С призрачния влак през ОРИЕНТА

by Paul Theroux, Радостин Желев (Translator)

Трийсет години след епичното пътешествие, описано на страниците на превърналата се вече в класика творба „С призрачния влак през Ориента“, най-успешният автор на пътеписи в света изминава отново близо 45 000 километра, прекосявайки Източна Европа, Централна Азия, Индийския полуостров, Япония и Сибир.

Преди няколко десетилетия със своя разказ за голямото пътуване с влак из Азия Пол Теру буквално постави основите на съвременния пътепис. Трийсет години по-късно описаният от него свят е преживял разтърсващи промени. Съветският съюз се разпадна, а Китай бележи възход; Индия процъфтява, докато Бирма се задушава под управлението на диктаторски режим; Виетнам се радва на просперитет след хаоса, който американците създадоха там по време на предишното посещение на Теру. И никой не е в състояние да улови по-добре тъканта, гледките, ароматите и звуците на този променящ се пейзаж от Пол Теру.

Неговата одисея го превежда през Източна Европа, все още изтрезняваща от годините на комунистическо управление, през разтърсваната от напрежения, но радваща се на благополучие Турция, към Кавказ, където Грузия куцука назад към феодализма, докато съседен Азербайджан се наслаждава на подхранвания от нефтените находища капитализъм. Теру описва тези свидетелства от първа ръка, пътувайки също като местните жители – в задушни влакове, раздрънкани автобуси, съмнителни таксита или пеш, със затънали в калта ходила, – натъквайки се на уникални приключения: от срещите с литературни знаменитости (като спаринга с проницателния Нобелов лауреат Орхан Памук) до такива с разпуснати спътници (като изтърпяването на едноседмичен запой по Транссибирската железница). И навсякъде, където отиде, благодарение на ненаситното си любопитство и безпогрешен усет за детайла, той не престава да се вдъхновява, просвещава, образова и забавлява.

Genres: Travel, Nonfiction, Asia, Memoir, History, Adventure, India

528 pages, Paperback

First published August 18, 2008

About the author

Paul Edward Theroux is an American travel writer and novelist, whose best known work is The Great Railway Bazaar (1975), a travelogue about a trip he made by train from Great Britain through Western and Eastern Europe, the Middle East, through South Asia, then South-East Asia, up through East Asia, as far east as Japan, and then back across Russia to his point of origin. Although perhaps best known as a travelogue writer, Theroux has also published numerous works of fiction, some of which were made into feature films. He was awarded the 1981 James Tait Black Memorial Prize for his novel The Mosquito Coast.

He is the father of Marcel and Louis Theroux, and the brother of Alexander and Peter. Justin Theroux is his nephew.

Reviews

[W · Rating 4 out of 5]

Over three decades after the series of train journeys which he described in The Great Railway Bazar,Paul Theroux is back following his own footsteps recreating those journeys,and adds some new destinations as well.

I liked this book even more than The Great Railway Bazar.There was one disappointment,however.This time he didn't venture into Pakistan.Whatever was happening in the country at the time,prompted him to steer clear.

At the very start,he criticizes his own kind,"travel writing is a license to bore,the lowest form of literary self indulgence." That is a statement I disagree with.

At that time,George W.Bush had started the US invasion of Iraq.Refreshingly,Theroux castigates Bush and calls him a moron.During his travels,he talked to hundreds of people and found only two,who had a favourable impression of Bush.

He sets off through the countries of Eastern Europe.He finds Romania very cheerless.He goes to Georgia and finds a man who has made it his life's mission to feed hungry people.He admires the beauty of Istanbul and likes Turkey,despite the negative views of the country in much of Europe.

One of the most interesting chapters deals with his visit to Turkmenistan.It was a closed country,under the repressive rule of Supermurat Niyazov (Turkmenbashi,the father of the Turkmen).His whims were law,giant statues of him,some in gold, were everywhere.He had even renamed the months of the year and the days of the week.It was a bizarre personality cult.

There are some countries given short shrift by Theroux.He gets out of China very quickly,saying that all the Chinese wanted was to talk about money.His visit to Uzbekistan is also dealt with very quickly.He doesn't describe Bokhara,he skips Samarkand,he has nothing to say about Tashkent or Uzbekistan's president,Karimov.

In Vietnam,he is amazed to find that the Vietnamese do not talk all that much about America's war,and are friendly towards him,even though he is an American.He cannot help reflecting that Vietnam suffered millions of casualties as against America's 58,000 and the US dropped millions of pounds of bombs on the country,and didn't leave even a useful building.

In Cambodia,he talks about the horrors of the Pol Pot regime and the millions who died during that period.

Singapore is another country about which he has plenty to say.For all its prosperity,state control is all encompassing.Everyone is being watched all the time and people are encouraged to spy on others.It is a social experimentation laboratory.He is not too impressed with Lee Kuan Yew,Singapore's founding father.

He spends a fair bit of time in India,from Amritsar to overcrowded Mumbai,Chennai and then to the tech hub of Bangalore,with its new found prosperity.But Bangalore doesn't impress him much.In India,he also meets Prince Charles and his frumpy wife,Camilla.He is appalled by India's rampaging population and the number of people who live below the poverty line.

In Sri Lanka,he finally gets to meet science fiction writer Arthur C. Clarke,"the man who never grew up and yet grew all the time."

Then,it's on to Japan,where he feels alienated in Tokyo.In a homogenized culture he feels like a complete outsider.But as a compensation,he spends time with Haruki Marukami,who talks about the devastating impact of World War II on Japan.Theroux also catches up with the travel writer,Pico Iyer in Japan.As usual,he is interested in the adult entertainment industry in Japan,and for that matter,in all the countries he visits.Thailand and Laos are among his destinations too.

On the final leg of his trip,he is back on Russian trains,which seem unchanged from thirty years ago.He spends a lot of time in that snowbound landscape on those dreary trains,visiting places where forced labour camps existed under Stalin.

His conclusion about the new Russia is that it hasn't really changed.Despite the wealth enjoyed by some,Russia remains as oppressive as ever.

It is a grueling journey and there is a lot of mileage,and that too on trains,not necessarily the most comfortable mode of travel.

But it is a very enjoyable book,and more often than not,I found myself in agreement with what Theroux has to say about the countries he visits and the state of the world in general.

[Daren · Rating 5 out of 5]

Theroux's non fiction travel is really a thing of it's own. It sits adjacent to more 'normal' travel writing, as he is not about the visa drama, the border crossing, the tourist spots, museums or what he had for lunch. This book, however, is slightly different to his earlier books -perhaps that is his mellowing with age, or perhaps it is that he is more reflective in this book, where he traced the route of his previous book - The Great Railway Bazaar (albeit the route is slightly different - more below).

