On Oprah, or, The AntiChrist

The Wench was utterly delighted to stumble upon this enlightening NY Post piece by Maureen Callahan, in which the author examines the popularity of the latest female New Age tome, Eat, Pray, Love:

What is going on? Why is it that women, in overwhelming numbers, are now indulging in this silliness in a way that men are not? (To be fair, there was the equally unhinged “Iron John" movement in the '90s.) Oprah's audience has helped turn serious, artful literature like Cormac McCarthy's “The Road" and Elie Wiesel's “Night" into bestsellers. So why aren't they clamoring for more weight when it comes to Oprah's female authors? Where's the Joan Didion? Or Alice Munro?

Instead, we are saddled with this narcissistic New Age reading, curated by Winfrey (who is responsible for turning “The Secret" into the year's best-selling book) and newly abetted by Gilbert, whose own book is 2007's second best-selling title. During her most recent appearance on Winfrey's show, Gilbert beamed beatifically while spouting stuff like: “If you take the word ‘no' and put it backwards, it's almost ‘om.' " “When you fill up your own skin with yourself, that alone becomes your offering." “There are days when I look at that meditation mat in the corner of my room and say, ‘I'm gonna have to see you, like, Thursday, but I know you're there and we're coming back to each other."

The Wench considers Ms. Gilbert's bromides to be pure, unmitigated POOP. And POOP stinks just the same, whether spelled backwards or forwards.

Ms. Winfrey encourages women to slather themselves in unadulterated narcissism (Could one expect any less from a woman who features herself on every cover of her magazine?). She calls this brand of no-holds-barred self-love "finding your spirit" and "living your best life" -- euphemisms that conveniently absolve women from the yucky, inconvenient duties we all shoulder in this life.

Real personal and spiritual growth demands sacrifice and inner struggle. It involves learning to be content on less. It involves a battle with one's own temperament. It involves a hard, critical look at the values and beliefs one holds dear, and a hard, critical appraisal of the self.

Ms. Gilbert and Ms. Winfrey deny this is so. They tell women that personal and spiritual growth can be achieved by a patchouli-scented bubble bath, or by eating low-fat wraps with skim-milk cheese. Or, as Ms. Gilbert suggests, by getting a four-hour massage from a brown-skinned medicine woman. And a great many women swallow this Kool-Aid willingly and without question.

The Wench never ceases to be amazed at her gender's simultaneous, completely contrary impulses: To be taken seriously, and to be treated like little girls.