Bill Bryson partakes of that particular style of travel wherein one checks into a hotel and then just goes for a walk with minimal, if any, guidance. Passing judgement on any place that rates as a city or even a large town based solely on what you encounter within walking distance of wherever your lodgings happen to be strikes me as miraculous. It also sounds, to me, like an entirely unpleasant way to see a place, but Bryson is a seasoned traveler, and I will defer to his experience. The tour that is the subject of this book is a rather unusual one, so perhaps I am being unfair in my judgement.
Bryson has set out on a final tour of the UK (just the big island) before returning to America, reproducing, in part, his original visit that turned into his settling down there and starting a family. He sets himself the challenge of traveling by public means: foot, bus, train. Bryson may have come from America, but he is thoroughly a Brit with the requisite strong opinions about tea, desserts, and train schedules. His observations on the people and culture are as often self-examination as anything else, and his writing is rich with the characteristic wit of the titular small island. The fact that such a rushed and personal journey can make an entertaining read is a credit to Bryson’s story-telling. Zipping into a town for an overnight stay before rushing off the next day does not a gripping tale make, but Bryson is not writing a gripping tale, and the value of his experience is in the minutia.
He is, however, a most curmudgeonly traveler. Truly a Brit, there is little that escapes his scorn and less still that warrants his praise. Complaining becomes tiresome no matter how witty. Still, this book is an interesting whirlwind tour of places large and small, idiosyncrasies of culture and history, and one person’s take on all of it.