He is certainly a lot less cynical and negative (although I love this in his writing), and is able to play between his current travel and the travel of thirty three years before. He does explain that in the earlier travels his domestic arrangements were collapsing - a wife who had moved on and left him behind, while he was months on the road, so perhaps this explains some of his caustic behaviour in the earlier book.

Theroux assesses some of the things that are the same, and that have changed. He still interacts with those who travel along side him, shares some thoughts on various matters, and visits some interesting personalities along the way - Orhan Pamuk in Turkey, Arthur C. Clarke in Sri Lanka and Haruki Murakami and Pico Iyer in Japan.

Interestingly, looking back I only gave The Great Railway Bazaar 3 stars. Although it was only five years ago, I think if I was to re-read it now, it would certainly get 4, perhaps 5 stars. I think my patience with book has improved, and it was the first Theroux non-fiction book I read. And while I can recognise a self-indulgence in this book (by which I mean picking his topics to suit his narrative, making a less than balanced view of certain places), the writing is easy, the reading is easier still, and I could have continued reading for another 500 pages.

So he sets out to follow the same route as thirty three years before. He did intend however to travel some additional or different routes - ones he wanted to travel originally, but was not permitted at the time - such as not having visited Cambodia:
p362:

It gave me the creeps to read all that while I was staying in Phnom Penh. Some of the worst killing had occurred while I was taking my Railway Bazaar trip, and then writing it, complaining that it had been impossible for me to visit Cambodia. Little did I know what was happening here - but not many people on the outside knew much, or cared.

Iran and Afghanistan are also omitted this time around, due to political and military situations, although this time around he was able to travel to the north of Vietnam.

Theroux mixes up his travel classes - taking a first class cabin when he feels the need, otherwise in a more modest shared cabin, same with hotels - a better quality one when a better rest or recovery is needed, cheaper when it is not. This helps him stay in touch with the people around him and some of his nicer interactions with people.

As for his reflective moments, these were in places quite moving. After being quite disturbed by the torture of Cambodians in Tuol Seng, and it's parallels to the treatment of suspected terrorists in American prisons, he summarises as follows: P364

The traveler's conceit is that barbarism is something singular and foreign, to be encountered half way around the world in some pinched and parochial backwater. The traveler journeys to the remote place and it seems to be so: he is offered a glimpse of the wort atrocities that can served up by a sadistic government. And then, to his shame, he realizes that they are identical to the ones advocated and diligently applied by his own government. As for the sanctimony of people who seem blind to the fact that mass murder is still an annual event, look at Cambodia, Rwanda, Darfur, Tibet, Burma and elsewhere - the truer shout is not "Never again", but "Again and again."

As usual though, there are plenty of amusing anecdotes and stories to balance the reflection, and some of the grim realities of the places he travelled.

Another quick amusing quote:

I think most serious and omnivorous readers are alike-- intense in their dedication to the word, quiet-minded, but relieved and eagerly talkative when they meet other readers and kindred spirits. If you have gotten this far in the book, you are just such a singular person.

Excellent. 4.5 stars = 5 stars!

[Chrissie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Travels from England to France to Germany to Austria to Hungary to Romania to Bulgaria to Turkey to Georgia to Turkmenistan to India to Sri Lanka to Burma to Thailand and China and Laos and Malaysia and Singapore and Cambodia and Vietnam and Japan and Russia via the Trans-Siberian Railroad. He returns to England by fast trains via Belarus then Berlin, Paris and Kent. The captivating parts begin from Turkey on.

Interesting. Philosophical in tone. Either great for a planned trip where you want to acquaint yourself with a country OR as armchair travel. Not a travel guide. I am definitely happy with this. The author is well read, so great as a literary guide too. A smattering of both factual and personal views on the countries' history, politics, sociology and cultural differences.

On his travels Theroux speaks with ordinary people, but his intensive reading and knowledge ties to famed authors, historical figures, politicians and people in the news.

Theroux's tone is at times caustic, but only when such is in fact warranted. There is humor too.

The narration by John McDonough is wonderful. Perfect speed and his intonation is superb. I t felt as though Theroux were speaking directly to me.. To lisen to the audiobook is a pure delight!

When he returns back to England he concludes with the nostalgic, contemplative line: "Arrivals are departures." Perfect ending. Do yourself a favor and read or listen to this book.

[Dmitri · Rating 3 out of 5]

"Little better than a license to bore, travel writing is the lowest form of literary self-indulgence." - Theroux on Travelogues

"He regarded himself as an accomplished writer, a clear sign of madness in anyone." - Theroux on Turkmenbashi, First Secretary of the Communist Party of Turkmenistan

************

In 2006 Paul Theroux repeated the 1973 train voyage that became his first travelogue. The trip included tracks across Europe, central and south Asia, and parts of southeast and east Asia. His previous journey through east Africa involved many modes of transport and more time on the ground. This book has a different feel. Since connections are less frequent Theroux mainly alights in major rail hubs. Much time is spent in shared sleeping compartments lost in his solitary thoughts.

Theroux remembers his earlier trip. His wife didn't want him to leave and when he returned he found she had been unfaithful. This journey is in a happier time and he finds joy in traveling alone. In London Theroux recalls the years he spent in his former marriage. He speeds through the channel tunnel and spends a night in Paris, the planned city of past glory. On layover in Budapest he eats goulash and researches porn shops. In Bucharest he wonders "Why would anyone come here?"

A backdrop to this trip is the Iraq war. Theroux takes note of the criticism he hears as he travels through Muslim lands. In Istanbul he meets Nobel laureate Orhan Pamuk and gives an incisive sketch of the author. Tbilisi, capital of Georgia, is a rundown city unrecovered from Soviet times. In Baku, the wealthy oil capital of Azerbaijan, he meets an Interpol agent who gives literary tours of the town. Turkmenistan is ruled by a megalomaniac who runs it as his personal insane asylum.

Theroux briefly visits Bukhara. The main difference between Turkmen and Uzbek dictators is one jails dissidents and the other kills them. Trinket touts and taxi tips occupy his innermost musings. Skipping Samarkand he boards an airplane from Tashkent to India. On this trip he misses Iran, Afghanistan and Pakistan due to visa and safety concerns. He walks the Golden Temple in Amritsar, sacred city of Sikhs. He writes of dung heaps and three legged dogs he sees in the streets.

Delhi was a day stop and then onward by the train. He meets an annoying lady and writes her into his book. In Jodhpur he attends a Durga festival, greets a Maharajah and the Prince of Wales, noting the Duchess is frumpy and fat. In Jaipur he joins a Parvati festival and goes to a Hanuman temple where a monkey steals his notebook. En route to Mumbai Theroux finds primitive conditions and superstitions thwart Indian aspirations of development. He visits slums and modern call centers.

