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A Sense of the World: How a Blind Man Became History's Greatest Traveler
He was known simply as the Blind Traveler. A solitary, sightless adventurer, James Holman (1786-1857) fought the slave trade in Africa, survived a frozen captivity in Siberia, hunted rogue elephants in Ceylon, helped chart the Australian outback—and, astonishingly, circumnavigated the globe, becoming one of the greatest wonders of the world he so sagaciously explored. A Sense of the World is a spellbinding and moving rediscovery of one of history's most epic lives—a story to awaken our own senses of awe and wonder.
432 pages, Paperback
First published May 30, 2006
168 people are currently reading
2618 people want to read
About the author
Jason Roberts
37 books67 followersJason Roberts is a writer of nonfiction and fiction. His most recent book is Every Living Thing: The Great and Deadly Race to Know All Life. His previous book, A Sense of the World: How a Blind Man Became History’s Greatest Traveler, was a national bestseller and finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award. A contributor to McSweeney’s, The Believer, and other publications, he lives in Northern California.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 272 reviews
January 18, 2026
This biography starts with Holman's naval career but I was most interested in the story after Holman goes blind.
He lived to be 70 and explored nearly every continent, before train travel existed. I was fascinated by his adventures.
He lived to be 70 and explored nearly every continent, before train travel existed. I was fascinated by his adventures.
December 16, 2007
this book seems to give a good picture about the following things i have never experienced:
1. being blind
2. living in the 19th century
3. being in the british navy
4. the nature of world travel before there was a world tourism industy
5. the nature of the medical profession in england in the 19th century
1. being blind
2. living in the 19th century
3. being in the british navy
4. the nature of world travel before there was a world tourism industy
5. the nature of the medical profession in england in the 19th century
August 19, 2019
"On the summit of the precipice, and in the heart of the green woods... there was an intelligence in the winds of the hills, and in the solemn stillness of the buried foliage, that could not be mistaken. It entered into my heart, and I could have wept, not that I did not see, but that I could not portray all that I felt." — James Holman, The Blind Traveler
James Holman wasn't born blind, but he was born with a restlessness and and a desire for adventure. The fourth son of a "Chymist & Druggist," or "Surgeon and Apothecary, of genteel Practice," who wanted his sons to be "gentlemen," was serving as a third lieutenant aboard a Royal Navy ship off the coast of North America. His shift was often during the night time hours, when the brutally frigid winds blew off the water, chilling the bones. After several years of service, Holman developed a painful rheumatism in his leg joints (by 1807) - not an uncommon affliction for sailors in such cold extremes - which later led to his blindness (in 1811).
By 1813 Holman was attending the University of Edinburgh in Scotland, first as a student of literature then of medicine. In 1819 he embarked on his first trip - to the south of France and Italy, for his health. With his walking stick - a cane with a metal tip - he had learned to tap and navigate himself by the echoing it made. In Italy he became friends with a "Mr. C—" (later expanded to "Mr. C-l-b-k" and assumed to be "Colebrook") with whom he traveled to Germany and across the Netherlands. The unusual thing about Colebrook was that he was deaf!
Roberts paints a picture of Holman's times. Not only do we get to know the indomitable Holman, but we learn what it was like to lose your sight. We understand better what it was like to travel during that time, but how Holman navigated himself. Traveling was bad enough, but as a blind man it would have been even more challenging. Holman, however, met it head on and with enthusiasm - and he did it as a relatively poor man! In spite of that, he didn't mooch off friends or acquaintances, always keeping his stays short and keeping on the move. He secured a small pension from the Navy and wrote about his travels using a device called a "noctograph." And between his notes and his prodigious memory, he published about his travels, and frequently his doings caused me to laugh out loud.
Holman planned to circle the globe by going across Russia and Siberia to the east coast of Asia - a plan that ended in disappointment when the Tsar had Holman retrieved and thrown out of the country (Russia didn't want the world knowing their activities on the west coast of North America). But Holman succeeded in circumnavigating the globe, and not in the easiest way possible. And when he returned (in 1846) it is estimated that "his travels totaled no less than a quarter of a million miles... He could claim a thorough acquaintance with every inhabited continent, and direct contact with at least two hundred distinctly separate cultures... Alone, sightless, with no prior command of native languages and with only a wisp of funds, he had forged a path equivalent to wandering to the moon." (And he kept going after that!)
For myself, I needed an adventurous and inspirational read. I've been going through some personal challenges for the last few months and many of the books I picked up fell flat. This one, however, was uplifting and turned out to be a great distraction. But it's a well-written and uplifting account of a forgotten man who accomplished tremendous things in spite of an affliction that sidelined most in similar circumstance. An excellent biography!
James Holman wasn't born blind, but he was born with a restlessness and and a desire for adventure. The fourth son of a "Chymist & Druggist," or "Surgeon and Apothecary, of genteel Practice," who wanted his sons to be "gentlemen," was serving as a third lieutenant aboard a Royal Navy ship off the coast of North America. His shift was often during the night time hours, when the brutally frigid winds blew off the water, chilling the bones. After several years of service, Holman developed a painful rheumatism in his leg joints (by 1807) - not an uncommon affliction for sailors in such cold extremes - which later led to his blindness (in 1811).
By 1813 Holman was attending the University of Edinburgh in Scotland, first as a student of literature then of medicine. In 1819 he embarked on his first trip - to the south of France and Italy, for his health. With his walking stick - a cane with a metal tip - he had learned to tap and navigate himself by the echoing it made. In Italy he became friends with a "Mr. C—" (later expanded to "Mr. C-l-b-k" and assumed to be "Colebrook") with whom he traveled to Germany and across the Netherlands. The unusual thing about Colebrook was that he was deaf!
Roberts paints a picture of Holman's times. Not only do we get to know the indomitable Holman, but we learn what it was like to lose your sight. We understand better what it was like to travel during that time, but how Holman navigated himself. Traveling was bad enough, but as a blind man it would have been even more challenging. Holman, however, met it head on and with enthusiasm - and he did it as a relatively poor man! In spite of that, he didn't mooch off friends or acquaintances, always keeping his stays short and keeping on the move. He secured a small pension from the Navy and wrote about his travels using a device called a "noctograph." And between his notes and his prodigious memory, he published about his travels, and frequently his doings caused me to laugh out loud.
Holman planned to circle the globe by going across Russia and Siberia to the east coast of Asia - a plan that ended in disappointment when the Tsar had Holman retrieved and thrown out of the country (Russia didn't want the world knowing their activities on the west coast of North America). But Holman succeeded in circumnavigating the globe, and not in the easiest way possible. And when he returned (in 1846) it is estimated that "his travels totaled no less than a quarter of a million miles... He could claim a thorough acquaintance with every inhabited continent, and direct contact with at least two hundred distinctly separate cultures... Alone, sightless, with no prior command of native languages and with only a wisp of funds, he had forged a path equivalent to wandering to the moon." (And he kept going after that!)
For myself, I needed an adventurous and inspirational read. I've been going through some personal challenges for the last few months and many of the books I picked up fell flat. This one, however, was uplifting and turned out to be a great distraction. But it's a well-written and uplifting account of a forgotten man who accomplished tremendous things in spite of an affliction that sidelined most in similar circumstance. An excellent biography!
December 9, 2008
I have read an amazing book about a blind traveler in the XIXth Century. Jason Roberts has done a priceless job in bringing this role-setting man to life again. The book is truly breathtaking. Holman’s adventures sound like very far-fetched fiction. It’s insane how he could travel the world alone at those times. To top it all, it turns out his only pal was deaf. Here are some of the many increadible things he managed to achieve alone with very limited funds and no sight at all:
explore the Brazilian jungle
travel through Siberia
go elephant hunting on horseback in the jungles of Sri Lanka and actually shoot a gun in action
travel on horseback across uncivilized parts of South Africa
climb the mast of a sailing ship
negotiate for the English with nomad tribes without understanding a word of their languge
climb the Vesuv before eruption
It’s so unbelievable your jaw drops!
Remember the name of James Holman. It has been forgotten long enough.
http://mukikamu.wordpress.com
explore the Brazilian jungle
travel through Siberia
go elephant hunting on horseback in the jungles of Sri Lanka and actually shoot a gun in action
travel on horseback across uncivilized parts of South Africa
climb the mast of a sailing ship
negotiate for the English with nomad tribes without understanding a word of their languge
climb the Vesuv before eruption
It’s so unbelievable your jaw drops!
