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In Xanadu: A Quest
One of the most successful, influential and acclaimed travel books of recent years from the author of ‘Return of a King’, which has been shortlisted for the Samuel Johnson prize.
At the age of twenty-two, William Dalrymple left his college in Cambridge to travel to the ruins of Kublai Khan’s stately pleasure dome in Xanadu. This is an account of a quest which took him and his companions across the width of Asia, along dusty, forgotten roads, through villages and cities full of unexpected hospitality and wildly improbable escapades, to Coleridge’s Xanadu itself.
At once funny and knowledgeable, In Xanadu is in the finest tradition of British travel writing. Told with an exhilarating blend of eloquence, wit, poetry and delight, it is already established as a classic of its kind.
351 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1989
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About the author
William Dalrymple
64 books3,592 followersLibrarian Note: There is more than one author by this name in the Goodreads database.
William Dalrymple was born in Scotland and brought up on the shores of the Firth of Forth. He wrote the highly acclaimed bestseller In Xanadu when he was twenty-two. The book won the 1990 Yorkshire Post Best First Work Award and a Scottish Arts Council Spring Book Award; it was also shortlisted for the John Llewellyn Rhys Memorial Prize.
In 1989 Dalrymple moved to Delhi where he lived for six years researching his second book, City of Djinns, which won the 1994 Thomas Cook Travel Book Award and the Sunday Times Young British Writer of the Year Award. From the Holy Mountain, his acclaimed study of the demise of Christianity in its Middle Eastern homeland, was awarded the Scottish Arts Council Autumn Book Award for 1997; it was also shortlisted for the 1998 Thomas Cook Award, the John Llewellyn Rhys Prize and the Duff Cooper Prize. A collection of his writings about India, The Age of Kali, won the French Prix D’Astrolabe in 2005.
White Mughals was published in 2003, the book won the Wolfson Prize for History 2003, the Scottish Book of the Year Prize, and was shortlisted for the PEN History Award, the Kiryama Prize and the James Tait Black Memorial Prize.
William Dalrymple is a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature and of the Royal Asiatic Society, and is the founder and co-director of the Jaipur Literature Festival.
In 2002 he was awarded the Mungo Park Medal by the Royal Scottish Geographical Society for his ‘outstanding contribution to travel literature’. He wrote and presented the television series Stones of the Raj and Indian Journeys, which won the Grierson Award for Best Documentary Series at BAFTA in 2002. His Radio 4 series on the history of British spirituality and mysticism, The Long Search, won the 2002 Sandford St Martin Prize for Religious Broadcasting and was described by the judges as ‘thrilling in its brilliance... near perfect radio’. In December 2005 his article on the madrasas of Pakistan was awarded the prize for Best Print Article of the Year at the 2005 FPA Media Awards. In June 2006 he was awarded the degree of Doctor of Letters honoris causa by the University of St Andrews “for his services to literature and international relations, to broadcasting and understanding”. In 2007, The Last Moghal won the prestigous Duff Cooper Prize for History and Biography. In November 2007, William received an Honourary Doctorate of Letters, honoris causa, from the University of Lucknow University “for his outstanding contribution in literature and history”, and in March 2008 won the James Todd Memorial Prize from the Maharana of Udaipur.
William is married to the artist Olivia Fraser, and they have three children. They now live on a farm outside Delhi.
William Dalrymple was born in Scotland and brought up on the shores of the Firth of Forth. He wrote the highly acclaimed bestseller In Xanadu when he was twenty-two. The book won the 1990 Yorkshire Post Best First Work Award and a Scottish Arts Council Spring Book Award; it was also shortlisted for the John Llewellyn Rhys Memorial Prize.
In 1989 Dalrymple moved to Delhi where he lived for six years researching his second book, City of Djinns, which won the 1994 Thomas Cook Travel Book Award and the Sunday Times Young British Writer of the Year Award. From the Holy Mountain, his acclaimed study of the demise of Christianity in its Middle Eastern homeland, was awarded the Scottish Arts Council Autumn Book Award for 1997; it was also shortlisted for the 1998 Thomas Cook Award, the John Llewellyn Rhys Prize and the Duff Cooper Prize. A collection of his writings about India, The Age of Kali, won the French Prix D’Astrolabe in 2005.
White Mughals was published in 2003, the book won the Wolfson Prize for History 2003, the Scottish Book of the Year Prize, and was shortlisted for the PEN History Award, the Kiryama Prize and the James Tait Black Memorial Prize.
William Dalrymple is a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature and of the Royal Asiatic Society, and is the founder and co-director of the Jaipur Literature Festival.
In 2002 he was awarded the Mungo Park Medal by the Royal Scottish Geographical Society for his ‘outstanding contribution to travel literature’. He wrote and presented the television series Stones of the Raj and Indian Journeys, which won the Grierson Award for Best Documentary Series at BAFTA in 2002. His Radio 4 series on the history of British spirituality and mysticism, The Long Search, won the 2002 Sandford St Martin Prize for Religious Broadcasting and was described by the judges as ‘thrilling in its brilliance... near perfect radio’. In December 2005 his article on the madrasas of Pakistan was awarded the prize for Best Print Article of the Year at the 2005 FPA Media Awards. In June 2006 he was awarded the degree of Doctor of Letters honoris causa by the University of St Andrews “for his services to literature and international relations, to broadcasting and understanding”. In 2007, The Last Moghal won the prestigous Duff Cooper Prize for History and Biography. In November 2007, William received an Honourary Doctorate of Letters, honoris causa, from the University of Lucknow University “for his outstanding contribution in literature and history”, and in March 2008 won the James Todd Memorial Prize from the Maharana of Udaipur.
William is married to the artist Olivia Fraser, and they have three children. They now live on a farm outside Delhi.
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July 7, 2022
Published in 1989, In Xanadu is Dalrymple's first book. In 1986, at the time of his travels he was an undergraduate at Cambridge on summer break, as was the second of his travel companions Louisa. Louisa, his recently ex-girlfriend accompanied him on the second half of his trip. Laura, whom he met at a dinner party a few weeks before departing, accompanied him on the first half.
His journey - retracing the steps of Marco Polo from Jerusalem to Xanadu, taking with him a vial of holy oil from the Holy Sepulchre (as did Marco Polo some 700 years earlier). This journey took in Israel, Cyprus, Syria, Turkey, Iran, Pakistan and China. It departed from Polo's route due to Afghanistan being inaccessible, and the requirement to visit Cyprus between Israel and Syria. Technically other parts of the route were also off limits, but Dalrymple and his able assistants were able to circumvent those restrictions by charm, bluff and evasion.
Other reviewers are critical of Dalrymple's naivety, class privilege, even racism. Dalrymple was 22 when he wrote In Xanadu, a few years younger when he travelled. Yes, he shows some tendency to mock, he uses the influence of his university (Laura is more heavy-handed, utilising family friends and connections to obtain assistance from on high), and his writing lacks the polish of his later works. There are, no doubt, too many racial stereotypes noted, where he is critical of people and no doubt these would not have been written, or made it past the edit today. Many are untrue, as with many stereotypes, and I agree the book would have been better taking a higher road and omitting these. Often they occurred in the narrative when Dalrymple was at a low point, having struggled, been unwell, or was fatigued, so I guess they were expressing his frustration. Certainly this book lost a star for that aspect.
