For Victorian travellers a trip to Turkey was a leap into the dark of Islam. Fascinated by their accounts of the far-flung, down-at-heel Ottoman Empire, novelist and traveller Philip Glazebrook followed in their footsteps. His destination was Kars, the city within view of Mount Ararat where the Ark was stranded. Through the old Serbian and Greek provinces and islands, through the ruined cities of Asia Minor, to Kars and then back to Trebizond, Istanbul and the Balkan capitals - this book recounts his adventures.
As a Turk, I felt like the writer doesn't get Turkey, and he probably doesn't care either.
I also disliked his generalisations about Turks and what he calls as "Asiatics". I believe what he refers to with this term are the people of Asia. I think it is a ridiculous generalisation to make, putting all the people of Asia which is a huge continent under the same category. As other reviewers here pointed out, the book reeks of British colonialism.
I also disliked the part where he says no Turk would understand his motivations of travelling. Why wouldn't we? You are a novelist who is planning to write a novel that takes place in Turkey, so you came to Turkey to get an impression of the country. What is there not to understand? What do you think we are, monkeys?
My favorite travel book. Not only is it interesting, it is a very funny book, made all the more so by the seemingly unintentional nature of the humor. I smiled on nearly every page, and some passages were just laugh-out-loud hilarious. Glazebrook comes across at times almost like Professor Kinbote annotating Pale Fire. If Glazebrook accomplished this purposely, that is quite a feat. If--and I think it more likely--there is actually something of the Kinbote in Glazebrook, that's rich as well. I had a splendid time reading this one.
Author’s point of view is resolutely that of a British colonial. He dislikes the Turks and is disdainful of most everything in their country, except when he is walking alone in isolated ruins, when he can pretend that he is one of the Victorian travel writers he so reveres.
A truly awful book for a variety of reasons …. The almost overwhelming stench of public school boy arrogance and entitlement leaches through every page, throw in the appalling over use of simile and florid embellishment, or should that be flaccid embellishment, the mocking disdain for the ‘Asiatics’ and most galling of all, the liberal sprinkling of utter BS in every chapter … from the age of Turkish schoolchildren (they start school at 6 going on 7, not 5 as written here), to the adventures of Frederick Burnaby and his batman during their 1880’s ride across Turkey, ostensibly to research claims that Christians in the Ottoman Empire were being disabused … not only does Glazerbrook invent a hatred that didn’t exist but he compounds his lie by berating the Batman, Radford as being a despiser of Turks, which of course if he’d bothered to read the whole of Burnaby’s most excellent book, On horseback through Asia Minor, misses the point by a country mile, as Radford and the Turkish servant taken on at the beginning of the journey part in floods of tears at journeys end, after starting out with much mutual suspicion, that is overcome by their shared experiences during the arduous trek leaves Glazerbrook’s own pathetic travels looking even more sad, who when he eventually wormed his way to Kars, couldn’t wait to head back home again
I could list a whole host of other examples but having forced marched thru the last 100 pages of this literary turd I am rather minded never to think of it again.
Glazebrook spends a couple of weeks travelling in Turkey and Eastern Europe and writing about his experiences. His purpose is to gain some insights into the motivation of Victorian travellers who enjoyed their adventures outside Christian - implied civilised - Europe. This is so that he can write a novel based on the adventures of such a traveller or travellers. The novel glimpsed throughout this account eventually became Captain Vinegar's Commission, a picaresque Victorian tragic-comedy, and its sequel, The Gate at the end of the World.
These twin themes of the knowledge displayed of Victorian travel writers and the genesis of his own novels are fascinating in themselves, but even more interesting is what Glazebrook reveals of himself. He was writing in the 1980s, not the 1880s, yet his attitudes and much of what he describes would be more germane to that period. Whether this is what he really experienced or is narrative artifice may be left for the reader to decide, but I have my suspicions. Why does he not reveal the name of the mysterious ruined Greek city where he spent the night under canvas in fear of bandits and wild beasts? Could it be that to name Aphrodisias is to break the spell, as it is an easily visited tourist destination?
Nevertheless this is a really good read, both serious and amusing, revelatory of Turkey, communist eastern Europe and, not least, of the author himself.
Despite the elegant writing I just couldn't get into this one. The constant switching from travelogue to the experiences of previous travellers was tiresome.
I've had this book on my shelves for years and never read it. Happily, I decided to pick it up and find the narrator's voice very appealing, the descriptions and comments making me feel like I'm on the voyage with him. It's a wonderful book.
in 1984 an english novelist tours turkey and the old empire in europe. flowery, but excellent, thoughtful description . also he relates his personal feelings about travel itself - fine read.