In Bangalore Theroux views the technology and textile scene as new forms of foreign exploitation. Chennai's urban sprawl and overpopulation arouse his aversion to cities and taxis. Tiruchi's temple town is better, but he is bothered by the beggars. Flying to Sri Lanka he meets sci-fi writer Arthur C. Clarke. He is pleased time has stood still from civil war, and in Myanmar due to dictatorship. In Yangon he befriends a poor old rickshaw driver, former English teacher, and helps him retire.

Theroux returns to Bangkok, Vientiane and Penang, now nice places. He passes time interviewing hookers. Back in Singapore where he taught in 1968 the same autocrat is in power. He notes a repressed city modeled after it's leader. The red light district is reviewed. Sex is for sale from minors but not from the natives. Taking a bus to Cambodia he sees Angkor, one of the few cultural sites he visits. In 1973 it was impossible due to the US carpet bombing campaign and the Kmer Rouge.

Vietnam is doing well after the war. Theroux had been there before behind ARVN lines. In Hanoi he finds people forgiving of Nixon and Kissinger war crimes. In Kunming he dismisses China as ugly and soulless. Flying to Tokyo he tells how he hates big cities while checking out the sex shops and fetish clubs. He meets Haruki Murakami, a renowned novelist of Japan. He travels to the snowy far north of Hokkaido, and in Kyoto visits ancient temples with fellow writer and friend Pico Iyer.

A short flight takes Theroux to Vladivostok, a dreary city in post-Soviet decline. On the Trans-Siberian Express he rides in his berth towards Moscow. At the former gulag town of Perm the writers Dostoevsky, Chekhov, Solzhenitsyn and Shalomov had passed through. Prison 36 was still in use when he was there last. Heading to Berlin he reflects on how travel had become his way of living life. He finishes with a bleak realization that the world is getting poorer and more crowded.

Theroux dislikes air travel, a sentiment I can understand. He eschews group travel and I can empathize. He likes to talk with strangers on the train but is mostly critical of those he meets. His travelogues seem derivative of V S Naipaul, who wrote his first India book a decade before the 1973 'Railway Bazaar'. Theroux ruminates on his 'Tao of Travel' and he regurgitates his personal peeves too often. He is at his best when painting pictures of the people and places he sees on the way.

[Andrew Smith · Rating 4 out of 5]

Three years ago I listened to an audio version of the author’s The Great Railway Bazaar. The story of a journey, largely by train, that took Theroux from London through Eastern Europe before covering Asia pretty much top to bottom, ending his journey in Siberia. I found it exciting and amusing – a young man in his early thirties on this big adventure. He met strange people and visited obscure places. He was fearless in pursuit of – well, who knows what he was in pursuit of, as far as I could tell he just travelled, saw what he saw and recorded it.

Over thirty years later he decided to repeat the trip, once again capturing his thoughts and experiences for our enlightenment and entertainment. How much will the places he passes through and visits have changed and would he now, in his late middle age, see everything through different eyes, his perception having been altered by the passage of time? He’d have to make a few changes to his route – the political situation dictates that Iran and Afghanistan might have to be avoided – but otherwise he intended to keep as close to his previous route as possible.

The first thing I noticed was that the reader was different – very different in fact. The voice was deeper, the delivery much slower. I wasn’t keen on this change. I’d identified with this first Paul Theroux, who was this stranger? The second thing was that the humour – always close to the surface in the first book – was mysteriously missing. This was a much more contemplative and downbeat Theroux. Surely this journey wasn’t going to be as much fun as the first. And as he travelled from London through Eastern Europe I was disappointed to have my worst fears realised – this really wasn’t much fun. It was slow and heavy going. I took a break from the book with a view to possibly giving up completely.

Some months later I decided to pick it up again, only to halt once more after a short while. But eventually, on my third attempt, I managed to finally adapt to the pace and mood of it. He’d reached India and from this point I adjusted my mindset to accept that this was not only a very different experience for the listener it was also a significantly different journey for Theroux: he no longer wished to visit bars and drink the night away at every stop, he was happy to have an early night and read a book. This was a man slightly older than me reflecting on change and ageing and on his own life thus far lived.

He does, of course, meet interesting people on this trip; from poor travellers he shares a train carriage with, a rickshaw driver he grew close to, and a couple of writers too: science fiction legend Arthur C Clarke, in Sri Lanca, and – one of my personal favourites - Japanese literary scribbler (and marathon runner) Haruki Murakami in Tokyo. The text is peppered with political comment (he is particularly scathing during his visits to Mayanmar and Singapore) and reflections on history, with his account of his visit to the killing fields in Cambodia and descriptions of the country’s grisly recent past being particularly horrifying. He has a keen eye for detail too and an ability a bring his surroundings to life simply by imparting a few thoughts on the most banal of subjects, such as what people are eating in his railway carriage and how those he meets react to his naturally inquisitive nature. He is adept at painting pictures with words, often summing up his stopping points simply and succinctly; Saigon, he says, was revitalised, hectic, not beautiful but energetic, a city driven by work and money and young people, a place of opportunities, big and bright and loud yet strangely orderly and tidy.

His journey totalled some 25,000 miles, much of it on trains but also on buses, in cars and on foot. He much preferred the wilderness to the big cities and throughout spurned luxury travel and accommodation, preferring to mix with the locals. Only if he was unwell did he book into a nice hotel and attempt to sleep it off, imbibing just water with added salt and sugar. He was away from home for many months and though it's not clear exactly how long his journey took it was certainly some endeavour! And yes, this book doesn’t have quite the energy and the excitement of the first but it does have an appeal of it own, it’s a thoughtful and reflective account that made me think more deeply about the world in which we live and maybe hanker for a trip of discovery of my own. I was too quick to dismiss this book and I'm so glad I returned to it. I'm already looking forward to my next trip with this perceptive and engaging observer.

[Diane in Australia · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thirty years have passed when Paul decides to retrace the journey he made in The Great Railway Bazaar. Due to circumstances, he isn't able to duplicate it exactly, and has to miss some bits. He does manage to get into some places he was unable to visit during his first trip, so, that's a plus.

The pleasure of this book is doubled, because we get to read how the places have changed, AND we get to hear Paul's thoughts as he compares the trips, including insights into his personal life. He visits with many interesting 'common' folks, and some illustrious ones, as well ... such as Pico Iyer, and Arthur C. Clarke, and it's a pleasure to eavesdrop on their conversations.

I very much enjoyed this book. I love when the pages (and the time!) just zips by, and before I know it, I've finished the book. Well ... I don't enjoy the 'finishing the book' part ... as I'd like it to continue, of course!

I like Paul's writing. It flows. It effortlessly pulls me along. To paraphrase the song Summertime... "Reading Theroux, and the reading is easy". I don't have to stop and think, "What did he just say?!" and re-read bits over. I can almost forget I am reading, and begin to feel like I'm sitting next to him on the train. Now that's what a travel book should do!

Paul is a voracious reader, and I like picking up recommendations on books that he mentions, too.

