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It certainly isn't the most complete guide to Europe out there. Mr Bryson visits the requisite churches and museums, but rarely in elaborate detail, talks to the locals no more than necessary, and seems far more content to simply amble about the neighborhoods and parks and take in the atmosphere. He travels mostly by rail, but sets himself no gimmicky limitations, and isn't above jetting off somewhere if the weather proves unappealing. Readers looking for more genteel fare should try Paul Theroux or maybe the adaptations of Michael Palin's BBC voyages (I love the man, but his idea of interview technique is to say "Fantastic, great" to everything). Others may try hiking the continent or roaming it on a unicycle, but Mr Bryson gets around fueled by beer and irritation.Nor is the book especially informative regarding the things to see and do.
To be fair, Mr Bryson speaks almost rapturously of some places he visits, such as Copenhagen, Capri and Hamburg. It is sobering to read of Mr Bryson's stay in Sarajevo, knowing that two years later the city, along with the rest of Yugoslavia, would plunge into a horrific civil war that gave us the term "ethnic cleansing". His time in Sofia, Bulgaria, gives a hint as to why the Communist system collapsed.His decision to end his "European" voyage in Istanbul raises an issue that is contentious once again. His 1990 journey starts off in Hammerfest, Norway, to see the northern lights, then skips down to France, and meanders to Turkey via Germany, Sweden, Italy, Yugoslavia and Bulgaria, among others.
He bypasses Europe's second-largest and most bull-trampled nation, Spain, as well as virtually all of Central and Eastern Europe, though in fairness these countries still lay behind an Iron Curtain that was only just beginning to lift. And in Neither Here Nor There, the person Mr Bryson gives us is himself, a former newspaper journalist and editor with a taste for neoclassical architecture and draft beer, and a sense of humor that is caustic, expletive-laden, scatological, even prurient at times, but never less than screamingly, hyperventilatingly funny. Neither Here Nor There forms a neat snapshot of Europe at the end of both the millennium and the cold war. Bill Bryson knows how to write, and more importantly, how to write a travel journal utterly different from any you've read before.Mr Bryson's secret is his discovery that, as any journalist will tell you, people aren't all that interested in travel or foreign parts; people are interested in people. In his almost masochistically honest account, you feel that Mr Bryson strikes closer to the actual experience of travel rather than the ideal; the frustrations and fatigue, the queues and queue-jumpers, rude waiters and cabbies, small hotel rooms and large restaurant bills. This route breaks little new ground, though Mr Bryson assuredly deserves kudos for visiting the top of Norway in the depths of winter.
Where does Europe begin, where does it end. Otherwise, the energy of the book comes from Mr Bryson's catalog of complaints, discomforts and misadventures. Travelogues of Europe have been around since the Roman Empire, so if you want your book to attract even the smallest iota of attention, you've got to be either a fantastic writer, or have a startlingly original tale to tell. But Mr Bryson the writer is at his best when Mr Bryson the traveler is at his worst. In lesser hands this would come across as mere whingeing, but it's never less than achingly funny to watch Mr Bryson wallow in his own misery.By now the book is dated, of course, but in a way, this only adds to the enjoyment.
Mr Bryson talks of prices in francs and marks and lire, where now there is only the euro.
This is precisely what makes Neither Here Nor There such a great travel book.
What sets it apart as a distinct region.
By his own admission, Mr Bryson's itinerary is impulsive and random rather than methodical.
It's instructive to note how easily Mr Bryson moves about the continent despite knowing, at best, just one language.
The funniest parts of the book are Mr Bryson's frequent reminiscences of his childhood in Iowa, and of his two previous trips to Europe in 1972 and 1973.
Mr Bryson completely strips away the romance of travel, and save Angelina Jolie, none of us look our best naked--especially not if we're still wearing our socks.
In 2006, Turkey's talks to join the European Union were once again frozen.
Neither Here Nor There suggests what binds Europeans together is their ability to embrace travelers to their nations and tenderly, gently, lift the traveler's cheques out of their jacket pockets.
It's a fantastic and schizophrenic yet entirely believable mix of experiences (even as Bill's out-loud thinking sometimes intrudes into the narrative). muezzins' tortured calls to prayer echoing over the rooftops" -- on the eve of the bloody few years which would follow in that region. Second only to this is his skillful and biting sarcasm, which allows for at least one LOL moment per page. Bryson is a master at descriptive writing and a master of English, if not language in general. At the start of the book this flashback is a little distracting and seems out of place, but as the diary progresses it makes sense; a brief understanding of his earlier trip comes in handy in spots as he looks back at how things have changed in the various countries he visits. One can almost smell the malodorous feet of the geezer next to him on the bus to Belgrade.
Or hear the Swedish girl of his dreams as she breathes into his deleriously drunken ear: "I'm fool of lust".Mr. Bryson's amazing account of this journey falls back occasionally to a trip taken with a college buddy two decades earlier. Across Europe, from Brussels to Bulgaria, Bill Bryson takes us up alleyways, into coffee shops with indifferent waitstaff, into overpriced museums, across ancient bridges and onto crowded buses through death-defying mountain passes, into magnficent town squares and finally, repairing, into various hotel rooms which occasionally overlook gloriously sunsetted harbors. I highly recommend it, if you can put up with Bryson's non-stop sarcasm and propensity for nerdy self-obsession. It is also interesting to read the peaceful account of his stay in Sarajevo -- "the setting sun crowning a skyline of minarets and. Mr. Indexed; endpapers contain handy map of Europe with countries outlined.
Bryson is not without honest compassion for the poor, currency-waving, bedraggled citizens queuing up to make meager purchases at nearly empty shops. We're right there with him, thanks to his down to the dustball description of every minute detail alerting every sense. Some may find it tiresome, some of the humor IS repulsive and it DID border on "enough already" for me too at times. The continuing communistic state of Bulgaria (in 1990) is particularly poignant and despite his gourmand-like tendencies, Mr. Especially as he reposes in the only place of true civilized comfort in town: the Sheraton. But I have to say, this is one of the most entertaining AND informative books I've ever read. It is a curious oversight that Poland is unnamed.
Bryson is a very funny writer, and this book will not disappoint. If you've ever travelled through Europe, or want to, this book is an unflinching look at many cities and countries, which will leave you laughing your tail off in many spots. Often cynical, insulting but accurate, this is a worthwhile companion to your average tour guide, and ranks up there with the best in travel books.
The book arrived slower than I expected, but the item was in good condition and I enjoyed the experience.
He has a great sense of humor and yet the book is filled with pathos as he relates to the people and the land. Bill Bryson is an amazing story teller. If you've ever thought of visiting Europe, in this book, he tells you how it was (when he visited it many years earlier) and how it has changed and if you might like to go there. Read this book and then find his other travel books on hiking the Appalachian trail - "A Walk in the Woods", Austrailia " A Sunburned Country", or living in England and then returning to the U.S.A. and finding himself "I'm a Stranger Here Myself." Reader warning - some strong language does occur.
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