In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

  • The Rise and Fall of Travel Writing
  • Frank Izaguirre (bio)

Marianne Boruch,. The Glimpse Traveler.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press (Break Away Books), 2011. 240 Pages, Paper, $19.95.

James A. Reeves,. The Road to Somewhere: An American Memoir.
New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2011. 411 Pages, Paper, $25.00.

Tracy Seeley,. My Ruby Slippers: The Road Back to Kansas.
Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2011. 208 Pages, Paper, $15.95.

Paul Theroux, The Tao of Travel: Enlightenments from Lives on the Road
Boston: Mariner Books, 2012. 304 Pages, Paper, $14.95.

In a time when it’s increasingly difficult for travel writers to sell books, what’s to be made of the release of Paul Theroux’s The Tao of Travel: Enlightenments from Lives on the Road? The first 30 or so pages of the book are a self-indulgent compendium of travel-writing quotes about quixotic little subject matters like “Solitary Travel” and “Travel as a Waste of Time.” Although Theroux does throw in a few quotes from writers other than himself, about 85 percent of the quotes are his, which suggests he might actually believe 85 percent of the best travel writing is his own. [End Page 183]

The rest of the book is mostly focused on travel writers he’s admired and sometimes has met. It’s a hodgepodge of occasionally cool stuff. One chapter is a series of quotes from authors about their own writing, another is more quotes from authors about the things they packed with them, and yet another is a group of excerpts about surprising foods from different parts of the world. Theroux leads off each chapter with a couple of paragraphs about the theme of the chapter, and the chapters are separated by three or four pages of “travel wisdom” (quotes again) from other travel writers, such as Claude Lévi-Strauss or Evelyn Waugh.

The book does contain intriguing moments, such as when Theroux discusses how readers “don’t want to hear about the traveler’s fun; what keeps you reading is the traveler’s misery, outrage, and near-death experience.” His keenness on what readers crave is engaging, but he elaborates on his insight for only four more sentences before returning to his list of one- or two-paragraph-long excerpts from other writers. This is the essential disappointment of The Tao of Travel. When readers are used to his 500-page travelogues of sharp, piercing prose, two- or three-paragraph chunks about what seems like haphazardly chosen material is a let-down.

It’s not that I didn’t enjoy reading this book—I did, at least a little bit. What depresses me is how no one subject is ever looked at in depth. Instead of adding another ambitious or insightful travelogue to his oeuvre, Theroux gave us The Tao of Travel. Maybe this isn’t his last travelogue (it certainly isn’t his last book; he just published another novel), but when the last two chapters of The Tao of Travel are “Five Travel Epiphanies” and then ten travel tips, which include “leave home” and “bring a map” (those are two of “The Essential Tao of Travel,” by the way), it certainly gives the impression he’s winding down.

What does this mean for travel writing? A line from The Tao of Travel (one of the lines actually written by Theroux) could be revelatory: “perhaps the future of the travel book is the travel blog.” Maybe so, but it’s a grim future if we take the quality of writing on travel blogs as any indicator of what we can look forward to.

Here’s a basic formula for coming up with a name for a travel blog: take a clichéd travel adjective, add a one-syllable first name, and there’s your travel blog. For example, Nomadic Matt, Wandering Earl, or Adventurous Kate. Those are real travel blogs, and popular ones at that. If they’d been born [End Page 184] in a different time, would we have Migratory Paul (Theroux), Roaming Jan (Morris), and Perambulatory Bruce (Chatwin)?

There are good things about travel blogs for sure. They’re easily accessible, democratic, instant, and can...

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