Remember the name of James Holman. It has been forgotten long enough.
http://mukikamu.wordpress.com
December 20, 2007
An amazing biography on a little-known historical figure, John Holman. I think this blurb describes it best:
"He was known simply as the Blind Traveler, a solitary, sightless adventurer who fought the slave trade in Africa, survived a frozen captivity in Siberia, hunted rogue elephants in Ceylon and helped chart the Australian outback. Once a celebrity, a bestselling author and inspiration to Charles Darwin and Sir Richard Francis Burton, the charismatic, witty Holman outlived his fame, dying in an obscurity that has endured--until now."
Jason Roberts does a fantastic job of capturing the spirit of a man who loved to travel under the radar but who would not be ignored. Indeed, this is a rare biographical work that engages the reader thoroughly and makes one hopeful for more such books.
Author website: http://www.jasonroberts.net/holman.html
"He was known simply as the Blind Traveler, a solitary, sightless adventurer who fought the slave trade in Africa, survived a frozen captivity in Siberia, hunted rogue elephants in Ceylon and helped chart the Australian outback. Once a celebrity, a bestselling author and inspiration to Charles Darwin and Sir Richard Francis Burton, the charismatic, witty Holman outlived his fame, dying in an obscurity that has endured--until now."
Jason Roberts does a fantastic job of capturing the spirit of a man who loved to travel under the radar but who would not be ignored. Indeed, this is a rare biographical work that engages the reader thoroughly and makes one hopeful for more such books.
Author website: http://www.jasonroberts.net/holman.html
September 25, 2020
Somehow this book, purchased in 2011 but never read, "spoke" to me in a stack going out for adoption or disposal, and I rescued it and read it over the past month. Such an outstanding history, painstakingly researched; we are fortunate that Jason Roberts did the work to bring this story to our attention. Not only do we learn of such an unusual peripatetic person, along with the places he went and the things he "saw," but also a perceptive description of blindness and the ways people deal with this.
Roberts' description of the blind and visually impaired and how they manage to function is both breathtaking and fulfilling. The interpretation of sounds becomes a virtual sixth sense for those who have the ability: "normal" echoes as well as clicking of a cane, and even "ticking" of the tongue can provide an amazingly accurate picture. The word "eidetic" is used to denote mental images that are so vivid as to render a scene as virtually visible.
For those who enjoy being challenged with rich vocabularies, this book is a treasure. Polish up your word skills with haptic (sensing an environment without visual sight), fust (the musty smell of an interior ... stated as Stygian fust it sends many of us to the dictionary), filip (that word is not uncommon, but required refreshing to confirm it means a trivial addition), eidetic (described above), pestiferous (self descriptive, with numerous pests), and dolorous (referring to extreme misery or grief).
James Holman, the "Blind Traveler" subject of the book, lived in the Nineteenth Century in England. Following a promising naval career, he lost his sight and by his mid-twenties was blind. But he never accepted this as a limitation and traveled the world, with multiple routes through many countries. His membership in several exclusive British "Societies" at the height of the British Empire is a vivid look into that empire at the acme of its power. In addition, Queen Victoria is described in a delightful manner.
Holman travels much of the time with one of two separate companions, men he meets as fellow explorers, but at other times he hires guides. All this is done with a very modest income from his navel service disability pension. The descriptions are vivid, but become a blur as Holman makes it through eastern Europe, much of Africa and the Mid-East, SW Asia and India, and Australia and the Indian Ocean. The reader nearly gasps with he travels along through fourteen European cities in one month, all on foot!
The author paints a vivid and enchanting picture, all derived painstakingly from those records that do exist, of a person who was famous in his day, but who has nearly disappeared from history. It's a terrific book, travel guide, and encouraging story of how people overcome visual impairment in an impressive way.
Roberts' description of the blind and visually impaired and how they manage to function is both breathtaking and fulfilling. The interpretation of sounds becomes a virtual sixth sense for those who have the ability: "normal" echoes as well as clicking of a cane, and even "ticking" of the tongue can provide an amazingly accurate picture. The word "eidetic" is used to denote mental images that are so vivid as to render a scene as virtually visible.
For those who enjoy being challenged with rich vocabularies, this book is a treasure. Polish up your word skills with haptic (sensing an environment without visual sight), fust (the musty smell of an interior ... stated as Stygian fust it sends many of us to the dictionary), filip (that word is not uncommon, but required refreshing to confirm it means a trivial addition), eidetic (described above), pestiferous (self descriptive, with numerous pests), and dolorous (referring to extreme misery or grief).
James Holman, the "Blind Traveler" subject of the book, lived in the Nineteenth Century in England. Following a promising naval career, he lost his sight and by his mid-twenties was blind. But he never accepted this as a limitation and traveled the world, with multiple routes through many countries. His membership in several exclusive British "Societies" at the height of the British Empire is a vivid look into that empire at the acme of its power. In addition, Queen Victoria is described in a delightful manner.
Holman travels much of the time with one of two separate companions, men he meets as fellow explorers, but at other times he hires guides. All this is done with a very modest income from his navel service disability pension. The descriptions are vivid, but become a blur as Holman makes it through eastern Europe, much of Africa and the Mid-East, SW Asia and India, and Australia and the Indian Ocean. The reader nearly gasps with he travels along through fourteen European cities in one month, all on foot!
The author paints a vivid and enchanting picture, all derived painstakingly from those records that do exist, of a person who was famous in his day, but who has nearly disappeared from history. It's a terrific book, travel guide, and encouraging story of how people overcome visual impairment in an impressive way.
September 9, 2015
I struggled through 75-100 pages before I figured out what was troubling me about this book.
It's the kind of book I fear I might write, given my penchant for pursuing scraps of tantalizing historical information, and falling down the rabbit hole in pursuit of the next detail, the next little piece of the picture.
John Holman should be a fascinating subject for a book. Born in 18th-century England, blinded at the age of 25, he rose above society's low expectations and considerable obstacles to become a well-educated traveler and writer. He circumnavigated the globe, had many adventures and published detailed accounts of his travels. He was famous in his day as "the Blind Traveler," but slipped into obscurity after his death in 1857.
I can't fault the author's choice of subject, nor his research, nor his writing skills per se (he's an accomplished journalist and graceful storyteller). His digressions as he explores various aspects of Holman's world can be fascinating in limited quantities: whether it's a discourse on the apothecary's trade, an exploration of the rather horrifying medical practices of the day, or examining the quirks of institutions from knights' orders to the university system, Roberts has unearthed many fascinating tidbits and gems.
The problem is it just doesn't flow. Apart from Holman's four-volume travelogue, primary sources for his life are almost nonexistent today. Roberts tries to fill out his life with various historical investigations; but, being a conscientious journalist, he is careful not to attribute too much to his actual subject. Thus, a long discourse on blindness and its treatments in Georgian England ends with this caveat, "There is no record of the specific treatments endured by Holman." Similarly, Roberts goes into exhaustive detail about the British Navy, setting it in historical and social context, apparently to explain that Holman's brief and unremarkable career MAY have influenced his admission to the Naval Knights of Windsor, against steep odds--but it's a slim thread to cling to, a lot of exposition for a somewhat minor point.
And on it goes. There are fascinating passages, but getting through the whole was a slog. I gave up and skimmed the rest of the book, looking for episodes that caught my eye. I found myself frustrated by the author's explanations, in the afterword, of what he left out: "Holman rather daringly took part in some public protests in China. But to fully explain what he was protesting... would have required a lengthy discussion..." He also dispatches in a single paragraph the fact that Holman's will pointedly excluded his brothers, though the cause for the rift is unknown.
The book is clearly a labor of love. I'll probably keep it around for reference; as I say, lots of interesting digressions (though the source citations are quirky and there is no index). But I think it would have been more successful either greatly compressed, as a feature-length magazine article; or if the writer had gone ahead and taken the leap into fiction.
Obviously, a lot of readers disagree with me; the book was nominated for the National Book Critics Circle Award, and I've read plenty of enthusiastic reviews. It just doesn't work for me - to my surprise and disappointment.
It's the kind of book I fear I might write, given my penchant for pursuing scraps of tantalizing historical information, and falling down the rabbit hole in pursuit of the next detail, the next little piece of the picture.
John Holman should be a fascinating subject for a book. Born in 18th-century England, blinded at the age of 25, he rose above society's low expectations and considerable obstacles to become a well-educated traveler and writer. He circumnavigated the globe, had many adventures and published detailed accounts of his travels. He was famous in his day as "the Blind Traveler," but slipped into obscurity after his death in 1857.
