Wild
From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail (Oprah's Book Club 2.0)
(Sprache: Englisch)
Die Frau mit dem Loch im Herzen, das war ich. Gerade 26 geworden, hat Cheryl Strayed das Gefühl, alles verloren zu haben. Und so trifft sie die folgenreichste Entscheidung ihres Lebens: die mehr als tausend Meilen des Pacific Crest Trail zu wandern, durch...
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Die Frau mit dem Loch im Herzen, das war ich. Gerade 26 geworden, hat Cheryl Strayed das Gefühl, alles verloren zu haben. Und so trifft sie die folgenreichste Entscheidung ihres Lebens: die mehr als tausend Meilen des Pacific Crest Trail zu wandern, durch die Wüsten Kaliforniens, über die eisigen Höhen der Sierra Nevada, durch die Wälder Oregons bis zur Brücke der Götter im Bundesstaat Washington allein, ohne Erfahrungen und mit einem Rucksack auf dem Rücken, den sie Monster nennt. Diese Reise führt Cheryl Strayed bis an ihre Grenzen und darüber hinaus ...
Klappentext zu „Wild “
#1 NATIONAL BESTSELLER At twenty-two, Cheryl Strayed thought she had lost everything. In the wake of her mother's death, her family scattered and her own marriage was soon destroyed. Four years later, with nothing more to lose, she made the most impulsive decision of her life. With no experience or training, driven only by blind will, she would hike more than a thousand miles of the Pacific Crest Trail from the Mojave Desert through California and Oregon to Washington State-and she would do it alone. Told with suspense and style, sparkling with warmth and humor, Wild powerfully captures the terrors and pleasures of one young woman forging ahead against all odds on a journey that maddened, strengthened, and ultimately healed her. One of the Best Books of the Year: NPR, The Boston Globe, Entertainment Weekly, Vogue, St. Louis Dispatch
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THE TEN THOUSAND THINGSMy solo three-month hike on the Pacific Crest Trail had many beginnings. There was the first, flip decision to do it, followed by the second, more serious decision to actually do it, and then the long third beginning, composed of weeks of shopping and packing and preparing to do it. There was the quitting my job as a waitress and finalizing my divorce and selling almost everything I owned and saying goodbye to my friends and visiting my mother s grave one last time. There was the driving across the country from Minneapolis to Portland, Oregon, and, a few days later, catching a flight to Los Angeles and a ride to the town of Mojave and another ride to the place where the PCT crossed a highway.
At which point, at long last, there was the actual doing it, quickly followed by the grim realization of what it meant to do it, followed by the decision to quit doing it because doing it was absurd and pointless and ridiculously difficult and far more than I expected doing it would be and I was profoundly unprepared to do it.
And then there was the real live truly doing it.
The staying and doing it, in spite of everything. In spite of the bears and the rattlesnakes and the scat of the mountain lions I never saw; the blisters and scabs and scrapes and lacerations. The exhaustion and the deprivation; the cold and the heat; the monotony and the pain; the thirst and the hunger; the glory and the ghosts that haunted me as I hikedbeleven hundred miles from the Mojave Desert to the state of Washington by myself.
And finally, once I d actually gone and done it, walked all those miles for all those days, there was the realization that what I d thought was the beginning had not really been the beginning at all. That in truth my hike on the Pacific Crest Trail hadn t begun when I made the snap deci- sion to do it. It had begun before I even imagined it, precisely four years, seven months, and three days before, when I d stood in a little room at the
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Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota, and learned that my mother was going to die.
I was wearing green. Green pants, green shirt, green bow in my hair. It was an outfit that my mother had sewn she d made clothes for me all of my life. Some of them were just what I dreamed of having, others less so. I wasn t crazy about the green pantsuit, but I wore it anyway, as a penance, as an offering, as a talisman.
All that day of the green pantsuit, as I accompanied my mother and stepfather, Eddie, from floor to floor of the Mayo Clinic while my mother went from one test to another, a prayer marched through my head, though prayer is not the right word to describe that march. I wasn t humble before God. I didn t even believe in God. My prayer was not: Please, God, take mercy on us.
