The Armchair Explorer
by Taniko
The Best American Travel Writing, 2005: edited by Jamaica Kincaid. ISBN 0-618-36952-X
The Best Travel Writing, 2005: edited by James O’Reilly, Larry Habegger and Sean O’Reilly. ISBN 1-93236116-2
The premise behind these books is that they don’t go aim to after the tried and the true. They don’t try to find the locales on the planet we want to pump and advertise today. They go after the unique adventure, which is by and large the sort of adventure most of us prefer to do seated in our armchairs. There are no perks in this type of writing, other than the perk of having touched upon something unique and liberating.
Most of us do like a little adventure. Perhaps it is in food, or perhaps, even that form of exploration is too alien to some of us. Perhaps, instead, we like to find it in museums, art shows, books, television, music, or among a few friends venturing out for a night on the town.
These two aforementioned books are good, definitely good. They tell me there are certain places I’d rather read about, than go to. I’m not going to be hunkering down on the border between Afghanistan and Pakistan anytime soon. I don’t see myself fighting my way to Bucharest via a string of cabbies from Belgrade during an era of decided civil uncertainty. Or deep sea diving with newly-created equipment in caves. Or even, as one intrepid family did, uprooting my life for a year to live in another country.
Some adventures are closer to home. One author talks about his travel writing as a flunkie offered stays in resort after resort gratis, with the unspoken premise that he’d write about the stay. Ian Frazier writes about Route 3, New Jersey, not all that far from his home.
Travel writing, as with most writing, is most engaging when well done – perhaps a sense of humor, or a sense of place, or a knowledgeable grasp on the cultures being visited. Or, perhaps, some truly awesome descriptive passages. All these serve. All these inform. All these set us out on the vicarious voyage, a voyage which ultimately reflects back on the traveler. As was made clear in several selections in these books, we do not explore fully unformed; we are not a clean slate that impressions objectively adhere to. The more we may seek to immerse ourselves into an alien culture – the more it comes to haunt us that we are still and always a parcel of our own culture.
One of my favorite tales is that of a woman who traveled to Spain to fulfill a job opportunity. She was supposed to go home to home, business to business, to sell paintings. At night the people involved in the sales all stayed at their hermetically-sealed apartment, and during the day they were too busy to get to comprehend the culture they found themselves in. This woman, however, was befriended by a shopkeeper, and invited to a traditional Spanish dinner, provoking a transition of awareness in the author. Now, this is the kind of adventure I'd seek.
Not all the tales in these books are strong, however I do recommend them. There’s enough here to dream on, and maybe if nothing else, push you out the door. At least to Route 3, if not further.
