Amazon.com Review
Barry Yourgrau has always put his own peculiar spin on sudden fiction. His short bursts of prose are as compact as Zen koans and possess the eeriness of detective stories spliced with dreams. In
Haunted Traveller: An Imaginary Memoir, an unnamed narrator (who may or may not be Yourgrau himself) recounts various adventures in 44 thematically linked stories. Meandering by boat, foot, plane, soap bubble, and armchair, our traveler finds himself strikingly out of place among the natives of various lands. He does his best to adapt to the cultures of each region, removing his teeth to ward off evil spirits, booking passage on a tramp steamer with a crew of cross-dressing revolutionaries, and enjoying a variety of amorous entanglements along the way. Yourgrau is at his most winning when his traveler's internal disorientation fits hand-in-glove with his outlandish surroundings, as in this passage, where he finds himself decapitated in a dream:
Bizarrely, I catch a glimpse of myself in a gilded mirror: a headless, traumatized figure in gore-rimmed torn pajamas, drink in hand, floating the lamest of bon mots at a crowd of swank, grotesquely ignorant party-goers--in a warm, sumptuous paradise of a room, amid ornate carpets and polished things gleaming in lamplight. The metaphor is so calamitously apt to my life, so cruel, I almost sob with sputtering laughter at myself.
What separates Barry Yourgrau from the surrealist-of-the-month club is the close attention he pays to emotional as well as physical landscapes. There's a subtle feeling driving these stories, something between the thrill of discovery and fear of the unknown. Ultimately, it's this combination that keeps
Haunted Traveller so compelling once the journey's over.
--Ryan Boudinot
From Publishers Weekly
With the wild humor and fertile imagination that he brought to his previous books (The Sadness of Sex; A Man Jumps Out of an Airplane), Yourgrau offers a dazzling invention that delights and challenges, an imaginary travel memoir whose nameless narrator undergoes outlandish, nightmarish escapades in variegated, unnamed locales and psychic landscapes. Shuttling fluidly from Kafkaesque fable to ghost story to surrealist situation, from romantic farce to extravagant fantasy, the quirky tales that make up this fragmentary, somnambulist narrative often defy easy categorization. In the eerily beautiful "Visit," the narrator, while a guest at his estranged brother's suburban home, stumbles onto a vast subterranean lake, a ghostly realm known only to his niece and nephew, and frequented by his dead parents. In "Clouds," a dark satire on art's redemptive power, the decapitated narrator wanders into a dreamscape: first a costume party where he's suddenly the most desirable guest, then an encounter with a picnicking bear whose childlike demand to be told a story at last comforts the headless man. Metaphysical conundrums abound as our hapless traveler encounters trick-playing natives, grave-robbers, waterfalls that change location, cross-dressing female partisans disguised as seamen to smuggle illegal arms. In "Netting," the wayward narrator is forced to hear a wasted man's deathbed confessions, a litany of squalid losses that turns out to be the narrator's own life story. Although too many of the pieces are anecdotal, repetitious or turn on pat devices, the "memoir" overall urgently speaks to the anxieties, loneliness, wonder and strangeness of travel, which serves as a metaphor for the human condition. This enjoyable, weird excursion poignantly evokes the universal plight of the traveler for whom everywhereAand nowhereAis home. (May) FYI: The Sadness of Sex was recently adapted into a movie in which Yourgrau stars.
Copyright 1999 Reed Business Information, Inc.