I can't fault the author's choice of subject, nor his research, nor his writing skills per se (he's an accomplished journalist and graceful storyteller). His digressions as he explores various aspects of Holman's world can be fascinating in limited quantities: whether it's a discourse on the apothecary's trade, an exploration of the rather horrifying medical practices of the day, or examining the quirks of institutions from knights' orders to the university system, Roberts has unearthed many fascinating tidbits and gems.
The problem is it just doesn't flow. Apart from Holman's four-volume travelogue, primary sources for his life are almost nonexistent today. Roberts tries to fill out his life with various historical investigations; but, being a conscientious journalist, he is careful not to attribute too much to his actual subject. Thus, a long discourse on blindness and its treatments in Georgian England ends with this caveat, "There is no record of the specific treatments endured by Holman." Similarly, Roberts goes into exhaustive detail about the British Navy, setting it in historical and social context, apparently to explain that Holman's brief and unremarkable career MAY have influenced his admission to the Naval Knights of Windsor, against steep odds--but it's a slim thread to cling to, a lot of exposition for a somewhat minor point.
And on it goes. There are fascinating passages, but getting through the whole was a slog. I gave up and skimmed the rest of the book, looking for episodes that caught my eye. I found myself frustrated by the author's explanations, in the afterword, of what he left out: "Holman rather daringly took part in some public protests in China. But to fully explain what he was protesting... would have required a lengthy discussion..." He also dispatches in a single paragraph the fact that Holman's will pointedly excluded his brothers, though the cause for the rift is unknown.
The book is clearly a labor of love. I'll probably keep it around for reference; as I say, lots of interesting digressions (though the source citations are quirky and there is no index). But I think it would have been more successful either greatly compressed, as a feature-length magazine article; or if the writer had gone ahead and taken the leap into fiction.
Obviously, a lot of readers disagree with me; the book was nominated for the National Book Critics Circle Award, and I've read plenty of enthusiastic reviews. It just doesn't work for me - to my surprise and disappointment.
October 22, 2008
This book is a biography and travel account of Englishman: James Holman (1786- 1857. During his life, he became "the most accomplished traveler of all time", covering no less than a quarter of a million miles in his circumnavigation of the world.
It is exceptional that a person ventured of his own initiative (with an impulse towards the exotic)- but perhaps even more epic, because this solo traveler was blind.
The Blind Traveler wrote more than 5 books, regarded himself of equal to any seeing task, and rarely commented on his loss of sight. Only n his final book, and autobiography did he write about the world that blindness had closed up to him, and the one it had opened up.
Fascinating ~ what moves people to action and how perspective and attitude can help change the world.
Author: Jason Roberts
Publisher: Harper Perennial
Copyright: 2006
Genre: Biography/Travel
Pages:355
Date Read- 10/19/08 to 10/22/08
Notes:
p.67
"Contrary to popular conception, the remaining senses of the blinded person do not become more acute. They become more eloquent. A blind hears no better than he did when sighted; the change is wrought in his ability to extract new meanings from familiar sounds. Touch is not increased, but it's role is heightened. It is called upon for more than the blunt confirmation of contact. The shift from raw sensation to refined perception arises from a cultivation of attention."
p.135
"Holeman was ready to continue his own transformation. He'd started this journey as a frail invalid, a bit of human baggage. He'd bloomed into an expatriate, a tourist, then an active, questing, and questioning traveler. Now he was ready to become an adventurer.
It is exceptional that a person ventured of his own initiative (with an impulse towards the exotic)- but perhaps even more epic, because this solo traveler was blind.
The Blind Traveler wrote more than 5 books, regarded himself of equal to any seeing task, and rarely commented on his loss of sight. Only n his final book, and autobiography did he write about the world that blindness had closed up to him, and the one it had opened up.
Fascinating ~ what moves people to action and how perspective and attitude can help change the world.
Author: Jason Roberts
Publisher: Harper Perennial
Copyright: 2006
Genre: Biography/Travel
Pages:355
Date Read- 10/19/08 to 10/22/08
Notes:
p.67
"Contrary to popular conception, the remaining senses of the blinded person do not become more acute. They become more eloquent. A blind hears no better than he did when sighted; the change is wrought in his ability to extract new meanings from familiar sounds. Touch is not increased, but it's role is heightened. It is called upon for more than the blunt confirmation of contact. The shift from raw sensation to refined perception arises from a cultivation of attention."
p.135
"Holeman was ready to continue his own transformation. He'd started this journey as a frail invalid, a bit of human baggage. He'd bloomed into an expatriate, a tourist, then an active, questing, and questioning traveler. Now he was ready to become an adventurer.
September 25, 2007
A chance encounter in a library led the author to discover James Holman (1786–1857). Son of a shopkeeper, James rises to lieutenant in the British Navy right around the War of 1812. He is forced out of the Navy due to medical issues (blindness as well as rheumatic arthritis) and although nearly penniless, finds he is in the best of health when travelling in exotic countries and climes. ... alone.
Holman's charm and cunning nets him excursions to the Americas, Africa and the Orient - hunting slavers or exploring the depths of a continent. He climbs Mt. Vesuvius during its active phase and even travels nearly the width of Mother Russia before being turned back due to the Tsar's politics.
His travel memoirs made him wildly popular at first, then his blindness became a drawback - if a blind man could do all these things, how difficult could they be? Interest in his exploits flagged and James Holman faded into obscurity.
Roberts presents a thrilling tale of success against adversity - keeping Holman human, while celebrating his achievements. Recommended to anyone interested in historical travel.
Holman's charm and cunning nets him excursions to the Americas, Africa and the Orient - hunting slavers or exploring the depths of a continent. He climbs Mt. Vesuvius during its active phase and even travels nearly the width of Mother Russia before being turned back due to the Tsar's politics.
His travel memoirs made him wildly popular at first, then his blindness became a drawback - if a blind man could do all these things, how difficult could they be? Interest in his exploits flagged and James Holman faded into obscurity.
Roberts presents a thrilling tale of success against adversity - keeping Holman human, while celebrating his achievements. Recommended to anyone interested in historical travel.
June 20, 2011
So inspiring! Holman really blew me away! What industry and what a sense of adventure, and a strong sense of self you must posses to confidently travel in this way. I am so upset at the author though! Bah on you for writing such an important and legendary hero in such a transparently boring fashion! A hundred stars for the main character and negative a hundred for the writer. Fie! What an opportunity to explore allusion and description in a novel focusing on someone who must use all there other senses. How could you stuff this up? I have to give it a good rating though because this mans life must be known, its an impossibly beautiful tale despite the authors botching of it.
September 20, 2025
Jason Roberts is an American journalist and nonfiction writer. His 2006 book A Sense of the World is a well-researched biography of the fascinating "Blind Traveler" James Holman (1786-1857). Holman became permanently blind and developed other debilitating, chronic health conditions at age 25 after a physically demanding, decade-plus career in the British Royal Navy (yes, he enlisted at age 12, not uncommon at the time -- and the timing of his disability made him just miss out on the War of 1812). While these disabilities would have been a dire circumstance for many British men and women, and despite Holman coming from a family of modest means, Holman went onto a successful, highly unusual life traveling much of the world on a shoestring budget, being preceded by his reputation and earning income through publishing books on his adventures. Holman's travels included a trips to most European regions, Russia, Africa, Asia, and Australia, making him extraordinarily well-traveled for a person of the early 19th century. He was able to write about his travels either by dictating to others, or writing himself on a noctograph (essentially, a clipboard with carbon paper).
Prior to his global travels, Holman also attended several years of medical school in Scotland (while blind!), and for many years he held a largely ceremonial position as a Naval Knight of Windsor (a now-defunct ceremonial group composed of permanently disabled Royal Navy veterans who drew modest salaries in exchange for performing ceremonial roles).
This was an extremely interesting read; it definitely puts into context the 2025 phenomenon of social media travel influencers and how comparatively rudimentary, difficult, and remarkable this undertaking was 200 years ago (even for sighted people). Roberts does an excellent job in sourcing and recounting Holman's story and explaining the broader context of life in the early 19th century. Holman himself did complete a manuscript of an autobiography just weeks before his death at the age of 70 in 1857; unfortunately, that work was apparently never published and was lost to time.
