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A review by eriynali
Neither Here Nor There: Travels in Europe by Bill Bryson
1.0
Truly a rough read. 1 or 2 funny paragraphs per hundred pages. Several completely inaccurate things thrown in by bad editing (names of cafes spelled wrong, foreign languages butchered without adding humor) ... Some of the most laughable bits unfortunately at the expense of some poor overused stereotype or other. I think I put more effort into finishing reading this than he put in writing it.
Really has not aged well:
"Late in the evening, when Katz and Trudi had gone off for pees, Marta turned to me, abruptly pulled my head to hers and swabbed my throat with her tongue. It felt as if a fish were flopping around in my mouth. She released me, wearing a strange, dreamy expression and breathed, 'I'm fool of lust.'
I couldn't find words to communicate my appreciation. Then the most awful thing happened. An abrupt startled look seized her, as if she had been struck by a sniper's bullet. Her eyes snapped shut and she slid bonelessly from her chair.
I gaped for a long moment and cried, 'Don't do this to me, God, you prick!' But she was gone, as dead to the world as if she had been hit broadside by a Mack truck. I looked at the sky. 'How could you do this to me? I'm a Catholic'
Trudi reappeared, tutting in a sudden maternal fashion and saying, 'Well, well, well, we'd better get this one to bed.' I offered to carry Marta to their hotel for her, thinking that at the very least I might manage to lay my tingling mitts on her splendid buttocks - only for a moment, you understand, just a little something to sustain me till the end of the century...."
Oh fond memories of youth, right? Truly delightful, right?
Really has not aged well:
"Late in the evening, when Katz and Trudi had gone off for pees, Marta turned to me, abruptly pulled my head to hers and swabbed my throat with her tongue. It felt as if a fish were flopping around in my mouth. She released me, wearing a strange, dreamy expression and breathed, 'I'm fool of lust.'
I couldn't find words to communicate my appreciation. Then the most awful thing happened. An abrupt startled look seized her, as if she had been struck by a sniper's bullet. Her eyes snapped shut and she slid bonelessly from her chair.
I gaped for a long moment and cried, 'Don't do this to me, God, you prick!' But she was gone, as dead to the world as if she had been hit broadside by a Mack truck. I looked at the sky. 'How could you do this to me? I'm a Catholic'
Trudi reappeared, tutting in a sudden maternal fashion and saying, 'Well, well, well, we'd better get this one to bed.' I offered to carry Marta to their hotel for her, thinking that at the very least I might manage to lay my tingling mitts on her splendid buttocks - only for a moment, you understand, just a little something to sustain me till the end of the century...."
Oh fond memories of youth, right? Truly delightful, right?