I will preface this review with two admissions: One, I don’t read travel books very often, and two, I was unable to force myself through the whole of this one. I didn’t even reach page fifty before giving up on a straight read and beginning to scan through at random.
The blurb on the back of this heavy tome promises “more than 70 of the greatest journeys you could undertake”. It should have been a fascinating read with that premise; instead, I found myself not only disappointed but flat out annoyed.
Laden with generalizations (such as the word “many”, which is vastly overused in spots: “a thrilling journey many people undertake simply to say they’ve done it”, “Numerous cars make the trip, but many cyclists are also drawn to it”, etc.) and peculiarly phrased suggestions (“Essential Experiences: Penetrating Bwindi Impenetrable National Park for intimate encounters with Uganda’s mountain gorillas”) along with a distinctly bizarre slant to the historical observations (“Hippies would sleep like troglodytes in the sandstone caves”), for me, this travel guide did not come close to fulfilling its glossy-paged promise.
The descriptions are sparse and sometimes lost amongst the prose, which is more apt to note that a place is “spectacular” or “superb” without explaining what, exactly, is so wonderful about the spot in question. Sacred spots are pointed out as tourist attractions with what struck me as a startling lack of respect. (“This hulking lump of rich-red sandstone, soaring 350m above the Outback like Australia’s giant ‘outie’ belly-button, is sacred to the local Aboriginal people.”)
Each section begins with an explanatory overview and a sidebar detailing such items as the distance of the proposed trek, what countries travelers will go through, and the best time of year to do so, among other information. Then the chapter moves into “The Journey Today”, which is phrased in a more directly experiential voice and on occasion calls forth seriously unappealing details (“Your backside is bruised, your neck jarred from a multitude of mini-whiplashes. You smell. Your truckmates smell.”) that did not inspire in me any desire to follow that particular journey. The introduction, “Great Journeys, Smart Travel” claims that “by travelling — by doing it right, by foregoing convenience for substance — you’ll have become a smarter, more well-rounded human being.” I have no argument with that point, and I certainly don’t expect to spend my foreign travels entirely in comfortable hotels, but it seems counterproductive to highlight the inconveniences of a proposed trip when trying to entice people to explore the world.
Following “The Journey Today” are “Shortcut” and “Detour”, which offer a short paragraph each on diversions from the main route previously described. The “Armchair” sidebar offers a listing of films and books for those who want to enjoy the experience without leaving home. Other sidebars throughout each section show mini-maps, “Essential Experiences”, and short informative blurbs on local spots and history.
The large photos, while nice, bear no relationship to the blurb plastered across them — for example, a spectacular photo of a snowy mountain range in China (Simatai) is accompanied by a blurb titled “Headless at Jiankou”. In some cases the blurb is even egregiously misleading, as in the last entry, where a photo of the Kongofuku-ji temple 38 is accompanied by a blurb about “Taga-Jinja & Sex Museum” (not, I believe, the same spot at all).
That this book was written by multiple authors is easily seen: while the examples noted above showcase the worst of the book, there are several well-written sections in which useful information is handed out in a logical and interesting fashion. Unfortunately, I still walked away with the distinct impression that if this is what travel books are supposed to sound like, then I’m not liable to pick another one up anytime soon. And if this is Lonely Planet’s chosen “style”, I won’t be buying anything published under their label. As an invitation to explore the world, I found this book a complete failure.
The photos are undeniably nice, though….
(Lonely Planet, 2011)
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