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22 of 23 people found the following review helpful:
The new American pilgrim, 18 Jan 2006
A wide gulf separates the "travel writer" from those who keep journals of their rambles. The former wishes to entice you to visit the places he's seen - indeed, he's generally paid to accomplish that end. The travel journal is often a pure record of sights, events, people encountered. It is also an honest record of what is experienced. Bill Bryson writes journals of his travels. His accounts are forthright, often with scathing wit, but devoid of malice, even when deeply critical of their subjects. In this book, mainly a walking tour of England, Wales and Scotland, he writes a valedictory to his years in Britain. A delightful read, Notes provides rich entertainment with a serious look at the current British scene.Bryson deserves full marks for courage. He walks. He covers vast distances in weather that would dismay a seasoned fisherman. He risks his life along wind-blown cliffs, looking down for surf lost in driven fog or slashing rain. No-one wet, cold and hungry can maintain their humour long. Bryson conveys his feelings with honest vigour, but veneers his stress with vivid descriptions of the environment he traverses. He struggles to make sense of British Rail [something even the natives have abandoned hope of achieving], more than once falling back on irregular bus services. He suffers a day's dogleg travel to cover a twenty mile distance because no connecting line exists. Still, he persists and is often enough rewarded to make the effort worth the time. And his descriptions of these events rewards the reader through sharing his reactions yet not pointing an accusatory finger. It's "the system" that's at fault. As an American from Iowa, Bryson may be relied on to take a detached view of Britain. He's no royalist, but he has a strong affinity for the traditional. He admires old buildings and wants money spent to keep them intact. He grieves volubly over the supplanting of "heritage" buildings by modern steel and glass monuments to capitalism and modernity. In this vein, perhaps the best chapter is on Oxford - the town and the uni. He virtually takes you by the hand, leading you about the town, up one charming street or along "some forgotten lane." Regrettably, you emerge in a desolate square swamped by parked cars. Grungy shopping centres abound, and he [and you] find little refuge unless you choose the right pub. His anguished cry for Oxford, " . . . there is so much that is so wrong. How did it happen?" is
repeated throughout the book as variations on a theme. His tour completed, he returns to his family in preparation for a return to America [he's now in New Hampshire - not Iowa - a telling point]. His British home in Yorkshire seems unsurprising in view of his travails in the South. He likes the North's warm-heartedness, although he admits it is manifested only over a long duration. He adores the scenery, but has never had to make a living from that land. His favourite town names are Northern ones and he'll leave with more than mild regret. Yet, at the end of this book, as he declares his bliss at returning to Yorkshire, one cannot but wonder whether the long journey was worth the effort [other than to produce the book]. Because this book is a journal of a pilgrimage, it fails to entice the reader to duplicate it. Bryson's superb wit and descriptive powers hold you to his side as he journeys. But on closing the pages, this reviewer felt no compulsion to emulate the tour. There are other places that appeal more and Byson's otherwise admirable account doesn't evoke a desire to divert from them. A wonderful book to read, but only once. [stephen a. haines - Ottawa, Canada]
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