Wanted to like is not the same thing as loving

 Hiking Naked
by Iris Graville

Wow, what a confusion of opinion I encounter, trying to write about this. It's a memoir, by a woman suffering burnout from the medical profession, who decides with her family to move to a remote and very small island for a year. To unplug from the grid in a very spectacular way. There are no nursing jobs there, not that she wanted one, but she instead gets a job as a baker-trainee. Her husband changes jobs, too, and her two children move from their large school to a one-room schoolhouse.

And the memoir goes from that auspicious beginning to a rather lengthy and repetitive account of her endless search for the lost meaning in her life. Yes, there is a whole lot of other stuff mixed in with her constant introspection, but that aspect of her life seems to overshadow everything else.

For example, she takes a hike with her cat up to a remote scenic view. She writes poetically of the beauty, and of the calm that descends on her spirit, and how happy she feels....

And then comes back down and resumes the worry, worry, worry--do I want to go back to nursing? Will I ever want to resume the battle with administration? Is this the right place for our kids? Do I want to care for people, or just sit around in solitude and write in my journals forever?

So, you see my conflict. I absolutely adored the people and their adventures and even their inner struggles. But the author came close to boring me to tears.