Big magic Creative living beyond fear

Review by New York Times Review

ELIZABETH GILBERT'S MEMOIR "Eat, Pray, Love" sold 10 million copies and became the kind of cultural touchstone that makes its author famous, wealthy and controversial. To the book's fans, including Oprah Winfrey and Julia Roberts (who starred in the movie adaptation), Gilbert's tale of overcoming a bad divorce and deep depression by traveling to Italy, India and Indonesia in search of pleasure, devotion and balance felt like an authentic and moving search for happiness and enlightenment. To her critics, many of whom never even read it, "Eat, Pray, Love" was a cannily constructed narrative with a pat happy ending that preached personal satisfaction as the highest goal, one you could attain by throwing money around, especially in the third world. But "Eat, Pray, Love" was published almost a decade ago, and Gilbert has spent the years since doing her best to become, once again, an author instead of a cultural phenomenon. She first wrote "Committed," a kind of sequel, in which she percolated on the subject of marriage while making peace with marrying Felipe, the hunky Brazilian from "Eat, Pray, Love" (played, appropriately enough, by Javier Bardem in the movie). Her next book was the well-received novel "The Signature of All Things," a period page-turner about a 19th-century female botanist, which, on a sentence level especially, served as a reminder that Gilbert had been a finalist for a National Book Award long before "Eat, Pray, Love" made her a household name. Her follow-up to the follow-up to the follow-up is "Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear," and it returns to the self-actualizing territory of "Eat, Pray, Love." "Big Magic" wants to help its readers live creatively, which does not necessarily mean "pursuing a life that is professionally or exclusively devoted to the arts," but "living a life that is driven more strongly by curiosity than by fear." If you want to write or act or paint, this book wants to help you do that. But if you want to take figure skating lessons, learn to draw or build model airplanes, this book wants to help you do that too. "Eat, Pray, Love" was a memoir, the story of a personal journey understood by many readers as a guide to greater contentment, to the point that "Eat, Pray, Love" tourism - literally following in Gilbert's footsteps - briefly became a boom industry. "Big Magic," by contrast, is an out-and-out self-help book, providing instructions on how to live a life as creative as Gilbert's. "Eat, Pray, Love" was a deeply personal work, taken to be universal. "Big Magic" is a manual with universal aspirations that feels narrowly personal, a crash course in the mental habits of the highly effective person named Elizabeth Gilbert. "Big Magic" is broken into six sections: Courage, Enchantment, Permission, Persistence, Trust and Divinity. Gilbert wonders in the first, "Do you have the courage to bring forth the treasures that are hidden within you? ... The hunt to uncover those jewels - that's creative living." If the creativity inside of you has not burrowed deeper than ever before upon hearing itself referred to as a "treasure" and "jewels," it is more stalwart than mine. But Gilbert spends much of the book coaxing out even the shyest creativity with a kind of extended pep talk: Creativity is inside all of us, it should be expressed, and it is not selfish or crazy or foolish to do so - it is, in fact, the best way to live a satisfying life. Gilbert's advice reads like a positive fortune cookie: a nice surprise you will forget once the taste of won tons has faded from your mouth. Creativity is "your birthright as a human being"; "Even if you grew up watching cartoons in a sugar stupor from dawn to dusk, creativity still lurks within you"; "You are not required to save the world with your creativity." It is on the subject of how to foster one's creativity that Gilbert parts with pabulum and dives into something more mystical and mystifying. Gilbert believes that ideas have agency. "Ideas have no material body, but they do have consciousness, and they most certainly have will," she writes. When