This book has been receiving stellar reviews, but I can't in all honesty bring myself to agree with them. It's written well enough, although it starts very slowly, with too much detail about Lindhout's early life. The heart of the story, of course, covers the time she spent as a hostage in Somalia.
Lindhout undeniably went through hell during her captivity. She absolutely didn't deserve to be held and tortured. I'm pretty certain I wouldn't have survived the ordeal, or been so forgiving of my captors. However, I still found her arrogance and her naivete to be both distasteful and utterly incomprehensible. She puts herself forth as some sort of free spirit who can, with perfect seriousness, equate common sense with a fear of new things. Regarding another kidnap victim, she writes, "[that woman] had been unlucky....I would be okay." So, firmly in denial of the dangers, she styles herself as a journalist and blithely travels to Baghdad, to Afghanistan, and finally to Somalia. She was lucky, all right, lucky to get out with her life. I'm sorry for her suffering, but I couldn't relate.