Untamed: Stop Pleasing, Start Living

I am not the target demographic for this book. This was a read suggested for the two-person book club a friend and I started, and I was looking for something different. I had already been thinking about picking up a memoir, so this seemed fitting. However, Glennon Doyle didn't write this for me (I doubt she would say she wrote it for anyone but herself). I have been queer for longer than Doyle, I've been thinking about patriarchal structures and gender expectations since I was 11. I became obsessed with Jean-Paul Sartre and existentialism at 18, so I've been processing how values are mutable for quite some time. This book is not for that kind of person. It is for the type of woman who has been so busy keeping up with what has been asked of her, that she has had little mind to ask where she and what is being asked diverge. It's for privileged white moms, for the most part. It's for people that are just beginning their journey of questioning the world around them.

And I think it's pretty appropriate in that respect. Untamed is less of a memoir and more of an educational text, as the details Doyle provides of her life are largely anecdotal and more exist to serve the larger messages and themes she wants to discuss. It is a primer, if you will, on becoming more aware of yourself and society around you, using Doyle's many own mistakes and learning as a reference point. The central thesis is that when you take care of yourself first, value your own desires and needs and self-worth, then not only will you be more fulfilled, but the people around you that you love will benefit more than if you neglected yourself to put their needs first. Not a revolutionary concept by any means, and if you spend enough time on the right side of TikTok, you're likely to find plenty a 25-year-old saying the same thing and then some. Doyle's style honestly resembles TikTok, doling out her experiences and wisdom in bite-sized chapters that, as one reviewer said, seem made to put on an Instagram inspirational post.

Doyle's style of prose is florid and a bit overindulgent, but I suppose that's how she intends to keep your attention. It's charming for a while, but sometimes I felt like she was just padding out page count. She is fan of metaphors, something she willingly admits, and she uses everything from cheetahs to doorbells to make her point. Not to mention repetition. While there is plenty of self-deprecating humor, in general, she is achingly sincere. Like utterly cringe. She transcribes the words of her friends and family in a way that is just far too perfect and sanded-over to be true. When she talked about talking to her teenage son's friends and coaxing out a more heartfelt conversation from them, I couldn't help but think “Oh god, she's that mom.” Like, crunchy, God-loving, everything-is-a-form-of-therapy mom. In her mid-forties, after the life she's had, she has every right to be as cringe-worthy as she likes, honestly.

I do wish Doyle had kept things more personal at times, because the chapters on racial injustice and even sexual identity felt particularly stale and out of place. But, as stated, this is like a beginner's manual. If you are, say, a woman in her fifties, who's child just came out as gay, then a book like this might help you to begin. If you're starting to question the biases and prejudices that were programmed in you, this book may give you the confidence and the language to start learning more. But I think where this book really excels is when Doyle talks about boundaries, and how to make decisions that are right for you, even if they are not right for other people. How to recognize your emotions and what they are saying to you, and how best to serve others by serving yourself.

And by the look of some of the other reviews, some people were not ready for that information. I get it, it can seem counterintuitive to claim that its healthy and good actually to tell your mother she can't see her grandchildren until she processes her internalized homophobia. But giving yourself space also means giving others their space to do their own work. The same way good fences make good neighbors, walking away when you realize you can't accept an apology is good for everyone involved, even if it doesn't always feel like it.

So yeah, I think this has value. Does it drone on way too long and venture into territory it probably should have left for others? Goodness, yes. It is an unwinding of patriarchal structures from the perspective of someone who has largely benefited from those structures her entire life, so of course, its reach is going to limited. However, I wonder if this book will mostly end up in the hands of people who a) are already aware of most of this, or b) only capable of looking at this from a superficial level. You know, the ones who are calling her a narcissist for talking about herself so much...in her own memoir. Or those who don't understand the difference between Doyle talking about the way women internalize society's expectations regarding appearances, and being “obsessed with looks.” Just saying, not trying to start beef or anything, but there are some insecurities showing up in these reviews. Overall, this book is fine, with a few solid gems of wisdom, but I think she could have gotten her point across just as well in an essay instead of a whole book.