Read the first half or so (it was pretty good) and skimmed the rest (it was due back at the library). ( )

It's a funny story. Be prepared for lots of adolescent humor, though, and lots of tales of his slacker-ness (his wife must be a saint). So you've been warned. If you like this sort of funny, (and I found myself laughing in spite of my stuffiness) you will like this book. ( )

What an odd little book this is! Pollack is one of the ironically detached McSweeney's era writers, and it's really something to watch him struggle with his hipness and try to express some deep spiritual awakening. Ultimately, the ironic hipster dude gets the upper hand, and one's left wondering about what the transformation from stoner non-yoga guy to stoner yoga guy actually felt like. There aren't many clues here, just the evidence that his life is drastically different at the end, and not just because he can bend in new ways. He is still stoned all the time, which state of mind was so lovingly dwelt upon it made me a little nostalgic for the wildly baked days of my youth. 2.5 stars, I think. ( )

Neal Pollack was a bad boy L.A. writer who was on a path of self destruction. Drinking too much, after a little success, spreading insults, generally misbehaving, he alienated his friends and colleagues. He was willing to try almost anything to get his life back on track. Enter Yoga-

Out of shape, and not really motivated yet, Neal struggled as he tried to master the positions. To his great surprise, he actually felt better. He took more and more classes, becoming rather fanatical about his new activity. (His family and friends were not sure where this was leading, but liked the kinder, gentler Neal.)

While I was reading in a Readathon, his story told of a Yogathon, which just cracked me up. I felt his pain!

Funny and touching, Neal writes about his success, and failures, as he finds himself wanting to become a Yoga instructor. (much to his wifes chagrin)

I really liked this story!! Neal Pollack is a terrific writer and funny as all get out.

I received this book from Erica at Harper Perennial for review. Thank you so much! ( )

Pollack is not what you’d imagine to be a yoga type. As he explains in the first chapter of his memoir, earlier in his career he tried to be the “bad boy” punk rocker of contemporary literature, which didn’t work out too well for him. He came to yoga via his local 24-hour gym in Austin at just the right time in his life, when he really needed to make a change, and he embraced it wholeheartedly, much to the annoyance of his long-suffering wife.

That doesn’t mean he embraced all of yoga culture, which can be as self-indulgent and silly as any other multi-million-dollar industry. He writes about yoga rock festivals, acro-yoga, show-offs and teachers who talk too much about themselves in class with appropriate disdain. He doesn’t go easy on himself, either, such as when he spends quite a few very funny pages describing his efforts to suppress his farting in class.

But that doesn’t mean there’s not a lot of good in yoga, too, and Pollack writes about that aspect openly and without snark, from the really interesting teachers he is fortunate enough to have, to the gradual changes yoga makes on his own personality. In short, he stops being an asshole because of yoga. And as he keeps pointing out, yoga people are nice. We need a lot more nice people in this world.

I have studied yoga off and on for several years, so for me it was particularly interesting when Pollack discussed the philosophy and history of yoga, although I have to wonder if he skims too much over these concepts for the layperson to follow. No matter. Pollack’s funny, entertaining memoir has inspired me to make yoga a regular part of my life again. After all, if this guy can do it, then I certainly can. ( )