this idea "finally realizes that you're oblivious to its message, it will move on to someone else," but sometimes, "the idea, sensing your openness, will start to do its work on you." Gilbert does not appear to be using this as a helpful metaphor, though she invites her readers to do so if that's what it takes for the magical mumbo jumbo to go down. As proof of the agency of ideas, she tells a story about an idea she had for a novel set in the Amazon that she neglected for so many years that it left her - and took up residence with her friend the novelist Ann Patchett. Gilbert also suggests that an idea about Ozzy Osbourne and his zany family visited her once, but after she ignored it, it graced MTV instead. This philosophy of creativity, in which ideas have willpower and are delivered to patient human beings in the correct state of mind, is a diluted riff on the "law of attraction" outlined in Rhonda Byrne's "The Secret," another Oprah-anointed self-help book (and movie), in which "positive thinking" is said to attract positive outcomes. You get back the vibes you put out into the world. (New Age-y as this sounds, it also jibes with certain strands of religious belief, in which good fortune is visited upon the deserving.) Gilbert is not suggesting, as "The Secret" does, that the right attitude will fend off bankruptcy and cure cancer. But imagining that ideas have a will of their own is a cute way of getting to feel blessed by a higher power when one is inspired - at the expense of turning ideas into judgmental gatekeepers, darting around in the atmosphere, eschewing anyone who isn't inclined to be chipper and cheerful, as if no one with a bad attitude ever deserved to make stuff too. IN BROAD STROKES, "Big Magic" constitutes good advice. Find some time in your life to do something you really enjoy, for no reason other than you really enjoy it. Not a bad fortune cookie. But in explaining how to go about accomplishing this, Gilbert keeps running into an unexpected problem: her own seemingly pristine habits of mind. The woman that emerges in "Big Magic" shares a voice - charming, personable, self-aware, jokey and conversational in the extreme - with the narrator of "Eat, Pray, Love," but she does not seem to share any of her neuroses. In the chapter on fear, Gilbert writes, "The only reason I can speak so authoritatively about fear is that I know it so intimately," referring to a childhood in which she was terrified of everything from the telephone to board games. But Gilbert goes on to say that an effective way to curtail fear is to give it a speech like this: "Dearest Fear: Creativity and I are about to go on a road trip together. I understand you'll be joining us, because you always do. ... But understand this: Creativity and I are the only ones who will be making any decisions along the way.... Dude, you are not even allowed to touch the radio." Does your fear respond to being spoken to so reasonably? Because it seems to me that fear's inability to respond to reason, or to the honorific "Dude," is one of its signal characteristics. It's not rational - it's scared. Throughout "Big Magic," Gilbert glosses over the hardest parts of creative living - not just being terrified, but handling rejection and doubt, and doing the work no matter what. These are all things that, God bless her, seem to come pretty easily to Elizabeth Gilbert. (She got over fear as a teenager when she "realized that my fear was boring.") Gilbert explains, in passing, that even without inspiration, she sits down and works - this is how she expresses her openness to the universe. Gilbert makes her work ethic seem, at worst, like an afterthought and, at best, like magic's equal partner, when it is the essential ingredient. This amounts to a kind of false humility; it soft-pedals the tough stuff that Gilbert does so well, to accentuate the magic she has little control over. It is much harder to emulate Gilbert's devotion and implacable self-confidence than to say aloud, "I'm a writer," as she suggests you do, and expect that upon "hearing this announcement, your soul will mobilize accordingly." WILLA PASKIN is the television critic at Slate.

Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [August 23, 2015]

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Review by Booklist Review

For anyone who has ever dreamed of writing a novel, painting a still life, sculpting a statue, or choreographing a dance but hasn't done so, Gilbert has just one question: What's stopping you? Doubt, denial, demands: you name it, the obstacles are many. The world is teeming with people who have a creative passion yet never pursue it. For Gilbert, the best-selling author of the surprise hit Eat Pray Love (2006), such dithering was never part of the equation. As early as she can recall, she knew she wanted to be a writer. Wanting and doing can be two very different things, however, and Gilbert has not been immune to the reality of having to earn a living versus the dream of pursing a freely creative life. As bright, breezy, and conversational in tone as a long, heart-to-heart talk with one's most supportive friend, Gilbert's wise and motivating book of encouragement and advice will induce readers not only to follow specific artistic dreams but also to live life more creatively, fully, and contentedly.--Haggas, Carol Copyright 2015 Booklist

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.

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Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

Like her previous memoirs, Eat, Pray, Love and Committed, Gilbert reads for the audio edition of her latest, which explores her creativity and life as a writer. Gilbert sounds appropriately playful, making the most of the book's many humorous moments, but she's also capable of serious turns, such as when she describes some artists' tortured and self-destructive methods of creation. Her performance mirrors the advice she gives in the book itself that an artist should be a "disciplined half-ass": determined to show up every day and make the most of whatever gifts are on offer from the universe, but lighthearted enough to avoid attaching one's self-esteem to the reception of one's work. Overall, Gilbert's performance feels like an intimate tête-à-tête with a wise friend. A Riverhead hardcover. (Nov.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

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Review by Library Journal Review

Best known for her blockbuster memoir Eat, Pray, Love, Gilbert here shares her insight and joy about living a creative life. Short chapters cover the subjects of courage, enchantment, permission, persistence, trust, and divinity. The author asks listeners to embrace their curiosity and demonstrates how to tackle what they most love, while facing their fears. She also discusses the attitudes and habits essential to living a creative life. Gilbert is blunt and straightforward, but her commitment to creativity is unquestionably enthusiastic. She provides wonderful guidance on how listeners can overcome their doubts and find the creative spark within. Gilbert reads her own work capably. Expect readers to swarm the craft, music, art, and writing sections of your library looking for this book. -VERDICT Recommended for self-help collections. ["Gilbert serves as a most enthusiastic and empathetic coach for readers who want more out of life": LJ 7/15 starred review of the Riverhead hc.]-J. Sara Paulk, Houston Cty. P.L., Perry, GA © Copyright 2015. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

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Review by Kirkus Book Review

The bestselling author of Eat, Pray, Love reflects on what it means to pursue a creative life. At the beginning of her latest book, Gilbert (The Signature of All Things, 2013, etc.) writes that creativity is "the relationship between a human being and the mysteries of inspiration." Then the author explains how individuals can live that relationship on a daily basis. First and foremost, she writes, people seeking to live creatively and pursue the things that bring them satisfaction must be prepared to live courageously. Only then can they "bring forth the treasures that are hidden within [them]." Gilbert also suggests that the ideas on which all creative acts are based do not come from a person: they are "disembodied, energetic life-form[s]" that seek human hosts who can make them real. This is part of what the author believes makes creativity itself a "force of enchantmentnot entirely human in its origins." To actually manifest ideas requires what Gilbert sees as the ability to give oneself permission to engage in creative acts regardless of what anyone else may think. It also requires persistence and being able to stomach the many "shit sandwiche[s]" of disappointment and frustration that so often go along with creative endeavors. Having a burning passion for the work involvedthe intensity of which Gilbert likens to a "hotextramarital affair"is also crucial. So is trusting in the creative processno matter how eccentric and/or nonlinear it may seemand in the idea that "the work wants to be made, and it wants to be made through you." Not all readers will embrace the New-Age way in which Gilbert discusses the creative process, but the sincerity, grace, and flashes of humor that characterize her writing and insights should appeal to a wider audience. Not earth shattering but warmly inspirational. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

