At the advice of a strict, unhappy vegetarian who tells the author (then working as a flight attendant) to "get away", Elliott Hester sets off on a six-continent adventure. A reading adventure the book promises to be, solely from the introduction. Antarctica is not on Mr. Hester's agenda, due to his "...visions of clattering teeth and frostbitten testicles." He outlines some of his upcoming adventures putting the reader in an expectant spirit of what lies ahead - lows and highs and probably something in between.
Food - its pleasures and perils - are the topic of many of the articles, not surprising, but I could have done without reading about the author's lustful thoughts (more for shock and marketing impact, I assume, also limiting his readership). However, his sense of humor, wonder, openness, gratitude and willingness to see another perspective were refreshing and rather hilarious at times - certainly dangerous as well.
Every so often Mr. Hester inserts information that gives the reader a better appreciation of an area or the circumstance in which he finds himself - some historical tidbit, a political fact. I would have liked more. Far too much was devoted to impress, shake, rattle and roll. I sensed I was supposed to be on a constant high. It was exhausting and annoying at times.
The benefits of travel are limitless. It changed me and I am always delighted and awed with its influence on others. "Globe-trotting broadened my view of the world, which has broadened my sense of self," writes Elliott Hester. Not bad at all.
]]>Some books are like cheap wine — they can be devoured on planes or trains and provide a momentary slip of happiness, some are like more expensive wines that you bring out for special occasions to toast success or achievement and some are like fine single malt that you keep hidden away at the back of the wardrobe for days when you want to celebrate, alone, the majesty of being alive. These rare books deserve to be savored, preferably alone, and with as few interruptions as possible. The Local is such a book and its pages are packed with such wit, such wisdom and such profoundly moving insights into human nature that reading this book is like drinking a very rare single malt whilst sitting in a pub alone and watching life go by. In a market packed with far too many travel books written by the dull and boring this book stands head and shoulders above the competition and simply deserves to be read. So, stop reading this review and go and buy a copy now.
While searching for a temporary haven following the September 11th attacks, Manhattan journalist Wendy Bounds is delivered by a friend to Guinan's — a tiny Irish pub and general store on the banks of the Hudson River in the small town of Garrison. A visit that begins with one beer soon turns into a life-changing encounter.
Captivated by the charismatic owner of the bar that is the living heart of the village, Bounds moves to Garrison. She becomes one of the regulars and is quickly swept up by its charms and motley characters. There is the garrulous Jim Guinan himself, with ailing health but rich tales of the pub's past; his grown children, whose duty to their father and the town keep Guinan's up and running against immeasurable odds; Fitz, a tough-talking Vietnam veteran who takes the author under his wing; and Lou-Lou, the most faithful four-legged parishioner at the pub.
Its actually hard to understand why this book is so enjoyable but the author's lightness of touch, the way she brings the many characters to life, the way she weaves personal stories and dreams into the narrative and the sheer passion she has for her subject make this a wonderful read. There is nothing flashy or pretentious about the writing.
It's beautifully low key, the pathos is clearly evident but never over-stressed and the overall tone of the book is beautifully compelling. As I read this book I had to constantly remind myself that I wasn't sitting in the bar myself but merely being shown a world that I can only dream off and a world that the author has captured every shade, every nuance and every detail and described them in beautiful prose.
This is a beautiful book about someone trying to find their place in the world. It is full of beautiful prose and often speaks directly to the heart. If you're searching for something to read that is meaningful and thoughtful you will not be disappointed in this book. It is eloquently written and it is also a personal journey which the author is gracious to share it with the reader. So kick back with a glass of single malt and enjoy this wonderful book.
I was very excited to receive this slim, yet elegant volume in the post. The premise was beguiling: 'Katie Kitamura is speeding across Japan on a train to Osaka to visit her parents. The landscape and the journey evoke everything from her distant childhood memories to the tumultuous years in the aftermath of the Hiroshima bombing. As she tries to reconcile the vibrancy of Japan's contemporary pop culture with the unrecounted trauma of its past, she also struggles to determine how she belongs in a country where, as a Japanese-American, she is at once an insider and an outsider,' and yet the author has produced a book that is a barely readable collection of fragmented images, part-baked ideas and stolid prose. In fact, this book is so poor, that half way through I lost the will to live and had to go and clean my house less I slipped into a coma.
