After ranting about how delusional Eat, Pray, Love was as a book, I swore off spiritual-travel-girly lit for a while. The commercialization of spirituality that’s so common these days in every aisle of the book store from the New Age section to memoirs annoyed me to say the least. Two years writing about the many aspects of spirituality and myth left me full up on dharma and dogma of all kinds, but as I wandered the book store in search of something to read on my travels, I was drawn to the hot pink cover of Holy Cow. Something about the irreverence of it, the god in sunglasses and the Bart Simpson-like title made me think, “I’d kindof like to hang out with this narrator for a while,” and with that, I learned an important lesson about what makes a good book.

Lots of writers and teachers talk about the need for a trustworthy narrator. As a reader, you have to feel like your narrator is real, even if the book is fiction. But it’s also important to have a narrator you like, and I like Sarah MacDonald as a narrator. As she explores Delhi and the surrounding region, she’s not afraid to admit that she expected to hate India and that at times she actually does. Nor is she afraid to show us her own clumsiness as she tries to speak to modern Indians in her extremely dated Hindi. She certainly doesn’t see the locals or the gurus through rose-colored glasses, nor does she seem intent on tearing the whole place down. She’s not quite trying to redeem herself, either. She’s just looking for some kind of truth, something all religions claim to have and none seem to fully grasp. I like that. I like someone who is willing to be flawed. To be honest, I’m rather selfish, and I like a narrator who’s a little bit like me, who is part believer and part skeptic and tries really hard to be all loving.

In addition to the likability of the narrator, the story is great. MacDonald takes full advantage of her travel opportunities and guides us through temples, ashrams, crowded streets, weddings, parties, public religious celebrations and more. She displays the appropriate reverence for cultural traditions while quietly letting us in on her private opinions. As she encounters different forms of Hinduism, Buddhism, Christianity, Judaism and Islam, she gives each one an honest chance and lets the reader share her experience, and in each encounter she shares both the positive and the negative.

While MacDonald’s husband is part of the story (he’s the reason she went to India in the first place), he’s not the point. He’s one person who is hugely important to her, but it’s clear that this book is not all about their romance. In fact, through most of the book, he’s away on work, which is part of how she managed to do so much exploration. As a newlywed myself, I have to say it’s encouraging to see how a couple can love and support each other while still having their own adventures. So, while the man in her life is obviously important, this book remains about her learning, exploring and looking for peace between the world and herself.

I’ve already recommended Holy Cow to a handful of people, telling them it’s a fun and funny book that can also be quite serious at times. MacDonald’s consistent tone and her sense of irony make reading this book feel a lot like a road trip with your best girl friend. If you tend to dislike travel books because they’re generally pretentious and you dislike spiritual books because they idealize damn near everything, you’ll probably find Holy Cow a nice break from all that nonsense.

 Find the book here: Holy Cow: An Indian Adventure