For me this is forgiven when I recall that at a similar age, I also set off into the wide world. It is true this book lacks the reflection and poise of his later books. It lacks the maturity, as did Dalrymple at the time of travel, so it is, in my view, while it is ok to criticise the author for his lack of maturity, the book for itself it genuine in its recording of his thoughts and experiences. I understand many will see this as a book that shouldn't be published, but I think it is reasonable to see an author grow and mature.
The history sections, which are not well edited and sometimes interrupt the flow of the narrative, do contain relevant background, although they needed a polish, but they fill in historical context. I recently battled through Polo's The Travels, and this no doubt helped me with the context.
In summary, there are plenty of books which follow parts of Marco Polo's routes. Some are better, many are worse. This is a book by a young author, who travelled a hard road and shares his honest story.
I originally read this book around 2004, and awarded it 4 stars (when I much later joined GR). This reading, it drops a little, to 3.5 stars, rounded down to 3.
His journey - retracing the steps of Marco Polo from Jerusalem to Xanadu, taking with him a vial of holy oil from the Holy Sepulchre (as did Marco Polo some 700 years earlier). This journey took in Israel, Cyprus, Syria, Turkey, Iran, Pakistan and China. It departed from Polo's route due to Afghanistan being inaccessible, and the requirement to visit Cyprus between Israel and Syria. Technically other parts of the route were also off limits, but Dalrymple and his able assistants were able to circumvent those restrictions by charm, bluff and evasion.
Other reviewers are critical of Dalrymple's naivety, class privilege, even racism. Dalrymple was 22 when he wrote In Xanadu, a few years younger when he travelled. Yes, he shows some tendency to mock, he uses the influence of his university (Laura is more heavy-handed, utilising family friends and connections to obtain assistance from on high), and his writing lacks the polish of his later works. There are, no doubt, too many racial stereotypes noted, where he is critical of people and no doubt these would not have been written, or made it past the edit today. Many are untrue, as with many stereotypes, and I agree the book would have been better taking a higher road and omitting these. Often they occurred in the narrative when Dalrymple was at a low point, having struggled, been unwell, or was fatigued, so I guess they were expressing his frustration. Certainly this book lost a star for that aspect.
For me this is forgiven when I recall that at a similar age, I also set off into the wide world. It is true this book lacks the reflection and poise of his later books. It lacks the maturity, as did Dalrymple at the time of travel, so it is, in my view, while it is ok to criticise the author for his lack of maturity, the book for itself it genuine in its recording of his thoughts and experiences. I understand many will see this as a book that shouldn't be published, but I think it is reasonable to see an author grow and mature.
The history sections, which are not well edited and sometimes interrupt the flow of the narrative, do contain relevant background, although they needed a polish, but they fill in historical context. I recently battled through Polo's The Travels, and this no doubt helped me with the context.
In summary, there are plenty of books which follow parts of Marco Polo's routes. Some are better, many are worse. This is a book by a young author, who travelled a hard road and shares his honest story.
I originally read this book around 2004, and awarded it 4 stars (when I much later joined GR). This reading, it drops a little, to 3.5 stars, rounded down to 3.
June 24, 2021
---SPOILERS AHEAD--- It was a pity I read this book. I used to like Dalrymple. But this book turned out to be yet another account of a White man on a daring trip across the world in dangerous lands from whence it is next to impossible to come out alive, all while writing encouragingly of every stereotype the Whites have ever come up with of every other race apart from themselves. Anyone who is not a British is either dangerous, "stupid", uncouth, imbecilic, unfriendly and hostile or subservient to the White man in a servile way. In way too many passages, Dalrymple speaks less like a historian and more like an inflated Cambridge spoiled brat and the pages are full of his whining. The beginning of his journey reveals him as one whose ego cannot seem to accept the fact that the Byzantines lost and the Ottomans won in the years past. There is not a single positive word I have come across written of the Ottomans or of the Turks in general. Any positive comment that the reader comes across is only when Dalrymple has run out of anything negative to say, and even that is immediately followed by a passage with disparaging humour that negates what came previously. Dalrymple's words stink of the awareness of their wretched losses in the past. His patronising tone does not help to conceal his thinly veiled racism and antagonism towards other cultures. Even his Islamophobia shines across in this telling exchange:
His humour is one of the worst I have come across. Eager to be a success, Dalrymple's attempts to make people laugh comprise of mining the Englishman's guidebook to stereotyping the rest of the world. He makes fun of the people's inabilities to speak English, often translating what they speak in their native tongues into broken and incorrect English in order to elicit cheap laughs from his colonial audience. A lot of the conversations seem made up as they seem very convenient to Dalrymple's cause of sounding witty. I do not know if it is an attempt on his part to come across as a "critical scholar of Cambridge" but if it is so, it falls flat on its face, only highlighting his racist mindset. There is an air of self-aggrandisement in every page and his spoilt White-boy privilege reeks from every word. He does not even spare his female travel companions. His portrayal of Laura and Louisa reads like caricature, which is true of his representation of practically everyone he meets on the way as well. While he subtly puts across messages like how European girls are the only girls worth calling beautiful etc. and equating fairness with European skin, he also does not attempt to hide his innate sexism. Laura, his travel companion in the first half of the journey is painted as a tough, domineering and indestructible woman while Louisa, who accompanies him in the second half, is the polar opposite of being "beautiful, delicate and fragrant" (his words not mine). He is also genuinely surprised to find Laura reading Mills and Boon at one stage of their journey and seems incapable of reconciling the fact that someone as tough as Laura could be capable of having healthy sexual desires as well, and that she would choose to read erotica out in the open rather than the obviously intellectually superior Fall of Constantinople which he makes a point of boasting before changing the topic. The exchanges with the natives are almost all carried out by Dalrymple with Laura and Louisa sometimes chipping in to not let the reader forget about their existence. I pity those poor, intelligent women who had to suffer William Dalrymple's company for such a long, overland journey. I am willing to excuse him on the grounds that he was merely 20 years old when he wrote this book. Still, that is not excuse enough as that is old enough to know the difference between good humour and outright disrespect of other cultures. I also applaud his determination in following this journey out to the end. Credits where credits due: following Marco Polo's footsteps across the Silk Road is, after all, quite a feat and I give it an extra star only because of his excellent command over the turns of the English language. I only wish this journey was attempted by someone who would show more respect to the cultures and peoples that are encountered in this journey. I wonder, sometimes, if someone were to write a travel book about the West in an equally disparaging and patronising manner, would it get published?
If you liked my review, do feel free to stop by my Instagram here!
'"You like Islam?"
