As a fellow bus-rider, I was so enamored by this little piece of work. Stepping onto the bus is stepping on to an interconnected web that moves you ~through~ the city, not around it. A microcosm of the space which it serves, the bus has many folk like and unlike me.
I am so thankful for the moments of communal solitude a bus ride grants me. Thankful for the eavesdropping, the music-listening, the odd balls, and so much more.
This book does a fantastic job capturing the indescribable sensation of riding transit—the culture of bus riding. I’m riding the bus along Seattle, but feel a sense of kinship for those around the world taking a similar journey. Love love love
Loved this. Short vignettes set on public buses in Ireland. The stories are sometimes moving, sometimes funny, sometimes just moments of shared life. The author's character gets slowly revealed as she registers interest, annoyance, complaint about her co-riders. Beautifully written.
A short read—a little travelogue—that documents the conversations you don't want to hear as the author commutes by bus through the small towns of Ireland. So much happens on a bus: shoes are polished and a woman looks for a husband and a mother is forgotten in the last town. A near disaster with a red Ford Fiesta creates an unexpected kinship among the passengers, and tourists on one side of the bus take pictures of sheep while the other side gets a castle. There are lots of missed connections and lateness (never earliness) and scathing criticism for passengers who don't say thank you when they leave. It's a very charming book about people being people that almost (almost!) has me thinking fondly of my daily train commute before the pandemic.
Sometimes it’s important to slow down and not only enjoy the ride, but take in the details and really sit with them. Erica Van Horn does this in her collection of short essays, By Bus.