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Nandakishore Varma's Reviews > Neither Here nor There: Travels in Europe
Neither Here nor There: Travels in Europe
by
by
Seriously - this book sucks. Big time.
Bill Bryson is as funny as ever; you can't avoid guffawing at some of his observations: but this is a book-long exercise in sarcasm. It's as though the author is saying: "Look, compared to these brain-dead Europeans, see how clever I am!" Being a sarcastic SOB myself, I can understand the attitude - but find it difficult to sustain 200+ pages of it.
And really, for a travelogue, it does not give the reader what he/ she wants - information on the country traversed. We are treated to pages and pages of descriptions of the dreary hotels the author stayed in (it seems that he cannot find one meeting his exacting standards anywhere), the bad and expensive food he had to stomach (except Mac Donald's, of course), the totally unappealing people he had to deal with and (towards the middle of the book) his pornographic dreams which run as subtext in stream-of-consciousness. I felt that ol' Bill here was trying to squeeze humour out of his trip like one trying to get that last dollop of toothpaste from the tube.
And having visited Istanbul, I can tell you that his impressions of the city are the diametric opposite of what I experienced in 2011. Either the city has drastically changed in two decades, or it shows different faces to the entitled, holier-than-thou American and the inquisitive Indian, on the lookout for fresh experiences.
Give this book a miss. Bryson's other books are better.
Bill Bryson is as funny as ever; you can't avoid guffawing at some of his observations: but this is a book-long exercise in sarcasm. It's as though the author is saying: "Look, compared to these brain-dead Europeans, see how clever I am!" Being a sarcastic SOB myself, I can understand the attitude - but find it difficult to sustain 200+ pages of it.
And really, for a travelogue, it does not give the reader what he/ she wants - information on the country traversed. We are treated to pages and pages of descriptions of the dreary hotels the author stayed in (it seems that he cannot find one meeting his exacting standards anywhere), the bad and expensive food he had to stomach (except Mac Donald's, of course), the totally unappealing people he had to deal with and (towards the middle of the book) his pornographic dreams which run as subtext in stream-of-consciousness. I felt that ol' Bill here was trying to squeeze humour out of his trip like one trying to get that last dollop of toothpaste from the tube.
And having visited Istanbul, I can tell you that his impressions of the city are the diametric opposite of what I experienced in 2011. Either the city has drastically changed in two decades, or it shows different faces to the entitled, holier-than-thou American and the inquisitive Indian, on the lookout for fresh experiences.
Give this book a miss. Bryson's other books are better.
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Neither Here nor There.
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Reading Progress
October 25, 2018
–
Started Reading
October 25, 2018
– Shelved
October 27, 2018
–
Finished Reading