The author, who would have greatly benefited from hefty use of the red pen, seems to think that using one hundred words when two or three could do is the way to pad out what could have actually been a half decent book. I actually had to wonder if the author had just padded out a short magazine article into an excruciatingly long read or really wanted to show off the benefits of her multiple academic degrees by pummelling the reader into submission with her vocabulary.
However, there is no insight here, no great breakthrough of understanding and no great understanding of Japan is shown (for example the author refers to Bullet Trains when no one in Japan or of Japanese experience would refer to them as anything else but shinkansen.) The author's reading and understanding of Japan is so limited that she is forced to spend pages regurgitating the numerous clichés of Japan.
Kitamura might be a brilliant writer and this work clearly shows some ambition but she still has a long way to go and needs to learn that less is often more. There are many better books on Japan and this tome should be of only limited interest to travellers in the region.
Plagued by insecurities and an over-powering mother, Joshua Davis sets out to find something that he is good at. After finishing fourth in the American Arm Wrestling Championship, which leads to a spot at the world championship, the beguiling, yet ultimately pathetic Davis sets out on a quest of epic lunacy to find both his place in life and impress both his wife and mother. His global adventures include becoming a professional bull-fighter, a 128 pound sumo wrestler, taking part in the world Sauna Championship and taking part in the World Running Backwards Championship. Nothing is too bizarre or outlandish for Davis and his quest to satisfy his desires for greatness.
Although this is a fairly insubstantial read Davis does raise some interesting points about what it means to be a man in society today and how our race for technology has allowed us to out-strip the opportunities today. However, much of his characterization and descriptions are so light and undeveloped that its hard to become emotionally involved with the story. The exception being his sojourn in India where he meets the world record holder for running backwards and learns that the corner stone of life is having a good wife. Had the author developed the Indian stories to a deeper emotional depth this book would have been ultimately more rewarding. This is a tragic omission by the author as the love for his wife is clearly a driving force in his life but his misses the opportunities to tie the threads of his life in San Francisco and his trip to India together.
However, there is much to enjoy in this book and there can be no doubt that the author has considerable spirit. This is beautifully captured in the sumo section of the book in which a young boy asks the author for his autograph (despite loosing all his sumo bouts) because he fought with the most spirit. Undoubtedly, this book will not change the world or become a literary classic but it is still a fun read and could just inspire you to get off the sofa and go and do something different.
One thousand seven hundred and fifty two acres of recreation housing wild and human life (no two buildings have the same design!) that is intimately associated with the times - past and present - that's Phoenix Park. Knowledge of this park provides a history lesson in Dublin's past. The book is also a guide for your walking and/or other pleasures.
And what pleasures are in store - misdemeanors, flora, fauna, a zoo, sports, crimes - even a self guided tour! One chapter deals with "literary links". Seamus Heaney is the name I recognized, but there are others beginning in the 19th century. Right before the index (yes, there's that also), you'll find miscellaneous and valuable information such as website addresses, specific events, tours, sights, transportation and contact details.
Brendan Nolan devotes 256 pages to this huge park. Photos add to the fact-filled text. The value, of course, is for tourists, visitors, travellers but also, for locals and anyone interested in seeing or reading about an historic and scenic park.
"Ok," I thought, as I stood in the bookshop on King's Cross Station, "this book should keep me amused on my long train trip home."
'Brian Keenan's fascination with Alaska began as a small boy, while reading Jack London's wondrous, "Call of the Wild". With a head full of questions about its inspiring landscape and a heart informed by his love of desolate and barren places, Brian Keenan sets out for Alaska to discover its four geographical quarters, from snowmelt in May to snowfall in September...'
However, after struggling through this abysmal book, I decided that I would have been better talking to the pretty blonde girl who sat next to me on the lethargic British Rail train, who, despite appearing to be a total air head, might have at least given me someamusing conversation or amused me in some small way.
Keenan takes a great idea, bashes it around a little, and pads it out with what can only be politely described as a lot of metaphysical twaddle, ('I had to free my inner animal'), which reads like J.R Rawling on crack. Then he adds a bunch of badly drawn characters and painfully stereotypical descriptions, and expects us to sit back and enjoy the ride, which is terribly disappointing as I have enjoyed much of Keenan's earlier work.
