Dervla Murphy, The Ukimwi Road - From Kenya to Zimbabwe

Let me skip all the introductions and get straight to open-mouthed admiration.  Dervla Murphy is the greatest travel writer that I've ever come across and each of her books passing my way only confirms it.  This time I managed to get hold of The Ukimwi Road, a travel memoir from Africa. 

Travelling through wilderness by bicycle is Murphy's trademark.  For this book, she pedalled through Kenya, Uganda, Tanzania, Malawi, Zambia and Zimbabwe.  Imagine that!  I am more than thirty years younger than she was at the time of the trip and I wouldn't dare to even contemplate such an enterprise... 

Physical endurance and ability to survive in difficult environment are not Murphy's only enviable traits.  She can write, there's no doubt about it.  Her accounts of people encountered on the road are masterful, full of colour and exotic flavour.  Often a generous serving of food for thought is thrown into the bargain.  Even landscape descriptions, my least favourite aspect of any travel writing, are evocative enough to enjoy when Dervla Murphy is spinning her tales. 

Still, The Ukimwi Road is not only about pretty sights and quirky locals.  'Ukimwi' in Swahili means AIDS.  Willy-nilly, as there's no escaping evidence of the illness in the areas she travelled through, Murphy's African journey turned into an AIDS chronicle.  I am impressed by how she tackled the subject - with kindness and compassion, but without fundraiser-like hypocrisy.  Murphy rarely uses emotion-evoking vocabulary in her stories.  She just tell readers of what she sees, as she sees it, and this is usually enough to feel shattered by the dark side of reality. 

Speaking of fundraisers, don't they get a lashing in The Ukimwi Road!  I am very much against charity institutions - anyone who begs for money for starving children and then pays himself a few hundred thousand euros/dollars in salary deserves to be lynched in my book.  If Murphy is to be believed (and I can't see why not), recipients of charitable aid are just as aware of this ugly dissonance, and they don't like it more than I do.  For details, read the book.  I admit I have copied quite a few quotes for future reference.

All in all, The Ukimwi Road is a masterpiece of travel writing.  One of the best (if not THE best) I've ever read.  Highest praise. 

Adrian Tinniswood, By Permission of Heaven

On September 2, 1666, early in the morning, a fire started in Thomas Farriner's bakery, Pudding Lane, London.  Soon it spread and by the time it was extinguished four days later, it had consumed 13,200 houses, 87 churches and numerous public buildings.  If this sounds like something you would like to know more about, get yourself a copy of By Permission of Heaven - The True Story of The Great Fire of London by Adrian Tinniswood.

The book is a detailed study of the disaster.  It includes background information, day-by-day account of the conflagration's progress and description of firefighting efforts, followed by a history of the great city's recovery.  Written in fairly accessible language, it also paints an accurate (as far as I can tell) picture of 17th century Europe - or at least those parts of the continent that are relevant to the story.  The narrative is solidly based on easily identifiable sources, often cited throughout the text. 

When it comes to pure readability, By Permission of Heaven scores 6 out of 10 on my personal scale.  Scholarly notes add to the book's reliability, but unfortunately diminish its literary charms.  Still, Tinniswood managed to keep skillful balance between education and entertainment.  The story is dynamic enough, and generously seasoned with spicy anecdotes.  Not exactly a page-turner, but not a bore either. 

I guess a Londoner would enjoy the book far more than I did.  The fire's spread is described street by street, almost building by building.  To someone only vaguely familiar with London, all those names are pretty much meaningless.  My attention tends to drift off when faced with too much urban topography.  On the other hand - how else could you describe such an event?  With that in mind, the author is officially forgiven. 

Overall, a very decent account of one of the most famous fires in the world history.  Well worth a try. 

Robert Fossier, The Axe and the Oath - Ordinary Life in the Middle Ages

My goodness, it's been a while since I read a history book quite as bad.

