|
dfd dv vWho was it that said the worst thing about travelling was meeting other tourists? Whoever it was, they pinpointed what makes travel writing such treacherous terrain: if the roving raconteur is interested only in charting original, and therefore solitary, experiences, they risk alienating their audience and running out of original experiences to pursue, such is the global infestation of tourists. This is the impasse at which much modern travel writing stands: the aloof, jodhpur-wearing colonialists may be well behind us, but so, too, is their sense of first-time discovery. All that the best contemporary travel writers seem to offer, in their attempt to rekindle it, is an enervating emphasis on gimmickry - hitching round Ireland with a fridge, elephant-trekking round the Andes, mountain-biking round Nepal, and so on. It is against these contrivances that Sarah Champion, anthologist of the "chemical generation", seems to be reacting in Fortune Hotel, a collection of "twisted" travel tales from a blend of "chemical generation" writers (Nicholas Blincoe, Howard Marks, Douglas Coupland, Simon Lewis) and more literary Penguin-Hamish names (Martyn Bedford, Will Self, Toby Litt, William Sutcliffe).
Approximate Word count = 634
Approximate Pages = 2.5
(250 words per page double spaced)
|
|