"I like many Muslims, I replied.' (pg. 236)
His humour is one of the worst I have come across. Eager to be a success, Dalrymple's attempts to make people laugh comprise of mining the Englishman's guidebook to stereotyping the rest of the world. He makes fun of the people's inabilities to speak English, often translating what they speak in their native tongues into broken and incorrect English in order to elicit cheap laughs from his colonial audience. A lot of the conversations seem made up as they seem very convenient to Dalrymple's cause of sounding witty. I do not know if it is an attempt on his part to come across as a "critical scholar of Cambridge" but if it is so, it falls flat on its face, only highlighting his racist mindset. There is an air of self-aggrandisement in every page and his spoilt White-boy privilege reeks from every word. He does not even spare his female travel companions. His portrayal of Laura and Louisa reads like caricature, which is true of his representation of practically everyone he meets on the way as well. While he subtly puts across messages like how European girls are the only girls worth calling beautiful etc. and equating fairness with European skin, he also does not attempt to hide his innate sexism. Laura, his travel companion in the first half of the journey is painted as a tough, domineering and indestructible woman while Louisa, who accompanies him in the second half, is the polar opposite of being "beautiful, delicate and fragrant" (his words not mine). He is also genuinely surprised to find Laura reading Mills and Boon at one stage of their journey and seems incapable of reconciling the fact that someone as tough as Laura could be capable of having healthy sexual desires as well, and that she would choose to read erotica out in the open rather than the obviously intellectually superior Fall of Constantinople which he makes a point of boasting before changing the topic. The exchanges with the natives are almost all carried out by Dalrymple with Laura and Louisa sometimes chipping in to not let the reader forget about their existence. I pity those poor, intelligent women who had to suffer William Dalrymple's company for such a long, overland journey. I am willing to excuse him on the grounds that he was merely 20 years old when he wrote this book. Still, that is not excuse enough as that is old enough to know the difference between good humour and outright disrespect of other cultures. I also applaud his determination in following this journey out to the end. Credits where credits due: following Marco Polo's footsteps across the Silk Road is, after all, quite a feat and I give it an extra star only because of his excellent command over the turns of the English language. I only wish this journey was attempted by someone who would show more respect to the cultures and peoples that are encountered in this journey. I wonder, sometimes, if someone were to write a travel book about the West in an equally disparaging and patronising manner, would it get published?
At best, this book is comical in its approach. It is certainly not deserving of the label of a serious travel book.
If you liked my review, do feel free to stop by my Instagram here!
August 17, 2011
I love William Dalrymple for the simple fact that he writes about his amazing travels through a seamless blend of fact and fiction. Having read and loved his City of Djinns (a must-read if you're a Dilliwala), Nine Lives and White Mughals, I have loved this first book of his as well. In this book, the author, a final year Cambridge student, tries to backpack his way through the route Marco Polo had taken - Turkey, Iran and finally China, in the Inner Mongols in Xanadu where Marco Polo ended his voyage. In volatile political conditions, with a nomad's eye, a sometimes cynical sense of humor and only a 13th century book to guide him, the author takes the reader through time. With him we experience the creation of history, the readiness to savor the unexpected and the realization of why humans through centuries have been driven by wanderlust for the unknown - because, more often than not, it is quite literally the journey and not the destination that matters.
February 2, 2019
This is an an-times entertaining account of a late 80's attempt to retrace the Voyages of Marco Polo (follow the author hitching a ride through the Chinese desert on the back of a coal truck while hiding from the police!) But disappointingly, the book is betrayed by frequent forays into casual racism. Dalrymple is impressively knowledgeable about ancient history, texts and architecture, but is uninformed about the people who actually live in the places he's visiting in the present day, frequently relying on obsolete guidebooks. Dalrymple makes his way through Turkey, Iran, Pakistan, Xinjiang, and China while never speaking the native language, and thus can't effectively communicate with anyone besides his two British traveling companions and a rich college chum he stays with in Lahore. This wouldn't inherently be a problem, since he's ostensibly writing about Marco Polo rather than modern Central Asia, but Dalrymple can't resist making snide comments about people as they struggle to speak English to him. The non-whites in the book inevitably receive caricature-like portrayals. This happens enough that it becomes difficult to ignore. Consider some of the following examples, which stood out to me:
p.69 [an English version of a Turkish restaurant's menu pasted verbatim for the purpose of making fun of the poor translation. Remember that Dalrymple received this menu because he is unable to read the actual Turkish menu, while at a restaurant in Turkey.]
p. 71 "Good looks have been shared out unevenly among the Turks. Their men are almost all handsome with dark, supple skin and strong features: good bones, sharp eyes and tall, masculine bodies. But the women share their menfolk's pronounced features in a most unflattering way. Very few are beautiful. Their noses are too large, their chins too prominent. Baggy wraps conceal pneumatic bodies. Here must lie the reason for the Turks' easy drift out of heterosexuality."
p. 82 "10:30 p.m. Set off two hours late, only to stop at the bus station in Tarsus, the home of St. Paul. Enough to give anyone wanderlust: loud Turkish music and some sort of mewing Turkish transvestite. He/she/it tells me Tarsus is 'very romantic place.' It wore thick mascara, pink lipstick, and held a small yellow handbag."
p. 215 "Never sleep with an Afghan. They snore, and they rise indecently early."
p. 259 "but it was only when we stopped at a han for the night that I discovered that my side pocket had been ransacked and my razor blades, malaria pills, insect repellent, sun cream and athlete's foot powder were all gone. It was a terrible waste: the Chinese cannot grow beards, do not suffer from malaria or sunburn, and were unlikely to guess what to do with the athlete's foot powder or the Jungle Juice insect repellent. My only consolation was the thought that the wretches might try to eat them."
p. 280 "Mr. Flying Chicken was a gentleman of Singaporean origin who was remarkable chiefly for his kingly girth and his efforts to maintain it by constant feeding . . . Mr. Chicken produced a whole, cold boiling fowl. He lifted it aloft with the same reverence as a Catholic priest might lift the host at the elevation. He looked at Louisa and me with hungry eyes. 'Fly Chikky,' he murmured. . . . Mr. Chicken rose and made to leave the compartment. As he did so he turned and flashed a smile in our direction. 'I go gi' foo. I go gi' fly chikky.'"
p. 295 "The Mongols were ugly and inquisitive. They had narrow, high-set eyes and tight, dark skin . . . Lou suggested that they were all cousins and had interbred: that, certainly, would explain both their unusual stupidity and how so many of them managed to live in so few houses."
It is tempting to dismiss this sort of stuff because the book was written in the 1980's. But I don't think that's the reason - Patrick Leigh Fermor's A Time of Gifts, for example, describes a journey made in 1933 (albeit written in 1977) and has none of these issues, even when he encounters language barriers beginning in Germany. I don't recall this being an issue in any of Dalrymple's books about India which I read and enjoyed several years ago, so perhaps he matured with age. In any case, it's a major drag on In Xanadu. Travel writing as a genre is frequently criticized for ethnocentrism and this is a textbook example. It's another reminder of why Anthony Bourdain was so widely mourned, as he at least gave the impression of treating everyone he encountered with respect, no matter how humble the surroundings.
p.69 [an English version of a Turkish restaurant's menu pasted verbatim for the purpose of making fun of the poor translation. Remember that Dalrymple received this menu because he is unable to read the actual Turkish menu, while at a restaurant in Turkey.]
p. 71 "Good looks have been shared out unevenly among the Turks. Their men are almost all handsome with dark, supple skin and strong features: good bones, sharp eyes and tall, masculine bodies. But the women share their menfolk's pronounced features in a most unflattering way. Very few are beautiful. Their noses are too large, their chins too prominent. Baggy wraps conceal pneumatic bodies. Here must lie the reason for the Turks' easy drift out of heterosexuality."
p. 82 "10:30 p.m. Set off two hours late, only to stop at the bus station in Tarsus, the home of St. Paul. Enough to give anyone wanderlust: loud Turkish music and some sort of mewing Turkish transvestite. He/she/it tells me Tarsus is 'very romantic place.' It wore thick mascara, pink lipstick, and held a small yellow handbag."
p. 215 "Never sleep with an Afghan. They snore, and they rise indecently early."
p. 259 "but it was only when we stopped at a han for the night that I discovered that my side pocket had been ransacked and my razor blades, malaria pills, insect repellent, sun cream and athlete's foot powder were all gone. It was a terrible waste: the Chinese cannot grow beards, do not suffer from malaria or sunburn, and were unlikely to guess what to do with the athlete's foot powder or the Jungle Juice insect repellent. My only consolation was the thought that the wretches might try to eat them."
p. 280 "Mr. Flying Chicken was a gentleman of Singaporean origin who was remarkable chiefly for his kingly girth and his efforts to maintain it by constant feeding . . . Mr. Chicken produced a whole, cold boiling fowl. He lifted it aloft with the same reverence as a Catholic priest might lift the host at the elevation. He looked at Louisa and me with hungry eyes. 'Fly Chikky,' he murmured. . . . Mr. Chicken rose and made to leave the compartment. As he did so he turned and flashed a smile in our direction. 'I go gi' foo. I go gi' fly chikky.'"
p. 295 "The Mongols were ugly and inquisitive. They had narrow, high-set eyes and tight, dark skin . . . Lou suggested that they were all cousins and had interbred: that, certainly, would explain both their unusual stupidity and how so many of them managed to live in so few houses."