Not everyone likes Paul's books, but variety is the spice of life, yes?

A Goodreads friend, Chrissie, sums up my view on Paul's books.
"Theroux’s non-fiction books can scarcely be classified as travel books. They are not tourist guides, not for those planning to travel to the countries Theroux visits. The places he visits are not the places tourists visit. He is there for the ride. He is there to observe the people, just ordinary people. What he delivers are his personal thoughts on what he sees and the people he meets. ... We peek into Theroux’s head. ...you learn both about the author and about places. You learn about the countries, the mentality of the people living there and the feel of the land."

4 Stars = Outstanding. It definitely held my interest.

[Shovelmonkey1 · Rating 4 out of 5]

Travel is forced upon some and for others it is a decadent pursuit (see recent Grazia article regarding Princess Beatrice, Kate Moss, Simon Cowell et al toasting themselves like smug pink seals on the beaches of St Barts). And there is the other category where travel is a way of life and a part of life and Paul Theroux, greatest, frequently most jaded-est and cynical of all modern travel writers falls into the last category.

Paul Theroux is the anti-guide. He will not tell you where the best shops are, nor will he flag for you the most beautiful vantage point from which to see the famed ancient ruins of (insert place name here). He will not revel in the fine gastronomy of the region or regale you with tales of charming locals. Instead he will lament his gout and point out how filthy the trains are or how his mouth feels like 17 kinds of sink mould when he's not had a chance to brush his teeth for five days on the Trans-Siberian because all the water has frozen. Ok, that bit didn't happen but it could have. The world is dirty and gritty and real and although there is still romance to be had in travel, there is also squitty bum and pubic lice and unsavoury people with whom you will be forced to share your cramped sleeping car.

Re-treading a path taken when he was in his early 30s (and recounted to world wide acclaim in The Great Railway Bazaar), Theroux once again rides the rails to see what has changed as he crosses over one sixth of the worlds land mass by train. Dictators have risen, fallen and risen again and different countries are now at war but he discovers that the relationships, problems and dreams of the people he meets are largely the same.

Great winter reading, which lack of glamour aside will still make you want to pack a case and head for the Euro star. I like a realist, love an adventurer and applaud a cynic so Theroux ticks all my boxes.

[Radiantflux · Rating 2 out of 5]

27th book for 2020.

Paul Theroux made his fortune at thirty-three as a writer with The Great Railway Bazaar describing about a series of train trips he took that brought him from London to Tokyo and back in mid-1970s. Thirty-three years later he decided to take try to repeat the train trip and write another book.

I hated his first book. I found him superficial, arrogant and mean-spirited; I also found the writing subpar. This sequel is better written, but he is still happy to offer at superficial insights and grand pronouncements—India: Too many People; China: Too many greedy people. He meets up with various authors on this trips—one suspects this is as much to assuage his own ego as anything else—and also offers a few mini-essays on random things he sees/visits on the trip: a visit to Sumerian ruins; dictatorships in Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan; an Indian call centre; the Cambodian killing fields; Vietnam after the bombing; a random rant about Singapore, which is clearly a personal grudge; Japanese bath houses; a Soviet gulag etc. He seems to have lost a lot of energy after reaching India and the writing becomes somehow shallower and less on point. The whole of China gets a single page.

What really became irritating after a while was the casual sexism in the text. Every women he meets between London and Tokyo and back is described purely in terms of her attractiveness or lack thereof. When he meets up with the brilliant Turkish writer Elif Shafak he simply says he can't hear her words because her beauty deafens him. He seems to be constantly searching out the prostitutes on this trip, talking to them, and then reflexively writing that he went home alone, his only thought for his wife who he was missing very much. Please.

There is something quite beautiful about travelling long distance by train, but I would hate to have Theroux as a travelling companion.

2-stars.

[Bob · Rating 5 out of 5]

Dang, there was an awesome quote toward the end of this massive travelogue, where the author addresses the reader directly, congratulating him or her on reading long past the point of comfort and common sense. Only the truly dedicated reader, writer, or traveler will love this book
and if it hadn't been overdue at the library, I would transcribe it here.

Endurance itself is one of the innumerable topics Theroux goes on about for months and miles through evocative and lively descriptions of the people he encounters in passing through ever-changing landscapes.

He re-creates the same journey he had taken 30 years before in the book that established his reputation, "The Great Railway Bazaar," published in 1975. The railway is still there, but the world has changed many times since then and so has the author. This book allows him plenty of scope to demonstrate it in every possible way.

The only thing lacking is a bibliography. The author's erudition is awesome and he demonstrates it frequently, referencing other books by other travelers who have come visited the same ancient cities and byways.

[Brian Griffith · Rating 5 out of 5]

Theroux makes such good, sober fun of himself as he tours the Old World. He's so aware of the tourist's irrelevance, gazing upon other people's busy lives. He's a curious but polite traveler, pursuing conversations with rickshaw drivers, prostitutes, or nationally famous authors of many lands. He passes judgments in a free and open way, without presuming to speak for the Lord -- showing his heartfelt admiration for ordinary people in Turkey, India, or Vietnam, or his offhand contempt for the naked materialism he sees in modern China. As an older man, he looks into the background, examining the horrors of history that lie just beneath the surface. The sufferings and joys of other people always seem to make him both more self-critical and more compassionate at the same time.

[Chris Steeden · Rating 4 out of 5]

Theroux had written 'The Great Railway Bazaar' which was published in 1975. Now here we are in 2008 with the publication of the return trip. Sort of. ‘My proposed trip to retrace the itinerary of The Great Railway Bazaar was mainly curiosity on my part, and the usual idleness, with a hankering to be away; but this had been the case thirty-three years before, and it had yielded results’. It was in 1973 that he left from Victoria Station. Now he can catch the Eurostar from Waterloo straight into Paris as it is 2006. There are places and areas that he just cannot revisit like Iran as he is refused a visa to enter. Afghanistan is best avoided during this time as civilians were being abducted and shot. He finds other routes with railway lines. He wants to stay on the ground so in some cases it has to be travel by bus

Theroux is such a superb writer. Funny, articulate, grumpy (not so much in this book), observant and just an all-round great guide to the world. This is not your traditional travel book. Yes, there are observations of places but it is more his interactions with people he meets mixed with a good dose of history, current topics and opinion. By talking to the local people you get such a great sense of the area. As always, I needed a dictionary for many words. Frotteurism – a person who obtains sexual gratification by touching or rubbing against the clothed body of another person in a crowd. This was used when Theroux was summing up the population of India and everyone jostling for space.

Taking in countries such as France, Austria, Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria, Turkey, Georgia, Azerbaijan, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, India, Sri Lanka, Burma, Thailand, Laos, Malaysia, Singapore, Cambodia, Vietnam, China, Japan, Russia and Germany. Some he is in for a while and others no longer than a day.

