Ghost Train to the Eastern Star

Theroux's non fiction travel is really a thing of it's own. It sits adjacent to more ‘normal' travel writing, as he is not about the visa drama, the border crossing, the tourist spots, museums or what he had for lunch. This book, however, is slightly different to his earlier books -perhaps that is his mellowing with age, or perhaps it is that he is more reflective in this book, where he traced the route of his previous book - The Great Railway Bazaar (albeit the route is slightly different - more below).

He is certainly a lot less cynical and negative (although I love this in his writing), and is able to play between his current travel and the travel of thirty three years before. He does explain that in the earlier travels his domestic arrangements were collapsing - a wife who had moved on and left him behind, while he was months on the road, so perhaps this explains some of his caustic behaviour in the earlier book.

Theroux assesses some of the things that are the same, and that have changed. He still interacts with those who travel along side him, shares some thoughts on various matters, and visits some interesting personalities along the way - Orhan Pamuk in Turkey, Arthur C. Clarke in Sri Lanka and Haruki Murakami and Pico Iyer in Japan.

Interestingly, looking back I only gave The Great Railway Bazaar 3 stars. Although it was only five years ago, I think if I was to re-read it now, it would certainly get 4, perhaps 5 stars. I think my patience with book has improved, and it was the first Theroux non-fiction book I read. And while I can recognise a self-indulgence in this book (by which I mean picking his topics to suit his narrative, making a less than balanced view of certain places), the writing is easy, the reading is easier still, and I could have continued reading for another 500 pages.

So he sets out to follow the same route as thirty three years before. He did intend however to travel some additional or different routes - ones he wanted to travel originally, but was not permitted at the time - such as not having visited Cambodia:
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It gave me the creeps to read all that while I was staying in Phnom Penh. Some of the worst killing had occurred while I was taking my Railway Bazaar trip, and then writing it, complaining that it had been impossible for me to visit Cambodia. Little did I know what was happening here - but not many people on the outside knew much, or cared.

The traveler's conceit is that barbarism is something singular and foreign, to be encountered half way around the world in some pinched and parochial backwater. The traveler journeys to the remote place and it seems to be so: he is offered a glimpse of the wort atrocities that can served up by a sadistic government. And then, to his shame, he realizes that they are identical to the ones advocated and diligently applied by his own government. As for the sanctimony of people who seem blind to the fact that mass murder is still an annual event, look at Cambodia, Rwanda, Darfur, Tibet, Burma and elsewhere - the truer shout is not “Never again”, but “Again and again.”

I think most serious and omnivorous readers are alike– intense in their dedication to the word, quiet-minded, but relieved and eagerly talkative when they meet other readers and kindred spirits. If you have gotten this far in the book, you are just such a singular person.

Excellent. 4.5 stars = 5 stars!