Daren

I thought this looked a quick read, but it wasn't particularly. Peregrine Hodson travelled in Afghanistan under the name of Abdul Baz, "my name, unabbreviated, was difficult to pronounce while in its shortened form it sounded like a word in Dari meaning 'fairy' or 'female angel': so I was given the name Abdul. I added the word 'baz', which means falcon."

He was there for just over three months in 1984 to provide the Sunday Times with a report on the 'People's War'. This book is not his report, but a record of his journey. He kept a detailed diary and used a tape recorder to capture many of his conversations. Hodson spoke fluent Farsi (the modern Persian language); and therefore could communicate well in Dari (one of two official Afghan languages) languages which are mutually intelligible, especially in written form, although they have some differences in pronunciation, vocabulary, and usage.

The 'People's War' refers to the Soviet-Afghan War, where the Soviets moved massive numbers of troops into Afghanistan ostensibly to assist the Afghan Government (and therefore the Afghan Armed Forces) to put down the Islamic militants - the Mujahedin. And, of course, it is with the Mujahedin that Hodson travelled. From Pakistan he crossed the border by foot with a group of Mujahedin returning to their homes and to defend them against the Soviet forces - who by this time had resorted to bombing raids by their air force which was very successful given the Mujahadin had little capacity to shoot down fighter jets.

The journey is described in detail - it was a tough journey, Hodson was unwell for practically all of his time in Afghanistan - which which was inevitable really, with the water quality, the poor diet and limited sanitary conditions, mosquitos carrying Malaria and the high risk of hepatitis. Hodson followed a looping course through northern Afghanistan (the provinces of Lowgar, Wardak, Bamiyan, Takhar, Kunar and Nuristan). He moved from village to village, met with the Mujahedin leader in each, was provided with hospitality and accompanied by guides and assistance, although generally he joined groups of men moving from one area to the next. In reality he only had limited ability to determine his own route, and was regularly under threat of war, often being rushed from a village to lie in the relative safety of trenches while jets dropped bombs.

He spoke with many men, from all levels of society, on many topics. The narrative is wide ranging, but all comes back to the hardships of the Mujahedin, their resistance of the Soviets and the complexity of the power struggle of rival factions of the Mujahedin.

For me there were two major insights. The first was the authors ability to communicate directly with the Afghanis. This meant no reliance on interpreters who would notoriously tailor their translations to their perspective, to assist themselves or to tell the journalist what they think they want to hear. This gave Hodson a huge advantage in the presentation of his story.

The other insight was the Islamic responsibility for hospitality. In the absolute worst of circumstances, people with the least to offer provide food, shelter and assistance to the author and other foreign journalists who are basically coming to Afghanistan to gather stories to sell. It astounds me the lengths people go to in assisting the author and his companions (the last third of his journey he makes with two other journalists).

Worth seeking out.

4 stars.

Despite a torturous opening page (upon reading I was ready to give up), once underway ACD has a tidy short story about three University students in rooms one above the other. At the top, Abercrombie Smith, below him Edward Bellingham and below him, William Monkhouse Lee.

While Smith our protagonist is a medical student, Bellingham is a languages scholar, who engages in Egyptology and a hobby. In fact he takes his hobby quite seriously, judging by the mummy kept within his room.

Short stories need no more plot outlining for fear of spoiling the whole story, but one can clearly imagine that the mummy, which was purchased at auction (lot 249), is at the centre of strange goings on on campus, and Smith becomes the vigilante to put this to an end.

I do believe I enjoyed this more than some of his Sherlock Holmes short stories.

4 stars.

A fantastic book in which the author describes he taking up employment in 1955 as a trader in the Northwestern Territories of Canada (as it was known then - now Nunavut, which is largely the area Pryde lived, is a separate territory).

As a brief introduction (given in the book blurb, and covered at pace at the beginning of the book), Duncan Pryde is a Scotsman who left school at 15 and joined the Merchant Navy. He was involved in an accident that resulted in some damage to an eye, which meant he had to leave his job. The details of this aren't explained and he describes no effects of this on his time in the North. After working in a factory and finding that dull he responded to an advertisement by the Hudson's Bay Trading Company for a trader in Canada's frozen north.

"Fur traders wanted for the far north... single, ambitious, self-reliant young men wanted... far north of Canada... must be prepared to life in isolation... willing to learn native language... fur trade... salary $135.00 per month

And so begins his time, first as an apprentice trader in Baker Lake, under the watch of Sandy Lunan."

For a man with limited schooling, Pryde proves himself very able to write, and his meticulous learning of the Inuktituk language (this book makes use of the terminology Eskimo throughout, although the reader will be aware this is not used as any slight, it was simply the usage of the time) through recording words in phonetics his own dictionary, one not being available at the time. Prydes writing is nothing short of excellent in his ability to communicate complex concepts, describe techniques for sled and canoe setups, fishing and hunting etc, but also to explain to the novice the Eskimo culture and way of life.

As Pryde gains experience with running the trading station, and beginning to learn the Eskimo way of life he changes his own lifestyle, understanding that it is far more suited to the environment he is living in. He is respected for his eagerness to be involved in learning the language, in participating in hunting and fishing and in genuinely bonding with the people. Soon Sandy retires, and a new trader is brought in while Pryde remains for the transition, and is then transferred to run his own trading station at Spence Bay.

Before long he is asked to take on a more remote trading station at Perry Island, where there are some significant issues that the previous trader was unable to resolve, and in fact contributed to with his lack of control. This involved many of the local men giving up trapping to draw welfare, excessive drinking and violence. The trading stations, probably because they were intimate with the community, also administered the welfare payments (as well as playing a role in medical care and also radio communications for the community). So Pryde had to come in with a heavy hand, cut all welfare, stop supply of the raw product being bought to make the dodgy booze (methyl hydrate, provided for the lighting of kerosene primus stoves in the very cold) and force the men back out to trap to earn money to survive. This is a tough role for a young man without the support of another whiteman (another of Prydes terminologies he uses for non-Eskimo people in the NWT) for hundreds of miles. There were some touchy moments and violent reprisals to be dealt with for the rules he instigated - again all very well told in this book.