Aside from the metaphysical twaddle of finding one's inner beast and removing dragon scales from one's soul, (I actually laughed out loud at this; surely the author can't really want us to believe this, can he?) Keenan actually undertakes a demanding and rigorous journey, and it's the lack of vision and clarity the author applies when writing about this aspect of the trip which frustrates the most. Greater characterization and more empathy towards the characters he meets may well have provided a better framework to hang some of the more esoteric aspects of this book on. It often seems that this journey, which the author would like us to believe is a journey of great spiritual enlightenment, could have taken place anywhere, as Alaska missing from much of the text.
I struggled to enjoy this book. I found the descriptions painfully labored, and the author came across as a conceited and egotistical mystic (why did he have to drag his poor family half way around the globe if he planned to wander off alone for weeks on end)? And the descriptions, which should have made my spirit soar, failed to impress. Overall, this was a deeply disappointing book.
On his retirement Terry Darlington observes to wife, Monica, "We could bore ourselves to death, drink ourselves to death or have a bit of an adventure..." and so, with tongue firmly in cheek they set off for Carcassonne, England on their twee little narrow boat. Between the covers of this quirky, humorous and sometimes profoundly moving book, you will follow the intrepid travelers as they go rabbiting in Oxfordshire, tie up among the bankers in the City of London, live among history in Flanders, drift through Champagne, throw a rope around the Eiffel Tower, struggle with hostile life forms in Burgundy, float down the Saone from vineyard to vineyard, get swept along by the terrible Rhone from Lyon to Avignon, dip their toes in the Mediterranean, and sail across inland seas among the flamingos of the Camargue. Breakdowns, floods, accidents, hangovers, vandals, dicks, trolls, aliens, gongoozlers, killer fish and the walking dead stand between our intrepid crew and their goal - many-towered Carcassonne.
Despite the author's polished prose and his eye for detail, this isn't an easy book to get into and many people will find the quirky, sometimes surreal prose a little difficult to enjoy. However, if you can wade through the first few chapters, the writing style becomes easier on the eye and the sheer beauty of this work begins to emerge. A few more chapters in and you will begin to believe that the author's humor and charm is not contrived but genuine and engaging. By the time I had read two-thrids of this book, I already wanted it to be much longer and found myself returning to the initial chapters to re-read them. Like drinking scotch, this is something which can not be enjoyed immediately. But for those prepared to invest time, it will reap great rewards.
One of the biggest enjoyments that the reader will get from this book is the luxury of the author's descriptions. Taking a poet's eye and applying it to the landscape of France produces some beguiling descriptions which almost make one want to travel to France (only the sheer number of French people there stops me doing this.) The author also shows a light comic touch which will probably lead him to being compared to Bryson:
'When I woke up the next morning, and I wished that I had not woken up the next morning, I realized that I had promised to sail an inland boat across the English Channel, roped up to a madman.'
Overall, there is something deeply enjoyable about this book. At heart, the author is searching for some meaning to his life and builds this, most noble of quests, around a moving and ultimately uplifting story. Readers should not be put off by the difficulty of the writing style and those who preserve will be guaranteed a great read.
“As a young man John Francis witnesses the devastating effects of a 1971 oil spill in San Francisco Bay. He stops using motorized transportation and begins walking everywhere; a few months later, he takes a vow of silence that lasts seventeen years.”
It is not surprising that a man, who saw and listened so much, has a lot to share. Twenty-two years of walking and seventeen years of silence takes profound amounts of self-discipline. John Francis takes the reader along with him on his journey across the Pacific Northwest and onto the East Coast and into the halls of the power in Washington D.C. He accomplishes several goals with his book.
The book provides insight to those wishing to travel by foot. The mechanics of walking in a motorized United States is surprisingly complicated, and fraught with, believe-it-or-not, danger. Aside from focusing on his own journey he also cites numerous others, from the Peace Pilgrim to Buddhist monks for peace who also embarked upon similar sojourn.
Readers also gain insight into the personal challenges one faces when taking a peaceful and proactive stand in favor beliefs tightly held. Not surprisingly, obstacles abound. However, the book reveals, or rather reaffirms, the potential goodness in all. Again and again, complete strangers extend their hand in support. Gestures I find refreshing.
