Since I moved to England this fall, I haven’t done too much travelling around the country. I’ve been to London a couple of times, neither of which I did much that could be described as a touristy; the same applies to my trips to Cambridge. I went up to Scotland during the half-term and had a good time there, but I’m looking forward to visiting a few other places around the UK. Until I do, travel writing like Notes from a Small Island will have to serve to whet my appetite.Bill Bryson is a brilliant writer. A Short History of Nearly Everything is one of my favourite books. Bryson has a deft touch to description that makes him an apt writer of non-fiction; he manages to make something that could be dull and make it come alive through anecdotes and humour. I knew he had done some travel writing, a genre that’s been on my mind while teaching AS Literature. So I picked this up during a trip to Waterstones and settled into what I hoped would be a very unique perspective on Great Britain. Bryson didn’t grow up here but has lived here for decades. Preparing to move back to the United States with his family, he tours the island one last time. The result is certainly unique, but not in the way I wanted.The prologue chapter is every bit as brilliant and entertaining as I had hoped it would be. Bryson relates his first days in England, in 1973. He describes butting heads with the formidable Mrs Smegma, the proprietor of a boarding house and perpetually disapproving of whatever Bryson does. He reminisces about his youthful awe over the differences between Britain and the United States, and it’s a delightful prelude to the beginning of his tour of the country twenty years later.I’d be exaggerating if I said that the book goes drastically downhill after that strong start, but it would not be wild hyperbole. Notes from a Small Island suffers from two chief defects. Firstly, as I noted above, Bryson is a brilliant writer—and, unfortunately, he knows this. Secondly, it turns out that his reactions to various places in Britain are very similar and often involve a lot of unfavourable comparisons to how things used to be.Bryson’s wit often seems to get the better of him here. Of course, there are plenty of moments when that humour works well and livens up what might otherwise be a mundane description of his travels through Brighton or Yorkshire. Unfortunately, it often seems like his humour is there to distract us from the fact that he isn’t actually talking about the particular place in question. There are segues into sexist ruminations on the differences between men and women (and he himself labels at least one such episode as sexist, as if that somehow excuses it). At least twice during visits to Chinese restaurants he makes comments that are, if not racist, then culturally insensitive. Such moments were enough to make me feel uncomfortable, particularly because I had so wanted to find this book funny. And throughout the book, he manages to portray himself as a short-tempered, intolerant, rude person who would probably make a terrible travelling companion. To be fair, he seems to be aware of these shortcomings and occasionally even apologizes for them. But he also seems to labour under the delusion that this makes him even more interesting rather than less.The second defect concerns how Bryson describes the way the places he visits have changed over the decades. In almost every case, he manages to point out how development and change has ruined a city. He laments the arrival of indoor shopping malls and the slow destruction of Britain’s hedges. He complains about the motorways, about the rail system, about the distribution and diversity of restaurants. It wouldn’t be so bad if each successive chapter weren’t just more of the same. It’s as if he set out not just to tour Britain but to find as much fault with it as possible in order to justify his relocation to the United States. For someone who claims to love the country—and he does make several keen observations in favour of Britain and its people—he spends a lot of time sounding like someone who doesn’t want kids on his lawn.It’s not all bad news. There is charm to be had in Notes from a Small Island. Bryson shares in common with certain humour writers that talent to transform what are assuredly mild incidents in their lives into wild, slightly absurd anecdotes that nevertheless have the ring of truth. These otherwise excellent moments are spoiled by how repetitive Bryson manages to make the book feel. After the first few chapters, the novelty has worn off. As I approached the end of the book, I was paying very little attention to what he was actually saying, because it felt like more of the same.Notes from a Small Island doesn’t replicate the sense of wonder and enjoyment I derived from A Short History of Nearly Everything. It doesn’t quite give me a sense of the country in which I’m living either. Instead, it’s more like a catalogue of Bill Bryson’s unfavourable experiences across Great Britain. It’s occasionally funny and occasionally charming but not the encomium of travelling through Britain that I want or need.