My statistics:
Book 287 for 2025
Book 2213 cumulatively
Prior to his global travels, Holman also attended several years of medical school in Scotland (while blind!), and for many years he held a largely ceremonial position as a Naval Knight of Windsor (a now-defunct ceremonial group composed of permanently disabled Royal Navy veterans who drew modest salaries in exchange for performing ceremonial roles).
This was an extremely interesting read; it definitely puts into context the 2025 phenomenon of social media travel influencers and how comparatively rudimentary, difficult, and remarkable this undertaking was 200 years ago (even for sighted people). Roberts does an excellent job in sourcing and recounting Holman's story and explaining the broader context of life in the early 19th century. Holman himself did complete a manuscript of an autobiography just weeks before his death at the age of 70 in 1857; unfortunately, that work was apparently never published and was lost to time.
My statistics:
Book 287 for 2025
Book 2213 cumulatively
February 21, 2023
A Sense of the World is a biography of James Holman (15 October 1786 – 29 July 1857) a lieutenant in the British Royal Navy who was rendered blind at the age of 25 by an illness. He subsequently set out to journey around globe, earning him the moniker … The Blind Traveler. It is thought that he traveled further than anyone before his time, an estimated 400,000 km (250,000 miles) by foot, horseback, ship and carriage. Although celebrated during his lifetime, he fell into obscurity after his death.
Jason Roberts revives Holman’s legacy in this lively and interesting biography. Although Holman was not an important historical figure in any way, he was a fascinating individual who lived a remarkable life. Although the book is quite long, I found it interesting throughout.
Jason Roberts revives Holman’s legacy in this lively and interesting biography. Although Holman was not an important historical figure in any way, he was a fascinating individual who lived a remarkable life. Although the book is quite long, I found it interesting throughout.
January 28, 2014
A fascinating, very well-written book about someone you've probably never heard of - James Holman, the "Blind Traveler," who lived from 1786 to 1857.
In this age of Google (Glass, Earth, Maps) it's very hard to remember that there was a time when travelers could still journey to places that were absolutely unmapped and unexplored. Holman did make these journeys, and he did it as a blind man who had very limited means, only the most basic transportation(he mainly walked), and, usually, no companionship (he preferred it that way.) Losing his sight in his 20s, suffering also from serious rheumatic illness, he rejected the inactive, coddled life expected for someone in his position at that time. Instead, he began his travels, writing about them and becoming a well-known and admired figure.
Sadly, though, he became almost forgotten after his death - until Roberts read a short description of him in a book and became obsessed with wanting to know more.
The book follows Holman's life from his birth, to his Navy career, through his many journeys, and into his old age. Reading about Holman's determination to live his life on his own terms, despite the prejudices at the time against blind people in general and blind travel writers in particular, is inspiring.
(Note: the Kindle edition of this book does not include most of the illustrations, including many portraits of Holman. I strongly suggest getting the paperback version instead.)
In this age of Google (Glass, Earth, Maps) it's very hard to remember that there was a time when travelers could still journey to places that were absolutely unmapped and unexplored. Holman did make these journeys, and he did it as a blind man who had very limited means, only the most basic transportation(he mainly walked), and, usually, no companionship (he preferred it that way.) Losing his sight in his 20s, suffering also from serious rheumatic illness, he rejected the inactive, coddled life expected for someone in his position at that time. Instead, he began his travels, writing about them and becoming a well-known and admired figure.
Sadly, though, he became almost forgotten after his death - until Roberts read a short description of him in a book and became obsessed with wanting to know more.
The book follows Holman's life from his birth, to his Navy career, through his many journeys, and into his old age. Reading about Holman's determination to live his life on his own terms, despite the prejudices at the time against blind people in general and blind travel writers in particular, is inspiring.
(Note: the Kindle edition of this book does not include most of the illustrations, including many portraits of Holman. I strongly suggest getting the paperback version instead.)
February 5, 2018
An interesting man who went from being a naval lieutenant who suffered from joint pain then became blind and traveled the world alone. Fascinating! And this all takes place from 1787-1857. James Holman was an apothecary/shop owner's son who was destined to follow in his father's footsteps when family fortunes changed. He goes to the Navy at 12 and expects to be there for the rest of his life but his health turns bad and he must retire on half-salary. He becomes a Naval Knight of Windsor to retain his half-salary. He absents himself a lot from his duties as he travels the world. What is does and how he learns his way around with short funds and limited language skills is remarkable.
I loved that the history of the time is explained and that what is happening in the countries he explores is also given. That he often is on naval vessels and helps is remarkable. I also enjoyed seeing the societal downsides of his times. He is a remarkable man. I am glad the bookseller recommended it as I was checking out. Excellent read!
I loved that the history of the time is explained and that what is happening in the countries he explores is also given. That he often is on naval vessels and helps is remarkable. I also enjoyed seeing the societal downsides of his times. He is a remarkable man. I am glad the bookseller recommended it as I was checking out. Excellent read!
January 29, 2013
The story of James Holman, a 19th century blind man turned world traveler. Due to a mysterious (and still unsolved) disease, Holman became blind in his early 20s. Instead of resigning himself to begging or to an asylum (which were pretty much the only options for the blind in those days), he learns to navigate his own way in the world and ends up traveling to hundreds and hundreds of destinations and circumnavigating the world (on foot!), usually by himself. His travels were unprecedented for any man at the time, and especially for a blind man. Holman's view on life and being blind were inspiring - he remains curious, courteous, and upbeat despite the trials and discrimination he is subject to. A great read.
November 5, 2009
This is one of the more interesting biographies I've read. It's in a similar vein to The Professor and the Madman in that it explores a period in time as well as an idea as much as it does the life of a single individual. In this one, James Holman, the Blind Traveler, certainly is the central focus of the story, but it is wrapped in the early 19th century world in regards to its ideas about travel and Roberts exploration of blindness. Overall he has written a gripping, fascinating tale.
January 21, 2009
Everyone should learn who James Holman is. This guy was extraordinary and totally forgotten by history. He traveled more extensively throughout the world than anyone else had before him (1820s-1850s) and chose to get off the beaten path (if there even was one at that time) by hanging out in the bush and with natives any chance he got. A totally open-minded and sincere person who documented and experienced cultures we have all-but lost. Oh, did I mention he did this all as a blind man before Braille and almost completely on his own? Anyways, this was a well-written biography and its a shame he was forgotten so soon.
January 10, 2009
James Holman joined the Royal Navy in the mid-1700s to see the world. When he gradually became blind, he decided that travel was the only way to stay healthy and sane.He ended up traveling thousands of miles around the world.
Holman's accomplishments are astonishing not just for their time, but for the fact he often traveled to foreign countries alone, not knowing the language or anyone there. The book also contains the best description I have ever read about how a blind person uses the textures of the world to move about in it.
Holman's accomplishments are astonishing not just for their time, but for the fact he often traveled to foreign countries alone, not knowing the language or anyone there. The book also contains the best description I have ever read about how a blind person uses the textures of the world to move about in it.
April 27, 2009
Wow! What am I so afraid of, that I don't follow my dreams? The whole idea of a blind man, with little monetary means, traveling such distances and with such enthusiasm and awe, is the best example of what people can do when they have the right attitude. (A little determination doesn't hurt, either!) I'm so thankful to Jason Roberts for not letting this story get lost! It's inspiring!
April 15, 2024
“Mysterious as Holman’s ailment was, the one seeming certainty was this: it was fueled by sedentary ways, and prolonged exposure to the familiar. The only known treatment… was travel.”
Incredible biography.
Incredible biography.
June 12, 2013
This was a timely read. I've been thinking a lot lately about eyesight and world travel and this is an interesting book about the life and travels of James Holman - a man born in England in the late 1700s. After several years in the navy and other illnesses he suddenly finds himself blind. Even though this leaves him with little support and opportunities, it doesn't stop him from living his life fully. He finds a way to take care of himself and even to travel the world and write about his adventures. He is still little known, but it's quite remarkable to think about the courage he had to explore and experience the world.
Here are a few quotes that I liked:
"He insisted on walking over places where we could hear the crackling effects of the fire on the lava beneath our feet, and on a level with the brim of the new crater, which was then pouring forth showers of fire and smoke, and lava, and occasionally masses of rock of amazing dimensions, to an enormous height in the air (p. 2)."