There was a bit where he was having his palm read by a passenger, Mr Kumara, he meets on a train in Sri Lanka. It was a great re-telling of the story. Had me laughing out loud at one point. You learn about Turkmenistan and the madman that is dictator there, the population boom in India since 1973 and so much more.

I really enjoyed this. I just find Theroux’s travel books fascinating. When I have one of his books in amongst the couple of hundred other books waiting on my Kindle to be read I cannot wait to get to it.

[Gerald Sinstadt · Rating 2 out of 5]

The reader who opens the first page of a travel book is about to embark upon a journey with the author; it helps if they are compatible people. Having travelled profitably with Theroux previously, I found in this book that I came progressively to dislike him more and more.

The tipping point was Singapore. In earlier days as a lecturer there, Theroux was apparently badly treated. Now, decades later, he takes his calculated revenge in a long chapter portraying the Lee Kwan Yew regime as harsh and unreasonably punitive, and then goes on to suggest, by portraying the city's sleazy underbelly, that the regime is a failure anyway. Gotcha with both barrels.

And herein lies the key to the book. Ostensibly a smart notion to retrace a journey made 33 years earlier and record what has changed, the author is more interested in observing himself. A strange person emerges. One who is overly interested in the sex industry - always at arm's length, you understand ("I walked on") but never failing to record an encounter. Yet, where gambling might also be considered a vice worth investigating, Theroux never ventures inside one of the many casinos he mentions. He finds croupiers less interesting than prostitutes.

There are curious digressions. Sport clearly does not engage him. He attends a cricket match in India, betrays no understanding of the game,(someone is "caught leg before wicket") and leaves before the end. On the subject of polo, Kipling - whom he quotes liberally - should have led him to refer to ponies not horses. Ballet, too, is a problem. A performance of "Giselle' is dismissed as waving arms and legs, while "The Sleeping Beauty" sends him to sleep.

No such patronising attitude is taken towards the author's own field. There is a long chapter in which a walk in Japan through shrines and temples and ornamental gardens is merely the background to a discussion of other travel writers, not all of whom are admired. The name-dropping is comparable to the identifying of this or that remote village seen from a train window, of which there are numerous instances.

Paul Theroux, one fears, is chielly interested in himself - a subject he could have observed without getting on a train.


Paul Theroux, one fears, is chielly interested in himself - a subject he could have observed without getting on a train.

[Julie Durnell · Rating 4 out of 5]

My first book of Paul Theroux-I thoroughly enjoyed traveling along with him throughout Eastern Europe into Asia and ending in Siberia. I wanted to read The Great Railway Bazaar but decided to read this one first and I think I will be glad I did, as I believe his writing has mellowed a bit from the first book written thirty some years previously. My favorite part of the journey was Japan. I discovered many places and insights of their culture that I did not know of. My least favorite part was the emphasis on the sex trade which is so prevalent in these countries.

[Quo · Rating 4 out of 5]

Lin Yutang once commented that the ideal traveler does not know his precise destination; he does not recall where the journey began or even his name. There is something to being open & flexible, concentrating on the process of travel, just being in motion and not focusing on so many other details. This is not precisely Paul Theroux's approach to travel, though he does take considerable pains to be flexible & also to remain anonymous while traveling, except when he is in the company of a famous author such as Orhan Pamuk in Turkey or Haruki Murakami in Japan, or when as frequently happens, he encounters others en route who in many cases, just happen to be reading books by Paul Theroux.



I first encountered Paul while serving in the Peace Corps in Africa, though we served in different programs & in different countries. Always, I have sensed that Paul is on guard, not wishing to allow anyone to get too close to him, or perhaps just wishing to stay in the shadows as an observer, rather than to readily engage fellow travelers.

Ghost Train to the Eastern Star seems somehow different, less aloof & more confessional, perhaps even a shade more mellow. Having begun reading the Theroux's travel books with Great Railway Bazaar, I have enjoyed each of the ensuing books & have read most more than once, a few many times as a form of vicarious travel. Theroux does not write conventional travel books with information on museums, monuments & must-visit restaurants but focuses more on the sensations that come with just being en route to a destination.

It would not have occurred to me to take trains from Yerevan, Armenia to Tbilisi, Georgia and then on to Baku, Azerbaijan, had I not read Ghost Train. So, in a way, I felt as if I were retracing a segment of the author's journey, though fortunately, I also managed to travel by rail from Ankara, Turkey to Tehran via the "Trans-Asia Express", something Paul wasn't able to do because he was denied an Iranian visa, perhaps due to some derogatory comments about heads of state in his previous travel tales.



It seemed very compelling to read this sequel account of a rail journey, so many years after first discovering the book that launched the author's rather different approach to travel writing. I felt that Ghost Train was more personally reflective than the author's other travel books. Perhaps, this represents a normal maturing, except that I found so many intersections with prostitutes & references to pornography quite distracting.

One of my favorite passages within this Theroux travel narrative is:

Most travel, and certainly the rewarding kind involves depending on the kindness of strangers, putting yourself in the hands of people you don't know & trusting them with your life. This risky suspension of disbelief is often an experience freighted with anxiety. But what is the alternative? Usually, there is none.

I have had similar feelings at various times when testing the limits while traveling in places like Rwanda, India & Bolivia and Paul Theroux expresses it so very well.



I enjoy the many literary references within Theroux's travel books but can understand why others might be put off by this. Once, when speaking at a local bookstore prior to signing his latest book, Paul was asked why he seems always to be reading classics when traveling & never anything less taxing. He responded that "Life is short & there is little time to deal with dreck."

The response seemed petulant, even arrogant but such is the author's bias on books and perhaps with reference to people as well. Still, when reading Theroux's various travel accounts, one quickly learns to overlook this & other distractions, while remaining on board with him, simply savoring the considerable craft of his writing, as well as the reach of his often exotic destinations.

[Bucket · Rating 5 out of 5]

I spent a wonderful week following Theroux along on his journey, repeatedly tracing my finger along the route on the map in the front of his book. I found the first 1/2 of the book to be the most fascinating, as Theroux describes how his life has changed in the last 30 years and really digs down deep into the life and culture of the places he visits.

I really liked the sections on Turkey, India, and south Asia (Myanmar, Thailand, Vietnam, Singapore). These countries have changed hugely in the past 30 years and Theroux has a knack for meeting the right people to talk to and having sympathetic, culturally-embedded conversations about how the world has changed. Vietnam was especially fascinating and Theroux holds nothing back in his brief history of what the US did there.

I love his focus on meeting people and learning their stories, especially because I know I'm the sort of traveler who would be more focused on the beauty of the landscape, seeing the sites, and enjoying the food, and would never speak to a soul if I didn't have to.