Most importantly, John Francis’s book is testament to the fact that people can and do make a difference. Too many times people throw up their hands, “what can I do” “one vote doesn’t matter”. Indeed, powerful forces within the United States marginalize the masses. However, this book offers an important perspective on how one individual rejected and overcame the paradigm to make positive changes in his life and those he touched.
The book is solid and stands on its own. However, I wanted more. I’ve met John, and find him so much more than his book. I wanted more of his keen philosophic insight and more about his many challenges abroad. I will be looking for a second book.
Planetwalker by John Francis, Ph.D.
Antonio Sanchez (Writer - Thinker - Eater) can be reached at antoniowrites at gmail dot com.
Don George, in his new anthology “By the seat of my pants”, put together a wide variety of writing from travelers caught in awkward and often undesirable moments. The collection boasts some of the big name writers in travel writing today, even some present and former Bootsnall Members contributed. Sometimes funny or corny and more often than not wild, the narrators leave the reader struck by the absolute lunacy of some travelers and the situations in which they find themselves.
Two criticisms spring to the fore.
First, it is an anthology, and not all the stories captivate the reader. Some drone and others are ordinary. Some try and do not succeed in conveying in print that particular situation which was so funny, odd, or amazing when it happened. These are truly you-had-to-be-there moments, the gesticulations and wild intonations from a story teller fail to be captured in mere words.
Second, why not more? A paltry 29 stories barely whets the appetite. Perhaps the Don George could only find 29 publishable stories, or perhaps the Lonely Planet siphoned off other worthy pieces to some other writing project. Maybe LP could only afford 29 authors. Regardless of the reason, a thirsty public demands more.
Brickbats aside, it is a quick read. Many of the book’s stories delight the reader. The book’s most important contribution is bringing to its audience real experience regarding the unforeseen tribulations of travel. Everyone knows flexibility trumps rigidity, and ambassadors of good will should maintain senses of humor despite the worst of circumstances. However, many new travelers or even non-travelers cannot fathom what can happen. The potpourri of misadventures collected here, whether well written or not, provides excellent insight into what most travelers will face. Experienced and not-so-experienced travelers ought to pay special attention to both how the narrators stuck themselves into their predicaments, as well as their prescience (and sometimes lack thereof) in weathering the moment.
By the Seat of My Pants edited by Don George
]]>"A search for the soul of England? What planet was I living on? I might just as well have gone in search of a new design of wheelie bin. Or the perfect pork pie."
When Steve Haywood hits 50, he is galvanised into action. Exploring the English canals on his trusty narrowboat Justice, and the countryside in his classic Triumph Herald, he attempts to delve into what it is that makes the English so, well, English.
The journey itself makes a engaging story and is both a melancholic lament for the loss of so much which was good about England and a pray of hope for future generations. Interwoven with some of the most amusing, and brutually honest observations about England, is the story of the birth of the Triumph Herald and the engineer who made it possible, and the story of Tom and Angela Rolt, who founded the Inland Waterways Association (and essentially kick-started tourism on England's canals).
Haywood has a great eye for all things English and captures brilliantly the often contradictory passions which define the country: witness our romantic approval or Romany painted caravans and our mean-minded hostility to Roma asylum seekers, our boasted celebrations of eccentricity and the tendency of people on bridges to spit or throw stones at boaters. He also lays out an eloquent and wonderfully well-researched thesis on the decline of British industry and how this continues to shape us as a nation. This alone is worth the cover price of the book.
Yet this is far from being a gloomy book, and it's fascinating, informative and frequently very funny. The writer has a pleasantly idiosyncratic take on things, and an engaging way of expressing it. For example: "In the past the waterways were the preserve of hippies who couldn't quite accept that the 1960s had finished, and enthusiasts who were certain that the 1760s hadn't," and "Decisions are things that just happen to you while you're working out what to do next."
For reasons which I can't really put my finger on (despite my obvious love of England and some memorable holidays spent pottering about on canals) I found this book deeply engaging. I started reading it one afternoon and couldn't go to bed until I had finished it. It's so full of pithy observations, quirky historical facts, eloquent descriptions of architecture and places, wonderful recipes and such weird and wonderful characters that it's impossible not to be charmed by this book. You never know, you may even feel inclined to rent a narrow boat yourself after reading this and experience some of the things the author describes at first hand.