"Geographic knowledge was discontinuous and often sketchy, shaped more by the need to navigate trade routes than to gain a comprehensive understanding of the world. Coastlines of trade-rich regions like India or Sumatra were well mapped, but with an accuracy that degraded rapidly away from the principal ports. Outside of Europe and pockets of the New World, interiors were still largely uncharted, with rivers running vaguely through guessed-at regions (p. 13)."
"I felt an irresistible impulse to become acquainted with as many parts of the world as my professional avocations would permit...and I was determined not to rest satisfied until I had completed the circumnavigation of the globe (p. 20)."
"Clear eyesight is a requirement for every Royal Navy lieutenant. Holman had experienced no prior problems with his vision--had never even required spectacles--yet on an otherwise ordinary day he found himself cupping his face in his hands, struggling to maintain his composure. Something was wrong with his eyes (p. 55)."
"In 1811, even the most enlightened medical professional knew no more about the eye than might a curious butcher (p. 61)."
"Uncertainty is itself an affliction. His eyes had failed at the height of summer. By the beginning of spring Holman was desperate, not for a cure so much as a means to rationally comprehend what was happening to him. 'The suspense which I suffered, during the period when my medical friends were uncertain of the issue...appeared to me a greater misery than the final knowledge of the calamity itself (p. 66).'"
"He did not wear a rag around his eyes. Nor did he shirk from the gaze of others....'Others hear, but not as do the blind. He concentrates his very soul while he listens, and can detect the slightest variations, the finest fractional point of tone...they tell minutely all the alteration of welcome, of regard, of coldness, pleasure, pain, joy, reproof, and all that fill the measure of his misery or his mirth.' Holman began to use his ears not only to read people, but to read the landscape (p. 75)."
"Holman was an unusual blind man in another respect. He learned how to write. In the era of featherquill pens, the act of writing required a number of skills (p. 77)."
"The reliance on the verbal, not the visual, made for an educational experience that would hardly be recognizable as such by today's university standards. But it also made the dreams of a blind student not entirely possible. To learn was to listen (p. 102)."
"Blindness, compounded by silence, had made Holman all too easy for everyone to ignore....Henceforth he cultivated the skill of subtly reaffirming his status as a human being, observing every wordless courtesy and taking pains to speak with a geniality that needed no translation. Decades later, fellow travelers encountering him for the first time would be struck by how easily and quickly his voice assumed 'the earnest tone of an ancient friendship.' It was a genuine sociability, but also a measure against slipping into invisibility (p. 115)."
"His journey had reacquainted him with...the invigorating embrace of risk, the engrossing immersion in the unknown (p. 122)."
"When he felt his own powers of description were inadequate to evoke a strongly visual scene, he unabashedly borrowed from published accounts by sighted travelers (p. 149)."
"Go...and wander with the illiterate and almost brutal savage!--go and be the companion of the ferocious beast!--go and contemplate the human being in every element and climate...It is only by patience, perseverance, and humility, by reducing thyself to the lowest level of mankind, that thou canst expect to pass through the ordeal with either safety or satisfaction (p. 181)."
"Notwithstanding his blindness...his readers will not fail to derive gratification from accompanying him (p. 215)."
"A Naval Knight was, by definition, 'aged or infirm,' but a young man mustering the strength to gallivant across a third of the globe seemed to meet neither criteria (p. 226)."
"While other travelers were content to cling to increasingly Europeanized population centers (with occasional day trips to take in local color), Holman had experienced in both Siberia and Fernando Po the exhilaration that came only from venturing off the maps. Hearing a foreign language spoken and eating exotic foods were no longer sufficient distraction from his afflictions. Henceforth his travels would usually comprise a cursory survey of cities, then a beeline for the wilderness (p. 260)."
"By the summer of 1836, after five consecutive leave rejections, he was genuinely suffering from the effects of idleness....'We find him much out of health, being greatly emaciated, and in a state of nervousness, approaching to melancholy. All these complaints we attribute to the sedentary habits and confinement of his College residence...and for which we have no hesitation in recommending him immediate change of air and scene (p. 297)."
"The only chance remaining to the said James Holman of ultimate restoration to health would be afforded by a continual change of scene and of climate, together with the unrestrained exercise of his mental and physical powers prolonged for a period of at least three years (p. 307)."
"By October of 1846...his travels totaled no less than a quarter of a million miles. While other contemporary, professional travelers, such as Cochrane, had racked up impressive mileages, none could even approached the achievements of the Blind Traveler. He could claim a thorough acquaintance with every inhabited continent, and direct contact with at least two hundred distinctly separate cultures....Alone, sightless, with no prior command of native languages and with only a wisp of funds, he had forged a path equivalent to wandering to the moon (p. 320)."
"Some difficulties meet, full many. I find them not, nor seek for any (p. 347)."
"Holman's obscurity has become almost total. But the blind remember the Blind Traveler....'To be sure, many blind persons have been cowed by the myth of helplessness into remaining in their sheltered corners...Holman's story is important for its demonstration that blind people could wear seven-league boots almost two centuries ago--before Braille or the long cane, before residential schools or vocational rehabilitation.' There will never be another James Holman, a sightless person dedicating a lifetime to ranging the entire world 'alone, without counsel, and without attendance,' as he put it (p. 351)."
"To discover the unknown is not a prerogative of Sinbad, of Eric the Red, or of Copernicus. Each and every man is a discovered. He begins by discovering bitterness, saltiness, concavity, smoothness, harshness, the seven colors of the rainbow and the twenty-some letters of the alphabet; he goes on to visages, maps, animals and stars. He ends with doubt, or with faith, and the almost certainty of his own ignorance...I have shared the joy and surprise of finding sounds, languages, twilights, cities, gardens and people, all of them distinctly different and unique (p. 354)."
"Conscious, sensory-rich travel--a process of awareness, not a means of conquering distance--is beginning to make a comeback. In the last century, the race was to provide speed and comfort in ever increasing quantities, to make journeying a sort of blank spot between destinations...Each summer, the Italian countryside now plays host to people exploring it as Holman had...at a companionable walking pace...There will never be another James Holman. But there will always be people who must summon the courage to plunge, wholeheartedly, into a world complex beyond our illusions of comprehension (p. 354)."
"On the summit of the precipice, and in the heart of the green woods...there was an intelligence in the winds of the hills, and in the solemn stillness of the buried foliage, that could not be mistaken. It entered into my heart, and I could have wept, not that I not see, but that I could not portray all that I felt (p. 355)."
"Time, if not space, renders all of us travelers. Cling as we might, we are ultimately compelled to let go of the familiar, to forge affinities with the new, and to sense the approach of the more unfamiliar still. We feel our way. If we are as fortunate as the Blind Traveler, we are given the grace to listen, with equal attention, to the intelligence of winds and the solemnity of silence. To remain, joyfully, awake to the path itself (p. 355)."
Here are a few quotes that I liked:
"He insisted on walking over places where we could hear the crackling effects of the fire on the lava beneath our feet, and on a level with the brim of the new crater, which was then pouring forth showers of fire and smoke, and lava, and occasionally masses of rock of amazing dimensions, to an enormous height in the air (p. 2)."
"Geographic knowledge was discontinuous and often sketchy, shaped more by the need to navigate trade routes than to gain a comprehensive understanding of the world. Coastlines of trade-rich regions like India or Sumatra were well mapped, but with an accuracy that degraded rapidly away from the principal ports. Outside of Europe and pockets of the New World, interiors were still largely uncharted, with rivers running vaguely through guessed-at regions (p. 13)."
"I felt an irresistible impulse to become acquainted with as many parts of the world as my professional avocations would permit...and I was determined not to rest satisfied until I had completed the circumnavigation of the globe (p. 20)."
"Clear eyesight is a requirement for every Royal Navy lieutenant. Holman had experienced no prior problems with his vision--had never even required spectacles--yet on an otherwise ordinary day he found himself cupping his face in his hands, struggling to maintain his composure. Something was wrong with his eyes (p. 55)."
"In 1811, even the most enlightened medical professional knew no more about the eye than might a curious butcher (p. 61)."
"Uncertainty is itself an affliction. His eyes had failed at the height of summer. By the beginning of spring Holman was desperate, not for a cure so much as a means to rationally comprehend what was happening to him. 'The suspense which I suffered, during the period when my medical friends were uncertain of the issue...appeared to me a greater misery than the final knowledge of the calamity itself (p. 66).'"