Wrapped around the story of Pryde's trading life are stories of his many hunting, trapping and fishing expeditions, his dog sledding and canoe explorations and very good descriptions of Eskimo life. The period of late 1950s and early 1960s was a major cultural shift for the Eskimo people. Pryde describes how the way of life has already changed by the introduction of the traders. The Eskimo have gone from being subsistence hunters to being trappers because the traders have product they want, and their only currency is furs. They have gone from running three husky's to needing teams of 13 husky's to carry the furs. The consequence of which is needing to hunt and fish extensively to feed the dogs.

In the 1960s they were on the cusp of the motor age with the first introduction of snowmobiles. Rifles were already established of course, and outboard motors. When Pryde arrived the only permanent buildings in the places he lived were those of the trading company. The Eskimo lived in snowhouses in winter and tents in summer.

Also well described in the book are the birds and animals of the area, of which the Eskimo have a deep understanding. Caribou, seals, polar bears, artic foxes, wolves, wolverine and the multitude of birds in particular.

Towards the end of the book Pryde is convinced to enter politics, and due to the time constraints of that role he ends his employment with the trading company, but with a significant reduction in income he maintains living in the Eskimo lifestyle, trapping to make up his earnings. In his role as a member of parliament Pryde and his other far northern colleagues provide meaningful representation for the Eskimo. They effect change to the remote schooling and hunting quota system.

There was much more covered in this book than I have touched on here (albeit I have rattled on into quite a long review, even for me). Clearly this book preserves clear description of a way of live now forever changed, and as such is important. Obviously, I recommend this anyone with an interest in this culture and way of live, or is interested in a well written biography. The only note I would add it that the Eskimo way of life involves hunting and killing of animals - this in intimately described in the text, so those sensitive to this are unlikely to want to persist with reading.

5 stars.

Wing Leader is the biography of RAF Spitfire pilot JE Johnson, known as Johnnie Johnson during World War II.

Johnson has a way of writing that often takes you on his journey. Remarkably, when he describes flight after flight and explains events that are occurring around him in flight during flying maneuvers with his 'wing' or individual dogfights, it doesn't feel to the reader like constant repetition, although of course it is the same sequence of events almost every time.

Johnson's diaries must have been extensive because he describes the many pilots around him, the many flights and enemy engagements in great detail, often dropping out of the story of one polit to pick it up again later when he returns to the scene. He had kind words to all of those lost, their bravery and sacrifice, and manages to surprise when some of the pilots find their way back overland when considered lost.

He describes the evolution of the Spitfire, as the planes are constantly improved throughout he war, as are the enemy planes, and as the technology improves one side gains the upper hand and certain maneuvers and so tactics have to change accordingly.

While luck plays a large part in the successful career of a fighter pilot, and how well your colleagues protect you is a big factor, we know too few of these pilots survived the entire war, and Johnson has a plethora of post-nominals (CB, CBE, DSO & Two Bars, DFC & Bar, DL) indicating his efforts, dedication and luck.

Having read the diaries of a New Zealand Spitfire pilot in Spitfires & Spots translated from the handwritten remnants and edited by Jeff West's grandson Jameson Alex West it was nice to be reminded of that book, and for 15 or so pages the two flew together before West was deployed to Malta. Johnson's flying was over the Channel and into German occupied Europe (France, Belgium and later Germany). Throughout most of his time he was flying with Canadians as part of

Wikipedia did a better job of collecting statistics that I would, so I will quote it here: Johnson was credited with 34 individual victories over enemy aircraft, as well as seven shared victories, three shared probable, ten damaged, three shared damaged and one destroyed on the ground. Johnson flew 700 operational sorties and engaged enemy aircraft on 57 occasions. Included in his list of individual victories were 14 Messerschmitt Bf 109s and 20 Focke-Wulf Fw 190s destroyed making him the most successful RAF ace against the Fw 190. This score made him the highest scoring Western Allied fighter ace against the German Luftwaffe.

There are a number of black & white photos throughout the book, and a thorough index. Douglas Bader wrote a brief foreword, which he opens with the sentence: 'Dear Johnnie, I did not know that you could read and write!..."

4 stars

We bought a copy of this book for my daughter as she has just played the character of Skimbleshanks (the railway cat) in a youth theatre production of Cats. This was obviously the basis for Andrew Lloyd Webber writing the stage show of Cats... and while much of the content of this book is word for word, there are sections in there that were not carried through to the stage show (well at least the youth version) and plenty of content added in to make it a continuous narrative.

I have no idea how to rate or really even review this short book, but I read it through and now know a few more of the lyrics that despite seeing the show several times I couldn't pick up.

Well this will likely be the only book of poetry I read this year, but regardless I quite like the rhyming song lyrics (as they have been for me), and didn't dislike this at all.

4 stars

Rowena Hawkins has written a summary of her life in Singapore as the daughter of a senior policeman in the 1960s. Singapore at this time was evolving from a British Colony to being a part of the Federation of Malaysia, then on to independence. Her parents, both of whom were descendants of Sultans exiled to Ceylon (Sri Lanka) from Batavia and Sumatra, emigrated to Singapore where their children were born - Rowena with her brother Ari and elder sister Yuwari. Ensconced in their colonial bungalow on New Bridge Road, the family were under no illusion they lived a privileged life.

Hawkins' writing is deceptively simple, outlining events and anecdotes from her childhood while providing an underlying understanding of the cultural & ethnological situations and family relationships. Her nostalgic outlook of events is not without scorn of the behavior of children in the present day, as she describes the canings handed down by her authoritarian mother who ruled the household, where even her father fell into line. While the author was fairly quick to step out of line, her brother was even more so, and was quick to share of divert the blame; this makes for plenty of amusement throughout the book. The book is also an affectionate portrait of her father to whom she was understandably close.

The book itself works well divided into short chapters in largely linear timelines and introduces the reader to her family, household full of servants and the wider family as they progress. School, piano lessons, supernatural events, religious celebrations, her brothers coming of age ceremony, family weddings, a visit to Ceylon and any number of other life events fill out the chapters. This short memoir also clearly captures a view of a Singapore now forever changed.

This easy, yet fulfilling read is worth seeking out.

4 stars.

