The story engages one's interest on many levels through a telling that is jam-packed with fascinating details and portraits of interesting characters--much in the style of John McPhee (one of my favorite authors). Unlike McPhee, however, White's own (progressively more annoying) personality impinges on the reader's ability to actually enjoy the story. I'll admit that this may be something of a hollow critique, owing to the fact that the title doesn't specifically advertise the book as strictly an account of hiking the PCT. The story is of the author's "almost finding" of himself.
But particularly on that level, the story is lackluster and pointedly disingenuous fare. Aspects of the author's mindset and personality that are initially somewhat charming become, within a surprisingly short space, almost nausea-inducing. White's toxic mixture of infantile narcissism, insecurity, and inexcusable incompetence becomes evident early-on and only gets deeper with each page. If it ever led anywhere--if the author would actually lower shields and offer a glimpse into the effects of the trip on his true self--it might all be tolerable. Instead, however, the reader is subject to a non-stop onslaught of White's desperate, cloying attempts to illustrate how his asinine behavior, selfishness, and barely-masked contempt for the wilderness are, in the end, great character strengths which we are to witness with reverence and awe. Fairly trivial inconveniences and unplanned events--inconveniences and events well-known to every weekend backpacker--become, in the hands of the author, tremendous and overwhelming ordeals that he surmounts through the force of sheer strength and superhuman will. (As a reasonably-seasoned backpacker and through-hiker, I look at every event described in the book and can't help think: `Um... Yeah? So? Big deal!')
Another particular point of great annoyance is White's incessant need to remind the reader time after time and time again that his girlfriend-companion on the trip is really, really exceptionally attractive, and that they had sex a lot. The set-up for these childish, winking reminders comes early in the book, where the reader is treated to an inexplicably detailed and lengthy accounting of the author's gawky (and utterly commonplace) boy-meets-girl story. Besides being pointlessly detailed, the account is so fastidiously one-sided and sexist that it is actually difficult to read. The girl, Allison, is reduced--truly reduced--to a robot-like non-entity. She is set-up as a barely sentient sex-object who serves dutifully, with a smile and nod, at the behest of White's pleasure. (Spoiler alert) The fact that White doesn't "end-up" with Allison is the most pleasing thing about the book. I'm happy for her.
I'm glad, too, that White inserted that "almost" into the subtitle, for he doesn't even come close to "finding" himself. It's not so much that he doesn't quite manage it as he doesn't even try. Far from it--he clearly doesn't want to find himself, for fear of who he really is. This seems clear enough from the sense one gets that White's "self-deprecating" style is really more self-congratulatory than deprecating (`Hey, look at me! See how self-deprecating and down-to-earth I am!'). A more accurate subtitle might be: `how I set-out to use the PCT to retreat further into my narcissism, and succeeded brilliantly, as usual.'