At the end of the book, Theroux describes travel as "an experience of the fourth dimension." Once travel becomes life - with stops and starts, sickness and health - then travel becomes a true journey, with happiness as a reward. Having experienced exactly this when I hiked the Appalachian Trail, I was thrilled to find it in print here. There is traveling and there is experiencing a journey, and Theroux's book gave new meaning to the difference between the two.

Themes: travel, Asia, aging, train rides, changes over time (to places and people), rest of the world views of America, literature, food, Eastern Europe, Russia, introspection

[Jim]

I have nothing but happy memories reading Paul Theroux's many travel books. His The Old Patagonian Express: By Train Through the Americas made me interested in traveling to South America (which I have done four times now). Ghost Train to the Eastern Star is a re-do of the 1973 trip he described in The Great Railway Bazaar, except that the changing politics have opened new doors and closed others.

Theroux has been described as being curmudgeonly and excessively snarky. That does not bother me overmuch -- not nearly as bad as the typical Chamber of Commerce optimism of the typical guidebook. At the same time, Theroux makes a point of visiting authors on his trips. In this book, he meets with Orhan Pamuk in Istanbul, Haruki Murakami in Tokyo, and Pico Iyer in Kyoto and Nara. I'll never forget his The Old Patagonian Express: By Train Through the Americas visit with Jorge Luis Borges in Buenos Aires.

It is hard to believe that I've been reading Theroux's travel books for almost forty years now. When I run out of them, which will be soon, I guess I'll have to start it with his novels. I cannot imagine that I would like his fiction any he less.

[Grady · Rating 2 out of 5]

I checked out this audiobook version of Ghost Train to the Eastern Star from my local library to keep me company on a couple of long drives. Having made it just to Istanbul, I won't be finishing.

I appreciate Theroux's honesty in the opening chapter about the miserable circumstance of his previous trip, 30 years before, of which this is a reprise. But it was hard to swallow what he'd done - set off roaming, temporarily abandoning two small children with his wife at home, against her will. (That he also temporarily abandoned her, and felt betrayed when she took a lover, was silly - but it's hard to know what works for two other adults. It's not so hard to know for small children). True, that was 30 years ago, and on this trip, his second wife both (1) missed him, showing that at least one person finds his company pleasant, and(2) wanted him to go because he needed to (so: if she can support him, you the reader can, too). Yet, the writing is ponderous, frequently gloomy, and makes for unsympathetic company. Theroux seems to revel in the disillusionment of a Romanian professor on his first trip out of his country; he makes a Ukrainian prostitute in Istanbul cry by asking about her children; he keeps thrusting himself into the way in his sketch of Turkish Nobel prize winner Orhan Pamuk.

The final straw for me was his meeting with Turkish political scientist and literary author Elif Shafak. Notwithstanding her sharp intelligence and accomplishments, Theroux relentlessly objectifies her: "She was so beautiful I forgot her books, writing seemed irrelevant; I was bewitched...She was about thirty, with grey-blue eyes and the face of a brilliant child...All over her hands and fingers were thin silver chains, looped and dangling, attached to a mass of silver rings, as though she'd just escaped from a harem." [57] That's the most important thing he can tell us about this controversial and incisive thinker: how she turned Paul Theroux on.

Based on the early chapters, Theroux's itinerary promised visits to some interesting places. Me, I guess I'll catch a later train.

[Jennifer Autry · Rating 1 out of 5]

Ok, so I didn't actually finish reading this book. I couldn't stand the author. It is a story about a train trip from Europe to Asia. A trip he had taken 30 years earlier. However, he informs that reader that he is happier to take this trip than the one 30 years ago. The previous trip he wasn't happy because his wife wasn't supportive. I can't imagine why a wife with young kids wouldn't be supportive of her husband leaving to go who knows where for who knows how long and there is no way to keep in touch. He had to leave though because he had reached a writers block. Selfish. Though I don't love it, I can't blame the wife for pretending he is dead and finding someone else. Anyways, then on the trip he thinks that the slums and porn stores are the best way to see what a country or place is about. It may be a different perspective, but I have no interest in reading about what a porn store has and of people selling children or anything like that. I would like to know the beauty of life and not the ugly nasty under belly side of things by a selfish man. Since I have also been reading another book about someone who lives his life to serve others and sees so much beauty in people and things, this book was particularly horrible. I'd rather read about someone who helps others and cares for people than a selfish narcissist.

[Kiwiflora · Rating 5 out of 5]

Twenty five years ago while living in a Pacific tropical paradise, I would visit the two very small English language book/stationery shops at least weekly to feed my reading appetite. Being very small shops there was a very limited range of books, so I had to expand my horizons somewhat and found myself reading books I would never have normally read, like Paul Theoroux's 'The Great Railway Bazaar'. Even though I was quite young still at the time, and it had been written by a sad, grumpy man some 12 years older than me who was going through some very major domestic strife, it left a lasting impression on me. His intense curiosity, his sense of adventure, his cantankerousness, the freedom of a life on a train was such a fantastic combination to read about. He was a grumpy bugger though, opinionated, little patience for many of the different societies and peoples he met, and I don't think he had a great deal of fun!

So thirty three years after that journey in 1975, Paul Theroux, now in a much better head space decides to retrace his steps on that epic train journey. His first journey took him through Italy, Yugoslavia, Bulgaria, Turkey, Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan, India, Ceylon, Burma, Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, Laos, Japan and across the vast expanse of the USSR. Already you will see that that particular journey would be quite a different undertaking now! Yugoslavia is now a number of different countries; the communist states have been over run by capitalism, Iran, Afghanistan and Pakistan are off limits to anyone of a Western hue. So the journey takes the author slightly north of these troubled countries through some of the now independent states of the former USSR - all the -stans; India is neck and neck with China as the world's fastest growing economy; the war is over in Cambodia and Vietnam; and is Russia any further ahead than it was some 40 years ago? To top it all off, the journey takes place some 16 months after the devastating Boxing Day tsunami. So a lot to write about!

The author is still cantankerous, obviously does not tolerate fools easily, and as the review in the Los Angeles Times said, "One of the problems Theroux presents to the careful reader is the fact that he's a compelling writer who is essentially unlikable. In part, that's a consequence of his blimpish judgments on everyone upon whom his disapproval settles...". But I think he is a much happier man now, his domestic life would appear to be pretty good, he certainly is not as angry, age would appear to have mellowed him as it does to us all!

His journey by train is, in a word, fantastic. I loved it, loved reading about where he went, what he saw, what he ate, the people he met, the changes he observed from 30 years ago, in particular the impact of technology and Westernisation. But the book is also about his own personal journey, comparing the man he was 30 years ago with the man he is now, and that is also fascinating to read about. He is now somewhat reflective and, shock, horror, traces of humility creeping through!

This is a long book with a lot of reading, but well worth it, and if at all possible, try to read the first book at the same time.

[Arthur · Rating 2 out of 5]

A 25 hour unabridged audiobook.