For transparency, the publisher provided me with a copy for review. Thanks Earnshaw Books.

I am a little confused, having read this book, returned to the blurb, and had a look on the internet for the 'documentary film' referred to in the blurb. Author Franz, brother Edgar and a friend Bayer, all German, set out for the Amazon to make a film.

The narrative of the book is all about a (quite terrible and cliched) fictional film about an action man type figure making miraculous escapes, getting the girl, losing the girl, surviving scrub fires, Indians, drowning, a piranha attack, any number of other events associated with the Brazilian Amazon. At the conclusion of the book the author refers to the film being called Kautschuk.

IBDB and Wikipedia credit Franz Eichhorn as a writer of a film with this name, which is the story of how the British broke the Brazilian monopoly on natural rubber - ie Englishman Henry Wickham, who smuggled rubber seeds to England in 1876 to break the Brazilian monopoly. Franz's brother Edgar is credited as a photographer.

In the book Franz and a local cowboy named Jose star in the shooting of the film. The narrative follows their adventure in reaching the film locations, trying to entice local talent to feature in the film, and physically filming. There are plenty of heart stopping moments, much illness, injuries and other difficulties associated with travelling around and up the Amazon. The plot of the movie is filmed out of sequence, and aspects of the plot are shared as they film, so the reader never gets a real overview (unless they could be bothered reassembling the parts in order), but as the film they made doesn't seem to exist in the form they filmed it I am really at a bit of a loss as to how it all ties together!

Within the book are fifty black and white photographs, which almost all tie in with the narrative. Many are of flora and fauna (they are big on birds) and people they meet. They are pretty good photographs. Along the way they are helped hugely by a number of individuals who take on guide and fixer roles helping with locations, transport , actors and often inspiration.

While the book isn't confusing per se, the blurb and the actual outcome with films do not all tie up.

A confusing 3 stars!

Picked up for a couple of dollars at a book sale, this turned out to be an excellent read. Sierra Leonean

Ishmael Beah shares the story of his life from age 12, when he was separated from his parents when rebels attacked the village he lived in. With his brother and two friends they moved about staying clear of the clashes of the rebels and the soldiers, and trying to find a safe place and relocate his family, feared dead.

As you might expect, it would be a terrifying prospect for any 12 year-old. Rural Sierra Leone at that time (and probably as it remains) was made up of very small villages, not particularly close together. The zone of war, where the rebels and soldiers were fighting started out quite contained, but was liable to spill out in any direction, and over time villages were attacked, looted and destroyed by both sides whose paranoia meant they trusted no civilians.

Likewise villagers trusted no outsiders, especially groups of youths, who many villagers thought could be spies for the rebels. They were regularly run out of town or threated, but occasionally found sympathy for short periods. Over this period the boys became separated, and Ishmael carried on alone before joining another group of boys, a couple of whom were from his village and he knew from school.

As the situation in Sierra Leone deteriorated, and the warzone expanded the boys found themselves in a village that had been fortified by the soldiers, and used as a base. Here they were safe until the soldiers lost many men and could not maintain their resistance to attack. At this point the villagers were told that they all needed to contribute to the war effort. There were sufficient women to cook, so all the boys had to join the army, or leave the village.

It was at this point that Ishmael became a child soldier, and became indoctrinated into the war effort. Ishmael did a good job of describing this period of his life. The soldiers were provided with drugs - heroin and cocaine mixed with gunpowder (which they snorted) both of which them energy to fight, and marijuana to help them relax. The boys either failed and were quickly killed in the conflict, or became efficient at handling their weapons, and became efficient killers. Their days were filled with fighting rebels and looting villages for food, ammunition and petrol (for generators).

Against the run of events, suddenly the youngest soldiers are relieved from duty, and are ordered to go with a group of UNICEF civilians (and Military Police). They are taken to a camp for rehabilitation, which of course the boys resist.

Again Ishmael describes this process well. The boys don't understand why the military, who are their family and support network now suddenly don't want them. They fight, using violence as a defense. They act out, resist, sell things provided for them to get money for drugs and generally run amok. It is along and slow process that is successful for some boys but not others. Luckily for Ishmael, he finds people he can trust to help him.

There are many twists and turns I have not shared, and much more to the end of this story that I won't mention, so there is much more to be gained from reading this book.

It is not a complex read, really quite quick. While it had some shocking violence, I didn't find it particularly hard to read, as it is well written to provide shock but not sustained impact. Other reviewers didn't necessarily feel this way. I thought is a well considered decision by the author not to sensationalise this story by including more descriptive violence.

On reflection, this is the story of the experiences of Ishmael Beah. It is not the story of many Sierra Leonean boys; it is absolutely the exception, not the rule. You would have to think for every successfully rehabilitated boy there must be a hundred, 300 hundred, maybe 500, who did not survive escaping, or soldiering, or rehabilitation. Many of the boys 'escaped' and returned to the front line. It is incredibly sad; but Ishmael Beah is an inspiration in the way he was able to move his life forward.

This was far better than I expected, and lived up to the high ratings it has received on this site. another book which clearly demonstrates that there are no winners in a civil war. While there were some unresolved threads to the story, they were not the important things to me as a reader.

4 stars

Keay's book is extensive, but I have to say it got bogged down at various points, and I had to push myself through those places to complete the read.

It covers everything to do with the seaborne spice route, although touches on overland routes (such as the Silk Road) to provide an overall context of how spices came to Europe.

Picking up on Ibn Batuta, Sir John Maundevile, Herodotus, Marco Polo, Pliny and other early history recorders, wading through their regularly inaccurate and unreliable information on spices and their origins, Keay attempts a structure to bring these in and out of his narrative as they become relevant. It is quite well managed, without bringing too many in at any given time. One of the challenges is the archaic names for various spices compared to the modern names, in some cases the same name evolving from one spice to another.

Pepper from the Malabar coast (and then many places in Indonesia), cloves from the Molucca's, nutmeg and mace from the Banda islands, sandalwood from Timor, cinnamon from Sri Lanka and Frankincense from Arabia are the main heroes of this story, but the bigger surprise of how in some cases their origins remained secret.