The Axe and the Oath is, or promises to be, an account of everyday life of ordinary people in the Middle Ages.  Sounds fantastic, doesn't it?  Wouldn't you like to know what an average Joe did or thought a thousand years ago?  How did all those peasants in the background of Robin Hood stories live, etc. etc.?  I surely would.  The problem is, professor Fossier doesn't really answer the above questions.  In fact, his book provides very little when it comes to solid data, being full of opinions and generalisations instead.  There's even less information on ordinary people, despite multiple promises to the contrary.  I do understand that due to lack of sources it is difficult to write anything definite on the subject, but still...  What is the point of writing a book to tell you that there is actually nothing to tell? 

Even if you want to see The Axe and the Oath as an introduction to medieval studies and follow up with other books, professor Fossier does not make it easy for you.  No bibliography, no notes on sources, no suggested reading, nothing. 

It gets worse.  I found quite a few outrageous factual errors, like a claim that humans are the only mammal species with opposable thumbs (that is why homo sapiens are the most advanced animals out there).  Oh really?  What about chimpanzees?  Gorillas?  Orangutans?  Shouldn't they have produced at least one great civilisation by now?  There's more, but I'll let you to do the error-hunting yourself.  Just remember to double check every piece of information you find in The Axe and the Oath.  

When it comes to translation, it probably could not have been any worse.  There's so much left of the original French that one wonders why the translator bothered at all. 

Despite all the above, The Axe and the Oath actually reads quite smoothly.  If you are able to ignore lack of any scientific solidity, you should be fairly satisfied. 

If you treat your history seriously, avoid at all cost.      

Jan Morris, 50 Years of Europe - An Album

Jan Morris is a legend in the world of travel writing, but with 50 Years of Europe - An Album she surpassed even her own excellence.  I read the book open-mouthed, full of admiration for the amount of ground she has covered and the number of stories she's collected.  Mind you, these are only the European stories - how many there would be if she decided to write a global 'album'??? 

The book is composed of tiny snapshots - half a page here, three quarters there.  It may appear slightly chaotic, as she moves freely between countries and periods, but the mini-chapters are in fact thoughtfully arranged.  I don't want to reveal too much, so you'll need to read the book to discover its hidden logic but believe me - it is there :). 

As with all best travel writing, 50 Years of Europe is a mixture of travelogue and autobiography.  Jan Morris looks back at a lifetime of globetrotting (ehm...  Europe-trotting?) and picks the best places and best stories for the readers' enjoyment.  Since in this case we're talking about more than half a century, the collection is pretty impressive. 

Usually, I am quickly tired by Morris's romantic style.  I am aggressively down-to-earth, so her fanciful musings tend to irk me.  Not in this case.  A sudden change of focus in the writing?  Perhaps.  Or maybe I read 50 Years of Europe in a more tolerant frame of mind.  Whichever is correct, this is definitely the best writing by Jan Morris that I've ever come across.  I wonder, would other readers feel the same way?

Terry Pratchett, Ian Stewart, Jack Cohen, The Science of Discword II - The Globe

Take a Discworld novella and mix it with some quantum physics.  Add a dash of anthropology, a pinch of religion, some history, a few grains of astrophysics and lots and lots of light-hearted, humorous commentary.  Oh, and don't forget to season everything with Shakespeare.  Hey presto, you've just created The Science of Discworld II - The Globe. 

If the above recipe looks like too much hassle (or if you're blown away by the sheer difficulty of the task), don't worry.  Terry Pratchett, Ian Stewart  and Jack Cohen have already cooked up the dish for you.  Take it home and enjoy.

If you have a look around this blog, you will know that I am an unconditional Pratchett fan.  I know almost every word of all Discworld novels so getting my hands on one of the spin-offs is a particular joy for me (as in Pratchett + something I haven't read yet = pure delight).  Especially if he teams up with guys like Stewart and Cohen.  It appears that the three gentlemen look at the world in a very similar way.  Result:  The Science of Discworld is very Pratchettesque, although I would hazard a guess that the man himself has actually written only small portion of it. 

I have to confess that my brain panted a little at times, especially when I was reading some of hard core physics chapters.  The Science of Discworld is somewhat heavier than the usual Pratchett fare - probably too difficult for children or young teenagers (unless, of course, he or she is a small genius).  On the other hand, if you're looking to be entertained AND taught a thing or two, I can't imagine a better choice. 

