Untamed

Wow, this was exactly the jolt to the system I needed during a period of feeling completely stagnant. Doyle’s exploration of her “Knowing” resonated with me on a level I didn't think possible for a mainstream memoir. Truthfully, the prose is stunning and feels more like a collection of poetic revelations than a standard autobiography. I found myself highlighting entire pages about her relationship with Abby and the way she dismantled her old life to find her true self. While some might find her tone a bit intense, I appreciated the raw vulnerability she brought to the table. This isn't just a book about divorce; it’s a manual for anyone who has ever felt like they were living a life designed by someone else. It grounded me and gave me permission to breathe again.

The chapter on "Knowing" will stay with me for a very long time because it perfectly captures that internal voice we all ignore. Doyle has a gift for taking complex emotional states and turning them into lyrical, accessible prose that feels deeply personal yet universal. Every section feels like a profound resonance of the soul, urging the reader to stop abandoning themselves for the sake of societal expectations. Not gonna lie, I cried through the parts where she talks about rebuilding her family and finding a love that didn't require her to shrink. The book functions like a series of interlocking life lessons, each one building on the last to create a gorgeous portrait of liberation. It is easily one of the most meaningful things I have read in the last decade.

Look, I needed a book that validated my own late-in-life discovery of my sexuality, and this delivered in spades. Reading about Glennon’s instant recognition of Abby—that "There She Is" moment—was incredibly healing for me. I love how she reframes a "broken family" as one where people are forced to hide their true selves to stay together. This book is a radical call to self-actualization that refuses to apologize for wanting more out of life than just "fine." Her thoughts on motherhood were particularly eye-opening, moving away from the idea that we must suffer to be good parents. It’s a vibrant, colorful, and soulful exploration of what happens when a woman finally decides to stop being a "good girl" and starts being a human. I will be gifting this to every woman I know.

Ever wonder what it would actually feel like to stop pretending and just exist? This book provides a roadmap for exactly that through the lens of a woman who finally chose herself over her conditioning. The cheetah metaphor at the beginning is one of the most effective literary hooks I’ve encountered in years. It perfectly sets the stage for a narrative about reclaiming the wildness that society tries to domesticate out of us. Doyle’s lyrical prose turns every chapter into an actionable insight, making the reader feel like they are undergoing a spiritual transformation alongside her. I especially loved her take on "the cage" of gender roles and how we pass those cages down to our children. It’s a fierce, brave, and utterly beautiful manifesto for the modern woman.

Picked this up after seeing it on every must-read list for three years straight. I wasn't sure if I’d connect with a former mommy-blogger, but the episodic structure made it very easy to digest. Each chapter acts as a standalone vignette, offering small pearls of wisdom that you can sit with for a few days. Personally, I enjoyed the way she describes the transition from being a martyr for her family to being a model of self-care. It’s a subtle but powerful shift in perspective that many women need to hear. There were definitely moments where the preachiness felt a bit heavy-handed, especially when she tries to tackle massive social issues in just a few pages. However, the core message of trusting your own intuition is solid and beautifully articulated throughout the work.

Finally got around to this best-seller and I have to say, the structure is quite refreshing. Instead of a linear timeline, you get these modular vignettes that jump around, which actually keeps the pacing quite brisk. It reads like a conversation with a very intense friend who has spent a lot of time in therapy. The writing is elegant and often quite funny, especially when she leans into the absurdity of her own sensitivities. While I agree with the criticism that some of the life lessons feel a bit oversimplified, the emotional core remains strong. She captures the exhaustion of modern womanhood with such precision that it’s hard not to feel seen. It’s a beautiful book, even if it occasionally feels like it was written specifically for a very certain demographic of middle-class readers.

To be fair, it’s not a traditional memoir in any sense of the word, but that’s actually its greatest strength. The book operates as a series of interlocking short stories that gradually reveal the author's philosophy on everything from religion to racism. While I didn't agree with every single conclusion she reached, I found the writing to be consistently engaging and often quite moving. She has a way of phrasing things—like the idea that we are "fireproof"—that makes you want to go out and conquer the world. There is a bit of a white lady in a bubble vibe at times, and some of the chapters felt a bit like filler. However, the overall message of integrity and self-trust is one that I think most people could benefit from hearing at least once.

As someone who found Love Warrior to be a transformative experience, this follow-up was a bit of a mixed bag. I truly admire Doyle’s journey and her bravery in living her truth, but the delivery here felt a lot more like a sermon than a story. At times, she speaks with such certainty that it leaves very little room for the reader's own interpretation or struggle. For example, her refusal to answer phone calls because it's "aggressive" felt less like a boundary and more like a manifestation of privilege. Still, there are gems of wisdom hidden in the more philosophical chapters regarding body image and setting boundaries. It's a decent read if you can get past the occasional smugness of the "woke" lecturing, but it lacked the raw grit that made her previous work so relatable.

Not what I expected given the massive hype surrounding this title on social media. While the opening metaphor about the caged cheetah was genuinely compelling, the rest of the book felt like an exercise in self-congratulation. In my experience, the chapters felt less like a cohesive narrative and more like a series of polished blog posts designed to show off how "evolved" the author has become. I struggled with the anecdotes about her children, which felt suspiciously curated and lacked the messiness of actual parenting. For instance, the story about her son happily giving up his phone felt entirely unrealistic and a bit condescending to those of us in the trenches. To be fair, her writing style is undeniably fluid and easy to read, but the underlying tone of white feminist elitism was a major turn-off for me.

Frankly, this felt like an expensive collection of Instagram captions bound together to profit off the current self-love trend. I found the author's voice to be incredibly grating and out of touch with the realities that most people face daily. It’s easy to talk about “doing whatever you want” when you have the financial safety net and platform that she possesses. The chapters are choppy, the logic is often contradictory, and the tone feels consistently patronizing toward anyone who hasn't reached her level of enlightenment. Calling a friend's phone call an "aggressive act" is where she completely lost me. In my opinion, this is just more bland, elitist drivel disguised as a spiritual awakening. It was a total waste of money and I regret spending my time on it.