I found this a well-written, very funny antidote to the endlessly sunny, ultimately irritating "travel copy" contained in my Lonely Planet guidebook. Theroux is the best antidote to being stuck on some never-ending bus-ferry-train journey in the depths of the Third World where there are no Pyramids, Taj Mahals or Great Walls, within a thousand miles, the people are not warm and gracious but poor and grasping and the governments in charge are not victims of the West but inept imbezzelers and tin pot tyrants.
Theroux rejuvenates the weary long distance traveller with his unfailing wit, good sense and stubborn determination to be beholden to no one.
I particulary liked in this book his account of Australia and New Zealand struggling with their identities in a post 1973 (Britain joining the EU) world. Good writing, and it corresponded with what I was seeing in these countries at the times. His account of the NZ Prime Minister making a pig of herself with her food after running down John F. Kennedy for his personal habits is a bit of satirical writing worthy of Gore Vidal.
His depiction of the the modern squalor and boredom of much of Pacific island life matched my experiences in places as diverse as Kuwait, Hong Kong and Singapore (of which Theroux writes about with such accuracy and wit - be sure to try his Kowloon Tong and Saint Jack if you like this one).
And despite the sad realities, Theroux almost always likes the places he visits!