I've just noticed how I'm focusing on the scientific part of the book, completely ignoring Discworld elements.  You deserve a hint or two.

Here be elves.  Time and transworld travel.   Spanish ladies (well, one Spanish lady).  Last but not least - a bunch of meddling wizards from Unseen University which, really, tells it all.

Happy reading!

Edward Marriott, The Plague Race

The plague is not what it used to be.  Once a monstrous killer, it dispatched thousands and thousands of victims, its first symptoms almost always meaning the death sentence.  Now, easily treatable with antibiotics, it surfaces only in few isolated cases each year.  Even so, it still makes the headlines.  It appears that humanity has not forgotten its great enemy and we still stare with fascinated horror when it strikes. 

What was it exactly that turned a mass murderer into a low-profile troublemaker?  Medicine, of course, but there's more to the story and The Plague Race beautifully explains the details. 

When the plague struck in Hong Kong in 1894, two microbiologists, Alexandre Yersin and Kitasato Shibasaburo, hurried to the danger zone to find source of the disease and the cure.  Mindful of the international fame that awaited the future 'plague conqueror', they chose competition over cooperation.  The 'race' had begun. 

This story provides more than enough material for a decent medical thriller, but Marriott does not stop there.  He incorporates other plague epidemics into his narrative, some of them from centuries ago and some quite recent, turning The Plague Race into a fairly comprehensive study of Yersinia pestis. 

Let me clarify:  The Plague Race is a non-fiction history book, or so the author claims.  It doesn't read like one.  It is full of drama and literary tricks usually used in adventure stories.  Historical characters are turned into clear-cut heroes and villains, there's even a love story shadowed by the plague.  History book?  Hmm....

See, I can't make my mind up whether The Plague Race really deserves to be called non-fiction.  On one hand, it is firmly based on sources (Yersin's diaries, old newspapers etc.) and illustrated with authentic photographs.  On the other, the book is so brightly coloured up for drama that scientific objectivity somehow gets forgotten.  I'm inclined to call it a very well researched historical fiction. 

Whatever its genre, The Plague Race reads like a dream.  It is smooth, fast-paced and full of fascinating trivia that you'll be able to scare/impress your friends with forever after.  Enjoy.

Roger Took, Running with Reindeer

Arriving at library fifteen minutes before closing time, one is destined to leave with a pretty random crop of books.  I grabbed Running with Reindeer - Encounters in Russian Lapland when sprinting by the history section, expecting some mixture of ethnography, anthropology and yes, history, served in a dry academic sauce.  I got top class travel writing instead.  What a pleasant surprise!

Running with Reindeer has everything that really good travel writing is supposed to have.  Exotic location.  A lot of ground covered.  High definition portraits of quirky characters encountered on the road.  Tons of background information on politics, history, ecology, geography and any other -athys and -ogies you can wish for.  A touch of adventure, a sprinkling of opinion.  Wonderful!

Russian Lapland is not exactly a land most people would be familiar with, nor is it the easiest one to travel.  As everywhere, traditions of the indigenous people in the area are disappearing fast.  Bureaucracy and living off the land nomadic style, do not exactly go together.  People who used to literally run with their reindeer can now be found in high rise concrete blocks.  Not all of them, not yet.  But I have the unpleasant feeling that a few decades from now Saami way of life could be truly a thing of the past, fully belonging to the history shelf.  We are not too good in conserving ecological diversity, especially if it cannot be milked for money.

I'm not trying to say that the 'good old nomadic ways' translate unconditionally to 'heaven full of pastoral beauty'.  It's quite likely that after a week of such a bucolic bliss I would run off screaming.  Yet, it's hard to read Took's account of wilderness being transformed by civilisation and not to feel some sadness.

One minor fault, springing mainly from my personal preferences, not objective judgement.  My mind tends to drift when assaulted with too much landscape.  Topography is fine when you have to actually travel through it, but to a reader's (mine!) mind, all those valleys and knolls and hills and lakes and other features are pretty meaningless.  If there are too many of them, my brain automatically gets into neutral gear.  You must have some landscape in a travel writing book, but in Running with Reindeer I detected too much of it for my liking.

On all other fronts, the book is fantastic.