A perceptive, generous survey of Britain's towns, in all their grit and glory.
Take your pick. Dubrovnik or Doncaster? Corfu or Crewe? A safari in Kenya or an abandoned zoo on the Isle of Man?
Most people in the United Kingdom live and work in towns. Only a handful of these ordinarily qualify as conventional tourist destinations, with most deemed too plain, rundown or unfun to be worthy of a leisure visit, but they have much to offer for the inquisitive traveler.
Travelling from Warrington, Birkenhead and Slough to East Kilbride, Armagh, Newport and beyond, Chris Moss seeks out Britain's bypassed towns. As he encounters the rich stories and spirits of these places, peeling back layers of history and culture, he considers why most have ignored the hidden pleasures they have to offer, be they Stockport's viaduct, one of the largest brick structures in the world; the scene-defining punk venues of Paisley; or Ipswich's ancient origins (the town being twice the age of Machu Picchu).
Where Tourists Seldom Tread is an invitation to move away from the preference for major cities and rural idylls and offers a new field guide to the country.
This book just about scrapes a 3 star 'I enjoyed it' rating. The subject is the strongest catnip for me, and I would now like to read all of the Guardian columns of which this is a selection. So... why was I disappointed? Too often I felt keenly aware that this was a Guardian column, with the stereotypical sensitivities and posturing that implies (and despite the author's personal history and his introduction which says he's not going to sneer) I felt his dismissal of the National Trust and English Heritage as being only about the 'pretty' suggested a less than thoroughgoing familiarity with their work. The visits were also written up in a very uneven way - some very dense with dates and statistics, others with nothing for example. Two (or more) towns were sometimes squeezed into one chapter with an abrupt switch between them. These are quite short chapters anyway so it really does often end up being too brief, feeling very much like the 'places only passed through on a train' to which the book is supposed to be an antidote.
Much travel writing spends a disproportionate amount of time on the.... well, travelling, instead of the destination. This doesn't happen here, and occasionally I felt I missed having just a little more about that, but of course there wasn't the space. There also wasn't space for other travel writing favourites that can weigh down a text and that was a bonus: a light touch on accommodation and dining arrangements, the writer's state of health, fatigue and general wellbeing, the physical appearance of people he meets. I liked that there were some photographs - these did have the weird production values of so many books about travelling in the UK, but somehow came across better than in other books and were a genuine addition to the experience.
He writes of wanting to avoid the 'I went so you don't have to' Sometimes that's successful - he clearly enjoyed and respected a number of places regardless of their aesthetic. But I was surprised how little he whetted my appetite for visiting myself and an implicit "Don't bother" sometimes came across. As a comparison, I enjoyed Ben Aitken's Shitty Breaks more (despite the latter book's familiar Aitken flaws which Moss's largely lacks) - it is lighter of heart and conveys more enthusiasm all the way through (Moss just seems surprised if he has an interesting time) However, I do suspect that it may have been the format which was the bigger problem and I'd certainly be keen to read his more focused book on Lancashire.
Every now and then I feel the need to read about Britain’s less known places. Those out of the way (or not) destinations that are seen as untouristy. Having chosen to spend a couple of nights in Swindon I hope to show that I walk the walk as well as talk the talk. These books normally follow two raison d’être, either they are there to denigrate places (an example of which I read last year), which I am unimpressed by, and the second one which lifts the lid off unexpected delights, places to visit, the joy beneath the surface. This book falls squarely into the second category.
It paints a picture of each town, its history, the foundations, what this means in modern (2020’s Britain) times. There is a poignancy in the writing when the author says about if everything is now out of town, doesn’t that now make it ‘town’. There is plenty to chuckle (though sometimes grim) at throughout like mentioning towns are now split into quarters, where there is at least five. It was a joy to read, and I have noted a few areas I would now like to go to look a bit closer.
Because it focuses on un-loved towns I didn’t know many of them, but there were a few surprises such as his take on Douglas and the Isle of Man where we spent a lovely (if wet!) holiday a few years ago. He talks at the end about what makes a town attractive and concludes that’s what is needed is places to spend time without spending money - parks and squares, benches, covered spaces and warm places. Some towns have managed to get money from various government schemes to do this but there is never enough to make all the improvements in the original schemes.