Sarah Champion
Tony Hawks' debut book, The Round Ireland with a Fridge, was an irreverent satire. The topic of the sequel is even more absurd. Like Round Ireland, it supposedly originates from an obscure bet. This time, Hawks bets he can't track-down the Moldovan football team and beat them all at tennis. The loser must perform the Moldovan national anthem naked on Balham High Road. However, knowledge of tennis and/or football isn't required to enjoy the book.
Hawks' Irish trip was characterised by willing accomplices who joined in the fun. In Moldova, Hawks also expects a good laugh. Despite the rarity of visitors, he receives an apathetic welcome as his mission provokes little more than weak smiles. Tracking down the footballers and persuading them to play turns becomes almost impossible.
The book treads a fine line between brilliant and juvenile, between Jeremy Beadle and the genuinely witty. Hawks' sixth-form joke of presenting a round table to Moldova's new King Arthur is especially cringe-worthy. His experience as a second-division stand-up leads to innumerable trite quips. Still, overall Playing The Moldovans At Tennis is an entertaining, easy read that will make you chuckle. It provides an interesting view of Eastern Europe's post-Communist life, while keeping you in suspense: Will he? Won't he? Suffice to say that, yes, at the end of the book someone does end up naked and singing outside a South London Woolworths. --Sarah Champion --
--This text refers to the
Paperback
edition.
Review
For a man who a couple of years earlier hitchhiked round Ireland accompanied only by a fridge in order to win a 100 bet, taking on the entire Moldovan football team (one at a time) at tennis was only a tiny, imaginative step away. But just tracking down the team proved fraught with difficulties, not least of which were acquiring a smattering of Romanian, negotiating food poisoning and navigating his way around authorities not necessarily itching to help. And to cap it all, he finds himself going to Israel to play the last of his games. Here's an amusing story of a journey with a purpose, which proves it's not the winning but the taking part that counts. (Kirkus UK)
Another goofy travelogue-and a UK bestseller-by the English writer who, on a dare, once hitchhiked around Ireland with a refrigerator. Don't come to Hawks, as you might with just about any other literary travel-writer, expecting to glean respectful social-studies lessons about exotic Third World places and why they seem that way to jaundiced First Worlders. When Hawks takes us to Moldova-that sandwich-thin, Romanian-speaking slice of the former Soviet Union once known as Bessarabia-it's mostly to complain about the awful food, the horrific drinking habits of the locals, and the absence of reliable telephones, electric lights, and hot water. Still, he's quick to admit his ignorance of the place. He writes, for instance, that he'd been blissfully unaware of a separatist movement of Russian-speaking Moldovans that declared a "Transnistrian Moldavian Soviet Socialist Republic" following the collapse of the Gorbachev regime. "All this had gone largely unnoticed by Western observers and particularly by me," he confesses. "I'd been too busy practicing my serve." He'd been doing so to bone up for another goofy dare, namely, to find and play tennis matches against the Moldovan national soccer team, which had given the English team a good scare in an international match some months earlier. His account of his travels to Moldova, Transnistria, Northern Ireland, and Israel to track down those worthy opponents may remind some readers of Bill Bryson (except that Hawks is genuinely funny and doesn't have to reach to get a laugh). The payoff (finding out how the bet turns out) is well worth the occasional dry patches. Not particularly elevated or elevating, but a lot of fun. (Kirkus Reviews)
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