This sort of
book would not be my first choice of material, but finding myself away from home with Tonsilitis and a limited choice of reading material available I reluctantly picked up what I considered the best of a bad selection, and was very glad I did. Not knowing much about the author, the thought of an American writing a travelogue of our green and pleasant frankly seemed daunting. After all England is a
place of subtlety and reserve, and most of the
people that were born here dont really
understand it, how would a stranger from the colonies understand our
ways. The answer is of course, exceedingly well.
Bill Bryson first came to England in 1973 and spent his adult life here. This book was inspired by the fact that before relocating back to the land of his birth in the mid nineties, he wanted to take a trip around the island, taking in some of the
places he first encountered as a student and adding new experiences along the way. Notes From a Small Island is the result of that
journey.
The first thing that strikes you about Brysons writing, is that he not only understands his adopted home and its people, but he generally loves the place. It often takes someone from the outside to understand the way a culture works and Bryson has the benefit of being on both sides of the fence. Having lived here long enough to be "one of us" as it were, he still has the ability to view the place as a tourist, ask those questions that normally remain unasked.
The second quality that shines through is the sense of humour that peppers his account. Even when in full flow pointing out the strange and illogical ways of the English, it is done with a gentle affection, never is there any malice attached. There is an almost Monty Python like quality in the way that he makes up names of long forgotten places and people. Mrs Smegma the Dover guesthouse keeper from his first days in England and The Buggered Ploughman an imaginary pub in the south west both have an authentic ring to them. He also has a fascination with place names, a theme that crops up on a few occasions.
The journey he undertook begins in Dover, the place that he first arrived at all those years ago, and then heads slowly north, taking in some of Wales to end eventually many weeks later in the most northerly tip of Scotland. The book is a mixture of the young Bryson of the early seventies wandering through the bewildering customs of a new country and the adult Bryson visiting these same places twenty years the wiser to our ways.
It is a surprisingly easy book to read, the style is very down to earth, almost chatty and the humour and a surprising amount of information helps carry the whole thing along. On reflection possible only someone looking in from the outside could have produced a book this good, most people are blind to the strangeness of their ways and its not until someonr turns up and says why, or how, do they question any of it. Take the book at face value, one mans view of the idiosyncracies of his adopted homeland and its a rewarding read. Its not meant to be a critique on English culture ot a treatise on its people, remember that and you are in for a rewarding journey on English public transport with a humourous and genial traveling companion.