Marblehead Traveller

by Robert S. Newman

MARBLEHEAD TRAVELLER is a collection of 29 autobiographical stories by Bob Newman, who grew up in Marblehead, Mass., went to Cornell, joined the Peace Corps-serving in India in the mid-60s-married an Indian woman, and then wound up teaching in Australia for many years.

He worked in Israel, in Japan, Korea, and China, and traveled to many other countries. The stories contain numerous observations about life, and describe aspects of life in both Marblehead and "out of town". Some are humorous, some sad. The common humanity of all of us is a recurring theme.

The first printing sold out entirely.

Genres: Biography, Geography

294 pages, Paperback

Published November 1, 2014

Reviews

[Orhan Pelinkovic · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Don’t tell me how educated you are, tell me how much you’ve traveled." It's a quote by Muhammad (c. 570-632 CE), the founder of Islam, that I first heard as a child from my mother, who genuinely longed to travel, and still does till this day.

Well, Robert S. Newman, traveled and visited every single habitable continent of the World, and lived on most of them too. Living a life many of us could only dream of.

This book is composed of numerous autobiographical anecdotes and essays. Newman, a Jewish American, is a real cosmopolitan that has a PhD in Anthropology and is fluent in Japanese, Hindi, and Spanish. What a remarkable and uncommon mix!

We learn that in life we have to take chances and we see how travel changes us and the different cultures grow on us which in return give us a new layer of identity. The author takes us through the struggles of adapting to different environments and shares with us the rewards that come along with it, all intertwined with his childhood experiences and memories.

Newman, a non-conformist, was also a part of the Anti-Establishment during the late sixties and early seventies. He is a music lover, food enthusiast, and a hopeless romantic: "My dreams had fled, just like hers. Mine lived in sound, hers in silence, but I understood her completely - lost dreams were our bond."

This is a wonderful well-written book with a strong narrative that I would recommend to anyone interested in Indian, small town American, and Australian cultures, and many other nooks and crannies of the World you probably never heard of.

For the record, Robert (Bob) Newman, is a Goodreads friend and he did not ask me to read or review his book nor did he allude to it in any way (he’s just not that type of guy). I just really like his reviews and choice of books and I wanted to end the year with friendship.

[Lilo · Rating 5 out of 5]

For in case you have missed me during the past two weeks, let me tell you that I have been on vacation—that is, I have been traveling the world.

I had really needed this vacation, because due to the catastrophic political situation here in the U.S. ever since November 2016, I had spent most of my leisure time reading political books, which were no fun to read (unless you had plenty of gallows humor).

Now don’t get me wrong. I didn’t go on any group tour circling our planet and staying at Hilton or Sheraton hotels. (OMG! My dear sweet husband would be way too frugal to spend that kind of money.) I did not even board a plane or a boat. Instead, I traveled the world reading the above book. Thus, I avoided all dangers, troubles, and inconveniences of traveling, spending no more than the price of the book, sitting comfortly at our kitchen table (postponing cooking dinner), sitting in the bathroom (I know it is not very ladylike to read sitting on the john, so let’s just stick with “in the bathroom”), lying in bed waiting to get tired enough to fall asleep (which didn’t work too well, as the book was so captivating that I had trouble putting it down), or sitting in the car, while my husband did some maintenance work on one of our properties. The furthest I ever traveled these past two weeks was 16 miles to our main residence, named Happy Cats Ranch, which we have not occupied for 2 1/2 years, as after we had been evacuated because of a nearby wildfire, the house had been taken over by mice, which my husband has been trying to get rid of using (relatively humane) electrocuting mouse traps, which most of the mice have meanwhile learned to take the bait from without getting electrocuted. So why don’t we take our 23 cats there? Sorry, off topic! Ask me some other time.

Oh, dear! It’s time to cook dinner. No need to write a review on this wonderful book, as another Goodreads reader has already written an excellent review on it that tells you everything you might wish to know further and might not find in the description of the book. Here is the link to this review: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...

