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Stretch: The Unlikely Making Of A Yoga Dude (2010)

by Neal Pollack(Favorite Author)

3.45 of 5 Votes: 3

ISBN

0061727695 (ISBN13: 9780061727696)

languge

English

genre

Memoir & Autobiography

publisher

Harper Perennial

review 1: Neal Pollack is a yoga dude. He keeps telling us so. He took a lot of yoga classes in California - often when stoned, which made me wonder, can a person really do that? He's also a funny man; he keeps telling us that, too. He covered yoga events for "Yoga Journal", crowing because it meant he could get into events for free."Who the fuck does that teacher think she is?" he shouts, as he storms out of class shouting because he disliked her talk on vegetarian eating. He says often how hairy, smelly, sweaty, pained and farty he is during yoga classes. There are many instances of vomiting. He wears his cynicism like a badge. He's contemptuous (or jealous of) the rich who do yoga in expensive clothes in elegant studios, but rolls his eyes at the neo-hippies in the cheaper end. ... moreHis wife calls him 'asswipe'. Affectionately, I hope.I really wondered why this man was into yoga, and how long it was going to take before it *took*. I expected a climax where he would at last view the world with a kinder eye - and we get that, more or less, when he goes to a retreat in Thailand taught by his favourite teacher, Richard Freeman. I'm not sure why Freeman was his favourite, or whether this was actuallyto Freeman's credit. He learns much, and feels enlightened, but he can't quite decpher his notes on his teacher's words of wisdom... and continues to drink and do drugs at the retreat. When a woman says to him, "So many teachers... it's about their own ego... It just perpetuates a cycle of misery," Pollack says:"It's not like a disagreed with her, entirely, but she could have looked me in the eye when she said that. Shut the fuck up, you pompous Buddhist automaton, I wanted to say. But I didn't, because it just would have led to more suffering."Which made me think that Pollack still hasn't got the point. He remains judgmental of everyone and everything. The closest he gets to earning my sympathy at a moment of friendship with his bartender:"I thought again, "Wait, what if this is yoga, or at least part of yoga? But that thought seemed too sincere to me, so instead I said, 'Nah, yoga's boring. Let's have a drink."The book ends on a cliffhanger, as Pollack is about to teach his first yoga class, though he has never trained to teach. He calls it Club Sutra, and prepares for it with a mantra: "I'm going to fail, I'm going to fail, I'm going to fail." Just as he's starting, the book ends. Is he planning a sequel?I did enjoy the pop-culture explanation of the California yoga scene and its history, as viewed through Pollack's eyes. Most of the yoga celebrities and teachers he talks about are people I've never heard of, and many of his cultural references were way over my head, along with some of the jokes. I kept making notes to look up people and yoga references.I enjoyed reading this, if only in horrified fascination.
review 2: This is a great yoga memoir for those of us allergic to the word "journey." As a fellow Ashtanga enthusiast, I was already familiar with the historical context and nuts and bolts of the practice the Pollack covers here. However, I would definitely recommend this to anyone beginning Ashtanga or Yoga in general who feels a little alienated by the scented-hugginess of it all. If the notoriously snotty Pollack can accept it and move on, you can, too. less

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