The Tao of Travel: Enlightenments from Lives on the Road

The Tao of Travel: Enlightenments from Lives on the Road

by Paul Theroux

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Paul Theroux celebrates fifty years of wandering the globe by collecting the best writing on travel from the books that shaped him, as a reader and a traveler. Part philosophical guide, part miscellany, part reminiscence, The Tao of Travel enumerates “The Contents of Some Travelers’ Bags” and exposes “Writers Who Wrote about Places They Never Visited”; tracks extreme journeys in “Travel as an Ordeal” and highlights some of “Travelers’ Favorite Places.” Excerpts from the best of Theroux’s own work are interspersed with selections from travelers both familiar and unexpected: 

Vladimir Nabokov           J.R.R. Tolkien 
Samuel Johnson               Eudora Welty
Evelyn Waugh                  Isak Dinesen 
Charles Dickens               James Baldwin 
Henry David Thoreau       Pico Iyer 
Mark Twain                     Anton Chekhov 
Bruce Chatwin                  John McPhee
Freya Stark                      Peter Matthiessen 
Graham Greene                Ernest Hemingway

 The Tao of Travel is a unique tribute to the pleasures and pains of travel in its golden age.

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  • Format: eBook

  • ISBN-13/EAN: 9780547549194

  • ISBN-10: 0547549199

  • Pages: 304

  • Price: $9.99

  • Publication Date: 05/19/2011

  • Carton Quantity: 1

Paul Theroux
Author

Paul Theroux

PAUL THEROUX is the author of many highly acclaimed books. His novels include The Lower River and The Mosquito Coast, and his renowned travel books include Ghost Train to the Eastern Star and Dark Star Safari. He lives in Hawaii and Cape Cod.
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  • reviews

    A "determinedly personal collection of travel appreciation."

    -Kirkus Reviews

    A "diverting meditation on passages from his own and other writers' works. [T]he strongest pieces descry a tangible place through a discerning eye and pungent sensibility..."

    -Publishers Weekly

  • excerpts

    Preface:

    The Importance of Elsewhere

    As a child, yearning to leave home and go far away, the image in my

    mind was of flight — my little self hurrying off alone. The word “travel”

    did not occur to me, nor did the word “transformation,” which was my

    unspoken but enduring wish. I wanted to find a new self in a distant

    place, and new things to care about. The importance of elsewhere was

    something I took on faith. Elsewhere was the place I wanted to be. Too

    young to go, I read about elsewheres, fantasizing about my freedom.

    Books were my road. And then, when I was old enough to go, the roads

    I traveled became the obsessive subject in my own books. Eventually I

    saw that the most passionate travelers have always also been passionate

    readers and writers. And that is how this book came about.

     The wish to travel seems to me characteristically human: the desire

    to move, to satisfy your curiosity or ease your fears, to change the circumstances

    of your life, to be a stranger, to make a friend, to experience

    an exotic landscape, to risk the unknown, to bear witness to the consequences,

    tragic or comic, of people possessed by the narcissism of minor

    differences. Chekhov said, “If you’re afraid of loneliness, don’t marry.”

    I would say, if you’re afraid of loneliness, don’t travel. The literature of

    travel shows the effects of solitude, sometimes mournful, more often enriching,

    now and then unexpectedly spiritual.

     All my traveling life I have been asked the maddening and oversimplifying

    question “What is your favorite travel book?” How to answer it? I

    have been on the road for almost fifty years and writing about my travels

    for more than forty years. One of the first books my father read to me

    at bedtime when I was small was Donn Fendler: Lost on a Mountain in

    Maine. This 1930s as-told-to account described how a twelve-year-old

    boy survived eight days on Mount Katahdin. Donn suffered, but he made

    it out of the Maine woods. The book taught me lessons in wilderness

    survival, including the basic one: “Always follow a river or a creek in the

    direction the water is flowing.” I have read many travel books since, and

    I have made journeys on every continent except Antarctica, which I have

    recounted in eight books and hundreds of essays. I have felt renewed

    inspiration in the thought of little Donn making it safely down the high

    mountain.