Tim Moore is often hailed as the new king of British travel writing. He previous book have lead him to follow the Arctic trail of a 19th-century explorer, retrace the 18th-century Grand Tour, cycle the Tour de France route and bring the streets of Monopoly to life. For his fifth book, nearing 40 and feeling the need for some spiritual depth in his life (and encouraged by the promise of a free lunch), he sets out to conquer the famous Camino de Santiago, the medieval pilgrims' route to Compostela on the west coast of Spain. As the idea of carrying his own gear for 500 or so miles scares Moore silly so he decides, despite an inherent fear of any animal larger than a cat, to borrow a donkey (or Donk as he endearingly refers to his beast of burden) for this epic journey. It is this dramatic tension between man and beast that gives the book so many of its memorable comic highlights.
Moore had been fascinated by stories he'd heard of pilgrimages, which many Europeans had taken through sultry and unwelcoming Spanish terrain to Santiago de Compostela. The sub-title says it all: "One Man and his Ass on the Pilgrim Way to Santiago"--and Moore's treacherous donkey is as much a character as the bizarre dramatis personae the author encounters. Everything is against him: weather that saps his resolve at every step of the way, impossible dormitories, eccentric fellow travellers, and an animal that, if it could speak, would be constantly asking, "is this journey really necessary?"
However, perhaps because this is essentially a different, more spiritual trip, or perhaps because, like most of us, Moore is beginning to feel the passage of time, I found the humour in this book much more low key and muted. There are less laugh-out-loud passages. However this is balanced by a much more spiritual feeling to the book. It is almost as if Moore is really beginning to mature as a writer and now realises that as well as having a great eye for comedy and dialogue (I laughed out loud every time a German pilgrim referred to Moore's donk as a monkey) he realises that he can write emotional and quite touching prose too. This especially effective when sandwiched between amusing descriptions of hostel life on the road:
"Unexpected confrontation with full-frontal, Pilsner-bellied German nudity was an occupational hazard in any refugio bathroom... (the man's) wrinkled pilgrim parts now rested on the rim of the sink I was waiting to clean my teeth in..."
There is an awful lot to recommend about this book (as there always with Moore's books) and over 500 miles of extreme weather and agonising bestial sloth, it becomes memorably apparent that for the multinational band of eccentrics who keep the Santiagan flame alive, the pilgrimage has evolved from a purely devotional undertaking into a mobile therapist's couch. Ludicrous, heart-warming and improbably inspirational (as one reviewer noted) this is a profoundly moving and witty book. The reader can only hope that the obvious change that Moore undergoes whilst on this pilgrimage doesn't stop him writing such eloquent books in the future.
]]>Peter Moore is now well established as a travel writer. I loved his second book – The Wrong Way Home (which due to some quirk of fate was actually published before his first book – No Shitting on the Toilet here in the UK), found the Full Montezuma an entertaining and amusing read whilst hated Swahili for the Broken-Hearted (SFTBH) so much that I swore I would never read one of his books again. However, finding myself stuck in some god-forsaken airport with nothing to read whilst I waited for a flight that never came I was forced to pick up his new book – Vroom with a View.
The premise is that after a late night Tai Bo fitness commercial warns him that his life will be over after 40, Moore decides to pursue a boyhood dream sparked by watching old black and white movies of Sophia Loren riding motor scooters to putt-putt around Italy on a 1960s Vespa, living the Dolce Vita. Compared to the author's previous books, this seemed a somewhat unadventurous and banal journey but Moore has managed to produce a book which is much more rounded and fulfilling than anything he has previously written. Reading this it is hard to believe that the author was responsible for the reprehensible and fit-only-to-be-used-as-toilet-paper SFTBH.
Perhaps the subtle pleasures of Italy and riding a Vespa around the country are more appropriate to Moore's gentle humour (he has been called the Australian Bill Bryson but that's not fair to either author) or that Moore has apparently matured a lot since the last book and fallen in love that makes this book so enjoyable. I wanted to hate this but instead I found myself hoping that Moore got the girl and that everything would end up nicely (which, not to spoil the book, it does.)
Compared to the previous book, the writing is crisp and polished, the descriptions are evocative and meaningful and the humour is gentle and genuine. The landscape of Italy is described with such eloquence that its almost possible to believe that the author projects his love for his new girlfriend on to Italy. Italy becomes the lover and the lover becomes Italy. In parts this is beautifully written.