It is tempting to dismiss this sort of stuff because the book was written in the 1980's. But I don't think that's the reason - Patrick Leigh Fermor's A Time of Gifts, for example, describes a journey made in 1933 (albeit written in 1977) and has none of these issues, even when he encounters language barriers beginning in Germany. I don't recall this being an issue in any of Dalrymple's books about India which I read and enjoyed several years ago, so perhaps he matured with age. In any case, it's a major drag on In Xanadu. Travel writing as a genre is frequently criticized for ethnocentrism and this is a textbook example. It's another reminder of why Anthony Bourdain was so widely mourned, as he at least gave the impression of treating everyone he encountered with respect, no matter how humble the surroundings.
October 31, 2014
A Thousand and One Tales from the Silk Road
This is quite simply an enchanting book and for two interconnected reasons. The first and most striking reason is that Dalrymple manages to capture and convey the shear sense of wonder and excitement that comes from traveling across the world when young. So young, in fact, that I kept having to remind myself that he was only 22 when he wrote it.
If that were its only noteworthy aspect the book would be just one of many other worthy works of travel and exploration. What makes Dalrymple's book so compelling is his extensive grasp of the history and culture of the lands through which he traveled. I like to think that I have read a little of the literature relevant to the countries he passed through but time and again I was brought up short by some tale of a character, event or place of which I had never heard but that had caught Dalrymple's imagination and whose story he wished to share. He proved to be a teller of tales every bit as adept and entrancing as Scheherazade.
The premise of the book is that after graduating Dalrymple wanted to re-trace the footsteps of Marco Polo from Jerusalem across Asia Minor and deep into the heart of Asia in search of the legendary Xanadu. To do this he had to pass through Israel, Syria, Turkey, Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan and China, visiting some of the most important and memorable sites of antiquity on the way. He made his journey in the late 80s meaning that his journey, although maybe not as perilous or difficult, was a worthy successor to Marco Polo's epic voyage.
Since reading In Xanadu I have gone on to read several other books by Dalrymple and while his mature style is a little more settled and refined I look back on this first journey I shared with him with a special fondness for its marvelous exuberance and sense of the infinite possibility of youth.
This is quite simply an enchanting book and for two interconnected reasons. The first and most striking reason is that Dalrymple manages to capture and convey the shear sense of wonder and excitement that comes from traveling across the world when young. So young, in fact, that I kept having to remind myself that he was only 22 when he wrote it.
If that were its only noteworthy aspect the book would be just one of many other worthy works of travel and exploration. What makes Dalrymple's book so compelling is his extensive grasp of the history and culture of the lands through which he traveled. I like to think that I have read a little of the literature relevant to the countries he passed through but time and again I was brought up short by some tale of a character, event or place of which I had never heard but that had caught Dalrymple's imagination and whose story he wished to share. He proved to be a teller of tales every bit as adept and entrancing as Scheherazade.
The premise of the book is that after graduating Dalrymple wanted to re-trace the footsteps of Marco Polo from Jerusalem across Asia Minor and deep into the heart of Asia in search of the legendary Xanadu. To do this he had to pass through Israel, Syria, Turkey, Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan and China, visiting some of the most important and memorable sites of antiquity on the way. He made his journey in the late 80s meaning that his journey, although maybe not as perilous or difficult, was a worthy successor to Marco Polo's epic voyage.
Since reading In Xanadu I have gone on to read several other books by Dalrymple and while his mature style is a little more settled and refined I look back on this first journey I shared with him with a special fondness for its marvelous exuberance and sense of the infinite possibility of youth.
August 13, 2022
This has not aged well.
I've read and enjoyed William Dalrymple as an experienced historian. “The Last Mughal" was a wonderful account of India under colonialism, sensitive to the lost glories of Mughal culture, and subtly enraged by the British boorishness that saw other civilisation as intrinsically inferior. I hadn't realised how much Dalrymple was attacking his younger self.
In Xanadu is famous for being an erudite book by a surprisingly young man. Dalrymple was in his early 20's when he decided, apparently on a whim, to follow in the steps of Marco Polo and deliver oil from Jerusalem to the remains of Kubla Khan's summer palace at Cheng-du, the Xanadu of Coleridge. Young William Dalrymple was clearly incredibly well read, a fluent author apart from some uneven infodumping, and his delight in Islamic (and Islamic adjacent) architecture shone through. He was also obnoxious, obliviously privileged, condescending and racist.
As much as Dalrymple loved the antique buildings of the countries he traveled in, he constantly had vile things to say about not only the customs but the appearance and facial features of the people who live there. This is a sadly typical example: “Dogubayazit was full of sinister, swarthy Turks. A few had sliteyed Mongol features. They wore ragged waistcoats and stared deadpan from open doorways.” He later speculates that Turkish men are gay because Turkish women are ugly. It is awful to read.
Although he saw himself as broke, his way was largely smoothed by being incredibly posh. Most of the organisational work was done by the formidable Laura, an experienced traveller from a diplomatic family. He rewarded this by fiercely resenting her competence, criticising her looks and complaining about her bossiness, although it’s clear he would have given up early if she hadn’t pushed him. Cambridge gave him money to pretend to care about handicrafts. Social networks of diplomatics and aristocrats wrote letters full of lies that smoothed his way. Even while slumming it he had no empathy for the people for whom his temporary discomfort is a permanent condition. I was completely unsurprised to read his Wikipedia article afterwards and find out he is the son of a baronet and the grandson of an earl.
The best thing I can say about this book is there is some self-awareness. After snidely decrying Laura’s taste for trashy novels when travelling, in comparison to his own elevated reading material, he gradually wondered why he was reading Dostoyevsky when he didn’t enjoy it, and gradually admitted that he would love an Agatha Christie after another long day on a Chinese train. He also admitted that his own Caucasian features seemed rather troll-like to the Uighurs. It’s subtle, but it’s possible to see that he might later lay aside the not-quite-ironic sneering and grow into the mature historian.
I feel for the current Dalrymple having this earlier obnoxious self immortalised in print. I recommend his later books.
I've read and enjoyed William Dalrymple as an experienced historian. “The Last Mughal" was a wonderful account of India under colonialism, sensitive to the lost glories of Mughal culture, and subtly enraged by the British boorishness that saw other civilisation as intrinsically inferior. I hadn't realised how much Dalrymple was attacking his younger self.
