i liked Wild better the first time i read it.

When I picked it up, it was because I was far from home and the prospect of reading a book about the Pacific Northwest appealed to me. It was because I, too, felt like I was looking for meaning. It was because I thought that maybe reading about someone else's vulnerabilities and dreams and journey would help me in mine. Even when I personally couldn't identify with Cheryl, I kept reading, oddly fascinated by a life so different from mine.

Only having read the beginning to Wild by Cheryl Strayed, I have already had many emotional ups and downs. As the story begins, the author talks in detail about how her mother has cancer and eventually dies. I found this part particularly upsetting. This is most likely because I am away from my own mother for the first time and miss her very much. This made me think initially that I would be able to relate to Cheryl Strayed, however her actions after the death of her mother quickly dashed that thought from my mind. She starts to have extramarital affairs, one that leads to her becoming dependent on Heroin. Eventually she and her husband divorce, although it is clear they still care about each other.

Hey all, just a brief note that I have changed my name from rosea to abby rose. I knew I'd change my name on Serendip to my actual name from the beginning of my time on here, and now's the time. Also because there has been continued confusion as to who's who on here and I want to make sure my ideas are seen as my own. 

When I began reading Wild, I was quick to judge Strayed. Having recently experienced the passing of my grandfather after a long period hospitals and uncertainty, and seeing the way my grandmother and parents dealt with something so terrible and sad, I could somewhat connect with Strayed. I could understand why she felt the way she did, but I also felt it somewhat irresponsible and reckless that she reacted to her problems the way she did and could  not understand how she could actually do those things. However, as I continued reading I became invested in her story, her struggles. I understood and admired her strength to continue trying to change her life, even though she did not really know how to.

From the first part of Wild, I couldn't stop my eyes following the lines. The strong affection of Cheryl towards her mother fascinated me. Meanwhile, at the same time, I was also shocked at the story after her mother's death, especially the scene that she was absorbed into a bad spiral to have sex with Joe and take Heroin and the fact that she divorced with Paul though they still love each other. As I kept reading, the story showed a link with the title Wild. At first, Cheryl didn't know how to hike at all, then she put too much luggage into Monster which became so heavy that at first she wasn't able to carry it, but day by day of PCT she gradually got used to hiking as she get dirty, messy and hurt physically and had many encounters.

I have now read through half of Cheryl Strayed's novel Wild, and I don't quite understand. I don't understand Cheryl as a character, nor her purpose in writing this memoir of sorts. I can't personally connect to her experiences nor her thoughts, and though I know it's because I haven't personally been through the various life changes she's had to endure, I also don't feel like Cheryl is a sympathetic character at all. I think that her perspective comes from one of privilege: a straight, white female who can afford to leave everything behind and hike through her thoughts.

Reaction to “wild” by Cheryl Strayed

I had not expected there to be so many details of her life in this book. It was not just about nature and the animals she saw while hiking the Pacific Crest Trail. The book was about her life and her soul.

While reading Wild by Cheryl Strayed, I was first confused. I did not understand what the point of this memoir was. I was a little bit annoyed because I felt like I could be spending my time doing something more useful. However, soon into the book, I felt that I could identify with Cheryl in specific struggles of her life. Cheryl quicly develops an emotional attachment with the reader and this connection enticed me to keep reading. One particular quote in one of Cheryl's anecdotes was "And you're wounded in the same place. That's what fathers do if they don't heal their wounds. They wound their children in the same place" (Strayed). This quote was so resonating and meaningful to me. Having so many relatable situations makes me very appreciative of Cheryl's book.

I'm finding it difficult to categorize my reaction to the first half of Wild. The closest I believe I can come is that the reading makes me feel like voyeur; some mixture of the subject matter and the prose elicits the guilty fascination of someone privvy to the intimate, painful details of a stranger's life. I would offer sympathy, but I don't know her, and frankly don't feel like we would be compatible friends either.

So on I trudge, turning page after page of painful thoughts and memories, listening (in a way) to a woman recount the multitude of difficutlties in her life that lead to one particular action.