Haffar's travelogue book, Away From My Desk, is a daily journal of his whirlwind trip of forty-five countries and six continents that is seemingly addressed to the armchair traveler.

The strength of this extensive travelogue is in some of the author's keen perceptions of the multitude of countries he visits. As an example, his description of Bombay is right on the mark when he asserts, "Bombay at 6:30 on this mild January morning is repulsive. Everything I've read and heard makes the disclaimer that it is not possible to prepare for arrival here, that you will inevitably be shocked. It's not true. You can prepare for Bombay. Picture a sea of dark rotting humanity, alive and piled like shit on the side of the road, burning garbage to heat tins full of water."

Another good example is when Haffar states: "We're starting to understand the Provence 'thing.' It's not about going to Avignon, or Arles or, St. Rémy. It's really much more about going to all these places. Although there are many similarities between the towns, there are enough distinctions that you can only form a complete impression of the region by tooling around and spending a little time in each."

Tidbits scattered throughout the book pique our curiosity. For instance, did you know that Australians and New Zealanders sell carpets in Turkey? We are also exposed to some useful tips, such as how to ship your motorbike from Istanbul to Bombay.

The weakness of the book is the tedious overuse of the terms "I" and "we" in describing the author's various journeys. The reader will also hunger for more penetrating conversations with the local inhabitants. We get the feeling that the author seems to be reluctant to engage in any meaningful in depth discourse with the many characters he meets throughout his journeys. Perhaps this was intentional?