Initially trade was small scale and took place in small vessels, moving spice from their islands of origin only moving them a small distance before trading them on to another. The Arab, Chinese and Indian merchants were all active in this, and as there were so many steps in the chain only very small amounts made it as far as Europe.

As the Portuguese become the big sea-faring players they develop the initial spice route, linking places they controlled to be the first to bring larger quantities to Europe. After a surprisingly long period of dominance, the Spanish, Dutch and British followed.

Although other reviewers appeared less bothered by the repetition and the slow spots which dragged for me, I dropped a star to end up on three stars. ***

Published in 1900, his book s suffers most from my proximity of reading Harry Franck's A Vagabond Journey Around the World, which is in a similar setting, and leaves this for dead.

In the Preface, it is noted that "The author's motives, however, are purely selfish. His wanderings have been as aimless as a crooked path in the desert: his impressions of the men and places he visited are necessarily fragmentary. But these impressions are pleasant to look back upon."

Candler's book is made up of four strangely disconnected parts, and fluctuates from interesting and spirited to mundane and repetitive, in about equal parts.

There is a map at the front which shows his route from Tavoy in Burma (Myanmar now) across the Malay peninsular to Bangkok in Thailand, then a sea route in the Gulf of Thailand to Chanthaburi (still Thailand) and into Cambodia and then south east to Vietnam via the Mekong River to MyTho and on to Saigon. This journey coves the first of the sections of the book, entitled Off the Beaten Track

The second section, titled Himalayan Sketches is a fast jump to a very different location, not foreshadowed at all... This section is a series of short unrelated chapters set in the Indian Himalaya, another either in Nepal or at the Nepalese border, a dreadful poem of the Himalaya, another story set on the Nepal / India border, another in Sikkum. On balance, I think these are all set (or stories told to the author) in the Sikkim and West Bengal states of India, which it probably where the author was stationed as he indicated his work was in the 'Indian Hill Stations'.

In the Near East is the third section, and it charts the authors journey from Baghdad to Damascus, through very dangerous Bedouin controlled desert areas.

The final section covers the authors journeying in the Shan States what are now a part of Myanmar. At the time these were small feudal princely states. this chapter, aptly titled In the Southern Shan States

In each of these sections, the author engages with the local naive people, sharing aspects of their culture, their history and other interactions. He describes their individual character and his interacts with them. In places he refers to flora and fauna, to hunting opportunities, the natural landscapes. Towards the end he gets a bit philosophical, contemplating the nature of travel, the motivations behind it, and the experiences gained.

Overall I was disappointed with this, which should have been far more gripping and exciting than it was.

3 stars

OK I will cut straight to the chase with this - the format killed this book for me. I found it incredibly piecemeal and hard to read, I found no flow of narrative and couldn't connect to the featured persons because they all blended into one.

The topic should have been fascinating. The sheer volume of research and organisation of the book is impressive and admirable - most information came from diaries and letters of the wives. There were a lot of good photographs and the authors husband contributed excellent sketches, mostly of ships.

Essentially, the book is about the wives and children of captains of (mostly merchant) ships throughout (mostly) the 19th century. The book is arranged into chapters of themes, eg - The Honeymooners, At Sea, Children at sea, Ship /kitchens, Hazards of the Sea, etc. But the problem was that each wife had only a few paragraphs (or often just one) on each topic, so in 20 or 30 pages we her from 40 or 50 women. Each woman referenced requires a ship's name, a year and her husbands name to be able to even attempt to keep track, but for me I was not able to manage the sheer number of people, and they all blurred. Being so structured in this format it also became quite dry reading, with loads of repetition with only minor changes to the narrative.

Hard work to complete, with too few gems to be found amongst it.

2 stars

Published in 1999, written much later in life than these events, this is a descriptive biography of a Dutch woman who, in her youth was interned in a Japanese prisoner of war camp in Indonesia - the Dutch East Indies as it was at the time. There were many Dutch people living there at the time, and in 1943 when the Japanese army overran the country Gerarda was in her early teens.

This is not a fantastically written book, but clearly sets out her experiences, many of which were obviously very unpleasant for her, with her mother and sisters in a series of camps. They were separated from Gerarda's father who was placed in a camp on another island and was out of contact with him for around four years.

That the Japanese were cruel and unnecessarily so is evident from this book. Many of those interned died without receiving adequate aid for medical issues, numerous women were beaten by the camp commandant who was a vile little man. Decisions the Japanese made, (such as not identifying the camp with the required markings (so that the allied forces bombed the camp, which was next to an airfield, assuming it was a military barracks) and thieving the red cross parcels provided for the POWs, never passing on the food and clothing provided) make it obvious that that they were not playing by the rules of engagement in WWII.

As I mentioned above, while I have absolute sympathy for the author and her family, this wasn't excellent writing. The writing of the book may well have cathartic for her, and she spent some very important developmental years interned, but towards the end she started referring to the POW camp as a concentration camp, and while she was likely emotionally distraught at the time she could have removed some of the repetition of the issues they faced - it would have made this a little more readable.

For those interested in the details, the main camp was called Kampili and was located near Makassar on the island of Celebes (now Sulawesi). It housed approximately 1,800 Allied women and children, mostly Dutch. The men who were separated from these women and children were taken initially to Batavia, then Pare Pare camp. Many were sent to Burma to work on the infamous Burma/Thailand railway, although luckily for the author her father was not one of them. After the war, the camp commandant was tried for war crimes, but only received a sentence of seven years, as some previously interned women had written supporting him - something criticised in this book and considered baffling given the way they were treated.

In later life the author returned to the Netherlands, lived in Australia, again returned to the Netherlands and then emigrated to New Zealand, where this book was published.

2.5 stars.

This need only be a short review. This book is a relatively simple academic work to describe the ethnology of the tribes inhabiting the hills which is point of area from the greater part of the state of Manipur Naga and Kuki occupy definite areas in these hills the Naga tribes in Manipur.

It is not particularly readable, but for the general reader, it has its more interesting aspects mixed with the less interesting. It is however very thorough, and is no doubt an important publication to record these anthropological details that would otherwise be lost. Obviously it is a snapshot of time from just prior to its publication in 1911.