In Xanadu is famous for being an erudite book by a surprisingly young man. Dalrymple was in his early 20's when he decided, apparently on a whim, to follow in the steps of Marco Polo and deliver oil from Jerusalem to the remains of Kubla Khan's summer palace at Cheng-du, the Xanadu of Coleridge. Young William Dalrymple was clearly incredibly well read, a fluent author apart from some uneven infodumping, and his delight in Islamic (and Islamic adjacent) architecture shone through. He was also obnoxious, obliviously privileged, condescending and racist.
As much as Dalrymple loved the antique buildings of the countries he traveled in, he constantly had vile things to say about not only the customs but the appearance and facial features of the people who live there. This is a sadly typical example: “Dogubayazit was full of sinister, swarthy Turks. A few had sliteyed Mongol features. They wore ragged waistcoats and stared deadpan from open doorways.” He later speculates that Turkish men are gay because Turkish women are ugly. It is awful to read.
Although he saw himself as broke, his way was largely smoothed by being incredibly posh. Most of the organisational work was done by the formidable Laura, an experienced traveller from a diplomatic family. He rewarded this by fiercely resenting her competence, criticising her looks and complaining about her bossiness, although it’s clear he would have given up early if she hadn’t pushed him. Cambridge gave him money to pretend to care about handicrafts. Social networks of diplomatics and aristocrats wrote letters full of lies that smoothed his way. Even while slumming it he had no empathy for the people for whom his temporary discomfort is a permanent condition. I was completely unsurprised to read his Wikipedia article afterwards and find out he is the son of a baronet and the grandson of an earl.
The best thing I can say about this book is there is some self-awareness. After snidely decrying Laura’s taste for trashy novels when travelling, in comparison to his own elevated reading material, he gradually wondered why he was reading Dostoyevsky when he didn’t enjoy it, and gradually admitted that he would love an Agatha Christie after another long day on a Chinese train. He also admitted that his own Caucasian features seemed rather troll-like to the Uighurs. It’s subtle, but it’s possible to see that he might later lay aside the not-quite-ironic sneering and grow into the mature historian.
I feel for the current Dalrymple having this earlier obnoxious self immortalised in print. I recommend his later books.
February 18, 2011
Oy. I've loved everything else by William Dalrymple so far, but I was really unhappy with this. It lacks a lot of the reflection that I've come to associate with him, and a lot of the humor was really unpleasant. It also skimmed over a lot of detail, and the bits of background history incorporated into the narrative often don't flow very well.
Skip this one and go straight to City of Djinns: A Year in Delhi.
Skip this one and go straight to City of Djinns: A Year in Delhi.
June 8, 2021
Amazing to follow in the footsteps of the legendary Marco Polo.
For a twenty one year old to have accomplished it is stunning. The unbelievable part were the two girls who accompanied him.
Would I have been so brave at 21;
Doubt it!!
For a twenty one year old to have accomplished it is stunning. The unbelievable part were the two girls who accompanied him.
Would I have been so brave at 21;
Doubt it!!
August 4, 2015
Dalrymple is a gifted writer, but I soon tired of his acerbic takedowns of the locals.
March 27, 2017
Whilst I've set the dates to show just a few days for reading this book, it's actually about 6 months since I started it and abandoned it before picking it up again and being determined this time to force myself to get to the end.
William Dalrymple has written many books about India - and as an Indiaphile, I've bought them and failed to get stuck in, finding them for the most part incredibly boring. I cracked and bought 'In Xanadu' when I read that his travel companion was Laura Wade-Gery, a woman I played Ice Hockey with at Oxford. I was also interested because a good friend at Oxford had hitch-hiked to Pakistan at about the same time that Dalrymple made his journey (though thankfully he didn't write a book about it).
There are some excellent bits. I really did enjoy the 'life on the road' passages, the hardships endured and the fascinating people met along the way. I completely recognised his descriptions of my feisty old team mate and the way she bullied him into action. The problem is that the good stuff is just too dispersed between heavy, tedious stuff about Marco Polo (presumably to justify the travel grant he received from his Oxford college) and obsessive detail about architecture. Sorry but when it comes to architecture, the old adage of 'show don't tell' comes into its own. I recall the casual racism of the mid 80s far too well and some of his observations about racial groups just feel icky viewed from a 2017 perspective - for example, the men of Iran are casually dismissed as 'effeminate' which I'm pretty sure guarantees that WD won't be invited back any time soon and he seems utterly unsympathetic to the Uighers, today a highly persecuted ethnic group within China. The final quarter of the book was much more manageable because he finally dropped all the intellectual pontificating and historical blah blah blah but the first half was dreary in the extreme.
This must have been one of WD's first books and he clearly didn't know what he wanted it to be. A travelogue -yes, it's quite good at that. An intellectual treatise on Marco Polo - not really, it's not thorough enough for that, and not sufficiently treated with academic citations. That said, I was so relieved when I got to 90% on my Kindle and it was thankfully over (with 10% of the pages on lists of academic references none of which had been numbered in the text).
This book has the makings of a cracking good 150 page travel adventure. It's a shame it's a 320 page bore-fest of poorly structured muddled history shoe-horned in presumably when he got back to Cambridge and tried to make his adventure look a bit more intellectual. I only survived by skipping the history to get to the 'good bits'.
William Dalrymple has written many books about India - and as an Indiaphile, I've bought them and failed to get stuck in, finding them for the most part incredibly boring. I cracked and bought 'In Xanadu' when I read that his travel companion was Laura Wade-Gery, a woman I played Ice Hockey with at Oxford. I was also interested because a good friend at Oxford had hitch-hiked to Pakistan at about the same time that Dalrymple made his journey (though thankfully he didn't write a book about it).
There are some excellent bits. I really did enjoy the 'life on the road' passages, the hardships endured and the fascinating people met along the way. I completely recognised his descriptions of my feisty old team mate and the way she bullied him into action. The problem is that the good stuff is just too dispersed between heavy, tedious stuff about Marco Polo (presumably to justify the travel grant he received from his Oxford college) and obsessive detail about architecture. Sorry but when it comes to architecture, the old adage of 'show don't tell' comes into its own. I recall the casual racism of the mid 80s far too well and some of his observations about racial groups just feel icky viewed from a 2017 perspective - for example, the men of Iran are casually dismissed as 'effeminate' which I'm pretty sure guarantees that WD won't be invited back any time soon and he seems utterly unsympathetic to the Uighers, today a highly persecuted ethnic group within China. The final quarter of the book was much more manageable because he finally dropped all the intellectual pontificating and historical blah blah blah but the first half was dreary in the extreme.
This must have been one of WD's first books and he clearly didn't know what he wanted it to be. A travelogue -yes, it's quite good at that. An intellectual treatise on Marco Polo - not really, it's not thorough enough for that, and not sufficiently treated with academic citations. That said, I was so relieved when I got to 90% on my Kindle and it was thankfully over (with 10% of the pages on lists of academic references none of which had been numbered in the text).
This book has the makings of a cracking good 150 page travel adventure. It's a shame it's a 320 page bore-fest of poorly structured muddled history shoe-horned in presumably when he got back to Cambridge and tried to make his adventure look a bit more intellectual. I only survived by skipping the history to get to the 'good bits'.
February 28, 2019
May be book had some relevance in 1986 . Today it's neither a historical narrative nor a travelogue . It's just a meandering classless essay. Having seen Marco Polo on Netflix , Genghis Khan and Mongol movies on YouTube I had high expectations from the book. I started reading hence wanted to finish . Otherwise it's not worth the time. Only saving grace is some humour here & there.
August 23, 2020
Why is this guy called a leading writer? How does this substandard writer get to control litfests?