     The travel narrative is the oldest in the world, the story the wanderer

    tells to the folk gathered around the fire after his or her return from a

    journey. “This is what I saw” — news from the wider world; the odd, the

    strange, the shocking, tales of beasts or of other people. “They’re just

    like us!” or “They’re not like us at all!” The traveler’s tale is always in the

    nature of a report. And it is the origin of narrative fiction too, the traveler

    enlivening a dozing group with invented details, embroidering on experience.

    It’s how the first novel in English got written. Daniel Defoe based

    Robinson Crusoe on the actual experience of the castaway Alexander Selkirk,

    though he enlarged the story, turning Selkirk’s four and a half years

    on a remote Pacific Island into twenty-eight years on a Caribbean island,

    adding Friday, the cannibals, and tropical exotica.

    The storyteller’s intention is always to hold the listener with a glittering

    eye and riveting tale. I think of the travel writer as idealized in the

    lines of the ghost of Hamlet’s father at the beginning of the play:

      I could a tale unfold whose lightest word

      Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,

      Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres,

      Thy knotted and combined locks to part

      And each particular hair to stand on end

     But most are anecdotal, amusing, instructional, farcical, boastful,

    mock-heroic, occasionally hair-raising, warnings to the curious, or else

    they ring bells like mad and seem familiar. At their best, they are examples

    of what is most human in travel.

     In the course of my wandering life, travel has changed, not only in

    speed and efficiency, but because of the altered circumstances of the

    world — much of it connected and known. This conceit of Internetinspired

    omniscience has produced the arrogant delusion that the physical

    effort of travel is superfluous. Yet there are many parts of the world

    that are little known and worth visiting, and there was a time in my traveling

    when some parts of the earth offered any traveler the Columbus or

    Crusoe thrill of discovery.

     As an adult traveling alone in remote and cut-off places, I learned a

    great deal about the world and myself: the strangeness, the joy, the liberation

    and truth of travel, the way loneliness — such a trial at home — is

    the condition of a traveler. But in travel, as Philip Larkin says in his poem

    “The Importance of Elsewhere,” strangeness makes sense.

     Travel in dreams, for Freud, symbolized death. That the journey — an

    essay into the unknown — can be risky, even fatal, was a natural conclusion

    for Freud to reach, since he suffered from self-diagnosed Reiseangst,

    travel anxiety. He was so fearful of missing a train that he appeared at

    railway stations two hours ahead of time, and when the train appeared at

    the platform he usually panicked. He wrote in Introductory Lectures on

    Psycho-Analysis, “Dying is replaced in dreams by departure, by a train

    journey.”

     This has not been my experience; I associate my happiest traveling

    days with sitting on trains. Some travel is more of a nuisance than a

    hardship, but travel is always a mental challenge, and even at its most

    difficult, travel can be an enlightenment.

     The joy of travel, and reading about it, is the theme of this collection —

    and perhaps the misery too; but even remembered misery can produce

    lyrical nostalgia. As I was rereading some of the books quoted here I

    realized how dated they were, and how important as historical documents

    — the dramas as well as the romance of an earlier time. Yet a lot of

    the old-fangledness of travel ended very recently.

     This book of insights, a distillation of travelers’ visions and pleasures,

    observations from my work and others’, is based on many decades of

    my reading travel books and traveling the earth. It is also intended as a

    guidebook, a how-to, a miscellany, a vade mecum, a reading list, a reminiscence.

    And because the notion of travel is often a metaphor for living

    a life, many travelers, expressing a simple notion of a trip, have written

    something accidentally philosophical, even metaphysical. In the spirit of

    Buddha’s dictum “You cannot travel the path before you have become the

    path itself,” I hope that this collection shows, in its approaches to travel,

    ways of living and thinking too.

Available Resources

Related Categories

  • Format: eBook

  • ISBN-13/EAN: 9780547549194

  • ISBN-10: 0547549199

  • Pages: 304

  • Price: $9.99

  • Publication Date: 05/19/2011

  • Carton Quantity: 1

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