By the time this collection was first published in 2003, the idea of ‘going travelling’ had become a middle-class cliche and gap years were big business. Geoff Dyer seems to have made rather a habit of it in his late thirties, flitting from New Orleans, Miami and Chicago to Cambodia and Thailand, via Amsterdam, Paris, Rome and Libya.
The romantic notion of travel is that you go ‘to find yourself’. Dyer certainly visits a lot of the places this is supposed to happen, Buddist temples, the Santury on Ko Pha-Ngan, full moon parties, Burning Man. He also spends a fair amount of his time getting stoned, but as the titles suggests he’s not your typical new age type. He’s got more literary pretensions.
By focusing solely on moments of travel, Dyer is able to give the impression that he spent this part of his life meandering from place to place, doing not much else other than pondering deep questions of civilization and antiquity. More often than not, this takes place in the company of a beautiful, intelligent girl with whom he enjoys witty exchanges and insightful observations.
Sounds idyllic doesn't it? At this point, it's probably worth noting the proviso in the intro: “All of the things in this book really happened, but some of the things that happened only happened in my head”. I suspect that this includes the dialogue, but it doesn't matter because the exchanges are eloquent and the writing is excellent. A fair amount of it even manages to achieve the goal of being both thoroughly entertaining and profoundly astute.
Dyer's at his best when he elucidates some of his more abstract thoughts, the kind that I suspect we all often have and never quite grasp, and weaves them as themes throughout the book. In the end I’m left more jealous of his writing than I am his exploits. Based on how much fun he seems to have had, this can only be a good thing.
Dyer's at his best when he elucidates some of his more abstract thoughts, the kind that I suspect we all often have and never quite grasp, and weaves them as themes throughout the book. In the end I’m left more jealous of his writing than I am his exploits. Based on how much fun he seems to have had, this can only be a good thing.
Rating: ***1/2
Read: On return from Burning Man. Mostly in bed and on trains. Left in bag on train to Newcastle, recovered a month later and finally finished.
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