Lost Continent

I finally finished Bill Bryson’s “The Lost Continent,” which I bought at the DC airport just before boarding our flight to Zambia in February.

I had hoped it would inspire me in my own travel writing. Instead, I’ve thrown it down several times in irritation.

Bryson is a great writer on a sentence level, but in this book he’s horribly unfair to small-town America, dismissing towns and even entire states on the basis of what he sees while cruising through on the highway. He similarly short-changed the Appalachian Trail after hiking a mere 400 of 2,160-plus miles.

It’s possible that my attitude was clouded by homesickness and a strong nostalgia for truck stops, rest areas, and waitresses who call me “hon.” I’m already dreaming about the road trips Trevor and I will take in 2010. Unlike Bryson, we will travel with an attitude of appreciation.