A traveling author retraces his journal across Europe and Asia (mostly by rail) thirty years after he had initially done the same. I have not read the original account but there are moments where the author keeps the reader in the loop, so to speak, by comparing a phase in this current journey with the same phase in the last one.

The book loses what could be a feeling of timelessness by focusing a bit often on current events (Yes, I know President Bush was very unpopular amongst the citizens of particular countries along the route in 2006, when the journey took place, one or two reminders would suffice, but there must have been over a half dozen.

The most interesting aspects of this book are the dialogues between the author and others he meets along the way. He is more of a traveler than a tourist. Even the touristy sites he visits he spends more time recalling the conversations he had there.

The best parts for me was finding out about the Indian call centers, and the authors descriptions of a particular lady on a train ride that did not leave a good impression on him.

The saddest parts were the red light districts in Singapore and the evident child sexual availability in Thailand and Cambodia.

The most annoying parts unobjective political slant of author regarding 1960s and 1970s American foreign policy in Cambodia and Vietnam. I get that politically the author is left of center, so blaming America 100% and giving no fault at all to the governments of these other countries is annoying, but not unexpected. What made my eyes roll is when he visited a Vietnamese museum exhibit and parroted the claim that 40k US airplanes were shot down during the Vietnam War, and then stated that figure "might" be an exaggeration. It's not a might. It's literally off by tens of thousands (even if you include all aircraft and not just airplanes). He is essentially asserting that this absurd piece of modern day Vietnamese propaganda just "might" be inaccurate. Come on Mr. Theroux, care for your credibility, the comment didn't read as "tongue in cheek" at all. Then again this is the same guy who, a few pages later, entered and left China in a very short time frame, one of his chief complaints is that it was too capitalistic.

Another great part of the book was the Russian leg where the author toured a former gulag. But once again he finds a way to suggest that life under Stalinism was somewhat akin to life under McCarthyism, is corrected by the Russian he is speaking to, and begrudgingly admits he was wrong (I say begrudgingly because he immediately goes on to list a number of ways he felt it had been similar, even after admitting his analogy had gone too far).

Overall, the book was not interesting enough for taking up 25 hours of my time.

[Florence Buchholz · Rating 5 out of 5]

With this book Paul Theroux made me remember the excitement and hardships of traveling. He travels alone. He goes to places that tourists shun. He usually sticks to budget conscious, gritty abodes and travels by overnight train whenever possible, sharing accommodations with strangers. Prodded by a relentless curiosity he talks to everyone he encounters including prostitutes and street people. He seems to feel at home in dive bars. I love Paul's mode of travel. I feel like I made this eastward trip with him, starting in London and covering Europe, Asia, Siberia, and all intermediate destinations. He is a bit grumpy about lifeless cities, soulless bureaucracies, and bossy women. He offers up personal reflections of every place he visits and he recounts intimate memories of an earlier trip. None of it ever grows tiresome to me.

[Kirsten · Rating 4 out of 5]

I read the Great Railway Bazaar, so when this book came out - I had to read it. What I love about Paul Theroux is reading his travel books is like going on a virtual vacation. You'd love to go on the same trip - if you only had the courage.

[E.T. · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5/5 This is is the sequel to the author's classic 'The Great Railway Bazaar' written in 1973. The author retraces the same journey from UK to Japan/Russia and back on trains. This is my first Theroux book and i chose to read this one set in 2006.
The author sets the tone of the book in the first chapter - a joy of idleness, unhurried conversations with wit and empathy. And so we chat with fellow passengers, other authors, taxi-drivers, students but without overdoing it since we have to travel to 20 countries. And i could feel I was looking out the train window, seated beside him !
Personally, I m extremely reluctant (or lazy :P) to travel and didnt think travel-writing would interest me, but got hooked to Naipaul last yr. Am so happy to discover Theroux and plan to read all by him.
Shortcomings - For brief moments, it became dry ; Also, with so many places to cover, felt lack of depth in some, despite the book being a fat 500 pages.

[Lisa]

I gave this a good try, but it sat on the coffee table for weeks and weeks and I kept finding excuses not to go on with it (sudoku, brushing the dog, reading the TV guide when I don't watch TV). Finally I gave up and took it to the op shop.
Patronising, hyper-critical, unempathetic...

I don't rate books I don't finish.

[Louis · Rating 4 out of 5]

An outstanding example of when travel writing works. Theroux's many years of experience have furnished him with a good sense of what to include and, more importantly, what to leave out. The country to country rhythm is generally steady and satisfying, avoiding Theroux's notorious grumpiness, and his musings, descriptions and conversations are generally entertaining and informative.

[João Roque · Rating 5 out of 5]

A literatura de viagens fascina-me e lamentavelmente tenho lido poucos livros deste género.
"Comboio-Fantasma para o Oriente" é o primeiro livro que leio de Paul Theroux, mas obrigatoriamente terei que ler outros com especial destaque para "O Grande Bazar Ferroviário" que o autor escreveu depois de uma viagem efectuada em 1973 com um percurso quase idêntico ao que agora relata, de Londres ao Japão, passando por países do leste europeu, Turquia, antiga União Soviética (contornando o Irão e Afeganistão), India e Sri Lanka, Sudoeste Asiático, incluindo o Cambodja que não tinha podido visitar em 73, Japão e finalmente a Rússia asiática (Sibéria).
O que eu aprendi ao ler este livro...admirável a quantidade de conhecimentos que o autor nos comunica quer através da descrição de acontecimentos, de situações, de encontros, tanto com simples cidadãos como com escritores célebres.
É um livro que aconselho com um imenso entusiasmo.

[Bunny Fuller · Rating 5 out of 5]

Loved this book. He traveled through so many countries. I liked how he talked to ordinary people and their comments and viewpoints were so interesting.

[Tara · Rating 3 out of 5]

Ghost Train to the Eastern Star follows Paul Theroux as he retraces his journey taken 30 years prior, which was chronicled in his fantastic travelogue, The Great Railway Bazaar. Perhaps more so than his earlier book, and certainly as a function of getting older (a process during which we all tend to focus on the trajectory of our own lives), this book is deeply self-reflective, and in some ways, wistful. We learn that Paul was going through a rather difficult time at home during the Bazaar journey (circumstances which were not revealed in the book at the time), which likely led to a degree of escapism away from thoughts of his family, and on the road that he was traveling. This time around, he leaves much more stable circumstances, and is therefore able to concentrate on where he is going. But somehow, it feels less immediate, more tragic, less hopeful. The world is full of poverty, deprivations, degradations, and totalitarian governments. And yet people manage to find hope and happiness amongst these hardships, something from which the youth of the first world could learn a valuable lesson. I think the author sums up best the essence of this book--its less about how the world around him has changed---modern technology and conveniences, shifting political landscapes--and more about how he has changed. And given that reality is all about perspective, this is very true indeed.

