Neither Here Nor There

Bill Bryson writes with exceptionally concise sense of humor, and behind his keen observances and crisp wit, lies a deeply humane heart... so I'd have described my experiences with his other works that I've read over the years, such as A Walk in the Woods, In a Sunburned Country, and A Brief History of Nearly Everything. Enduring through Neither Here Nor There: Travels in Europe, however, was a thoroughly disappointing experience. The only good thing that I can say is that it's the shortest.

Bill Bryson has this great idea to trudge through Europe for the first time in a couple of decades since he's gone on a four-month long backpacking trip in his youth. He starts with Hammerfest, Norway, which is a thirty-hour bus ride from Oslo. In February. Alone. Although his next destination is Paris and his schedule takes him through Belgium, Germany, Denmark, Italy and so forth, (unfortunately for me) things don't get much better for Bryson. Even more unfortunately, he seemed have decided from the onset, to employ his gifted writing talents in a mischievious (and sadistic) drive to make sure that his readers are let in on this wonderful load of misery and gloom.

From my experiences, travelling alone is almost always not preferrable to having company on the road (with the exception that I'd rather be alone than with a disagreeable companion), but an interesting side effect of a solitary travel is that you tend to become extremely observant about your surroundings (probably a good thing for travel writers) and very self-conscious (never known to be the best choice of mindset to lift one's spirits in a foreign land). There are many places where reading Bryson's description -- in its economical yet incredibly effective way -- of the scenery and atmosphere that he encounters, left me very satisfied at being able to find the kind of joy I derive at reading the typical Bryson travel writing; unfortunately, they are often smeared by his incredibly miserable mood and negative attitude. At best, he's able to capitalize on his cynical mood to make a deftly clever remark; most of the times, however, his comments are spiteful, disparaging or downright vicious -- certainly NOT the Bryson I've come to expect.

Through the book, he turns from lonely and miserable, to mildly amused and miserable, pissed-off and miserable -- and finally, as he ends his journey in Istanbul, downright homesick and miserable. Having had great admirations for his travel writings the Appalachian Trail (A Walk in the Woods) and Austrailia (In a Sunburned Country), I started on Neither Here Nor There, thinking Bryson will be a witty and insightful guide to help me get prepared for Europe as I'm planning out my summer travels there; unfortunately, I found myself on a tour led by a guide who seemed to have found out just this morning that his car has been towed, his house has been reposessed, and his wife has ran off with the milkman. There's no sense of wonder and appreciation evident anywhere; just bitter humor and a sulking middle-aged Bryson trudding his way alone through Europe toward Istanbul -- and great surprise: when he gets there, he found Istanbul to be "hot, fetid, airless, threadbare, crowded, old and slow."

I still heartly recommend A Walk in the Woods, In a Sunburned Country and (for the science history bluffs at heart), A Brief History of Nearly Everything. However, if you were to ponder upon picking up this book at the local book seller, leave the copy of Neither Here Nor There on the shelf; the Bryson I know and love is neither here nor there.