Twenty-five years ago, the Australian writer Robyn Davidson made the observation that travel writing, unlike most other literary genres, suffers from a “weird allergy to itself.” Often travel writers desperately attempt to distance themselves from a variety of voyeuristic sins (tourism being the cardinal one, but also cultural ignorance, geographical blunders, and so on). At the beginning of True North: On the Road in Canada, the latest of his many travel books, Paul Theroux appears to suffer a severe anaphylaxis.
“Lazy and imitative,” he says of most modern travel books. “Unreadable for their flatulence and frivolity. The worst of them indulge in humble-bragging, recounting miles traveled, annoyances endured, or the bliss of quasi-mystical experiences — all of it flapdoodle.” Gesundheit! That we’re about to share a car with him on a cross-Canada journey makes one wonder if this antipathy might be contagious. His Carthaginian tone won’t surprise any of his...
J. R. Patterson has published with The Atlantic and National Geographic, among many others.