To the Moon and Timbuktu
by Nina Sovich
In this rugged memoir, author Nina Sovich had the chance to live a normal, suburban life with a husband and children. She felt stifled and, in a panic, took off and traveled to Africa. No plans, no knowledge of the terrain, culture, or how to survive, she just flew by the seat of her pants from village to village, small dusty town to arid desert, in search of adventure. She wasn’t even a doctor trying to do good, or a modern woman trying to educate young girls in the importance of birth control and hygiene. She just indulged in a selfish whim because she couldn’t stand her life. In my opinion, the reason she couldn’t stand her life had nothing to do with her surroundings, but inside her own skin. If she was unhappy, she owed it to herself to look within, not search outside.
I couldn’t get behind this book because I didn’t like the attitude of the author. She was far too much of a feminist for my taste, and I found her conceited and thoughtless. I realize my opinion of her is in the minority, and that there are tons of women who will find her journey inspiring. If the memoir and ensuing film Wild was your cup of tea, you’ll probably like this one as well. To me, though, a woman who feels trapped by society and needs to go on a self-indulgent trip to “find herself” should have instead invested in massive amounts of therapy to work through her issues.
I couldn’t get behind this book because I didn’t like the attitude of the author. She was far too much of a feminist for my taste, and I found her conceited and thoughtless. I realize my opinion of her is in the minority, and that there are tons of women who will find her journey inspiring. If the memoir and ensuing film Wild was your cup of tea, you’ll probably like this one as well. To me, though, a woman who feels trapped by society and needs to go on a self-indulgent trip to “find herself” should have instead invested in massive amounts of therapy to work through her issues.