"He did not wear a rag around his eyes. Nor did he shirk from the gaze of others....'Others hear, but not as do the blind. He concentrates his very soul while he listens, and can detect the slightest variations, the finest fractional point of tone...they tell minutely all the alteration of welcome, of regard, of coldness, pleasure, pain, joy, reproof, and all that fill the measure of his misery or his mirth.' Holman began to use his ears not only to read people, but to read the landscape (p. 75)."
"Holman was an unusual blind man in another respect. He learned how to write. In the era of featherquill pens, the act of writing required a number of skills (p. 77)."
"The reliance on the verbal, not the visual, made for an educational experience that would hardly be recognizable as such by today's university standards. But it also made the dreams of a blind student not entirely possible. To learn was to listen (p. 102)."
"Blindness, compounded by silence, had made Holman all too easy for everyone to ignore....Henceforth he cultivated the skill of subtly reaffirming his status as a human being, observing every wordless courtesy and taking pains to speak with a geniality that needed no translation. Decades later, fellow travelers encountering him for the first time would be struck by how easily and quickly his voice assumed 'the earnest tone of an ancient friendship.' It was a genuine sociability, but also a measure against slipping into invisibility (p. 115)."
"His journey had reacquainted him with...the invigorating embrace of risk, the engrossing immersion in the unknown (p. 122)."
"When he felt his own powers of description were inadequate to evoke a strongly visual scene, he unabashedly borrowed from published accounts by sighted travelers (p. 149)."
"Go...and wander with the illiterate and almost brutal savage!--go and be the companion of the ferocious beast!--go and contemplate the human being in every element and climate...It is only by patience, perseverance, and humility, by reducing thyself to the lowest level of mankind, that thou canst expect to pass through the ordeal with either safety or satisfaction (p. 181)."
"Notwithstanding his blindness...his readers will not fail to derive gratification from accompanying him (p. 215)."
"A Naval Knight was, by definition, 'aged or infirm,' but a young man mustering the strength to gallivant across a third of the globe seemed to meet neither criteria (p. 226)."
"While other travelers were content to cling to increasingly Europeanized population centers (with occasional day trips to take in local color), Holman had experienced in both Siberia and Fernando Po the exhilaration that came only from venturing off the maps. Hearing a foreign language spoken and eating exotic foods were no longer sufficient distraction from his afflictions. Henceforth his travels would usually comprise a cursory survey of cities, then a beeline for the wilderness (p. 260)."
"By the summer of 1836, after five consecutive leave rejections, he was genuinely suffering from the effects of idleness....'We find him much out of health, being greatly emaciated, and in a state of nervousness, approaching to melancholy. All these complaints we attribute to the sedentary habits and confinement of his College residence...and for which we have no hesitation in recommending him immediate change of air and scene (p. 297)."
"The only chance remaining to the said James Holman of ultimate restoration to health would be afforded by a continual change of scene and of climate, together with the unrestrained exercise of his mental and physical powers prolonged for a period of at least three years (p. 307)."
"By October of 1846...his travels totaled no less than a quarter of a million miles. While other contemporary, professional travelers, such as Cochrane, had racked up impressive mileages, none could even approached the achievements of the Blind Traveler. He could claim a thorough acquaintance with every inhabited continent, and direct contact with at least two hundred distinctly separate cultures....Alone, sightless, with no prior command of native languages and with only a wisp of funds, he had forged a path equivalent to wandering to the moon (p. 320)."
"Some difficulties meet, full many. I find them not, nor seek for any (p. 347)."
"Holman's obscurity has become almost total. But the blind remember the Blind Traveler....'To be sure, many blind persons have been cowed by the myth of helplessness into remaining in their sheltered corners...Holman's story is important for its demonstration that blind people could wear seven-league boots almost two centuries ago--before Braille or the long cane, before residential schools or vocational rehabilitation.' There will never be another James Holman, a sightless person dedicating a lifetime to ranging the entire world 'alone, without counsel, and without attendance,' as he put it (p. 351)."
"To discover the unknown is not a prerogative of Sinbad, of Eric the Red, or of Copernicus. Each and every man is a discovered. He begins by discovering bitterness, saltiness, concavity, smoothness, harshness, the seven colors of the rainbow and the twenty-some letters of the alphabet; he goes on to visages, maps, animals and stars. He ends with doubt, or with faith, and the almost certainty of his own ignorance...I have shared the joy and surprise of finding sounds, languages, twilights, cities, gardens and people, all of them distinctly different and unique (p. 354)."
"Conscious, sensory-rich travel--a process of awareness, not a means of conquering distance--is beginning to make a comeback. In the last century, the race was to provide speed and comfort in ever increasing quantities, to make journeying a sort of blank spot between destinations...Each summer, the Italian countryside now plays host to people exploring it as Holman had...at a companionable walking pace...There will never be another James Holman. But there will always be people who must summon the courage to plunge, wholeheartedly, into a world complex beyond our illusions of comprehension (p. 354)."
"On the summit of the precipice, and in the heart of the green woods...there was an intelligence in the winds of the hills, and in the solemn stillness of the buried foliage, that could not be mistaken. It entered into my heart, and I could have wept, not that I not see, but that I could not portray all that I felt (p. 355)."
"Time, if not space, renders all of us travelers. Cling as we might, we are ultimately compelled to let go of the familiar, to forge affinities with the new, and to sense the approach of the more unfamiliar still. We feel our way. If we are as fortunate as the Blind Traveler, we are given the grace to listen, with equal attention, to the intelligence of winds and the solemnity of silence. To remain, joyfully, awake to the path itself (p. 355)."
January 27, 2026
This was a fascinating and inspiring read in so many ways. I had never heard of James Holman, yet his story is truly epic and one I will share in my history classes. This book tracks his life from his time in the Navy, to his blindness, to his experience and England and then travels all over the world. There are dozens of asides that I learned from about medical issues, other important people in his life, and the places where he visits. Truly an amazing book.
Want to read
February 23, 2021I met Jason in 2019 but still haven't read his book. I really, really must. I have heard so many good things, and I can't wait to find out about James Holman, who like me was blind and British, but unlike me lived in a time where blind people really didn't have rights and there wasn't the technology we have today.
March 25, 2024
The biography of a blind man who traveled the world, mostly alone, before planes and trains... it was a no-brainer that I would love this book. It is, at times, slow, but I remained interested throughout and felt myself to be living vicariously though this man as I sit here in the middle of nowhere Indiana. I can't begin to imagine accomplishing all that he did, in such circumstances, and to keep pushing on with optimism and interest. I feel inspired by James Holman to reevaluate my goals and attitude. I was heartbroken when he died. How this man's story became lost in obscurity, what a loss for the world.
December 28, 2024
Felt like a text book. It was a slog. However tons of information I never would have known if I hadn’t read this. The blind traveller accomplished quite the feat.
December 16, 2023
I wrote a full review on my iPad, but as it so annoyingly often does, the Goodreads app suddenly closed and lost what I had written. I will reconstruct later. In the meantime this is a fabulous book.
January 27, 2026
Some books do not announce themselves with urgency. They wait. They sit quietly in forgotten corners of shelves and devices, patient as stones, until the reader becomes worthy of them. ‘‘Jason Roberts’s ‘A Sense of the World: How a Blind Man Became History’s Greatest Traveler’’’ is such a book.
I did not hunt it down. I did not plan for it. It revealed itself almost accidentally, lying dormant in my Kindle library like a sealed letter from another century—until the moment I opened it and found myself utterly, helplessly enthralled.
I can say this without hesitation: this is my finest read of 2026 so far. Perhaps more honestly, it is one of those rare books that alters one’s understanding of what it means to ‘know’ the world.
The following chapters make up this book:
1 The Child in the Compass
2 Scarcely Worth Drowning
3 The Very Height of Expectation
4 Nor Sun Nor Moon
5 The Seven Gentlemen
6 A Smattering of Physic
7 A Whimsical Invalid
8 The Experimental Citizen
9 A Circuit of the World
10 True Sentiments and Powers
11 The Sleeping Land
12 A Salvo Upon All Defects
13 White Man’s Grave
14 My Dangerous and Novel Course
15 Assuming a More Alarming Character
16 The Arrival of an English Traveler
17 The Pleasure of His Intimacy
18 Raise the Soul to Flame
At its heart lies the astonishing life of ‘‘James Holman’’, a man rendered blind at twenty-five, in an age when blindness was widely regarded as a civil death. The blind were hidden away, institutionalised, spoken of in the same breath as the infirm and the insane.
And yet Holman responded not by shrinking from the world but by advancing into it—alone, impoverished, linguistically unarmed, and physically frail—until he had circumnavigated the globe more thoroughly than almost anyone before him.
