Follow S.J.P. from New York to Scotland, France, Russia, Turkey, Bankok, Java and back to Hollywood, U.S.A. in this fond, wry mosaic of the manias of mankind around the world.
Sidney Joseph Perelman, almost always known as S. J. Perelman, was a Jewish-American humorist, author, and screenwriter. He is best known for his humorous short pieces written over many years for The New Yorker. He also wrote for several other magazines, as well as books, scripts, and screenplays.
Travel writing is very unfashionable these days, and it seems to me that that is due to writers like Perelman. There's almost zero engagement or understanding of the cultures he breezes through, he mostly just hangs out with western expats, tells completely outlandish stories and goes on his way. The writing though, is somewhat interesting. It's full of contemporary references, which almost 50 years later make no sense and date it badly. And it's full of strange asides such as
As a farewell token at the airport, he tendered me an aphrodisiac powder claimed to produce wondrous effect on the male libido, I fed a spoonful to a friend's rooster in Java subsequently and the luckless fowl exploded in midair before our very eyes
The book is chock full of these strange fabrications, meaning that I have zero idea of what he really did and saw on his trip. I'm glad I read it but have no intention of touching Perelman's writing again
Wikipedia says "...he is considered the first surrealist humor writer of the United States."
That got my attention. But sadly, this book feels in no way surreal. It is just another of those books where a guy travels around the world and complains about everything he experiences. Sometimes it is funny, but it is tiresome. And there are far too many cringe moments, like his casual sexism and even transphobia.
There’s only one thing worse than a new convert to science fiction–you know the type, 30 years old and just now reading Dune and Stranger in a Strange Land and Foundation for the first time and blathering on about it like they had just discovered God. No, there’s only one thing worse than such a person, and that’s a new convert to anything else. So let me confess this now and get it off my chest before I quit breathing–I’m in love with travel books. Oh, it may be an infatuation. I think of those radio dedications like “To John, we’ve only been together for a week, but I know that it’s love, and that we’ll be together for the rest of our lives.” Right now, however, it feels, smells, and tastes like love, so who am I to try and avoid the conclusion? Travel books, you say, you mean like Let’s Go: Europe 1990. By your very words you commit the unpardonable sin of not understanding just who my elusive new mistress is, a problem which I must remedy at once.
But I have to admit, like the new convert, that I don’t know much. What may seem wonderful and new to me, you may have had read to you on your mother’s lap. So be it. There are so many more of you out there that this can’t help but be. Instead, I’ll write this like I wish someone would have written to me about a year ago (or even earlier), and if it suffers for a lack of knowledge, well, then, I will cringe along with you when I reread it a few years hence. S.J. Perelman writes about travelling like the above was written about reading: a lot of style which attempts humor (some working, some not), telling you more about the writer and very little about the subject. I found it interesting, but you may not.
I liked Chapters 3 - 5 the best. If I could have related to the entire book the way I related to those two chapters, it would have earned more stars. Due to the racy nature in much of this book's contents, I understand why Audrey liked it.
I had to really push through to read the whole book. One reason I did is that I actually bought it from half.com and didn't want to waste my $4.24. Partly why I bought it is that one of the recommended authors when I looked up SJ Perelman on the Salt Lake County Library website is David Sedaris, and I really like his works.
The others I felt like I didn't understand them because: a) I'm too naive to understand some of the references b) I am too young to understand them.
This appears on several "top 10" lists for travel books, which is one of the reasons I tried it. I remember reading some S. J. Perelman in high school (though not this book) and enjoying it, but aging 40 years hasn't increased my appreciation of "Eastward Ha!" The writing comes across as witty, but not really funny, sort of like the jokes you've heard an uncle tell since you were 10. If you're much younger than 60, a lot of the contemporary references will be so obscure as to lose even their small amount of wit. I don't recommend it.
At 73 years old, Perelman could no longer bring the funny at such awesome strength as he could when he was a younger man, and worse still, there's an element of swingin' '70s sexuality that's a bit creepy. But he's still a terrific writer of comic travelogues, and this, his final complete book, is still worth a spin.