Moore has definitely grown up with this book and should now be considered as one of the most amusing and polished of humorous travel writers around. There is much to praise in this book and it will, unless you have a heart of stone, leave you feeling good about life. I shall look forward, with anticipation, to his next book.
]]>I am not a biker. I have only once been on a bike – and that left such an impression that now when I walk down the street and see someone revving up a bike I break out into a cold sweat. So, it was, with some trepidation, that I began to read this book.
Tom Cunliff and his spunky wife Roz decide to traverse the USA on a pair of Harley Davidson motor bikes. Tom and Roz are English; Tom an experienced rider, Roz has just passed her test. Tom ships his own full-blown Fat Boy over to States for the trip whilst Roz buys a 'small bike', an 883 Sportster on the East Coast. The guy who sells her the Sporty isn't sure it's big enough to make the round trip to San Francisco and back in one piece and Roz herself isn't sure she is physically capable of the trip. However, they soon depart on a spiritual and somewhat philosophical trip across the US which encompasses everything from trailer park culture to Psycho-style motels, encounters with Hurricane Bertha and an eclectic collection of people from moonshiners, ol'blues men to hillbillies.
Throughout their journey, Tom and Roz are tested by the weather, by the roads and entertained by the people and the landscape they pass through. They encounter astonishing hospitality and occasional hostility. All the time the message is driven home: America is not simply Britain on a bigger scale. It is a foreign as any other country and the shared language misleads as much as it informs. America is big, and America is different. However, the author, who is supremely quotable and has such an eye for detail and subtle characterisation that whole sections of the book will make you swoon and wish for the feel of the desert sun on you face, captures these cultural nuances with such a deft touch that you feel he really understands, and appreciates the country like few foreigners ever could.
As a non-biker (and someone who is inherently afraid of anything mechanical) I was pleasantly surprised how enjoyable the Cunliff made the biking seem and how profoundly the author captures of solitude and pathos of moderna America, 'As the clear drops ran off her waxed tank to drip over the shining complexity of her power plant, each one carried an image, a tiny world that lasted only long enough to land on the smooth black gloss and run to the edge. Letting go its despairing hold on the underside to tumble onto the cylinder fins, its doom was sealed as surely as that of an iceberg sailing down from Labrador to meet the warm Gulf Stream...'
This is a deeply moving book. The author is clearly deeply in love with his wife, his bike and the American landscape. This gentle passion for life, when interweaved with solidly researched historical fact, amusing anecdotes and quirky observations makes this book deeply satisfying. I won't be rushing out to buy a Hog in the near future, but I am sure I will be re-reading this book and quoting it for years to come.
Let's get it out of our system. Say it with me: "Paul Theroux is arrogant". Nowhere is this more apparent in Dark Star Safari where the self-uplifting, know-it-all-travel-guy makes his way from Cairo to Capetown. Examples of his boastful nature litter the entire book, but his self-identification with Livingston, Rimbaund, Greene, the Lone Ranger, and Steppenwolf (pgs 311/393) are too much. These hubristic comparisons stretch the truth by embellishing the narrator's influence, resourcefulness, and importance.
Frequent sexual references throughout the book provided another distraction. Authors for centuries comment directly and indirectly on African sexuality. Like many authors before him, the narrator pays homage to this tradition in a more subtle way. He talks with prostitutes, quotes historical references about the sexual organs of the Wagogo tribe (pg 247), mentions his own sexual adventures (pg 278), and frequently reminds the reader about his ongoing pet project - an erotic romance. It is completely valid to converse with prostitutes. Indeed his conversations with the prostitutes provide the reader with a lens through which they learn about a dominant sub-culture. However, the narrator goes to great length to ensure the reader that it was conversation only, leaving the reader to wonder why the disclaimers were necessary. On several occasions he discusses sex in context of AIDS and the economy, the observations are on point and relevant. However his idle disclaimers, along with the other unnecessary sexual references make for curious distractions.
If readers get beyond these minor foibles, the book is a treat. Two major themes occur throughout narrator's journey. Theme one flows from the many conversations with anyone and everyone he meets. It is clear the narrator wants to reveal little covered slices of life, easily overlooked and ignored by common travel. From the political and scholastic elite, to prostitutes, shopkeepers, laborers, evangelists, displaced farmers, prisoners, ex-soldiers, and native tribesman the narrator succeeds in showing a wide, brilliant, and colorful swath of the tapestry that is Africa.