July 14, 2011
In the 13th century, Marco Polo travelled from Europe to Xanadu through modern day Israel, Syria, Iran, Turkey, Afghanistan, Pakistan and China. As an emissary of the Pope, his aim mission was to convince Kublai Khan to embrace Christianity. In 1986, Dalrymple decided to trace a similair route which Polo charted and this book chronicles his experiences. Somehow, due to a lack of understanding of the various branches of Christianity and the complex Central Asian histories, this book didn't match up to my expectations.
February 10, 2014
I will never understand the really ridiculous orientalist approach that never seems to die in the world. I have spent more than 6 years amongst Arabs and have never found the homosexual, sheesha smoking pedophile which Dalrymple keeps running into. Nevertheless, the book does improve after leaving the Arab world and it was only after passing over the first section that I was able to find the strength to complete the book and scrounge up a slightly better ranking
December 15, 2017
I didn't complete this book.
Partly because I didn't like the way Israeli Jews or the Israel Government in general was being described. I know that Israel is not an Innocent country per se, but the author just seems too prejudiced about it. I was not willing to take anymore of the author's jaundiced views.
Partly because I didn't like the way Israeli Jews or the Israel Government in general was being described. I know that Israel is not an Innocent country per se, but the author just seems too prejudiced about it. I was not willing to take anymore of the author's jaundiced views.
April 24, 2011
Some good bits but overall not "as advertised," at least to me. I suspect the review that put me onto this hyped the book more than was justified. An undergraduate's effort to be Paul Theroux best describes it.
May 7, 2013
Liked it, but wish there was a bit more of Polo. The traveling part of it was monotonous and a little boring. He's a good writer, but after so many miles, I was ready for Xanadu already.
However, this book definitely did have some good historical tidbits in it.
However, this book definitely did have some good historical tidbits in it.
June 15, 2013
Liked by Larissa & Cas but loathed by everyone else - so only 2 stars.....
April 22, 2018
Not as good as his other two travel books (From The Holy Mountain, and City of Djinns), which were both amazing. This one comes across as childish and more than a bit bigoted at times
August 22, 2019
I liked it! I could relate to much of the writing angst and decisions about stepping away from the novel writing. Not sure I’d recommend it for non-writers though.
August 16, 2011
In Xanadu- a Quest; by William Darlymple, 302pp, 1990
Seven centuries ago, the famous trader, explorer Marco Polo set off from Jerusalem on a mission to reach the court of the Mongol King Kubla Khan, who’s palace was in a place called Xanadu. He then immortalized his journey in The Travels, which later became one of the most detailed pieces of travel writing ever completed. In his first book, the (then) 21-year old Mr. Darlymple takes readers back on the same route, attempting at every page to compare and re-live the experience that Polo may have felt on his epic journey. The author’s keen eye for detail, particularly architecture, and his knack of seeing humor in trite, everyday occurrences, makes Xanadu a fairly pleasing read. In an age where thousands of miles are shrunk into a ten-hour ride in an aluminum tube, Xanadu refreshes the reader by painting the gradual transitions that are an essential part of going from one place to another.
The appearance of the lamps in the Holy Sepulcher, the design of Turkish mosques, a rare silk mill in a Armenian village or the vivid descriptions of a Uighur market in China – the details are just beautiful. Darlymple is clearly of scholarly leanings, a fact brought out repeatedly in the intricate descriptions of the architecture, and his ability to go back to some little-known text to draw a comparison between the present and the past. Little vignettes – like that of a very helpful Turkish innkeeper, a mullah at a bus station in the Iran-Afghan border, and a persistent Chinese saleswoman, known simply as Ms. Curd, who knocks on the author’s door at ridiculously early hours in the morning, are all a joy to read. Its his ability to pick interesting bits from seemingly mundane journeys sets this book apart. Unlike conventional travel guides that tend to find the craft waxing narratives about even the most boring towns, Darlymple’s willingness to pay scant attention or pretty much ignore “absolutely terrible towns” is a breath of fresh air.
However, the same attention to detail that makes the book outstanding tends to get overly erudite at times. Darlymple’s urge to digress into stories from the past sometime go on for pages, and leaves plenty of moments when I felt like putting the book down because it was just too much detail. I would have loved to see a piece with a little less architectural descriptions and more color on the fantastic and varied bunch of people he encountered along the way.
Seven centuries ago, the famous trader, explorer Marco Polo set off from Jerusalem on a mission to reach the court of the Mongol King Kubla Khan, who’s palace was in a place called Xanadu. He then immortalized his journey in The Travels, which later became one of the most detailed pieces of travel writing ever completed. In his first book, the (then) 21-year old Mr. Darlymple takes readers back on the same route, attempting at every page to compare and re-live the experience that Polo may have felt on his epic journey. The author’s keen eye for detail, particularly architecture, and his knack of seeing humor in trite, everyday occurrences, makes Xanadu a fairly pleasing read. In an age where thousands of miles are shrunk into a ten-hour ride in an aluminum tube, Xanadu refreshes the reader by painting the gradual transitions that are an essential part of going from one place to another.
The appearance of the lamps in the Holy Sepulcher, the design of Turkish mosques, a rare silk mill in a Armenian village or the vivid descriptions of a Uighur market in China – the details are just beautiful. Darlymple is clearly of scholarly leanings, a fact brought out repeatedly in the intricate descriptions of the architecture, and his ability to go back to some little-known text to draw a comparison between the present and the past. Little vignettes – like that of a very helpful Turkish innkeeper, a mullah at a bus station in the Iran-Afghan border, and a persistent Chinese saleswoman, known simply as Ms. Curd, who knocks on the author’s door at ridiculously early hours in the morning, are all a joy to read. Its his ability to pick interesting bits from seemingly mundane journeys sets this book apart. Unlike conventional travel guides that tend to find the craft waxing narratives about even the most boring towns, Darlymple’s willingness to pay scant attention or pretty much ignore “absolutely terrible towns” is a breath of fresh air.
However, the same attention to detail that makes the book outstanding tends to get overly erudite at times. Darlymple’s urge to digress into stories from the past sometime go on for pages, and leaves plenty of moments when I felt like putting the book down because it was just too much detail. I would have loved to see a piece with a little less architectural descriptions and more color on the fantastic and varied bunch of people he encountered along the way.