As above it covers many aspects from habitat and geographical distribution, appearance and characteristics, origins, dress, tattooing and weapons to descriptions of houses and villages, furniture and utensils, manufactured items, agriculture, crops, hunting and fishing, food and drink. It goes on to cover tribal organisation and structure, marriage, adoptions, inheritance. Land and other laws, decision of disputes, war and headhunting are also covered. A large section on religion follows, which covers beliefs and origin stories, dreams, omens, ancestor worship, nature worship, rites, sacrifices, ceremonies, marriage and priesthood. There is also a collection of folk tales.

In terms of setting out to meet its purpose this book nailed it. For the entertainment of the general reader, clearly not its intent, it was a bit of a chore to get through it all.

2 stars.

Peter Hessler's third in his China trilogy, and this third book is a story in three parts. They are quite distinctive parts too. Overall this is a fairly long read, at circa 550 pages, and it is a book that dwells in the minutiae, but it was minutiae that was interesting to me.

Speaking fluent Mandarin, as well as reading and writing do little to hide his foreignness, but offer him insights that others will never have. He is clearly a person who builds trust quickly as people are inclined to spill their life stories to him! He must have a way of quick connection and must have developed suitable questioning techniques for the Chinese psyche.

I will keep it brief, and stay away from the details, but the parts of the book consist of:

Part one - The Wall. Driving the small roads ostensibly following the Great Wall in it many fragmented parts. China is also undergoing a massive development in automobile ownership and development of industries around cars and roads. Using Sinomaps (the only Chinese map book that makes an effort) Hessler attempts to follow small roads, visit small towns, look around the Great Wall fragments. On the way he picks up hitchhikers, meets other people and shares their short stories, find historical points of interest and manages to layer in some basic history and context for where he is and who was there before him. Obtaining a Chinese driver's license provides pages and pages of entertainment, hiring a car provides ongoing amusement with the reportage of every far visit, every breakdown and every damage causing incident.

Part two - The Village. Hessler and a friend seek a 'writers refuge' - a house in a small village near Beijing, but beyond the suburbs in which to embed themselves (sharing but mostly separately). After searching they find a simple house in a simple village on the brink of modernisation. His landlord, wife and son become the key interface for this section of the book. In Sancha, Hessler makes friends and enemies, he helps and hinders the locals and writes about it all. Local government politics, the Communist Party and its involvement in village decisions, the system of land ownership, the hospital system, the police, Falun Gong, religion, farmers becoming businessmen, house alterations, family relationships. Little is sacred and Hessler reports it all.

Part three - The Factory. In this section Hessler visits an industrial area being established in advance of a new motorway. This is Chinese development on a large scale, described and removing mountains and filling valleys to make development land. Here he finds a factory in the very origins of setting itself up and he ingratiates himself with the owners and picks up the personal stories of them, their foreman and a group of workers. The factory makes two metalwork items, the underwires for bra's and the rings that make strap adjustment possible on bra's. Again he weaves in lots of information about land development, motorways & factories (manufacturing in general) as well as the personal stories of those noted.

So three quite district storylines, Hessler says researched over the period 2001 to 2009, during which a great many things in China changed. No doubt it has all continued to evolve and change at a great rate.

For me this equaled his first book and was superior to the second.

5 stars

An ok read with out being great, or providing much in the way of insights. Everyone knows Michael Palin, no he isn't going to be very controversial, but yes he might ask a few awkward questions and make a few jokes that North Koreans won't have context to understand. This is, of course, a tv series tie-in book - ostensibly his 'journal' recording each days events for his 14 day visit to North Korea.

So much of this was predictable or already pretty commonly known - yes the minders were going to leverage some control over what you saw and what you photographed, no most people would not talk to you freely about the restrictions on their everyday life. Michael Palin is still in pretty good health for his age (82 now, this book was published 7 years ago, so circa 75 at the time of travel), and gets around well - surprising the Korean minders who seem to expect him to be geriatric.

On the plus side there are lots of photographs, covering a whole array of topics and people, most of them pretty good, although they are not captioned. They generally refer to the text on the same page though, so the context isn't too hard to pick up.

I would be lying if I thought this would be any different when I bought this (second hand for a few dollars) but I do like Michael Palin and his gentle travelogues.

2.5 stars

The author was a Russian, who fled the Russian Revolution with his mother, ending up in China. This we are told in the first chapter. The Russian revolution was circa 1917, and he mentions he spent 30 years in China. This book was first published in 1961, so was written some time after the events outlined here.

While this book is a biography, we learn next to nothing about Peter Goullart. He shares so little of his daily life that I cannot even tell you what he does for work and how he financially survives. What this book does is describe in micro detail his interactions with monasteries and monks associated with the Taoist religion. What is immediately obvious is that Goullart is 100% on board with Taoism - almost every monk he meets becomes his best friend, he is treated incredibly well by all, and welcomed into the monasteries (he visits many), and he buys into all the religious philosophy.

OK you can probably tell that I am not giving this five stars. I can see what other reviewers got from this book, and if you wanted to understand the experiences of a foreigner in China in this pre-communist era there is plenty here for you. For a heathen like me though, who is easily bored by religious philosophy and who expected that, as this is published by The Travel Book Club, it would be a travel book, it was tough going. There were bright spots. Goullart describes his journey from Russia as a youth, he describes some of the travel from Shanghai to the monasteries, he explains the towns and cities he visits, but never for long. He painstakingly records long conversations with abbots or monks. He describes in detail religious ceremonies and festivals.

Overwhelmingly he is an optimist who sees all the good and shares nothing beyond the good. He is continually upbeat and tells how much he loves China, the Chinese and Taoism. For a pessimist like me I found it wore me down, and at several points I was ready to give up on this book, but just as i reached my limit another morsel of readable experience came through and prevented me (I do dislike giving up on a book).

So if it sounds like your cup of tea, then it is probably a 5 star book for you. If you can live without the intricate details of Taoist monasteries, I suggest letting this one pass you by.

3 stars

Like many young New Zealanders, Martin Kerr finished a bachelors degree at University and headed to Australia with an end goal of reaching Britain or Europe "keen to see the world". In Sydney he "spent a night of harloting" then hitchhiked to Brisbane. Cutting cane was far too hard work for the soft hands of a university graduate so he got a job as a rigger. He ran into a school friend, set himself up in a flat with his old friend and two other New Zealanders and settled into working , drinking and pub fights.

