Not usually the sort of book I read. I'm not super into hiking or outdoorsy memoirs, or "finding oneself" memoirs. My mom bought it, hearing it was good, and it was an Oprah book club pick, which means nothing to me. She was reaching it and left it open on the kitchen table one weekend, when, I was eating, and, having no book on hand, just picked it up to read where she was. Instantly I was hooked by the incredible, literary style of the author; her uncompromising introspection, and her raw and unflinching descriptions of her life and what happened. She side-stepped so many of the tropes and the cringeworthy aspects of the genre that I dislike, and reminded me that even when I don't really care all that much about hiking or backpacking, some stories are worth telling and reading. I don't regret reading this book at all, and I am so fortunate that my mother is interested in different things than I am, or else I might not have read it. 
 It was difficult to read at times, not because it was bad, but because it was so very good-- so good at describing scenarios that I myself have experienced. It triggered emotions of situations I have been in, because she wrote them so well, especially her encounter with the two bow hunters, for which I had to physically put down the book, leave, drink a strongly brewed cup of tea, and work myself up to finishing, it hit me so hard. I cried, laughed, mulled, paced, and sighed at this book, which means it is an excellent book. 
 On a side note, I found her encounters with people in Ashland to be entirely hilarious. What a weird place I live in, Southern Oregon.