Strayed’s memoir about a long hike undertaken after completely messing up her life following the death of her mother resonates with many of us, especially perhaps those of us who have lost mothers. It is partly about carrying a huge stinking bucket of grief around with you wherever you go, and not knowing quite how to to set it down. It is also about the vulnerability of women, as there are few places a lone woman is more vulnerable that in a tent in the dead of night in the middle of the wilderness. She has to assess every male she meets, decide whether they are an ally or a predator. But as she says,”Fear, to a great extent, is born of a story we tell ourselves, and so I chose to tell myself a different story from the one women are told.”
Strayed has the kind of gutsiness that comes from knowing you don’t have everything under control but giving it a go anyway. She posts herself boxes that she opens at scheduled intervals along the trail; she has put cash in these boxes so she can get a hotel room and have a shower occasionally, or treat herself to a bought meal, but it’s never quite enough and the lack of money stings. But she comes from a long line of people who’ve never let a lack of money get in the way of the choices that matter to them. Her mother had a beautiful horse she couldn’t quite afford and she is her inspiration. So Strayed just gets on with it, and in doing so she tells a story worth listening to. Beautiful.
