I've been looking forward to reading I Am, I Am, I Am for so long because so many people have loved it. But I think this is a case where my expectations just didn't match what I got. I thought it would be a thrilling collection of essays about near death experiences. What I got was very little of that. Only a few of the experiences were even that interesting or nearing death while the rest were a stretch to fit that mold.
Probably the single thing I most disliked in this book was the author's writing style. It's over-embellished and florid, turning what could have been straightforward accounts into long-winded treatises. Most of the experiences were padded out with tangential ramblings, anecdotes, and various thoughts of her life and her philosophy. I can tell the author was trying to be insightful with her digressions, but it didn't come across that way to me. Instead, I was bored and often didn't see the point of what she was talking about.
I think another reason I didn't connect with this book is that the author and I have really different outlooks on life. She's ruled by emotions, doing whatever she feels like at the moment without accounting for danger. She often takes unnecessary risks with her life (like, how many times does one need to near-drown before being more careful in open water?), and it was frustrating to read this over and over. She also travels to far out, unsafe locations, usually with a young child, and it was exasperating to read about her putting not only her own life in danger, but also her children's.
In the end, this book just isn't for me. While there were a few interesting passages, I found most of it to be boring and irritating, and I'm glad I am done with it.
Readaroo Rating: 2 stars
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