Before I go, let me tell you that I have done a bit of traveling myself during the 82 years of my life, mind you, only a tiny fraction of what Robert S. Newman, the author of the above book has done. Yet when you come to read the chapters about India in the above book and you might find them exaggerated, let me herewith testify under oath that they are NOT exaggerated. I have had the very same experiences. (Vice versa, reading these chapters to my husband, he finally believes that my tales were not exaggerated.)

Will I ever do any real traveling again? This is highly unlikely. I would like to, but before this would be possible, several miracles would have to happen first. (1) The pandemic would have to have subsided. (Unlikely, with so many people still refusing to get vaccinated and wearing masks.) (2) The political situation in the U.S. would have to have normalized. (No, I don’t expect this to happen, but allow me some wishful thinking.) (3) The presently highly dangerous situation with world politics would have to have simmered down. (Well, your guess is as good as mine.) (4) And actually first and foremost: We would have to find a new petsitter. (Our long-time petsitter had suffered a severe stroke in 2019 and is now a permanent nursing case.) So if you should happen to know any trustworthy animal-loving person willing to clean litter boxes, please let me know. Only few of our cats use the floor instead of the litter boxes. Only two fight each other badly enough to require veterinary care. And only one mistakes people for a scratch post. No, they are not allowed on tables and pretty much obey while we are watching. Neither are they allowed in bed; they only occasionally manage to sneak into the bedroom, from where they immediately get evicted. You see, they are really well behaved and easy to care for. I am not even mentioning our old blind dog and our two pet chickens, as neither of them are any trouble to speak of, unless they happen to take off. And if the petsitter will also feed the raccoons that live in our crawl space and the skunks that expect to find edibles on our compost pound, they may not cause any trouble either.

P.S. I forgot to mention that the above book should also make a great gift for anyone who has ever traveled or has only dreamed of traveling.

[Stefania Dzhanamova · Rating 5 out of 5]

Love at first sight

I was reading Robert Newman’s Goan Anthropology “Festivals, Films, and Fish” and was going to just “take a look” at it out of curiosity, but I c o u l d n ‘ t p u t i t d o w n ! It’s really, really, really amazing! Love at first sight for me, I guess. Every story is a mixture of honest recollections, humor, and a tinge of sadness. I love how the author has described the people he met and his surroundings. I felt as if I am traveling with him everywhere.

I stuck a page divider on each of my favorite stories because I plan on rereading them a lot of times in my life. “Marblehead Traveler” joined the list of books I read when I feel down. It really gives hope and happiness.

“Marblehead Traveler” is a unique story of an extraordinary life captured through significant moments. Life is full of twists, but they all leave us messages. It’s up to us to notice or ignore them.

[Peter Upton · Rating 5 out of 5]

Unless you live in America you probably won't have heard of Marblehead and like me, you may well have assumed that this is one of those excruciatingly unfunny books about the scrapes an idiot 'marblehead' manages to get into as he travels the world as an embarrassing ambassador for everything that is uncouth about his own country. This book is nothing of the sort, it is a selection of short stories about the many countries the author has visited for weeks or lived in for years, some serious, some sad, some extraordinary and some, of his years spent in India, hilariously funny and yet I know them to be true because I once spent a month there and witnessed similar events.

Yet for me this is an important book that should be read by every young person doing just enough to cruise through education at half speed as I did. Robert Newman worked his socks off at school and as a result was chosen as a foreign exchange student, spending a month or more living with a family in Japan, igniting his lifelong love of travel and foreign languges. Then as a college student he volunteered for the Peace Corps ( apparently only open to Americans but check) and was sent to work, live and marry in India.
Then with all his qualifications in place he became a university lecturer and used this qualification to plunge into the world of international exchange lecturers moving from country to country and on the way back from each placement always managed to visit somewhere else off of the tourist routes.
Most students now spend a gap year travelling and then have to live off of the memories for the rest of their lives, Robert Newman worked his socks off in education and then spent his life travelling. If someone had given me this book when I was sixteen it would have opened my mind and my eyes to a world of possibilities beyond the short term of playing Rugby and having fun.
Oh, kind book giver where were you when I needed you most?

[Tom Leland · Rating 5 out of 5]

Five out of five, though I may be biased. The author is my first cousin. But these stories are truly fascinating, sometimes funny as hell, and filled with insights and thoughtful observations on people's behaviors and foibles. The story of the one-armed drunk and smoking Indian taxi driver alone is worth the price of admission.

