North to the Orient

Strange little book this one. In 1931 with husband Charles, Anne Lindbergh flew from New York to Japan and on to China via the shortest northern route going across northern Alaska. An untested route, with lots of stops in route with their small plane fitted with pontoons for lake / sea landings.
The author is pretty upfront about her book - in the preface she says it is not a technical account, a guidebook or a full description of the journey. It is simply her thoughts and some observations. And that is the way it reads.
There were some amusing parts, but largely it a somewhat detached view of the journey, cherry picking the parts she wished to write about, ignoring the others.
It is the 1930s, and the author is feeling underwhelmed by the media as they prepare to leave, I enjoyed this little sequence:
To explain - interviewers are speaking to the author and her husband separately,but within earshot, and Anne is not really interested in commenting, saying ‘Sorry, I really haven't anything to say”... she is pursued for comment:
“Oh Mrs Lindburgh,” said one “the women of America are so anxious to know about your clothes.”“And I” said another “want to write a little article about your housekeeping in the ship. What do you put in the lunchboxes?”I felt depressed, as I generally do when women reporters ask me conventionally feminine questions. I feel as they must feel when they are given those questions to ask. I feel slightly insulted. Over in the corner my husband is being asked vital masculine questions, cleanly cut steely technicalities or broad abstractions. But I am asked about clothes and lunch-boxes. Still if I were asked about steely technicalities or broad abstractions, I would not be able to answer, so perhaps I do not deserve anything better.