A week before spring semester, a Philadelphia writing professor sets out for L.A. to deliver a friend’s car. His first night on the road, alone in a Super 8 motel, he makes three pro/con lists: one for staying in his job; one for staying in his relationship; and one for staying in Philadelphia. This book-length essay is a log of the author’s life on the road, peppered with reflections on his family, history, and life’s simple pleasures. In these pages, Ingram confronts the disappointments of middle-adulthood set against his Big Desires. “It was okay,” Ingram writes of a roadside meal he gets along the way, “in the way that about eighty-five percent of life is okay.”
A funny and tender rumination on indecision and an account of the places the mind wanders while driving in a straight line, Notes from the Road is a long essay that fits in your pocket for your next trip.
In fragments, this book-length essay chronicles Ingram’s journey from Philadelphia, to Los Angeles, at a crossroads in his life. He hopes to work out his qualms with the everyday by the time he reaches his destination, where his friend, a TV writer, awaits the delivery of the clapped out Subaru that Ingram pilots throughout. Punctuated by Route 66 museums, hotel breakfasts consisting of yogurt and rubbery eggs, and lists of things that Ingram considers happy thoughts, we see him attempting to make sense of his life’s choices thus far, as well small, welcome digressions into figures from road lore and his own heritage. The fragments are quick and absorbing. Ingram’s sentences are delicate, wry, self-deprecating, sometimes profound. I swallowed this book up in an hour, and I recommend you do the same.
This top-notch travelogue follows Ingram on his journey from Philadelphia to Los Angeles. Ostensibly, he's simply driving cross-country to deliver his friend's car to his friend's new home. Under the surface, he slowly unpacks years of decisions - both his and those of his ancestors - and their collective impact on his life.
Let's be clear: This is not about the author's mid-life crisis. Sure, he actively questions the choices he's made to arrive in his late 30s as a MFA-holding writing instructor who's frustrated about his relationship. But he's not looking to reclaim a lost youth or make a fresh set of mistakes. He wants to move forward, but he doesn't really know how.
The book is a fascinating look into contemporary academia from the perspective of the fleets of instructors and adjuncts who teach the lower-level classes without the protection of being tenured or full-time faculty. It's also a warts-and-all examination of the anxieties, concerns, and wheel-spinning that I imagine most struggling writers experience.
The writing is bold, intimate, and transparent, as Ingram doesn't censors himself. He shares his fears openly, and I appreciate that he doesn't conclude with any clear answers or direction. He might want those things, but he certainly doesn't have them yet.
My daughter, a fan of Ingram’s podcast, was reading this short, pocket-sized book while on a recent visit with us. She thought I might enjoy it too, and sent me a copy when she returned home. Notes from the Road is a long essay, centering around a cross-country road trip which Ingram experienced in his late 30’s. He comments on the trip, the places he sees, and the American oddities he seeks out on his journey. He also uses this time alone to reflect on his life, his career, his relationships, and what direction is life is taking. As a writer, he also explores this path, questioning if he has the talent to keep writing. I enjoyed reading this book and traveling across the country with Ingram. As a retired older woman, I don’t think I am the intended demographic for this book. I can see that it would be more popular for those in their 20s, 30s, and 40s who are making decisions about the direction their lives are going.
This is the kind of book you buy in multiples and gift to people on their 35th birthday who feel they haven’t achieved external markers of what is considered success, so that they read this and are reminded they are in great company and not a weirdo for also eating the rubber-boiled eggs from the breakfast buffet.
One early January, before starting a new semester of teaching, Mike Ingram drove his friend's car from Philadelphia to Los Angeles, where the friend was starting a great new job. Along the way, Mike pondered whether to stay in his own okay job, whether to try to salvage his rocky relationship, and whether to leave Philadelphia permanently. This book is a reflective essay on the journey, the soul searching, and the pieces of Americana that Mike encountered along the way.
I'm a longtime listener of the podcast Mike co-hosts, Book Fight, so I bring that context and bias to my enjoyment of this book. Still, I feel confident recommending it to anyone interested in well-written, thoughtful creative nonfiction that combines personal experience and research. The narration moves along quickly, lingering on only the most interesting or amusing details of the metaphorical and literal crossroads. The essay is nicely packaged by Awst Press into a pocket-sized paperback to serve as travel reading.
Beautifully designed, well-sequenced, pocket-sized essay by Philly/grad school friend. Fascinating as contemporary end-stage fascination with "the road," from Whitman to Keroauc to Cormac. These days the allure of Route 66 is replaced by kitschy museums, the solitude of the open highway cut by texts and Twitter, and the poets of the experience are less concerned with lighting out for the territories and singing the song of the open road than finding the contentment, success, fortune that seems to elude them. Such comparisons between his state and those of others, predecessors and contemporaries, seem like the root of the problem, yet self-awareness that his problems are comparatively small in the grand scheme doesn't make them go away. Allons! The efflux of his soul is not happiness but the book itself attests to the author's ability to transform his own weighty freighted experience into a generally enjoyable companionable experience for readers. A different reading experience for me than with most books since I know many of the players who get a cameo in this. Highly recommended to those with pocket-sized book collections.
This collection doesn't try to reinvent the travel diary, and it's clear that Ingram has drawn inspiration from quite a few. I think that consistency with the genre might also be part of its weaknesses, where certain fragments just don't match some of the others, favoring authenticity vs craft. The research threads that run through this are tightly introduced and interesting, and I enjoyed how they juxtaposed against the narrator's personal thread towards the end. As usual with books in this genre though, the parts I enjoyed most were the narrator simply interacting with their surroundings. My only other criticism of this book is that, at times, it felt like it was being written to be read by other writers, with a lot of focusing on writer problems (and not necessarily human problems). Besides those handful of insular moments though, I think there is enough in this short book for non-writers to enjoy, and the length, size, and pacing of it do make it great for a quick travel read (I cherish books that fit into a pocket).
Picked up this book as a long-time listener to the author's podcast, bookfight. I think this book describes the mid- to late 30's angst pretty well (to borrow a quote from the book: "at the beginning of the story the guy's sad, and at the end he's still sad"). Each chapter is a little vignette of the author's life, american history, or other little tidbits. I'm currently going through my own late-30's career angst, and I'm someone who tends to worry too much and have anxiety about everything, so this book was timely for me. Perhaps more importantly, Ingram writes about his experiences in a compelling and interesting way, tying them intelligently to the broader context of american culture and history.
Generally recommended to anyone who doesn't shy away from a little bit of sadness, and a lot of thoughtfulness.
Random note: I was not expecting the book to be so tiny--I mean physically, the book is only ~ 5 inches tall!
A terrific, absorbing read that wears its depth lightly. Witty, humane, self-deprecating—Ingram makes for a perfect guide on a trip through his own reckoning with time’s passage and the worn, torn history of the American open road. Cool design bonus: the fragmentary “notes” perfectly complement the book’s compact frame, as though the reader had just borrowed a well-researched travel notebook from the writer himself.
Beautiful elegy for the death of youthful expectations. The author achieves this by deftly weaving his personal history with pertinent cultural and geographical history. I particularly appreciated the interludes expressing the simple things that bring him joy.
A road trip from Philadelphia to LA. An existential crisis in 86 parts with the 86th missing so numbered one to eighty-seven which still has me smiling. Thanks for letting me tag along Mike, and for the perfect ending to a enjoyable trip.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
There’s always something genuine when hitting the road and Ingrams journey gives us so much. Historical anecdotes blend with personal reflection. The whole goal of driving becomes not just the drive or the destination. A modern On the Road and for anyone in their younger years looking for change.