Yep, it was going to be one of those book where the author shares all his intimate details, despite them making him look like a lout, a womanizer and a man who runs close to the line - every line I suppose, including laws and 'rules'.

Hi mate was shifting to Sydney to get married, the other two were tagging along, so Kerr jumped on a flight to Port Moresby (Papua) on the basis that it was north, and the general direction he was wanting to go!

So the book starts. Published in 1973, this means Kerr spend time in Papua (the southern part of the eastern half of the island) formally the Territory of Papua, administered by Australia from 1906 until 1975; and also in the northern part of the eastern half of the island - the Territory of New Guinea, from 1920 when it was confiscated from Germany. This too was administered by Australia, but was occupied by the Japanese before being taken back by Australian and American troops. From 1945 the two territories were combined, and in 1975 they were given their independence, becoming Papua New Guinea - so there were preparations going on for the Australian withdrawal while Kerr was ending his own time there... but I jumped ahead a bit.

In Moresby, Kerr considered his options and came up with a Patrol Officer being the most suitable for him. Essentially, the experienced patrol officer is a policeman, magistrate, jailor, surveyor, agricultural adviser and general administrator. A junior patrol officer, such as Kerr, works under and assists, and this is what Kerr did for the first half of the book.

In between taking up with native wenches (definitely underplayed or spoken about subtlety) Kerr was sent out to pursue criminals, visit villages and all manner of other tasks. Kerr writes descriptively and well sharing all the details of preparation, transport, communication and the work he carries out. He is moved about from posting to posting as he gains experience.

About halfway through the book (and it's hard to work out the timeline) Kerr packs it in and returns to New Zealand to attend University and obtain an honours degree (a BA hons), and during this (presumably) year out, decides that he isn't finished in New Guinea, but won't return in the public service - it was obvious that was a road coming to a dead-end. He also ruled out volunteering, or any form of religious institution (how very unsuited he was to this!), and out of the blue he was contacted by a trader (and politician!) from New Guinea, an Italian Australian named (Big) John Pasquarelli, and offered a job.

And so in the second half of the book Kerr tells of his experiences as a trader and crocodile hunter up the remote Sepik, Green and May Rivers. Again he shares all the details of his fascinating adventure, his love life and his hunting.

Not all readers will warm to Kerr's laddish outlook, but I can say he has a genuine respect for the Papuan people and their culture. I won't spoil any more for those who might find a copy of this somewhat obscure book, but one quote before I stop.

P56

There will always be the memory of these sturdy men in gourds. I am proud to have walked with them - through every conceivable type of country - jagged limestone ridges, slippery boulder-strewn river beds and leech-infested jungle.

It makes me secure and happy to have sat with them, a revolver in my belt awaiting ambush, beneath their crude bush shelters, while freezing rain pelted down. Seated on their haunches, the water lapped their balls, while I had the comfort of woolen socks in jungle boots, trousers, and a heavy jersey and balaclava.

I would surely have dies, but for these men on a handful of rice a day, naked and unsheltered themselves. These 5-foot giants of Stone Age culture were responsible for my safety. No, not my native police, the sophisticates from the cost, waddling in white mans boots. They were cumbersome extras, though they did not hesitate to load their own equipment on to the carriers or whip them along with a piece of cane when they began to tire.

The pint-sized carriers bridged the raging torrents with cane bridges up to 75 yards long. They could set up camp in an hour... Let it be said that without the assistance of the poorly paid or impressed carriers, Administration patrols into this area would never have been possible.

4 stars

This short book by James Cameron (the British journalist, not the Titanic guy) describes his time in North Vietnam in 1965.

From the many foreign correspondent's with applications for visa's to visit North Vietnam in wartime, Cameron was, out of the blue, granted permission to visit the north while it was under control of the Viet Minh. The speculation is that he was granted the visa because he was outspokenly anti-war, and was likely to present a sympathetic output from his visit. He reproduces some content from Time magazine where they describe him (amongst other things) as 'A tireless didactic liberal of the ban-the-bomb breed...' and 'less a reporter than a conduit for North Vietnamese propaganda' and of course 'anti-US and pro-Hanoi". Other newspapers used a 'the opinions outlined here are not necessarily those of the newspaper' type disclaimer.

He was one of few journalists to interview both the Prime Minister, Pham Van Dong, and the President Ho Chi Minh (who had initially turned down the interview request, only to stroll in during his interview with Pham Van Dong and casually steer the conversation away from politics, turned off the recording device and confirmed no photographs.

I should make a couple of things clear - this book is way outside my usual reading genre. I am not sure why or where (or how) I ended up with a copy, whether it was a bundle of books, or whether it is my partiality to Victor Gollancz publications with the yellow covers and red text (I have several, and they tend to be very good). Also I am far from knowledgeable in this field, so I won't be expanding my basic review much.

Worth noting, this book is not a copy of Cameron's journalistic efforts, this book simply describes how his visit came about, what he did on his visit, who he met and what he discussed. He formulated all his journalistic work quite separately.

Worth a read to get a different perspective from a quite unique source - or witness, as the title of the book would have us understand.

3.5 stars

Michel Peissel was an experienced traveller, ethnologist and author - and had already spent much time in the Himalaya (Bhutan, Nepal & Tibet) before he undertook his journey into Zanskar. The reader benefits from his knowledge in what he explains of Zanskar, but what is immediately apparent from the start of this book is the authors ability to speak Tibetan gives him a massive advantage in being accepted by the people of Zanskar and obviously to be able to communicate first hand with them.

Zanskar is a secluded valley, formed by the Himalayan mountain range and the Zanskar mountain range which runs parallel to it. It is one of the most inaccessible valleys, especially at the time Peissel visited it in 1979. Zanskar is a part of the Union Territory of Ladakh, but at the time has was practically self governed and was ruled over by not one, but two Kings! These are the King of Zanskar, the King of Zangla, both of who Peissel met (he also met the King of Padum, so I am still a little confused, perhaps there were three). Buddhism is the dominant religion, split between the Yellow Hat sect (Gelugpa) of which the Dalai Lama is the head, and the Red Hat sect (Drukpa Kargyupa) more associated with Bhutan.

