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A Time of Gifts: On Foot to Constantinople: From the Hook of Holland to the Middle Danube
by Patrick Leigh Fermor
In 1933, Patrick Leigh Fermor set out on a self-ordained expedition across Europe. His goal: to travel from Rotterdam to Istanbul, completing the journey entirely on foot. Like most long trips, Fermor’s ambition was as much one of geographical distance, as it was of confronting the unfamiliar. Only 18 at the outset of his travels, Fermor hoped to imbibe in the exotic, to encounter foreign sights and peoples, and to expand his knowledge of the arcane. His book, A Time of Gifts, written several decades after the completion of this journey, details the first half of his travels, from Rotterdam to Hungary.
Cross-country, or even cross-continental, travels are arguably less exceptional, and consequently less epic, than they were at the time of Fermor’s jovial tramp. Since then, the infrastructure of Europe has greatly improved, automotive transportation has become rote, globalism has emerged, and young adults in the West (as a result of a number of circumstances and factors) have increasingly endeavored to explore. In terms of writing, travel literature has become popular. Such authors as Paul Theroux, Bruce Chatwin, Pico Ayer, and William Dalrymple, have celebrated the experience of travel, while illuminating foreign lands and peoples to Western audiences. And, travel writing has often melded with bildungsromans, as young idealists set out on journeys of self-exploration and discovery.
A Time of Gifts, however, is not a work of travel writing in either of these senses. Fermor, though a young man at the outset of his journey, rarely involves his personality in the text, and his character feels largely absent and undeveloped. Though he is the narrator, the reader has little sense of who he is, where he is coming from, and how he is affected by his travels. And, the book’s interweaving of historical information and on-the-road anecdotes—a trademark of many of the above travel writers—is lacking. Though Fermor meets people both on the road and in the villages he passes through, the circumstances of these individuals and their geography is sparingly contextualized. A Time of Gifts is not a work of historical or anthropological exploration.
Ultimately, A Time of Gifts is a travelogue carried by its elegant prose—heavy in description, and relishing in didactic asides. Fermor beautifully illustrates the landscape through which he travels. Though the book was written several decades after his expedition, the effect of these landscapes has certainly remained with him over time. And, when not revisiting these places and his experience of them, Fermor waxes poetic, and discusses literature, art, and language romantically. A Time of Gifts often has the feel of the informal, pedantic musings of an old-timer, losing himself in reflection and esotericism. For those patient enough to contently listen to Fermor’s lyrical and light-hearted ruminations, A Time of Gifts is a rewarding read. However, as someone who sought more contextualization (Fermor travels through Eastern Europe and Germany in 1934! What interesting and changing places to travel through at that time..), or personal narration, I found the book to be unsatisfying.
(2.5)
Cross-country, or even cross-continental, travels are arguably less exceptional, and consequently less epic, than they were at the time of Fermor’s jovial tramp. Since then, the infrastructure of Europe has greatly improved, automotive transportation has become rote, globalism has emerged, and young adults in the West (as a result of a number of circumstances and factors) have increasingly endeavored to explore. In terms of writing, travel literature has become popular. Such authors as Paul Theroux, Bruce Chatwin, Pico Ayer, and William Dalrymple, have celebrated the experience of travel, while illuminating foreign lands and peoples to Western audiences. And, travel writing has often melded with bildungsromans, as young idealists set out on journeys of self-exploration and discovery.
A Time of Gifts, however, is not a work of travel writing in either of these senses. Fermor, though a young man at the outset of his journey, rarely involves his personality in the text, and his character feels largely absent and undeveloped. Though he is the narrator, the reader has little sense of who he is, where he is coming from, and how he is affected by his travels. And, the book’s interweaving of historical information and on-the-road anecdotes—a trademark of many of the above travel writers—is lacking. Though Fermor meets people both on the road and in the villages he passes through, the circumstances of these individuals and their geography is sparingly contextualized. A Time of Gifts is not a work of historical or anthropological exploration.
Ultimately, A Time of Gifts is a travelogue carried by its elegant prose—heavy in description, and relishing in didactic asides. Fermor beautifully illustrates the landscape through which he travels. Though the book was written several decades after his expedition, the effect of these landscapes has certainly remained with him over time. And, when not revisiting these places and his experience of them, Fermor waxes poetic, and discusses literature, art, and language romantically. A Time of Gifts often has the feel of the informal, pedantic musings of an old-timer, losing himself in reflection and esotericism. For those patient enough to contently listen to Fermor’s lyrical and light-hearted ruminations, A Time of Gifts is a rewarding read. However, as someone who sought more contextualization (Fermor travels through Eastern Europe and Germany in 1934! What interesting and changing places to travel through at that time..), or personal narration, I found the book to be unsatisfying.
(2.5)