Nina's Reading Blog

Comments on books I am reading/listening to

Archive for the ‘Travel’ Category

Not Tonight, Josephine: A Road Trip Through Small-Town America

Posted by nliakos on September 1, 2017

by George Mahood (2016)

George Mahood publishes his own work, apparently; I can’t find any mention of a publisher anywhere. This may explain why this book cost only $2.99 (Kindle edition), and it was well worth it. It’s a travelogue by a young Britisher traveling around the United States (first with a boyhood friend, then with his girlfriend) in an old rattletrap of a Dodge Caravan (the eponymous Josephine). which breaks down frequently, requiring regular infusions of cash. It’s the usual compendium of encounters with surprisingly friendly folks, with the slight twist that it was written for a British audience, including little explanations like, “There was no real equivalent to the UK’s MOT test. . . .” Also, the subtitle implies that Mahood spent most of his time in small American towns; however, he actually visited quite a lot of tourist sights and national parks, which is not a bad thing; they just aren’t what I would call small-town America. But that’s not really a criticism, just an observation. I enjoyed reading about the national parks.

Mahood is very funny and I enjoyed his humorous descriptions of the many odd situations he and his friends found themselves in. And I liked the fact that he liked the U.S.A. He writes, “My travels across America had exceeded all of my expectations. Its cities were bigger, its mountains higher, roads straighter, rivers wider, lowlands sparser, buildings taller, lakes greater, winters colder, gas cheaper, portions larger, canyons grander, badlands badder, deserts desertier, desserts dessertier, taxis yellowier, Halloweens scarier, bears grizzlier, corn palaces cornier, ski slopes snowier, Brians greasier, prairie dogs dafter, walks hikier, bacon crispier, green salads beefier, park rangers speedier, mechanics wackier (and sometimes grease-you-up-and-screwier), crazy golf crazier, drive-thrus noisier, and its people friendlier than I could have ever possibly imagined.” (You just have to read the book to understand some of those references.)


Posted in Memoir, Travel | Tagged: , , , | Leave a Comment »

Walking to Listen: 4,000 miles Across America, One Story at a Time

Posted by nliakos on August 2, 2017

by Andrew Forsthoefel (Bloomsbury USA 2017)

For some reason, I love reading first-person accounts of very long walks (very long bike rides appeal, too)–perhaps because I will never do one of these marathon walks (across the US, across France, from Tierra del Fuego to Alaska…). This book fits right into this genre. Andrew Forsthoefel yearned to know how to become a true adult, and so he decided to set out walking from his home in eastern Pennsylvania with a sign that said “Walking to Listen”, hoping to meet people who could guide him on his journey to adulthood. He ended up in Los Angeles eleven months later, having understood that maturation is an ongoing thing, not one which we complete in any kind of recognizable way. The various men and women he encountered on his trek shared their stories with him (85 hours’ worth of recorded interviews), and he shares some of them with us. Partial transcripts from some of the interviews are shared between chapters, and other stories and guidance that he received are summarized.

Much of the book is devoted to the author’s experiences, his emotional ups and downs, his fears of the people he was about to meet (in every single case, until he met them and they turned out to be harmless/friendly/helpful/generous, and some of them became real friends), and the very real physical dangers he faced, such as the crossing of Death Valley.

He took three books along with him (Leaves of Grass, by Walt Whitman; The Prophet, by Kahlil Gibran; and Letters to a Young Poet, by Rainer Maria Rilke). He quotes extensively from them, for they had many important lessons for him in their pages. He must have known these books very intimately after living with them for almost a year. After reading his book, I felt I knew those three books better too.

I enjoyed the book, like others of its genre.

(Excruciatingly created using the touchscreen of my Samsung tablet, while I am on vacation in Greece. I can’t figure out how to tag the post or categorize it; I guess I will have to do those things when I’m back home with my laptop. I’ve read reviews of the WordPress app for tablets and smartphones,  and they do not make me want to get it! Perhaps I should mention that I read the book on the tablet too, using my kindle app.)




Posted in Memoir, Travel | Tagged: , , | Leave a Comment »

The Road to Little Dribbling: Adventures of an American in Britain

Posted by nliakos on April 8, 2017

by Bill Bryson (Random House/Anchor Books, 2015)

My friend Pam, who lived in England for years, told me she didn’t finish The Road to Little Dribbling because she found it too negative; Bryson is always complaining about everything and wishing things would go back to being as they were when he first went to live in the UK, when he was twenty. That’s true of a lot of this book; but it’s also true of almost all the places Bryson has written about, with the possible exception of Australia in In a Sunburned Country; he seemed so enamored of Australia that he couldn’t find anything bad to say about it. And while he does have plenty of gripes about how Britain is changing in the 21st century, he also has heaps of praise for his adopted country, chiefly for its landscapes, but also for some of its cities, towns, and villages–or at least parts of them. A few examples:

. . . The makers of Britain created the most superlatively park-like landscapes, the most orderly cities, the handsomest provincial towns, the jauntiest seaside resorts, the stateliest homes, the most dreamily-spired, cathedral-rich, castle-strewn, abbey-bedecked, folly-scattered, green-wooded, winding-laned, sheep-dotted, plumply hedgerowed, well-tended, sublimely decorated 88,386 square miles the world has ever known. (pg. 34)

I had heard that [Tenby] is a charming place, but in fact it is exquisite–full of pastel-colored houses, sweet-looking hotels and guesthouses, characterful pubs and cafes, glorious beaches and gorgeous views. It is everything you could want in a coastal retreat. (pg. 284)

I have ridden the [Settle-to-Carlisle railway] line several times and the views across this very austere end of the dales are sensational, but you can’t really appreciate the engineering from the train. For that, you must stand alongside it. I stopped at Dent Head Viaduct now and got out to have a look. The viaduct is 199 yards long with ten arches, and rises a hundred feet above the valley floor. That doesn’t sound spectacularly lofty when you just say it, but when you see it in three dimensions, it is stunning. (pg.342)

Descriptions like these made me ache to visit those places. There were plenty of descriptions of dying urban centers, deteriorating towns and villages, and rude clerks, but these were somewhat balanced by the odes to beauty and history. Of course, it is the negative parts that made me laugh out loud, and Bryson does not spare himself. I was already laughing on the first page, when he describes an accident he once had: There are really only two ways to get hit on the head by a parking barrier. One is to stand underneath a raised barrier and purposely allow it to fall on you. That is the easy way, obviously. The other method–and this is where a little diminished mental capacity can go a long way–is to forget the barrier you have just seen rise, step into the space it has vacated and stand with lips pursed while considering your next move, and then be taken completely by surprise as it slams down on your head like a sledgehammer on a spike. That is the method I went for. (pg. 1)  Typing it has just made me laugh again.

In between the praise and the diatribes are loads of fascinating facts about British history and geography.

My only complaint is that he never goes to Little Dribbling (which brings to mind J. K. Rowling’s Little Whinging). It’s obviously supposed to be a place, and so many English villages have weird names, but it doesn’t figure in the book, so I am left wondering. (Googling it did not bring satisfaction.) There is a map in the front of the book which lists many of the places he visits, including Sutton Hoo, Virginia Water, and Mousehole (pronounced [mauzəl]. But no Little Dribbling. <sigh>


Posted in Non-fiction, Travel | Tagged: , | Leave a Comment »