December 8, 2021
লন্ডন থেকে শুরু হয়েছিল যাত্রা। শেষ হয় ১২হাজার কিলোমিটার দূরে জানাডুতে। ত্রয়োদশ শতকের পর্যটক মার্কো পোলোর পৃষ্ঠপোষক ছিল চেঙ্গিস খানের নাতি কুবলাই খান। এই খানের গ্রীষ্মকালীন রাজধানী ছিল আজকের মঙ্গোলিয়ার জানাডু। মার্কো পোলোর পথ অনুসরণ করতে যাত্রা করলেন উইলিয়াম ড্যালরিম্প। সঙ্গী হলো লরা। তখনও শুধুই পরিচিতজনের বেশি নন দু'জন।
পোলোর পথ ধরে ইসরাইল, ফিলিস্তিন, সিরিয়া, তুরস্ক, ইরান, আফগানিস্তান, পাকিস্তান এবং চীন দেশে ভ্রমণ করেন ড্যালরিম্পল এবং লরা। অদ্ভুত সব অভিজ্ঞতায় ভরা দু'জনের এই ভ্রমণ। সাতশ বছর আগে পোলো যেসব স্থানে গিয়েছিলেন, তার পদচিহ্ন অবিকল অনুসরণ করা ইচ্ছা প্রথম থেকেই ছিল ড্যালরিম্পের। বারবার আসছিল পোলোর ভ্রমণকথার উদ্ধৃতি। তাই ড্যালরিম্পলের সৌজন্যে পোলো পুনর্পাঠ হলো। ইতিহাস নিয়ে ড্যালরিম্পলের দখল বেশ প্রশংসনীয়।
পথে কতশত বিপদের মুখে পড়েছন। তীক্ত অভিজ্ঞতা হয়েছে। বিচিত্র মানুষদের সাথে মিশেছেন। কথা বলেছেন। তা নিঃসন্দেহে দারুণ এক এডভেঞ্চার।
ভাষা বড় সরল নয়। গদ্যরীতি উচ্চমানের। তবে বলার ভঙ্গিকে একেবারে সুখপাঠ্য বলা যায় না।
পর্যটকের দেখার চোখ থাকা খুব দরকার। ড্যালরিম্পের সেই দৃষ্টি আছে৷ কিন্তু সেই পর্যবেক্ষণ ক্ষমতা অত্যন্ত পাশ্চাত্যপ্রেমে দুষ্ট। একজন ঔপনিবেশিক মানসিকতার ব্যক্তি যেমন প্রাচ্যের সবকিছুকে পাশ্চাত্যের মানদণ্ডে বিচার করতে চান, তেমন ব্যক্তি ড্যালরিম্প। প্রাচ্যের প্রত্যেকটি দেশের নিজস্ব সংস্কৃতিকে, রীতিনীতিকে খুবই হেয় করে দেখেছেন ড্যালরিম্পল। ইংরেজি না জানা সত্ত্বেও নিরক্ষর প্রাচ্যবাসীর ইংরেজি বলার চেষ্টা এবং পাশ্চাত্য নিয়ে মুগ্ধতাকে নিয়ে ড্যালরিম্পল হাস্যরস করেছেন। এটাই স্বাভাবিক। কিন্তু কেন এক প্রাচ্যবাসী ইংরেজি না জানলেও তা বলতে চাইছে এবং এর পেছনের দীর্ঘদিনের সাম্রাজ্যবাদের ঘা কে দেখার দৃষ্টি ড্যালরিম্পের ছিল না। শুধু প্রাচ্যের সবকিছুই নষ্ট - এমন বিশ্বাসকে আঁকড়ে ধরে রাখা একচক্ষু মানুষের বয়ানে জানা গেল তার দীর্ঘ ভ্রমণ।
পোলোর পথ ধরে ইসরাইল, ফিলিস্তিন, সিরিয়া, তুরস্ক, ইরান, আফগানিস্তান, পাকিস্তান এবং চীন দেশে ভ্রমণ করেন ড্যালরিম্পল এবং লরা। অদ্ভুত সব অভিজ্ঞতায় ভরা দু'জনের এই ভ্রমণ। সাতশ বছর আগে পোলো যেসব স্থানে গিয়েছিলেন, তার পদচিহ্ন অবিকল অনুসরণ করা ইচ্ছা প্রথম থেকেই ছিল ড্যালরিম্পের। বারবার আসছিল পোলোর ভ্রমণকথার উদ্ধৃতি। তাই ড্যালরিম্পলের সৌজন্যে পোলো পুনর্পাঠ হলো। ইতিহাস নিয়ে ড্যালরিম্পলের দখল বেশ প্রশংসনীয়।
পথে কতশত বিপদের মুখে পড়েছন। তীক্ত অভিজ্ঞতা হয়েছে। বিচিত্র মানুষদের সাথে মিশেছেন। কথা বলেছেন। তা নিঃসন্দেহে দারুণ এক এডভেঞ্চার।
ভাষা বড় সরল নয়। গদ্যরীতি উচ্চমানের। তবে বলার ভঙ্গিকে একেবারে সুখপাঠ্য বলা যায় না।
পর্যটকের দেখার চোখ থাকা খুব দরকার। ড্যালরিম্পের সেই দৃষ্টি আছে৷ কিন্তু সেই পর্যবেক্ষণ ক্ষমতা অত্যন্ত পাশ্চাত্যপ্রেমে দুষ্ট। একজন ঔপনিবেশিক মানসিকতার ব্যক্তি যেমন প্রাচ্যের সবকিছুকে পাশ্চাত্যের মানদণ্ডে বিচার করতে চান, তেমন ব্যক্তি ড্যালরিম্প। প্রাচ্যের প্রত্যেকটি দেশের নিজস্ব সংস্কৃতিকে, রীতিনীতিকে খুবই হেয় করে দেখেছেন ড্যালরিম্পল। ইংরেজি না জানা সত্ত্বেও নিরক্ষর প্রাচ্যবাসীর ইংরেজি বলার চেষ্টা এবং পাশ্চাত্য নিয়ে মুগ্ধতাকে নিয়ে ড্যালরিম্পল হাস্যরস করেছেন। এটাই স্বাভাবিক। কিন্তু কেন এক প্রাচ্যবাসী ইংরেজি না জানলেও তা বলতে চাইছে এবং এর পেছনের দীর্ঘদিনের সাম্রাজ্যবাদের ঘা কে দেখার দৃষ্টি ড্যালরিম্পের ছিল না। শুধু প্রাচ্যের সবকিছুই নষ্ট - এমন বিশ্বাসকে আঁকড়ে ধরে রাখা একচক্ষু মানুষের বয়ানে জানা গেল তার দীর্ঘ ভ্রমণ।
January 30, 2020
In Xanadu, is funny in most parts, but also has loads of clumsy, non-sequitur and cultural misappropriation bits in significant measure. I had decided to pick up this book because, I wanted to read one of William Dalrymple's early works. Discovered, expectedly, that the writing was not as mature as, the otherwise brilliant author's recent works. Dalrymple calls people ugly, he ridicules local habits and cultures, he calls them idiotic and even questions the general level of intellect of some communities. Such writing, any author would probably not get away with as easily today. But those were the internet devoid days of 1989, and the book managed to get rave reviews and got numerous awards partly also because the author was merely 22 at the time, in my opinion.
Overall In Xanadu manages to be entertaining and I never once doubted that I may not finish reading it. There is indeed something mysteriously alluring about the four month long mission, that the intrepid author and his companions took in tracing the journey of Marco Polo from Jerusalem to Xanadu in inner Mongolia. Any reader with a wanderlust will easily connect with the journey immediately, and would want the author to succeed in reaching Xanadu. It is this quality in the writing that also gives the book a feeling of being a travel-thriller and makes the pages turn rather swiftly.
To be read to fully understand Dalrymple's body of work, but not to be taken too seriously.
Overall In Xanadu manages to be entertaining and I never once doubted that I may not finish reading it. There is indeed something mysteriously alluring about the four month long mission, that the intrepid author and his companions took in tracing the journey of Marco Polo from Jerusalem to Xanadu in inner Mongolia. Any reader with a wanderlust will easily connect with the journey immediately, and would want the author to succeed in reaching Xanadu. It is this quality in the writing that also gives the book a feeling of being a travel-thriller and makes the pages turn rather swiftly.
To be read to fully understand Dalrymple's body of work, but not to be taken too seriously.