Unfortunately for me, I’ve never been to England, nor have I even met a great many English people in person. Yet like so many Americans, for my whole life I have been quietly enamored of British culture. Monty Python, The Beatles, John Milton, “English Breakfast Tea” (which I imagine is not what the English call it), Mr. Bean, Indian Pale Ale, the custom of tea and digestive biscuits (which I came to love during my time in Kenya), pronouncing schedule with a “sh” at the beginning—all of these have convinced me that the British really have it together. So as a kind of substitute for actually going there—which I earnestly hope to one day—I happily picked up this book, in order to learn more about this distant beacon of sarcasm and silly walks which has so enriched my life.Putting aside Bryson’s wonderful writing for a moment, I must say that he makes for an odd travel guide, to say the least. For someone who seems constitutionally cheerful and genuinely happy, he can be astoundingly misanthropic. Bryson loves everything about humans except humans themselves. He can get lost in local history, spend hours gazing at splendid architecture, comb through maps with rapacious glee, wax poetic about museums and tourist attractions—and yet every time he comes into contact with an actual person, he is exasperated beyond words. Each interaction he relates in this book, whether he was talking to someone on a train or asking for directions, ends with him thinking or saying something rude and insulting. He even indulges in some rather violent fantasizing about people who only cause him a minor inconvenience. The man is not gregarious.The result of this tendency is that you “meet” very few Brits in this book. By way of compensation, Bryson gives you a marvelous picture of the English public transit system, if that’s what you’re looking for. It is indeed rather ironic that at one point he says something incredibly disparaging about train enthusiasts—considering it a sign of insanity to be interested in trains—but fills up so much of this book complaining about trains, as if that’s any more interesting. Bryson will also describe for you the nicest and the ugliest buildings in the major cities of Great Britain, as well as relate his adventures eating Chinese food and sleeping in hotels. In short, the focus often strays from his topic to banalities and needless bitching. Having recently read In a Sunburned Country (called Down Under in the UK), published 5 years after this, I can tell that this represents a more immature phase in his writing. At the very least, this book could have used more vigorous editing.Despite all these flaws and shortcomings, I still had a great time reading this travelogue. In the early chapters especially, Bryson’s infectious love of the English language is on full display, as he rattles off lists of made-up English locales. There is also much autobiographical information here that I found charming. He tells us of his first arrival in England, and how he met his wife; he tells us of his days as a newspaper editor and of Murdoch’s takeover. And as usual, Bryson is adept at finding quaint, odd, pleasing bits of local history. But most of all I just enjoy seeing the world through Bryson’s curious and curiously misanthropic eyes. He is a delicate man, very sensitive to his surroundings, so it’s always a pleasure watching him notice things, little things, that I wouldn’t normally observe. Considering all this, perhaps I should say that he’s not such a bad travel guide after all.
Do You like book Notes From A Small Island (1997)?
It took me forever to read this because I was constantly picking it up and putting it down, not because I wasn’t enjoying it, but because it’s one of those books where it works to read it in this way, and I read so many other books during the times I took breaks from reading this book.Sometimes I just don’t like Bill Bryson as a man. There’s a smattering of things he writes that are cruel, crass, and otherwise makes him unappealing to me, and he sure drinks a lot of beer, but the nasty material is a tiny minority of the book’s content. He’s basically a likeable and interesting guy who is an explorer, much of it done via walking, and he has a refreshing sense of what constitutes adventure.He’s a skilled writer. He’s very, very funny; I laughed out loud and chuckled many times.I’ve always wanted to go to Britain so for me this was a bit of armchair traveling. Unfortunately, much of this book made me wish I’d visited the place (and most other places) at least a few decades ago. Bryson makes clear the homogenization that’s taken place at various British locales, and this book was written 15 years ago so who knows what he’d say now. I’d still love to go but I’d skip some of his destinations. He also writes much about the history of his destinations and I found most of the information fascinating.One thing that tickled my funny bone is that when he was in one small English town, he saw the old “This is Cinerama” movie, a movie I remember from my childhood, and brought me right back to the United States of America. I hadn’t realized the movie was already old the first time that I saw it, but I do remember loving that film and other Cinerama movies.There’s a glossary of English (vs. American English) words in the back of the book. Given that I’m a bit of an Anglophile, I already knew the definition of most of the words, but having it in the book was a fun touch.
—Lisa Vegan
Check: 10 places I want to see after reading this bookI am done with Bryson's books. The main reason is that I don't like him. He is funny sometimes but most of the time he is rude, mean, makes fun of other people, does things that I don't quite like.This was my second book and even this failed to give me much information. I picked this book up since England is on the top of my "must-visit" places from a long time. I have been imagining about this country ever since I picked my first Enid Blyton's book and after re-reading Harry Potter books umpteen times. I wanted to know what was "good" about this country and what were the places that I must visit, if I visit this country sometime in the future.But this book failed to give me any of this information. It was more of a memoir than a book on travel. He kept comparing England with how it was in 1970s and kept complaining how it had changed for the worse. It looked more like he was on a budget trip. He was not interested in paying for even a single entrance fee or take a tour of the palace if it costed even 2 pounds. I mean, you are writing a travelogue for God's sake. So you must visit all the good and famous places in England and let the reader know what is good about the place. But it looked like he felt at peace only in the cities which had a good pub and a cheap hotel. He hated almost every human being he met on the trip and all he did in most places was eat and drink beer.It appeared to me that he did not like most part of England. At least that is what I felt after reading the book. After finishing the book, I got a feeling that it is a pretty boring country where people hardly do anything other than eat and shop. I mean, he doesn't mention a single place which would make me go "wow.. I must visit this place" even once! I kind of got fed up of his rants and complaints about every city he visited. He hates modern buildings, less populated cities, highly populated cities, almost every place he visits.And I think he left out many of the good tourist places in England. The ones that he did mention were just brushed upon. For some part I was confused since he mentioned cities in Scotland to be part of "British".His books neither have pictures nor maps. Apart from his humor at times, there is nothing much that's good about this book. I am definitely not picking any other book for his! Waste of money.There goes my last review for 2012! Happy new year!
—Ash
Reading this made me yearn to return to Britain and to even live there again. Bill Bryson has a true gift for humour and description. There were so many parts that had me laughing hilariously, and some that got me all nostalgic, such as visiting the small town where I attended beauty school so many years ago – a town that’s so infrequently visited, that when he got off the train, everyone had their heads to the window, looking at him in utter surprise, as in why, on God’s green earth, would anyone get off here? I’m sorry the book ended, I wanted him to keep going on. I’m even sorrier to learn that he won’t be writing any more travelogues, but I still have several yet to read and many of these, I’ll be more than happy to re-read.
—Negin