Roberts quotes a contemporary journalist who claimed that Holman “traversed the great globe itself more thoroughly than any other traveler that ever existed,” and as one reads on, this begins to sound not like Victorian exaggeration but sober assessment.
Holman travelled across Europe, Africa, Asia, and the Americas using peasant carts, public carriages, horseback, and his own feet. He fought the slave trade in Africa, hunted rogue elephants in Ceylon, survived Siberian imprisonment, helped decode indigenous languages in Equatorial Guinea, and earned the respect of figures as formidable as Charles Darwin and Richard Francis Burton.
Darwin cites him as an authority; Burton refers to him simply, reverentially, as ‘the Blind Traveler’.
And yet—this is where the book tightens its grip—Holman vanished from memory with astonishing speed. His fame curdled into mockery.
His accuracy was acknowledged but his insight denied. “How could a blind man know Zanzibar?” critics asked, as though sight were the sole organ of understanding. His manuscripts were lost, his collections scattered, his reputation reduced to a shrinking encyclopedia entry that eventually disappeared altogether.
There is something quietly devastating about this erasure. Holman did everything we are taught should secure immortality: he explored, documented, endured, contributed to knowledge, and expanded the known world.
Yet novelty, not respect, had driven public fascination with him—and novelty fades fast. Shakespeare understood this cruelty of time all too well:
“The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen.”
Holman’s tragedy was not blindness, but that the world refused to believe knowledge could arrive by any route other than sight.
Roberts’s genius lies in how he tells this story. This is not merely biography; it is resurrection. Roberts does not inflate Holman into a mythic hero, nor does he sentimentalise disability. Instead, he reconstructs a mind at work—listening, smelling, counting footsteps, noting changes in air, sound, texture, rhythm.
Holman built a cartography of sensation. He learned the world the way ancient sages learned truth: indirectly, patiently, through disciplined attention.
The Upanishads whisper something remarkably close to Holman’s life when they say:
“Not by sight is He seen, nor by speech; but by the mind alone is He perceived.”
Holman’s journeys become a living refutation of the tyranny of the visual. He knew landscapes not by how they looked, but by how they ‘behaved’. Ports had voices. Cities had tempos.
Cultures announced themselves through gesture, cadence, silence. Roberts shows us how blindness, far from being a barrier, sharpened Holman’s ability to perceive what most sighted travellers ignored.
Reading this book, I was repeatedly struck by how modern Holman feels. He travels without maps that privilege him. He moves at the mercy of locals. He depends on strangers.
He is vulnerable in ways contemporary tourism works hard to erase. In this sense, Holman is closer to the pilgrim than the conqueror.
Dante’s journey through the ‘Divine Comedy’ is guided not by sight but by inner illumination, and Holman too walks his own dark wood, trusting that discernment does not require eyes.
“Consider your origin: you were not made to live as brutes, but to follow virtue and knowledge.”
Holman follows knowledge into danger, into humiliation, into obscurity—and he keeps going long after the applause stops.
Roberts’s prose deserves its own praise. It is elegant without being ornate, scholarly without being dry. He moves effortlessly between archival reconstruction and lyrical reflection.
The structure of the book mirrors its subject: forward-moving, exploratory, open to digression without ever losing direction.
The passages describing Holman’s Siberian captivity are harrowing; those detailing his African travels pulse with moral urgency; his intellectual contributions emerge quietly, almost modestly, yet they accumulate into undeniable weight.
What struck me most, though, was the book’s meditation on ‘‘forgetting’’. Greatness, Roberts suggests, does not guarantee remembrance. Memory is political, fashionable, cruel.
Holman was forgotten not because he failed, but because he unsettled comfortable assumptions about ability, authority, and perception. The world could tolerate a blind man who inspired pity or novelty. It could not tolerate one who ‘knew’ as well as—perhaps better than—the sighted.
The Bhagavad Gita offers a lens through which Holman’s persistence feels almost archetypal:
“Your right is to work alone, never to its fruits.”
Holman worked. He travelled. He wrote. Recognition came and went, but the work continued. Even impoverished, ill, and increasingly invisible, he kept planning new journeys.
There is something profoundly moving in that refusal to negotiate with despair. He did not travel to be remembered. He travelled because the world called to him—and he had learned how to listen.
Roberts’s own narrative frame mirrors this ethic. His chance encounter with a turquoise-spined book titled ‘Eccentric Travelers’ feels almost allegorical. Holman appears as an afterthought among crackpots and frauds—a token oddity. Yet from that marginalia, Roberts reconstructs an entire life and restores dignity to a figure history casually misplaced. The act feels almost karmic, as though the world finally circled back to a debt long unpaid.
Shakespeare once wrote, “There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.”
Holman’s blindness was not his tragedy; society’s thinking was. What this book ultimately dismantles is not prejudice alone, but laziness of imagination. We assume knowing requires seeing.
We assume authority requires conformity. We assume the marginal must remain marginal. Holman’s life contradicts all of it.
What makes ‘A Sense of the World’ linger long after the final page is its quiet challenge to the reader. How much of what we “know” is merely inherited consensus? How many ways of perceiving have we dismissed because they do not resemble our own? In an age intoxicated by images, screens, and spectacle, Holman’s sensory discipline feels almost radical.
He reminds us that attention—not vision—is the true instrument of understanding.
This is not just a book about travel. It is a book about ‘‘epistemology’’—about how humans come to know anything at all. It belongs on the same shelf as works that question the primacy of the obvious and elevate the authority of inward sight.
The Upanishads say, “That which cannot be seen by the eye, but by which the eye sees—that alone know as Brahman.”
Holman, without ever invoking philosophy, lived this truth.
By the time I reached the final chapters, I felt not just admiration, but gratitude. Gratitude to Roberts for doing the slow, meticulous work of remembrance. Gratitude to Holman for proving—by example, not argument—that the world yields itself to those who approach it humbly and persistently. And gratitude to the book itself, for finding me when I did not know I needed it.
Some books entertain. Some inform. A very few recalibrate the soul.
‘A Sense of the World’ belongs firmly in that last category. It restores faith not in heroism, but in ‘‘human possibility’’.
And it does so without noise, without slogans, without sentimentality—just through the steady, astonishing life of a man who taught himself to see without eyes, and in doing so, saw more than most of us ever will.
My finest read of 2026 thus far.
I did not hunt it down. I did not plan for it. It revealed itself almost accidentally, lying dormant in my Kindle library like a sealed letter from another century—until the moment I opened it and found myself utterly, helplessly enthralled.
I can say this without hesitation: this is my finest read of 2026 so far. Perhaps more honestly, it is one of those rare books that alters one’s understanding of what it means to ‘know’ the world.
The following chapters make up this book:
1 The Child in the Compass
2 Scarcely Worth Drowning
3 The Very Height of Expectation
4 Nor Sun Nor Moon
5 The Seven Gentlemen
6 A Smattering of Physic
7 A Whimsical Invalid
8 The Experimental Citizen
9 A Circuit of the World
10 True Sentiments and Powers
11 The Sleeping Land
12 A Salvo Upon All Defects
13 White Man’s Grave
14 My Dangerous and Novel Course
15 Assuming a More Alarming Character
16 The Arrival of an English Traveler
17 The Pleasure of His Intimacy
18 Raise the Soul to Flame
At its heart lies the astonishing life of ‘‘James Holman’’, a man rendered blind at twenty-five, in an age when blindness was widely regarded as a civil death. The blind were hidden away, institutionalised, spoken of in the same breath as the infirm and the insane.
And yet Holman responded not by shrinking from the world but by advancing into it—alone, impoverished, linguistically unarmed, and physically frail—until he had circumnavigated the globe more thoroughly than almost anyone before him.
Roberts quotes a contemporary journalist who claimed that Holman “traversed the great globe itself more thoroughly than any other traveler that ever existed,” and as one reads on, this begins to sound not like Victorian exaggeration but sober assessment.
Holman travelled across Europe, Africa, Asia, and the Americas using peasant carts, public carriages, horseback, and his own feet. He fought the slave trade in Africa, hunted rogue elephants in Ceylon, survived Siberian imprisonment, helped decode indigenous languages in Equatorial Guinea, and earned the respect of figures as formidable as Charles Darwin and Richard Francis Burton.
Darwin cites him as an authority; Burton refers to him simply, reverentially, as ‘the Blind Traveler’.