August 1, 2020
I love reading real life accounts of travel and adventure so I was excited that this came up on our book club reading list. I've never read any William Dalrymple before and saw the relatively high number of positive reviews by those who rated the book really highly. However, I fear saying this about such an accomplished writer/traveller, but I was disappointed. The trip and the tales told are epic and he really brings to life the people and the places. There's a lot of history and information to digest, alongside his own tales and those of Marco Polo as well as other travellers that had gone before. I think its the style of writing and level of detail that, for me, made the book hard going. I particularly found the large of amount of information and detail on the buildings and architecture and their history difficult and admit to skipping many of those bits!! Overall I may try some of his other travel accounts .....but I need a bit of a 'light' read first!
September 10, 2022
The author takes us on the famed Silk Road at a moment in the 1980's when large parts of it was open to travellers (although they find themselves hitch-hiking on coal trucks on some of the less-travelled roads). Places of great historical importance, now largely forgotten are visited along the way with connections to Genghis Khan, Alexander the Great and older empires. An easy read with a good balance between fact and travelogue.
July 30, 2020
This is probably his worst. Reading it felt like yet another narrative about a white man and his conquests. Demeaning and offensive stereotypes galore!
August 23, 2020
Pretty disappointing. Took the book with all the reviews about the author. After reading this book , feel he is over rated . Waste of time .
March 25, 2021
Being a History lover, I had been eyeing the works of William Dalrymple for quite some time. When I spotted this travelogue in my local library, I snatched it without any second thoughts. I must say, it has been an eye-opener as to the perils of backpacking and it took me on a tour through exotic lands I never knew existed.
William has the knack to meld history in such a way that it sounds interesting, humorous & makes you vie for more. A book that could be construed as the epitome of history lessons with details about Marco Polo's travels from Jerusalem to Kubla Khan's Palace in Xanadu has been transformed into an epic tale with witty anecdotes & mind-bending incidents.
Why I think you should read this book -
William along with a companion decide to emulate the trip taken by Marco Polo, meandering into hostile territory. The opening of the Karakoram Highway which links Pakistan to China, a journey not possible before, made this trip feasible.
William has the knack of eavesdropping in teashops & narrating the funny stories he overhears which were entertaining at best.
Traveling at the mercy of local hospitality, was a completely different experience to read about. He was a man with a plan, but without anything solid, just following a line drawn on a map without any details.
Marco Polo had undertaken the journey in 1272 A.D. Following his footsteps in the 1980s made him realize, many towns & roads have become extinct, especially the carpet weavers in a tiny settlement.
Braving the torpid weather, sustaining on inedible food & meager funds, and scared of being thrown in jail because of lack of permits, each narrated incident made me think they cannot reach their goal. Creatures of comfort, living on cockroach-infested beds, struggling with diarrhea, & wearing local traditional attire was a treat to read.
Maybe this is not your cup of tea, but I still suggest giving this book a try. A lot of life lessons are tucked within this tome, and in this time of travel restrictions, this was the best release I needed to travel around the world.
William has the knack to meld history in such a way that it sounds interesting, humorous & makes you vie for more. A book that could be construed as the epitome of history lessons with details about Marco Polo's travels from Jerusalem to Kubla Khan's Palace in Xanadu has been transformed into an epic tale with witty anecdotes & mind-bending incidents.
Why I think you should read this book -
William along with a companion decide to emulate the trip taken by Marco Polo, meandering into hostile territory. The opening of the Karakoram Highway which links Pakistan to China, a journey not possible before, made this trip feasible.
William has the knack of eavesdropping in teashops & narrating the funny stories he overhears which were entertaining at best.
Traveling at the mercy of local hospitality, was a completely different experience to read about. He was a man with a plan, but without anything solid, just following a line drawn on a map without any details.
Marco Polo had undertaken the journey in 1272 A.D. Following his footsteps in the 1980s made him realize, many towns & roads have become extinct, especially the carpet weavers in a tiny settlement.
Braving the torpid weather, sustaining on inedible food & meager funds, and scared of being thrown in jail because of lack of permits, each narrated incident made me think they cannot reach their goal. Creatures of comfort, living on cockroach-infested beds, struggling with diarrhea, & wearing local traditional attire was a treat to read.
Maybe this is not your cup of tea, but I still suggest giving this book a try. A lot of life lessons are tucked within this tome, and in this time of travel restrictions, this was the best release I needed to travel around the world.
Read
May 11, 2013Because I am a fan of obscure literary travel memoirs, I picked up this book at a library book sale. It's an under-the-radar account of a Cambridge student's trip in the 1980's. William Dalrymple becomes obsessed with retracing the route of Marco Polo from Jerusalem to Xanadu, Kubla Khan's legendary palace. His mission is to take holy oil from the Church of the Holy Sepulcre, just as Marco Polo did, when he was deputized to deliver it to Kubla Khan. History claims that the Khan had contacts and was a believer in Nestorian Christianity. This now heretical offshoot had penetrated into Asia, probably through Armenia. Dalrymple travels with two women: one as far as Lahore, the other the second half of the journey to the actual site of the ruins of the palace. The modern day adventure seems more dangerous than it may have been for Marco Polo who as a merchant traveled the then well supplied Silk Road with its caravanserai and inns. The trip is completed after the Iranian revolution but before the Soviet conflict in Afghanistan and before the border to China were more open. Much of the trip involves the physical deprivation of derelict buses and trucks lumbering their way through potholes and sandstorms. Dalrymple bungles his way through border checkpoints and tries to work around the requirements of special permits. Xanadu itself lies within a weapons development zone. With just hours remaining before he and his companion must catch their connections for their flight out of Peking, they do visit the actual site of Xanadu. It is an anticlimax but their trip is all about the journey they have endured rather than any romance of reaching their destination. Though uneven in its writing, Dalrymple includes interesting detail of everyday observation and encounters. Best for armchair travelers even before the Rough and Lonely Planet Guides were published
February 4, 2018
He was a precocious wee sod was young William Dalrymple - while everyone else whiled away their uni summers working and saving for a short trip somewhere - anywhere - he decided to follow in Marco Polo's footsteps from Jerusalem to Mongolia. I've read other books he's written, and he's a top class author - and appears thoroughly nice bloke too. It's a class thing for those types it seems. He's of good stock and he travels the first half with Laura (related or on first name terms with various senior pillars of the establishment, and not just in the UK - turns out she ended up head of Marks and Spencer) and Dalrymple has a great deal of fun recanting her 'force of nature' upper class English encounters with various foreigners along the way - while keeping a great deal of affection in his writing and maintaining the balance between exasperation, amusement with and at this companion. In the second half he has his by-now-ex Louise along - and handles this deftly too - giving enough of the potential awkwardness, and not mulling on the challenges of travelling with someone who dumped him a couple of months earlier for another bloke.
What brings him straight in to the premier league of travel writers was the ability to match the current day, with immensely readable history of the country and location. Throughout, his passions for the two do come through, and there's a great degree of skill in providing the 'right' history to link with what he's seeing in his travels rather than 'all' the history regardless. Sometimes less is more here, and it's well paced and fairly succinct.
As I say, a precocious young bugger, but a hell of a talent, and good on him. Now he's a grown up, he's a hisotrian more than travel writer, which is good for history, less good for travel writing.
What brings him straight in to the premier league of travel writers was the ability to match the current day, with immensely readable history of the country and location. Throughout, his passions for the two do come through, and there's a great degree of skill in providing the 'right' history to link with what he's seeing in his travels rather than 'all' the history regardless. Sometimes less is more here, and it's well paced and fairly succinct.
As I say, a precocious young bugger, but a hell of a talent, and good on him. Now he's a grown up, he's a hisotrian more than travel writer, which is good for history, less good for travel writing.
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