This book feels as if the wandering investigations of Alexis de Toqueville's Democracy in America met a voice reminiscent of Hunter S. Thompson and a style similar in some ways to his gonzo journalism, but also with a very British style of writing and its blend of calm outrage and understated humor.
This little known book is a high quality literary gem. I wish more people would read it. Please do so.
Ferguson combines his marvelous turn of phrase and his view of America and American places through the eyes of foreigner, but he looks at the mundane human existence, and he simply says what he sees and how it makes him feel. This book isn't about bar-hopping; it is about encountering the ordinary where it is found and on its own terms.
Eleven bars, eleven states, eleven stories, mostly going nowhere, unlike the narrator who travels from New York to Louisiana, Tennessee, Texas, New Mexico, Arkansas, California, Texas (again), Arizona, Florida, and Tennessee (encore), in search of adventure and very rarely finding it. Set just after Reagan came to power, the US of A is crumbling and broken down. He is not there to search out the newest beer from Brooklyn brewery; the bars offer Bud, Miller or Coors, but also serve up barflys, pool sharks, drug smugglers, cowboys, hustlers of all variety, fighters, lovers, baseball fans, mid-western racists, poets, dope fiends, Apache "Indians", and Germans.
These are the tales of a pub crawler across America, a few years after the sinking of SS Carolina; one gripping slab after the other—with the love of English and Rock 'n' Roll. Phew, why did I ever conclude Sci Fi is the be all end all. . . .