[Graeme · Rating 5 out of 5]

Bob Newman captures unique and fascinating observations of the many places he has visited in prose that is funny, engaging, and always unpretentious. He sees differently and we all benefit.

[Bill Tress · Rating 4 out of 5]

I purchased this book because my fellow readers on Goodreads read it and extolled its merits. It cost a few more dollars than I wanted to spend but, if it was as good as claimed, then I had to have it.
My first reaction was that it was not a novel it is more like a journal kept by the author Robert Newman. Because we are the same age, the author and I had some common experiences, and this drew me to him. He presents his youthful experiences quite well with insightful and a positive outlook. Newman is a well-educated man with advanced degrees and an Ivy League education, so skillful writing is the expectation from this man, and he delivers.
I noted somethings early on in this work that raised questions for me; his introspection only goes so far. He describes a carefree youth, yet just mentions his father's anger issues. They impacted his mother and made him distance himself from his father. He mentions that being Jewish caused him some problems, but he does not elaborate on what kind of discrimination he faced. Also, the financing of his expensive education is not mentioned. This issue is important to me because it would explain how someone with limited resources paid for an elite education and traveled extensively; this lack of introspection disturbed me. On reflection, I have concluded that this was not an autobiography; It was a journal! So not mentioning the topics above is irrelevant to the story he wants to tell.
Beyond these initial impressions, this is a very readable work and his insights and thoughts in many ways correspond with my own thoughts and experience.
Newman’s story and his perceptions create parallels to my own life. One example is His comment on how in a serendipitous way he met a person named Jim, who at the time just wanted to talk, so Newman sat down and let him talk. In this spontaneous conversation, Jim encouraged Newman’s entry into the Peace Corp, and this changed his life. In my case, a chance phone conversation with a peer located in another city resulted in my going to the West African Country of Liberia, and this changed my life.
People come and go in all our lives for a purpose, and I try to be open and attuned to these encounters because the purposes are usually positive. I can name a few other chance encounters that positively impacted my life, I do not feel unique in this regard because I am sure that everyone has experienced chance encounters that impacted their lives.
This book grows on the reader chapter by chapter. His topics like stamp collecting, Bananas, University PHD candidates and more are beautifully written, funny, and very sharp, I am enjoying this book! The chapter called Pillar Bashers stands out as a favorite. Newman’s description of the Australian outback is excellent. He creates a mental picture of a vast 360-degree panorama of color illustrating nothingness for hundreds of miles in all directions. It beats anything I have previously read about the Australian Outback; including the many attempts made by National Geographic magazine.
Centered in this vast nothingness is a stop called Coober Pedy whose only feature is Opal mines. The desperate creatures who dig for Opals live in caves because of the heat, at times the hottest on earth. They chisel away in the hope of finding wealth and they are creepy in their willingness to suffer in their obsession to find an Opal. Newman met two men who insanely began to chisel, not the walls of the cave but the pillars that held up their cave, the cave crashes in and they are crushed to death.
Newman’s ability with words that describe events are at times hilarious. I could not control myself and laughed aloud while reading his description of a taxi ride from New Delhi to Meerut with a one-armed, drunk cab driver. The cab was overloaded, and the person squeezed into the seat next to the one-armed driver had to steer while the driver spliced the wires together to continuously blow the horn. This story reminded me of a personal experience with a cab in Liberia. So, I know too well that Newman’s story no matter how surreal is true.
His next story was a little puzzling and disappointing. He went to Nepal on a bus and the description of the journey was quite interesting. When he leaves the bus station and begins a long walk to his destination. A Nepalese woman comes running up to him shouting and claims that she is holding luggage for him. After some argument and hesitation, he follows her to a pile of luggage. When he looks at it, he seeing it is addressed to Robert Newman. He states that he was shocked by finding his name of something in such a remote place. His only reaction is to say it was surreal, then the story ends as he goes on his way. From my point of view, he ended this story too briskly and I was disappointed that there was not a further discussion and/or resolution to the matter. Maybe some other Peace Corp. member knew he was going through this town and forwarded things to his attention! But Newman left it at that point. He dropped the ball on this story there had to be more facts and he should have brought the story to some conclusion.
Newman’s ability to write and paint a picture with his words are the strength of this book. After initial confusion on my part, I laughed and commiserated with him through his travels, well done Robert.