The focus the author gives to some communities over others may cause discomfort to some. For example, the narrator spends a great deal of his later chapters focusing on the plight of the white man in Zimbabwe and South Africa. This is not racist, but instead attempts to represent an injustice felt by Boers in South Africa and the victims of land grabs in Zimbabwe. To the narrator's credit, he does speak to people on both sides of the conflict. However he does a poor job of providing context and perspective, brushing only in the most superficial manner over the centuries of exploitation of Africa's human and material resources by dominant western powers. Despite this, all the narrator's interviews, discussions, and encounters show a rich and complicated view of the countries he visits.
The second theme, underscored by the narrator's previous Peace Corps experience in several of the countries, relates to the deterioration of Africa as a whole. Although tempting, it would be wrong to interpret this theme as the western saviors got it right in the sixties and now the Africans fouled it up. Again and again the narrator, through his personal experience and interviews, draws distinctions between how life was like, how people live now, and the trajectory of the African lifestyle in years to come. This perspective provides tremendous insight into the collective frustration he encounters at every leg of his journey. He regularly chastises the charities and religious movements. In just about every chapter, his anecdotes show examples of power corrupting, and the concentration of corrupt power in governments. These governments receive the bulk of charitable contributions. Thus, while charities fund corrupt governments, the population becomes less empowered. Dis-empowered people in combination with an uninvolved government result in social unrest and a general deterioration of those societal elements attributed to developed countries. Beyond these observations, the narrator, with his unique perspective, misses opportunities for a more in-depth analysis of the reversal and failures of development in the African nations he visits.
Beyond these two themes, some important lessons for travelers resonate between the two covers of this book. Learn about the country before visiting. Aside from context that will enhance the travel experience, it may direct you to a location otherwise missed. Also, talk to people, especially people on the road less traveled. Lastly, the world changes daily and often in unexpected ways. This book is not one to read before a first trip to Africa, the experiences of the narrator are not representative of the whole, but instead representative of voices not often heard. More importantly, the narrator gives a skewed version of history, focusing on elements important for his point or obscure sources that focus on the life of a particular tribe or person. Travelers intent on journeying to Africa should not read Dark Star Safari before they go. It will cloud their vision, and may most likely adversely affect the view of vast and complex collection of diverse countries. It is however, the perfect book to read, after returning from an African journey.
I read a lot of books. I read on planes, on busses, during my lunch break at work. I read everything from historical fiction, to biographies, to philosophy but I have never read a book which is so life-affirming, so profoundly moving and so utterly thought provoking as Stevie Smith's stunning book 'Pedalling to Hawaii.'
Picture a frustrated office worker of twenty-five. One rainy, miserable Monday he resolves to grab life with both hands and embark on an adventure: the first entirely human-powered journey around the world. Although he had never been on an expedition of any kind and had no money, Stevie and his friend Jason dreamed up a voyage that would take them from England, across the Atlantic by pedal boat and then on to circumnavigate the world by human-power.
Pedalling to Hawaii has all the ingredients of great adventure travel literature: there's hopeless amateurism, Panglossian spirit, near-death experiences and bitter rows - on arrival in the US, a spat between the boys sees Jason ditching the bike and crossing the continent alone by inline skates.
It's really hard to identify why this book is so moving and so powerful. Smith writes his razor-sharp prose in such a way that he scores away the pretence and fallacies of travel writing to truly explore the human soul. Smith may not see himself as a hero, and in fact he often explores his own mental health with brutal honesty, but his integrity, honesty and sheer depth of humanity shine through and make this a truly life-affirming experience. Skating a thin-line between philosophy and travel-writing, Smith produces a book the likes of which I haven't seen since Nick Danzieger's first book.
This is not just a travel book. It is a story of a heroic undertaking and a search for the true meaning of existence. Can we really ever be happy living in a results-driven, selfish, money orientated society, Smith seems to ask himself as he pedals for days on end across the Atlantic, or is true happiness only really achieved by finding a place to belong and laying down solid roots there?
Ultimately, this is a story of friendship, fear, anger, love, determination, endurance, and some times hatred. It is also a profoundly moving discourse on the human condition and will leave you feeling both breathless and extremely moved. It should be on every traveller's reading list.
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