[Michael · Rating 3 out of 5]

Paul Theroux gives a book talk at National Book Fair.

One thing I learned from this was that I have been mispronouncing his name - the second syllable rhymes with "blue" not "blow."

I am about 200 pages into this at the moment and it is mostly good. The original Railway Bazaar focused on the travels in Asia, which I reminded myself when he blazed through Europe and deals with the southeast European countries little attention (and at that, mostly very negative). Once he reaches Turkey and Georgia he spends more time describing each place and the book becomes more enjoyable.

In this book Theroux seems in a far better humor than when he traveled to write Dark Star Safari, so it is (so far) not correct to characterize this as the travels of a grumpy aging writer - at the time, Theroux seemed upset about his approaching sixtieth birthday. Although not grumpy, Theroux still seems concerned with aging and the subject of his appearance (at sixty-five) compared to various people he meets comes up constantly. He also mentions his age (comparing himself to Dick Cheney, of all people) in his Book Fair talk. I don't know why, but I have always assumed people age better if they don't think about it too much - that would not seem to be his view. In this book, it's the most annoying writer's tic he presents.

I would note that in his National Book Fair talk, Theroux also seemed in a fairly good mood. Somehow I expected him to be more intolerant of less than good questions from the attendees after he spoke, but he was quite a good sport. Even though he had been introduced with the correct pronunciation of his name, he didn't visibly wince when a questioner addressed him the wrong way. He also didn't seem upset that someone asked him about one of his novels after admitting that he had not read the book but just seen the movie! (In fact, his answer was good - that the book is like a cow and the movie a bullion cube.)

In Turkmenistan, he reports someone asking him how he can write about their country based on such a short visit. He answers by asking the fellow what it is that he _should_ know about Turkmenistan. (Good answer.) I don't myself have any problems with that aspect of Theroux's writing - if I wanted a comprehensive history of Turkmenistan I wouldn't be reading this book.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Having finished reading this, my main reaction is disappointment. Mr. Theroux can obviously write circles around most people, but this book is uneven and that takes some (perhaps much) of the pleasure out of it.

While mostly focused on his observations and occasional interactions with locals as a solitary long distance traveler, he also describes long discussions he had with three writers he went out of his way to meet with. These conversations break up the flow of the book and don't add anything to it. He relays his conversations (twice, not just once) with Pico Iyer, also a travel writer - do famous travel writers often get together and "rubbish" (to use a Theroux word) other travel writers? I was fine not knowing that.

In Myanmar he visits a hotel that is run by the same family that ran it when he had visited thirty-three years earlier. This is the high point of the book - from that point forward, it felt much less inspired. His observations in Vietnam, for example, are striking mostly for their lack of originality.

Theroux returns to Europe through Siberia on the TransSiberian - however he doesn't get off the train (other than stops in stations) to do any looking around until he gets to Perm, in Europe, where he visits a former gulag prison camp. One does not get the impression he likes Russia or Russians much, but it hardly matters since he spends only thirty pages (our of almost 500) on them.

Mr. Theroux goes to a fair amount of trouble to make it clear that when he wrote the first Railway Bazaar book, he was unhappy - but now he's happy. This doesn't guarantee a similar parallel for readers of the two books, however.

One last comment - On page 453, Mr. Theroux praises you, his reader. I don't recall seeing something like this before, but maybe I don't read the right books. He describes what he calls "serious and omnivorous readers" and then says, "If you have gotten this far in this book, you are just such a singular person." I almost stopped reading at that very moment.

[Erin Van Rheenen · Rating 3 out of 5]

Funny how the best travel writers are usually cranks, curmudgeons, or kvetchers. Paul Theroux is surely one of the great curmudgeons, entertaining us with his snippy asides and astringent prose, educating us with his insight into world culture.

Thankfully for readers like me, Theroux has been writing for decades, novels and essays as well as travel books. Because I loved his earlier train-travel books, I was looking forward to Ghost Train to the Eastern Star: On the Tracks of The Great Railway Bazaar. The book retraces the journey he first recounted in his first book, The Great Railway Bazaar, which chronicles a 1973 journey by train across Asia.

This time around, he's in his late sixties--more thoughtful and reflective. He’s a little less apt to skewer an entire country with one well-turned and bracingly offensive phrase (Salvadorans, he claimed in the Old Patagonia Express, suffer from “little-country loyalty and violent nationalism”), and it seems on this trip he's more cognizant that what he brings along in terms of psychic baggage is at least important as what he sees out the train window. He has learned that we see the world not as it is, but as we are.

That said, I liked The Great Railway Bazaar better than Ghost Train, which makes me wonder if the more you know, the harder it is to write a book that holds together, at least with the kind of youthful arrogance and single-mindedness that allows one to keep it up, so to speak.

And maybe only the young can get away with grand (and revealing) generalizations such as are expressed in this passage from The Great Railway Bazaar:

"The trains in any country contain the essential paraphernalia of the culture: Thai trains have the shower jar with the glazed dragon on its side, Ceylonese ones the car reserved for Buddhist monks, Indian ones a vegetarian kitchen and six classes, Iranian ones prayer mats, Malaysian ones a noodle stall, Vietnamese ones bulletproof glass on the locomotive. And on every carriage of a Russian train there is a samovar. The railway bazaar, with its gadgets and passengers, represented the society so completely that to board it was to be challenged by the national character. At times it was like a leisurely seminar, but I also felt on some occasions that it was like being jailed and then assaulted by the monstrously typical."

Even more than The Great Railway Bazaar, I loved The Old Patagonian Express: By Train Through the Americas, maybe because I know the Americas better than Asia and had visited (and lived in) many of the countries he travels through. In this book, he starts in Massachusetts and ends at the tip of the South American continent, traveling by train all the way. Each of the 22 chapters is named for a train line, from Boston's Lake Shore Limited, through the 7:30 to Guatemala City and the Passenger train to Machu Pichhu, all the way to Tierra del Fuego’s Old Patagonia Express.

Besides the telling detail and the history lessons, I liked when he ruminated on solo travel:

“Travel at its best is a solitary experience: to see, to examine, to assess, you have to be alone and unencumbered. Other people can mislead you; they crowd your meandering impressions with their own; if they are companionable they obstruct your view, and if they are boring they corrupt the silence with non sequiturs, shattering your concentration with 'Oh look, it’s raining.' And 'You see a lot of trees here.' Traveling on your own can be terribly lonely (and it is not understood by Japanese who, coming across you smiling wistfully at an acre of Mexican buttercups, tend to say things like 'Where is the rest of your team?').”

Speaking of seeing, I saw the author read in San Francisco. He's not a natural-born speaker (he's a writer!), but his digressive, recursive, near-stuttering style had its own charm. Of course he's even better on the page. Bottom line: his books elevate the whole travel writing genre.