[Sid · Rating 5 out of 5]

“There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream… seemed apparelled in celestial light.” - William Wordsworth

Robert S. Newman writes as though he has spent a lifetime chasing that radiance Wordsworth describes. Marblehead Traveler is not just a travel memoir but a book of remembrance: a record of disappearing worlds, identities shaped by disorientation and reorientation, and the patterns that bind a life together.

Newman carries the reader from Marblehead to Madagascar, from the “old weird America” to Gaelic-speaking farm wives in Ireland, from teenage sea voyages to the lamplit alleys of Asia. His curiosity feels refreshing in a world dulled by packaged tours. He goes to Madagascar simply because of “a book… in a Boston library” and a Malagasy song heard long ago - proof that wonder can still guide a life. His spontaneity feels inspiring and thrilling in a world often deadened by safe pleasures and corporatized hedonism.

The book lingers because it shows how the past is a foreign country, even when it is your own country. Newman’s America of the 1950s and 60s feels distant—teenagers startled by each other’s accents, an un-homogenized “other America.” His India stirred a different estrangement in me: a Brahmin and his son asking strangers in a train car their caste, camels turning water wheels. Growing up in India in the 90s and 2000s, I found Newman’s India often foreign to my own memories and felt how quickly time reshapes the landscapes we think we know.

One of the book’s most striking moments of self-formation comes in “A Night in the Woods,” whose opening evokes a certain Philip Roth-like cadence: the sharp, tender ache of the Jewish yearning for America. Newman describes a world where intellectual achievement, mental toughness, and grades mattered more than physical bravado. It reminded me uncannily of my own Indian middle-class upbringing, where the pressure to excel academically served as both burden and shield.

Travel, in Newman’s telling, is also a way of becoming. In “Dark Dream,” he shows us a teenager standing at the threshold of life, aboard a ship headed for Japan and toward a lifetime of journeys. Earlier, a fellow American tells him he shouldn’t have been chosen—“You aren’t a typical American.” Later, in Japan, he discovers that “nobody has any idea about Jews,” and he embraces the freeing anonymity of being a stranger. I knew both feelings myself: arriving in America and being told I didn’t belong, yet also becoming, simply, “Indian,” briefly freed from the tight web of caste, religion, and region. Newman’s travels are full of such moments of reorientation - the “special loneliness of being strange at the bottom of the world,” and the unexpected grace that sometimes comes with it.

Woven through the book is another, subtler theme: the hidden architecture of meaning that ties the fragments of a life together. Newman uses detail with a Chekhovian precision; a piece of steel wire introduced early returns later with emotional weight; a passing anecdote gathers significance over decades. He quotes Kundera’s admonition that man is blind to the coincidences that fill his daily life, thereby depriving himself of beauty. He seems to believe (and indeed makes a strong case) like Melville’s Ishmael, that “all these things are not without their meanings.”

His sensory writing is sumptuous: Peanut oil sizzling in a wok, black mushrooms in oyster sauce, roast duck, squid noodles, the food becomes a bridge between worlds. A simple banana-based dessert, kelon, ties into his marriage; his recollections of Asian food in Australia mirror how my own homesickness eased itself in the cheap Asian restaurants of my Midwestern college town.

Ultimately, the book heightens our awareness of the threads - geographic, cultural, emotional - that pull at us across years. Lost dreams, hidden currents, the faint “architecture of the future” forming before we recognize it.

By the end, we understand that Newman’s journeys are as inward as they are outward (if you’ll pardon my old cliché). “Who am I?” he asks. “Jewish-American/Indian/Australian… but I am not the same ‘me’ that started out more than a half century ago.”

In Marblehead Traveler, the world appears wide and shimmering, woven with memory and accident, loss and rediscovery. Newman invites us to look again at the quiet beauty hidden in a life’s patterns - and returns us to that Wordsworthian moment when everything once seemed lit by “the glory and the freshness of a dream.”