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A review by ridgewaygirl
Falling Off the Map: Some Lonely Places of the World by Pico Iyer
4.0
It had seemed, at the time, a good idea, this holiday in Pyongyang.
Falling Off the Map: Some Lonely Places of the World is a series of essays about the parts of the world isolated by politics, geography or culture. Pico Iyer spends time in the places you'd expect, like North Korea, Cuba, Bhutan and Iceland, but also in Argentina and Australia. Iyer comes across as a more thoughtful, less humorous Jon Ronson, able to insert himself into interesting situations, offbeat locations, and to get people to speak openly with him, without becoming the focus of his tales. Even the one in which police officers had a great deal of difficulty determining whether "Pico" or "Iyer" was his first name revolves around life in a Cuban village.
Back in the Gran Hotel, the receptionist greeted me in Hindi, a cockroach was waiting to welcome me in my bedroom, and a sudden thunderstorm turned the hotel corridors into rivers, a few dead leaves floating by my door. In the beautiful dining room, where La Madama had once held masked balls and taught le tout Asuncion to polka, four men in ponchos were putting on a show of Paraguayan culture, featuring songs from Mexico, songs from Cuba, and songs from Peru.
Iyer spends time in each of the places featured, returning to some years after his first visits. He falls into the daily rhythms of the places he's staying in, becoming familiar with Saturday markets or the movies being shown at the local cinema. The book itself is a bit dated, having been written twenty years ago but, for me at least, it has lost little of its appeal, the countries that he wrote about remain as exotic and unknown as they were when he wrote the essays.
Falling Off the Map: Some Lonely Places of the World is a series of essays about the parts of the world isolated by politics, geography or culture. Pico Iyer spends time in the places you'd expect, like North Korea, Cuba, Bhutan and Iceland, but also in Argentina and Australia. Iyer comes across as a more thoughtful, less humorous Jon Ronson, able to insert himself into interesting situations, offbeat locations, and to get people to speak openly with him, without becoming the focus of his tales. Even the one in which police officers had a great deal of difficulty determining whether "Pico" or "Iyer" was his first name revolves around life in a Cuban village.
Back in the Gran Hotel, the receptionist greeted me in Hindi, a cockroach was waiting to welcome me in my bedroom, and a sudden thunderstorm turned the hotel corridors into rivers, a few dead leaves floating by my door. In the beautiful dining room, where La Madama had once held masked balls and taught le tout Asuncion to polka, four men in ponchos were putting on a show of Paraguayan culture, featuring songs from Mexico, songs from Cuba, and songs from Peru.
Iyer spends time in each of the places featured, returning to some years after his first visits. He falls into the daily rhythms of the places he's staying in, becoming familiar with Saturday markets or the movies being shown at the local cinema. The book itself is a bit dated, having been written twenty years ago but, for me at least, it has lost little of its appeal, the countries that he wrote about remain as exotic and unknown as they were when he wrote the essays.