This is a tedious text, derived from what appear to be competently written diary notes. They should have stayed like that. Cynthia Nolan must have known that she was being published only because of her famous husband. I enjoy reading about the experience of people travelling in remote places in years past (especially outback Australia), but there was nothing of interest in the 60 odd pages I read before giving up. The crime of precipitous publication was compounded by the notion Nolan had that she could pronounce on aspects of the country through which she was travelling for the first time as though she was an old Territory hand. The result is a great deal of nonsense seemingly coughed up second-hand and peppered with fatuous accounts of unimportant events (somebody's boil on the Marrakai plains was treated to a page and a half, if you can believe that). Shame. She was in a position to produce something of far more value. I should have taken note of the fact that she was constantly reminding the reader that "she hadn't wanted to come on this trip, in the first place." I shouldn't have gone either.