Peissel tells a fascinating story of his journey, his three guides feature heavily and he covers well all the religious and cultural festivals as well as daily life and enough history to form up the background. Clearly he has an affinity with these people, and his respect and understating comes through clearly in his writing. Peissel looks back to the few other travellers who have visited the valley, and speculates about what is to come in the form of tourism - the paradox being of course, that his book encourages those people to visit in the future.

I thought it a fantastic book to learn about a place almost certainly irreparably lost now, some 45 years later. Interestingly on his journey across the Himalaya on the way out of Zanskar he met a team of Indian Survey geologists who mentioned they, in conjunction with a team of geographers were planning the mapping and geological study of Zanskar. Perhaps that was beginning of the end, as anecdotally it is mentioned in the book that gold is present in apparently quite accessible quantities.

A couple of quotes I found poignant.

P85

Surely one of the reasons why strangers are unwelcome today in most of the world is that, what with modern communications, they have little or nothing to offer. The current price of wool or meat on distant markets is already known and news of distant relatives comes by post. Radios and televisions now satisfy people's curiosity and the traveller is seen principally as a possible menace, perhaps a thief, or a parasite; alternatively he may be regarded simply as a source of money.

P87

I stepped outside and again I was struck by the magnificent view: a full circle of peaks surrounded the flat sea of the central plain dotted with its villages, refuges in a world unfit for man. If ever there lay a valley cut off from the world, a hidden, secret land, it was Zanskar. I could hardly believe that only recently I had left a world which is polluted and overpopulated. Everything in Zanskar I found near to perfection: nothing, so it seemed, was out of place or unnatural. The rusty carcasses of tin cans and automobiles, and the death-like skeletons of electric poles, the hideous rust of corrugated iron, the soiled look of waste paper, the deadly gleam of scraps of plastic were absent; nowhere was there the slightest reminder of mechanical ugliness. I do not know what it is that makes all manufactured objects become so ugly the day they are old, worn or broken. Natural decay is rarely as revolting as say a rusty, broken washing machine.

There was nothing here to tarnish the harmony of nature in which man has his natural place blending with the earth, dressed and fed by its products, moulded by its demands and formed by its seasons. Every image was an ideal one: the horse with its wooden saddle, the yak-hair mattress covered by a woolen carpet whose design represented clouds and mountains.

I recently read another of Peissel's books Tiger For Breakfast, which was excellent, but quite different to this - the city of Kathmandu rather than the wilds of Zanskar. This was a reassuring second read, and I am glad he has published many others I can try to track down.

I also found at least two pdf versions of this book online (google search threw them up pretty quickly) for those who like to read in that format.

4.5 stars, rounded up.

The Great Trek from Cape Colony across the Orange River into what was, at the time this book was published, Transvaal, the Orange Free State and Natal. The Transvaal province was divided into the provinces of Gauteng, Limpopo, Mpumalanga, and part of North West; the Orange Free State is now Free State; Natal now KwaZulu-Natal - I think i captured all that correctly...

Anyways, the Great Trek by these Afrikaner men and women, armed only with muskets and their faith trekked into the wild opposed by the two most powerful Bantu military empires of the time - the Matabele and the Zulu. There were many loses and successes in spite of the overwhelming odds. The book covers the period 1806 to 1854.

If I am honest, I lost track of the people, although their names are familiar as the common names of South Africans (mostly Springboks and local expats I work with) Potgieter, Retief, Smit, Pretorius, and many other less dominant figures.

As another reviewer points out, the author is sympathetic to the Trekboer, and perhaps over sympathetic in a modern context, but the descriptions of the location, the journey and the fighting are atmospheric and well written. There are various maps and a selection of photographs/drawings reproduced in black and white.

Overall, I am not sure I really know what this was about when I bought it back in 2020, and it is probably not a book of specific interest to me, but it did a good job of what it set out to do.

3 stars

Dashiell Hammett's second published Continental Op novel.

This was a novel in three parts, and a single story which was originally serialized in four parts in Black Flag magazine in 1928.

The Continental Detective Agency, San Francisco is employed by an insurance company representing a jewellery shop which loaned eight relatively modest diamonds to a scientist experimenting with changing the colour of glass - they hoped he would have succeeded with diamonds obviously increasing the value of the low value, discoloured diamonds. The diamonds were stolen in a robbery, and the jewellery shop was making an insurance claim. Later the agency is employed by two other clients all tied up in the same case!

From there a convoluted story that evolves and cycles through many, many characters is slowly worked though by the Continental Op, who remains unnamed as usual. Honestly the story is so convolved and complex with red herrings and false trails all the way through. Admittedly I read it slowly as the book resided in my car, so almost certainly not more than 30 minutes a day, and probably more days of not reading it than reading it. This didn't help. Wikipedia has a character list with fifty characters listed. A decent proportion of them were killed during the story!

For me it was 3.5 stars.

The first of Jack Masters' three autobiographies, this was an excellent and detailed view of Masters' career in the Indian Army. After graduating from Sandhurst (officer training school) in 1933, he was seconded to the Duke of Cornwall's Light Infantry for a year before applying to serve with the 4th Prince of Wales's Own Gurkha Rifles. He saw service on the North-West Frontier (in Pakistan, at the border with Afghanistan) with the 2nd battalion of the regiment, and was rapidly given a variety of appointments within the battalion and the regimental depot, becoming the Adjutant of the 2nd battalion in early 1939 (where this book ends).

It is generally told in a linear fashion, although it does duck back and forward in time to provide explanation or background to a situation. The writing I found very good, with very detailed descriptions of all manner of aspects of life. Where I believe he excelled was describing the nature of his Gurkha soldiers - whom he clearly has an affinity with, and great respect for. There were some very astute observations made by Masters, who really proved his understanding of his men.

There was plenty of humour in the telling of his stories, often Masters himself was the source, but he also recalls stories about fellow officers (although he doesn't name names). There was also enough light history, where appropriate in the narrative, to fill in some explanations.

Also covered is and impromptu tiger hunt and Masters' travel through the USA when on ferlough, enroute back to Britain - again interesting perceptions of the States in this era.