And yet—this is where the book tightens its grip—Holman vanished from memory with astonishing speed. His fame curdled into mockery.
His accuracy was acknowledged but his insight denied. “How could a blind man know Zanzibar?” critics asked, as though sight were the sole organ of understanding. His manuscripts were lost, his collections scattered, his reputation reduced to a shrinking encyclopedia entry that eventually disappeared altogether.
There is something quietly devastating about this erasure. Holman did everything we are taught should secure immortality: he explored, documented, endured, contributed to knowledge, and expanded the known world.
Yet novelty, not respect, had driven public fascination with him—and novelty fades fast. Shakespeare understood this cruelty of time all too well:
“The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen.”
Holman’s tragedy was not blindness, but that the world refused to believe knowledge could arrive by any route other than sight.
Roberts’s genius lies in how he tells this story. This is not merely biography; it is resurrection. Roberts does not inflate Holman into a mythic hero, nor does he sentimentalise disability. Instead, he reconstructs a mind at work—listening, smelling, counting footsteps, noting changes in air, sound, texture, rhythm.
Holman built a cartography of sensation. He learned the world the way ancient sages learned truth: indirectly, patiently, through disciplined attention.
The Upanishads whisper something remarkably close to Holman’s life when they say:
“Not by sight is He seen, nor by speech; but by the mind alone is He perceived.”
Holman’s journeys become a living refutation of the tyranny of the visual. He knew landscapes not by how they looked, but by how they ‘behaved’. Ports had voices. Cities had tempos.
Cultures announced themselves through gesture, cadence, silence. Roberts shows us how blindness, far from being a barrier, sharpened Holman’s ability to perceive what most sighted travellers ignored.
Reading this book, I was repeatedly struck by how modern Holman feels. He travels without maps that privilege him. He moves at the mercy of locals. He depends on strangers.
He is vulnerable in ways contemporary tourism works hard to erase. In this sense, Holman is closer to the pilgrim than the conqueror.
Dante’s journey through the ‘Divine Comedy’ is guided not by sight but by inner illumination, and Holman too walks his own dark wood, trusting that discernment does not require eyes.
“Consider your origin: you were not made to live as brutes, but to follow virtue and knowledge.”
Holman follows knowledge into danger, into humiliation, into obscurity—and he keeps going long after the applause stops.
Roberts’s prose deserves its own praise. It is elegant without being ornate, scholarly without being dry. He moves effortlessly between archival reconstruction and lyrical reflection.
The structure of the book mirrors its subject: forward-moving, exploratory, open to digression without ever losing direction.
The passages describing Holman’s Siberian captivity are harrowing; those detailing his African travels pulse with moral urgency; his intellectual contributions emerge quietly, almost modestly, yet they accumulate into undeniable weight.
What struck me most, though, was the book’s meditation on ‘‘forgetting’’. Greatness, Roberts suggests, does not guarantee remembrance. Memory is political, fashionable, cruel.
Holman was forgotten not because he failed, but because he unsettled comfortable assumptions about ability, authority, and perception. The world could tolerate a blind man who inspired pity or novelty. It could not tolerate one who ‘knew’ as well as—perhaps better than—the sighted.
The Bhagavad Gita offers a lens through which Holman’s persistence feels almost archetypal:
“Your right is to work alone, never to its fruits.”
Holman worked. He travelled. He wrote. Recognition came and went, but the work continued. Even impoverished, ill, and increasingly invisible, he kept planning new journeys.
There is something profoundly moving in that refusal to negotiate with despair. He did not travel to be remembered. He travelled because the world called to him—and he had learned how to listen.
Roberts’s own narrative frame mirrors this ethic. His chance encounter with a turquoise-spined book titled ‘Eccentric Travelers’ feels almost allegorical. Holman appears as an afterthought among crackpots and frauds—a token oddity. Yet from that marginalia, Roberts reconstructs an entire life and restores dignity to a figure history casually misplaced. The act feels almost karmic, as though the world finally circled back to a debt long unpaid.
Shakespeare once wrote, “There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.”
Holman’s blindness was not his tragedy; society’s thinking was. What this book ultimately dismantles is not prejudice alone, but laziness of imagination. We assume knowing requires seeing.
We assume authority requires conformity. We assume the marginal must remain marginal. Holman’s life contradicts all of it.
What makes ‘A Sense of the World’ linger long after the final page is its quiet challenge to the reader. How much of what we “know” is merely inherited consensus? How many ways of perceiving have we dismissed because they do not resemble our own? In an age intoxicated by images, screens, and spectacle, Holman’s sensory discipline feels almost radical.
He reminds us that attention—not vision—is the true instrument of understanding.
This is not just a book about travel. It is a book about ‘‘epistemology’’—about how humans come to know anything at all. It belongs on the same shelf as works that question the primacy of the obvious and elevate the authority of inward sight.
The Upanishads say, “That which cannot be seen by the eye, but by which the eye sees—that alone know as Brahman.”
Holman, without ever invoking philosophy, lived this truth.
By the time I reached the final chapters, I felt not just admiration, but gratitude. Gratitude to Roberts for doing the slow, meticulous work of remembrance. Gratitude to Holman for proving—by example, not argument—that the world yields itself to those who approach it humbly and persistently. And gratitude to the book itself, for finding me when I did not know I needed it.
Some books entertain. Some inform. A very few recalibrate the soul.
‘A Sense of the World’ belongs firmly in that last category. It restores faith not in heroism, but in ‘‘human possibility’’.
And it does so without noise, without slogans, without sentimentality—just through the steady, astonishing life of a man who taught himself to see without eyes, and in doing so, saw more than most of us ever will.
My finest read of 2026 thus far.
February 25, 2010
Biography of James Holman (1786–1857), the "Blind Traveler". Holman was an English naval officer who, from illness, went completely blind in his early 20's and, rather than living as a helpless invalid (common in that age) instead spent the remainder of his life traveling the world - often alone, in an era when travel was rare and dangerous. He did so frequently having no knowledge of the local languages other than that he was able to learn during his travels. He circumvented the world, visiting places as diverse as Siberia (on his trip westward across Europe seeking a land bridge to the United States), most of Europe (include a visit to the rim of active Mt. Vesuvius), and various places in Africa, North and South America, and Australia. He was likely, despite his blindness, the most well-traveled man in history, having journeyed through "every inhabited continent and contacted at least 200 distinctly separate cultures." Pretty interesting book, although it could have done with more depth. In fact, for that reason moving rating down from four stars to three (would do 3.5 if I could). It was an interesting bio, but Holman must have been such an intriguing fellow that I feel more could have and should have been done with his story - and most certainly a better picture could have been painted of the world in which he lived and travelled. More "what", and far more "how" and "why". I am now reading The Fatal Shore, re the founding of Australia, and the first three chapters have given me a far more detailed understanding of the subject matter thereof than did the entirety of A Sense Of The World.
November 27, 2017
I was trying to figure out why I wasn't raving about this book like many others had. And I figured it out after I read some other reviews. This book is in the nonfiction genre where a now-obscure but once-famous person's life and story are "rediscovered," researched, and written about (think authors Laura Hillenbrand, Erik Larson, David Grann, among others). The person being written about, in this case, is James Holman (1786 to 1857), a British naval officer who became blind in his mid-twenties. Undaunted, he traveled the world, often without a companion, venturing to the Americas, Africa, Asia, and Australia. He rarely had much money and rarely spoke the languages in the countries he traveled, but made friends and contacts along the way that helped him continue his travels. He was an inspiring and unique man. What prevents this from being fabulous is that the book, while interesting and well-researched, is a bit dry...it lacks the spark that other books in this genre (creative nonfiction) often have. Definitely worth reading, though. Holman was an extraordinary human being.
October 28, 2008
This biography takes the reader into the life and times of James Holman (b. 1786), a British Naval officer who becomes blind after a mysterious illness at the age of 25. Well-written, engaging, and informative, this book not only chronicles the incredible adventures and accomplishments of Holman, but deftly escorts the reader into the world of sightlessness, describing such skills as "human echolocation," and such sensations as synesthesia (seeing sound, in Holman's case). Holman circumnavigated the globe, fought the slave trade in Africa, crossed Siberia, and hunted elephants on horseback, which are impressive feats by any standards. Add in the fact that Holman did these all by touch, sound, and smell, and they take on heroic proportions. Holman's journey is one worth reading, and author Jason Roberts makes it a pleasant trip.
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