Four Months Afoot in Spain

by Harry A. Franck

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90 pages, Kindle Edition

First published October 1, 1911

About the author

Harry Alverson Franck, better known as Harry A. Franck was an American travel writer during the first half of the 20th century.

http://www.harryafranck.com/

Reviews

[Tuck]

i read the garden city publishing co inc. edition from 1911
h a franck, a bit famous for his outpouring of world traveler on a shoestring books of early 1900's, has a long summer vacation in 1910 so decides to go to spain and walk around for a few months, so he does, with $172 and a stick he walks n walks, starting down south winds around central, goes nw to galicia, then east to basque country and over roncevalles and north to bordeaux . a long ass way eating in the lowest hovels, sleeping in hay stacks, looking at art, architecture, farming, meeting folks all kinds of folks.
spain was literally still in dark ages in 1910 (not of course totally, but almost, really) and it is truely amazing how far western europe and usa have come in just a few decades (running hot cold water, internal combustion, air travel, schooling, trade)

franck has his drawbacks: a bit of a racist, snob, braggart, but also his strengths: keen observation, relish being with the poor folk, disdaining any sort of rich or middleclass tourist type comfort.
has map and his kodak snaps.

[Paul Cornelius]

Franck's second book, Four Months Afoot in Spain, came out just a year after his A Vagabond Journey Around the World. Both describe travels that took place in the world before the Great War. And they follow an appealing pattern in Franck's writing. That is, he absolutely does travel as a vagabond, going from city to city and region to region and country to country mostly by foot. He mixes in some train trips, via third class, and he includes his travels from New York via a steamer to his jumping off spots in Europe. This time, his ship carries Italians and Harry in steerage home from their time working in America. But before the trip can be completed Harry leaves ship at Gibraltar, and then he immediately undertakes his trek to Seville, Toledo, Madrid, Salamanca, Valladolid, and on into Galicia and Lugo before turning back east to Oviedo and Leon. Then to Bilbao and Pamplona. He makes other excursions over the latter part of the book via rail before crossing the Pyrenees and going back through France to Cherbourg and arriving back in New York City in 96 days.

Unlike most travel writers, especially those at the beginning of the last century, Franck's trips focus on his encounters with the peasantry, the working people, and the way they live. He's not above spending the night in a meadow or a threshing room. And he lives at the level of the local economy. Severely critical of the Roman church, its priests, and the Spanish aristocracy, Franck is full of praise for the Spanish man and woman eking out their lives as best as possible in a country whose imperial wealth has either dissipated or disappeared into the dark recesses of churches, nunneries, and monasteries. And his trip across arid Spain seems torturous at times. The sparsely placed villages and the tramping from one to another through unrelenting sun and merciless heat anticipate the same sort of travels he will undertake less than six years later when walking the length of the Andes in South America. There isn't much difference between the Indians living bleak lives in the cold mountainous uplands of South America and the Spanish peasants enduring the unchanging landscape of La Mancha (which, according to Franck, comes from the Arabic manxa, meaning dry or arid).

The best parts of his narration, which never fail to throw a wry or sardonic observation of things and people he encounters, come on those journeys between the towns, in the empty spaces and natural settings. What is memorable in this book are these walks. Franck will later make unforgettable similar walks through India, Germany, and most unbelievably of all from Rangoon through the forests of Southeast Asia to Bangkok. All this taking place in a world without antibiotics to treat wounds, cholera outbreaks, or any ready access to people or place that can help should trouble arise. No, it's just Harry by himself. Stunning it is that it took a stroke at age 80 in the comforts of his rural home in Pennsylvania to finally separate Franck from his seemingly unending odysseys.

[Zach]

No rating. Imagine the most annoying, snobby, rich 20-something you know decided to cosplay as a poor tourist and spend the summer walking through Spain. You, sensibly, would not read his travelogue and neither would I. But this one is interesting (despite the extreme arrogance) because Franck undertook this exercise in the very early 1900s. If you are able to get past lines such as "peasants were toiling swelteringly as if they had never heard of the common sense institution of Sunday" you get an interesting glimpse of life of life in Spain during a rather underdeveloped part of its history when it was little explored by outside people. Unless you have a particular niche interest like I do, I would not recommend this book except as a mildly-amusing opportunity to roll your eyes at an antiquated work of travel writing.

[Elaine]

Over one hundred years ago the author toured Spain at a total cost of $172.00.
A glimpse of pre-Franco Spain.