I am a sucker for those books that take you on a journey of someone’s year.
Eat, Pray, Love; Plenty; Animal Vegetable Miracle; The Happiness Project.
Are You There Vodka, It’s Me, Chelsea; Kiss and Tango; Cooking for Mr. Latte; I Loved, I Lost, I made Spaghetti.
I just finished The Slippery Year. There are so many things in the book that make me want to stop a stranger, point out a highlighted passage and say them, perhaps while drawing them into an inappropriate embrace, “This is why I love this book! Can’t you see it?” But, alas, I’m typically against touching people without their prior consent. Instead, I’ll offer you a quote from the book, one of the things that made me love it.
This comes in a part of the book where she has blown off (I use the term affectionately) a petitioner:
He shrugged and walked away. I watched him stop a woman on a bike. Within a few minutes they were chatting like old friends. She opened her fanny pack and pulled out two Odwalla bars and they sat down on the grass. Their heads bowed together, they began reading the Slowmandments. It was noon. They would be there until dusk.
“I’ll think about it,” I shouted to the man, feeling abandoned and a little sad.
Why couldn’t I be more like the woman on the bike? Trusting. Curious. Willing to share her snacks.