The book comes to a close as Germany ramps up the war by invading Poland.

4.5 stars

An excellent large format book presenting a selection of the photos from Freya Stark's extensive travels. Some of these have been reproduced in her famous books, others are not previously published. Her portraits are incredible (obviously her models are too), and her photographs of towns and buildings are often spectacular., her landscapes sublime. There are few duds here, and even those probably tell a story we are not privy to.

An excellent introduction by Alexander Maitland outlines Stark's life and travels in a few short pages, otherwise there are just simple captions telling us the location and the year, sometimes a minor elaboration.

4 stars.

In 1894 Sandamara, an Aboriginal tracker working for the police was incredibly skilled as well as being a well liked man, and was considered loyal and trustworthy. He was known to the police as Pigeon.

Having assisted Constable Richardson to arrest a group of fifteen Aboriginals - most for cattle spearing, although three had speared white men, Pigeon and another tracker Captain were setting up camp; the prisoner chained to a tree and all handcuffed. Word came that Ellemara, a cunning murderer, was only 20 miles away, camping alone, having tailed the policemen. And so despite Richardson being unwell with fever and recovering from flu, Pigeon and Captain were sent to apprehend Ellemara. Richardson fought the overwhelming need to sleep to guard the prisoners.

And apprehend him they did, taking him by surprise, but Ellemara was a convincing man. In the time it took to travel the 20 miles back to Richardson he had managed to turn Pigeon and Captain from tame police trackers, and convince them to murder Richardson and to lead an uprising against the white men taking their hunting ground and forcing them from their customary lands. The men they set free would follow the three leaders.

Ellemara was greatly admired, but even more dreaded by the local Aborigines. He was not a local, but from far away, which would normally reduce his influence. Likewise, Captain was not local to the tribes either, as the police usually had a strict policy of their trackers being from far away so as not to have local tribal bonds to influence their actions. Pigeon, however, was a local boy, born in Lillamaloora country, and this police patrol was in the Kimberley in northern Western Australia. Such were the three men's influence that not just those men they set free followed them, but a great many more joined up to support the cause.

Pigeon went on to lead the outlaw uprising against the white stations, and more importantly the police, who he had a close understanding of - the men and their tactics. Captain was always subservient, and Ellemara had to learn to become so, and for three years these leaders escaped capture despite a highly orchestrated pursuit by the police.

And so, Idriess tells the story of Pigeon in a blow by blow account which takes in the stories of many aboriginals who joined this band of freedom fighters who aimed to rid the Leopold's of all white men.

The above it really just the introduction, so no spoilers here.

As is always the case with Ion Idriess books, the writing is very straightforward, but gripping. He explains much of the Aboriginal lore and goes some way to explaining how this all came to be. As always Idriess has made use of official documents as well as letters and interviews with those who have second hand knowledge - white and aboriginal.

4.5 stars

This was great, and surely the only reason Harry Franck is not more widely read is the obscurity of his books? This was his first published book, there are many others. I found an ePub version online and have been reading it on my phone for several months - it is a mammoth 650 pages converted to pdf, although the original book (1910, New York, The Century Co) was 502 pages.

Despite taking me a long time to get though, it was a really easy book to pick up and get back into the narrative. It is pretty simple, yet compelling and interesting!

The foreword explains the premise of his journey:

Some years ago, while still an undergraduate, I chanced to be present at an informal gathering in which the conversation turned to confessions of respective aspirations.

“If only I had a few thousands,” sighed a senior, “I’d make a trip around the world.”

“Modest ambition!” retorted a junior, “But you’d better file it away for future reference, till you have made the money.”

“With all due respect to bank accounts,” I observed, “I believe a man with a bit of energy and good health could start without money and make a journey around the globe.”

Laughter assailed the suggestion; yet as time rolled on I found myself often musing over that hastily conceived notion.

In the end he decided he could not do without his camera, and he took money enough for photographic supplies.

The title is somewhat ironic - vagabond meaning a rogue, conman or beggar, and Franck was none of these. He might have exaggerated his experience (as a sailor most often), and he would accept goodwill gifting of food, transport and the like, but he would not accept a handout no matter what level of desperation he reached. He was in fact quite militant in this regard. On more than one occasion a well-meaning man would take up a collection in a town to pay for a train journey onwards, and Franck would take off running, having to outdistance the man to escape without taking the money. There were times he did play the system, but generally he would not take money from individuals or under false pretenses.

In another review, Franck's writing style is referred to as sardonic, which is accurate - mocking or cynical. There is plenty of that, and the authors youth comes through his writing. At times he shows the philosophical nature of youth, along with his stubbornness and his unwillingness to compromise.

Franck, an American of German descent was gifted at languages, he spoke German and French readily, and Spanish and Italian fluently, as well as his native English he also picked up the local lingo anywhere is dwelled long enough. He was personable when he needed to be, bonded with other people readily, was a hard and mostly reliable worker, and most impressively, he was able to push his body to extreme limits, walking some incredible distances under uncompromising conditions of temperature and lacing food and water. There are some astounding journeys in the book, particularly crossing the Malay Peninsular on foot, also some prodigious journeys in the deserts of the Middle East.

But I have jumped ahead a little.

Franck commences his journey by departing Detroit by ferry for Canada. He falls in with a cattle worker crew loading cattle on a train on its way to an export ship and talks his way aboard, and thus makes his was to Britain.

Without planning his route far in advance, his journey takes him from Britain to the Netherlands, Germany, France, Switzerland, Italy, Egypt, Lebanon, Syria, Israel, Palestine, Sri Lanka, India, Bangladesh, Myanmar, Thailand, Hong Kong, China, Japan and back to the USA. In all he spent sixteen months travelling.

His regular lack of funds means Franck continues to travel under his own steam, mostly by walking, but he also jumped trains and did a lot of sailing, mostly under employment, although he was also a stowaway. On ferries and short haul public transport he almost exclusively travelled in the lowest classes, and therefore in his journey mixed with the common people, making his journey a fairly rare glimpse at the lowest classes of society.

I have another of Franck's books, but wanted to read this first book before any others. I will keenly look for others. Highly recommended for those who can separate the era is was written from the current era!

5 stars