I was not going to ask for mercy. I didn t need to. My mother was forty-five. She looked fine. For a good number of years she d mostly been a vegetarian. She d planted marigolds around her garden to keep bugs away instead of using pesticides. My siblings and I had been made to swallow raw cloves of garlic when we had colds. People like my mother did not get cancer. The tests at the Mayo Clinic would prove that, refut- ing what the doctors in Duluth had said. I was certain of this. Who were those doctors in Duluth anyway? What was Duluth? Duluth! Duluth was a freezing hick town where doctors who didn t know what the hell they were talking about told forty-five-year-old vegetarian-ish, garlic- eating, natural-remedy-using nonsmokers that they had late-stage lung cancer, that s what.
Fuck them.
That was my prayer: Fuckthemfuckthemfuckthem.
And yet, here was my mother at the Mayo Clinic getting worn out if she had to be on her feet for more than three minutes. You want a wheelchair? Eddie asked her when we came
I was wearing green. Green pants, green shirt, green bow in my hair. It was an outfit that my mother had sewn she d made clothes for me all of my life. Some of them were just what I dreamed of having, others less so. I wasn t crazy about the green pantsuit, but I wore it anyway, as a penance, as an offering, as a talisman.
All that day of the green pantsuit, as I accompanied my mother and stepfather, Eddie, from floor to floor of the Mayo Clinic while my mother went from one test to another, a prayer marched through my head, though prayer is not the right word to describe that march. I wasn t humble before God. I didn t even believe in God. My prayer was not: Please, God, take mercy on us.
I was not going to ask for mercy. I didn t need to. My mother was forty-five. She looked fine. For a good number of years she d mostly been a vegetarian. She d planted marigolds around her garden to keep bugs away instead of using pesticides. My siblings and I had been made to swallow raw cloves of garlic when we had colds. People like my mother did not get cancer. The tests at the Mayo Clinic would prove that, refut- ing what the doctors in Duluth had said. I was certain of this. Who were those doctors in Duluth anyway? What was Duluth? Duluth! Duluth was a freezing hick town where doctors who didn t know what the hell they were talking about told forty-five-year-old vegetarian-ish, garlic- eating, natural-remedy-using nonsmokers that they had late-stage lung cancer, that s what.
Fuck them.
That was my prayer: Fuckthemfuckthemfuckthem.
And yet, here was my mother at the Mayo Clinic getting worn out if she had to be on her feet for more than three minutes. You want a wheelchair? Eddie asked her when we came
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Autoren-Porträt von Cheryl Strayed
Cheryl Strayed
Bibliographische Angaben
- Autor: Cheryl Strayed
- 2013, 336 Seiten, Maße: 13,4 x 20,3 cm, Kartoniert (TB), Englisch
- Verlag: Penguin Random House
- ISBN-10: 0307476073
- ISBN-13: 9780307476074
- Erscheinungsdatum: 19.09.2012
Sprache:
Englisch
Pressezitat
One of the Best Books of the Year: NPR, The Boston Globe, Entertainment Weekly, Vogue, St. Louis Dispatch Spectacular. . . . A literary and human triumph. The New York Times Book Review
"I was on the edge of my seat. . . . It is just a wild ride of a read . . . stimulating, thought-provoking, soul-enhancing." Oprah Winfrey, on Wild, first selection of her Book Club 2.0
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)
"An addictive, gorgeous book that not only entertains, but leaves us the better for having read it. . . . Strayed is a formidable talent." The Boston Globe
"One of the most original, heartbreaking, and beautiful American memoirs in years. . . . Awe-inspiring." NPR Books
Cinematic. . . . A rich, riveting story. . . . Our verdict: A. Entertainment Weekly
Pretty much obliterated me. I was reduced, during the book s final third, to puddle-eyed cretinism. . . . As loose and sexy and dark as an early Lucinda Williams song. It s got a punk spirit and makes an earthy and American sound. . . . 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. Dwight Garner, The New York Times
Brave seems like the right word to sum up this woman and her book. . . . Strayed s journey is exceptional. San Francisco Chronicle
One of the best books I ve read in the last five or ten years. . . . Wild is angry, brave, sad, self-knowing, redemptive, raw, compelling, and brilliantly written, and I think it s destined to be loved by a lot of people, men and women, for a very long time. Nick Hornby
Devastating and glorious. . . . By laying bare a great unspoken truth of adulthood that many things in life
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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. Slate