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Once upon a time, there was a man named Jack Gilbert, who was not related to me--unfortunately for me. Jack Gilbert was a great poet, but if you've never heard of him, don't worry about it. It's not your fault. He never much cared about being known. But I knew about him, and I loved him dearly from a respectful distance, so let me tell you about him. Jack Gilbert was born in Pittsburgh in 1925 and grew up in the midst of that city's smoke, noise, and industry. He worked in factories and steel mills as a young man, but was called from an early age to write poetry. He answered the call without hesitation. He became a poet the way other men become monks: as a devotional practice, as an act of love, and as a lifelong commitment to the search for grace and transcendence. I think this is probably a very good way to become a poet. Or to become anything, really, that calls to your heart and brings you to life. Jack could've been famous, but he wasn't into it. He had the talent and the charisma for fame, but he never had the interest. His first collection, published in 1962, won the prestigious Yale Younger Poets prize and was nominated for the Pulitzer. What's more, he won over audiences as well as critics, which is not an easy feat for a poet in the modern world. There was something about him that drew people in and kept them captivated. He was handsome, passionate, sexy, brilliant on stage. He was a magnet for women and an idol for men. He was photographed for Vogue, looking gorgeous and romantic. People were crazy about him. He could've been a rock star. Instead, he disappeared. He didn't want to be distractedby too much commotion. Later in life he reported that he had found his fame boring--not because it was immoral or corrupting, but simply because it was exactly the same thing every day. He was looking for something richer, more textured, more varied. So he dropped out. He went to live in Europe and stayed there for twenty years. He lived for a while in Italy, a while in Denmark, but mostly he lived in a shepherd's hut on a mountaintop in Greece. There, he contemplated the eternal mysteries, watched the light change, and wrote his poems in private. He had his love stories, his obstacles, his victories. He was happy. He got by somehow, making a living here and there. He needed little. He allowed his name to be forgotten. After two decades, Jack Gilbert resurfaced and publishedanother collection of poems. Again, the literary world fellin love with him. Again, he could have been famous. Again,he disappeared--this time for a decade. This would be hispattern always: isolation, followed by the publication ofsomething sublime, followed by more isolation. He was likea rare orchid, with blooms separated by many years. Henever promoted himself in the least. (In one of the few interviewshe ever gave, Gilbert was asked how he thoughthis detachment from the publishing world had affected hiscareer. He laughed and said, "I suppose it's been fatal.") The only reason I ever heard of Jack Gilbert was that, quite late in his life, he returned to America and--for motives I will never know--took a temporary teaching position in the creative writing department at the University of Tennessee, Knoxville. The following year, 2005, it happened that I took exactly the same job. (Around campus,they started jokingly calling the position "the Gilbert Chair.") I found Jack Gilbert's books in my office--the office that had once been his. It was almost like the room was still warm from his presence. I read his poems and was overcome by their grandeur, and by how much his writing reminded me of Whitman. ("We must risk delight," he wrote. "We must have the stubbornness to accept our gladness in the ruthless furnace of this world.") He and I had the same surname, we'd held the same job, we had inhabited the same office, we had taught many ofthe same students, and now I was in love with his words; naturally enough, I became deeply curious about him. I asked around: Who was Jack Gilbert? Students told me he was the most extraordinary man they'd ever encountered. He had seemed not quite of this world, they said. He seemed to live in a state of uninterrupted marvel, and he encouraged them to do the same. He didn't so much teach them how to write poetry, they said, but why: because of delight. Because of stubborn gladness. He told them that they must live their most creative lives as a means of fighting back against the ruthless furnace of this world. Most of all, though, he asked his students to be brave. Without bravery, he instructed, they would never be able to realize the vaulting scope of their own capacities. Without bravery, they would never know the world as richly as it longs to be known. Without bravery, their lives would remain small--far smaller than they probably wanted their lives to be. I never met Jack Gilbert myself, and now he is gone--he passed away in 2012. I probably could've made it a personal mission to seek him out and meet him while he was living, but I never really wanted to. (Experience has taught me to be careful of meeting my heroes in person; it can be terribly disappointing.) Anyway, I quite liked the way he lived inside my imagination as a massive and powerful presence, built out of his poems and the stories I'd heard about him. So I decided to know him only that way--through my imagination. And that's where he remains for me to this day: still alive inside me, completely internalized, almost as though I dreamed him up. But I will never forget what the real Jack Gilbert told somebody else--an actual flesh-and-blood person, a shy University of Tennessee student. This young woman recounted to me that one afternoon, after his poetry class, Jack had taken her aside. He complimented her work, then asked what she wanted to do with her life. Hesitantly, she admitted that perhaps she wanted to be a writer. He smiled at the girl with infinite compassion and asked, "Do you have the courage? Do you have the courage to bring forth this work? The treasures that are hidden inside you are hoping you will say yes ." So this, I believe, is the central question upon which all creative living hinges: Do you have the courage to bring forth the treasures that are hidden within you? Look, I don't know what's hidden within you. I have no way of knowing such a thing. You yourself may barely know, although I suspect you've caught glimpses. I don't know your capacities, your aspirations, your longings, your secret talents. But surely something wonderful is sheltered inside you. I say this with all confidence, because I happen to believe we are all walking repositories of buried treasure.I believe this is one of the oldest and most generous tricks the universe plays on us human beings, both for its own amusement and for ours: The universe buries strange jewels deep within us all, and then stands back to see if we can find them. The hunt to uncover those jewels--that's creative living. The courage to go on that hunt in the first place--that's what separates a mundane existence from a more enchanted one. The often surprising results of that hunt--that's what I call Big Magic. Excerpted from Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear by Elizabeth Gilbert All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

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