From the moment I started reading I was hooked. I devoured this book, taking any spare moment I had - on the train, a quiet moment at work, even walking home from the station - to read just a little bit more. Each time I put it down I felt disappointed that I'd have to spend a little less of the day on the train to Mandalay.
That is until I actually started to reflect on what I had been reading. Theroux's writing is fantastic - engaging and vivid, I'd take a thousand words from him over a picture any day. But there are two problems that plague his otherwise readable account - his hypocrisy, and above all, his ego.
He criticises other travel writers who make hasty generalisations and yet Theroux is quite happy to pass judgement on an entire nation after a brief sojourn in some faceless city, quite removed from the country's day-to-day reality. He even makes these comments now and again after an afternoon's stroll around a station followed by a beer and sandwich, or, even worse, based on a good stare out of a train window.
But what gets really tiresome is that Theroux enjoys massaging his ego almost as much as he enjoys his Thai massage in chapter 19. His glowing description of a backpacker reading one of his novels on a train to Penang or his claim that his previous trans-Asian travelogue had 'worked magic' come off as thinly-veiled arrogance.
But what rescues the book is his excellent writing style. It's so engrossing that it disguises the fact that he's not making sense or he's being insufferably pompous. Even his frequent meditations that sometimes descend into nonsensical aphorisms and cliche are a joy to read. Of course, this isn't unrelated to his egotism. Theroux is a man who is confident with words, and that translates into an author capable of brilliantly rendering a scene or even, in his more abstract moments, amazing the reader with his command of language. He even manages to convey genuine emotion in his travel writing (for example, the plights of the Ukrainian and the Thai prostitutes), something most writers in this genre struggle with, given that while travelling each relationship is usually little more than a fleeting acquaintance.
Altogether, The Ghost Train loses a star for it's obvious flaws but it is written with such flair that it remains an excellent read.