Incisive and telling. . . . [Strayed] has the ineffable gift every writer longs for of saying exactly what she means in lines that are both succinct and poetic. . . . an inborn talent for articulating angst and the gratefulness that comes when we overcome it. The Washington Post
Vivid, touching and ultimately inspiring account of a life unraveling and of the journey that put it back together. The Wall Street Journal
Strayed . . . catalogs her epic hike . . . with a raw emotional power that makes the book difficult to put down. . . . In walking, and finally, years later, in writing, Strayed finds her way again. And her path is as dazzlingly beautiful as it is tragic. Los Angeles Times
A fearless story, told in honest prose that is wildly lyrical as often as it is dirtily physical. Minneapolis Star Tribune
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. . . . There are adventures and characters aplenty, from heartwarming to dangerous, but Strayed resists the temptation to overplay or sweeten such moments. Her pacing is impeccable as she captures her impressive journey. The Seattle Times
Strayed s journey was at least as transcendent as it was turbulent. She faced down hunger, thirst, injury, fatigue, boredom, loss, bad weather, and wild animals. Yet she also reached new levels of joy, accomplishment, courage, peace, and found extraordinary companionship. The Christian Science Monitor
Strayed writes a crisp scene; her sentences hum with energy. She can describe a trail-parched yearning for Snapple like no writer I know. . . . It becomes impossible not to root for her. The Plain Dealer
Brilliant. . . . Cheryl Strayed emerges from her grief-stricken journey as a practitioner of a rare and vital vocation. She has become an intrepid cartographer of the human heart. Houston Chronicle
A deeply honest memoir about mother and daughter, solitude and courage, and regaining footing one step at a time. Vogue
This is a big, brave, break-your-heart-and-put-it-back-together-again kind of book. Cheryl Strayed is a courageous, gritty, and deceptively elegant writer. She walked the PCT to find forgiveness, came back with generosity and now she shares her reward with us. I snorted with laughter, I wept uncontrollably; I don t even want to know the person who isn t going to love Wild. This is a beautifully made, utterly realized book. Pam Houston, author of Contents May Have Shifted and Cowboys are My Weakness
Incisive and telling. . . . [Strayed] has the ineffable gift every writer longs for of saying exactly what she means in lines that are both succinct and poetic. . . . an inborn talent for articulating angst and the gratefulness that comes when we overcome it. The Washington Post
Vivid, touching and ultimately inspiring account of a life unraveling and of the journey that put it back together. The Wall Street Journal
Strayed . . . catalogs her epic hike . . . with a raw emotional power that makes the book difficult to put down. . . . In walking, and finally, years later, in writing, Strayed finds her way again. And her path is as dazzlingly beautiful as it is tragic. Los Angeles Times
A fearless story, told in honest prose that is wildly lyrical as often as it is dirtily physical. Minneapolis Star Tribune
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. . . . There are adventures and characters aplenty, from heartwarming to dangerous, but Strayed resists the temptation to overplay or sweeten such moments. Her pacing is impeccable as she captures her impressive journey. The Seattle Times
Strayed s journey was at least as transcendent as it was turbulent. She faced down hunger, thirst, injury, fatigue, boredom, loss, bad weather, and wild animals. Yet she also reached new levels of joy, accomplishment, courage, peace, and found extraordinary companionship. The Christian Science Monitor
Strayed writes a crisp scene; her sentences hum with energy. She can describe a trail-parched yearning for Snapple like no writer I know. . . . It becomes impossible not to root for her. The Plain Dealer
Brilliant. . . . Cheryl Strayed emerges from her grief-stricken journey as a practitioner of a rare and vital vocation. She has become an intrepid cartographer of the human heart. Houston Chronicle
A deeply honest memoir about mother and daughter, solitude and courage, and regaining footing one step at a time. Vogue
This is a big, brave, break-your-heart-and-put-it-back-together-again kind of book. Cheryl Strayed is a courageous, gritty, and deceptively elegant writer. She walked the PCT to find forgiveness, came back with generosity and now she shares her reward with us. I snorted with laughter, I wept uncontrollably; I don t even want to know the person who isn t going to love Wild. This is a beautifully made, utterly realized book. Pam Houston, author of Contents May Have Shifted and Cowboys are My Weakness
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