cinderella in hiking boots, it’s a woman coming out of heartbreak, darkness and bad decisions with a clear view of where she has been.” - The Seattle Times “One of the most original, heartbreaking and beautiful American memoirs in years.” -Michael Schaub, National Public Radio Oprah Winfrey, on Wild, first selection of her Book Club 2.0 stimulating, thought-provoking, soul-enhancing.” A breathtaking adventure tale and a profound meditation on the nature of grief and survival. It would only seem like that rough star, its every bright line shooting out.įrom Wild by Cheryl Strayed ©2012. Or how I'd struggled to save my marriage, even while I was dooming it with my lies. It wouldn't show you how in the months after my mother died, I attempted - and failed - to fill in for her in an effort to keep my family together. The map would illuminate all the places I ran to, but not all the ways I tried to stay. To New Mexico and Arizona and Nevada and California and Oregon and back. If I had to draw a map of those four-plus years to illustrate the time between the day of my mother's death and the day I began my hike on the Pacific Crest Trail, the map would be a confusion of lines in all directions, like a crackling Fourth of July sparkler with Minnesota at its inevitable center.

Wild novel cheryl strayed