Customer Reviews

The Old Patagonian Express: By Train Through the Americas

5 star:		(16)
4 star:		(12)
3 star:		(7)
2 star:		(4)
1 star:		(3)

 

 

A remark that one reads often about Paul Theroux is that he is grouchy, critical of the people he meets, and generally unpleasant. Some readers seem to suggest that this makes him a worse traveler, not being pure-of-heart or sufficiently open-minded. On the other hand, some others suggest he is worth reading as a travel writer precisely because he's not afraid to tell-it-like-it-is. I think it is likely that both of these ideas are wrong.

When Paul Theroux writes a travel book, he is not a journalist writing simply to produce a faithful depiction of the places he visits. He is not a social crusader writing in order educate the reader about the lives of the poor or to stimulate the reader to see the richness of life outside of North American. He certainly is not an egotist like Thomas Friedman who writes in order to put himself in a positive light. He is simply an intelligent man who has enough humility to try to write down what he has experienced without drawing too many clumsy conclusions or false symmetries. When he writes that he didn't like a certain person sleeping in his train compartment, he doesn't expect the reader to sympathize with either him or the unpleasant companion. I don't think he means to argue that his dislike has any special significance beyond the fact that it was part of the travel story that he is telling. I like the fact that when Theroux narrates an encounter with someone in his travels he doesn't smooth out the details to make the encounter unambiguously positive or negative. For example, when he describes meeting Jorge Borges, the Argentine writer, he clearly admires Borges' memory and sensitivity and yet he doesn't avoid commenting on Borges' stuttering and his clowning smile. And yet again I don't think Theroux's remarks are meant to be cynical or knowing. When he tells-it-like-it-is he is not trying to steer an intellectual or moral high road and he is not valiantly trying to see past illusions. I believe that when he writes down a conversation or encounter he intends only to include his side as one of the characters in his story.

Theroux has the patience to travel by train across a hemisphere and, thankfully for this reader, he has the patience to delay the moment when the mind can no longer calmly observe and rashly commits itself to streamlined answers and silly pet theories about what one sees and what it 'really' means. His books are, to me, humble because in them he shows us moments when he feels superior and they are wise because he doesn't try to step outside of his story to engage in falsely-wise pronouncements.

It doesn't matter whether Paul Therous is a 'good' traveler or not. Few travelers have the writing ability to produce any sort of record of their travels anyway, whatever their nature. The reason one ought to read Paul Theroux is be reminded of what the world and oneself can look like through the eyes of an ardent traveler who just happens to love books a bit more than he loves people.

In 1979, Paul Theroux departed from his childhood home in Medford, Massachusetts, and began his train journey from the East Coast of the United States to Patagonia, on the southern tip of Argentina. A seasoned traveler, fluent in Spanish, Theroux brings to life his trip through the northern and southern hemispheres, traveling without a schedule and observing his fellow passengers on the train and people at stops along the way.

In Texas he is astonished at the contrasts between Laredo on the Texas side of the Rio Grande and Nuevo Laredo across the border in Mexico, commenting on society and governments. Traveling through Mexico and Guatemala, he observes the poverty of the Indians and their lack of opportunities. In El Salvador he attends a soccer game and gets caught up in the melee and riots which follow it. In Costa Rica, the cleanest country he has visited, he finds himself stuck on the train with Mr. Thornberry, a New Hampshire tourist so boring that Theroux cannot wait to escape him--only to have Mr. Thornberry "save his life" by offering him a place to stay upon his arrival in Limon. In Panama he meets the "Zonians," from the Canal Zone, and in Cali, Colombia, he meets a married "priest" who cannot tell his devout mother in Belfast that he has "left" the church to marry and have children.

Throughout his trip, Theroux reads classics, particularly enjoying Boswell's Life of Dr. Johnson and Edgar Allen Poe's The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym, both of which provide ironic reference points for his own journey. For literature lovers, the most fascinating section occurs in Buenos Aires, where Theroux spends many days visiting blind writer Jorge Luis Borges, who persuades Theroux to read to him. Ironically, one of Borges's favorite novels is The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym. As Theroux takes notes on his meetings with Borges, he becomes Borges's Boswell.

More an observer than a participant, Theroux has an unfortunate air of superiority about what he sees and hears. Sparing little sympathy for American and German tourists, he rarely gets excited about his surroundings, expressing genuine emotion only when he talks with three boys, ages ten to twelve, who live in a doorway and scavenge for food because their rural families have abandoned them. Theroux's self-congratulatory attitude gets a bit wearisome, but the picture of Central and South America, thirty years ago, and the section with Borges are unparalleled. With beautiful, carefully observed prose and a great ear for dialogue, Theroux's Patagonia Express is a landmark travel memoir. n Mary Whipple

As a venezuelan I thank god that there is no train to my country and that Paul Theroux didn't stop in Venezuela because almost everywhere that he went , including part of the U.S.A, he had the ability, the gift to find only the negative things. So you should ask me, then why did I give this book 4 stars, because its fun to read. Paul Theroux, a young writer in the seventies, one day decides to leave his wife and kids in their home in London, go back to his parents house in Massachussets and from there take a train to the Patagonia: the farthest south that he could go. Sounds fun for an adventurous man, but all the time, all the places he keeps bitching about everything: The people on the trains, the people in the cities, how he misses his family, what is he doing there, about the food, about the hotels. Well you name it, but in the middle of all this bitching you can almost find yourself in the forest, in the middle of a civil war, in the top of the mountain, meeting Borges, every day completely different from the other.Paul Theroux can be real obnoxious, but he sure can write.

Paul Theroux, in his introduction to THE OLD PATAGONIAN EXPRESS, states that his wish was to make this "the ultimate book about getting there." As in his other train voyage narratives, this book is about the journey rather than the destination however, as usual, we manage to glimpse quite a lot of the country and people he encounters along the way. Theroux, as always, plays the curmudgeon and misanthrope throughout. This, of course, is the main reason I enjoy coming back to Theroux time and time again. Who needs to read another travelogue of fluffy descriptions of tourist destinations and restaurant reviews?

Theroux seeks "adventure" and he finds a fair amount of it in his train travels through the Americas. Although he speaks against the novelistic approach to travel writing, his own character consistently inserts itself into the story which in my opinion reads much like a novel in a positive way. Politically, the book is dated and we must expect that much has changed in Central and South America over the last 20 years. However, THE OLD PATAGONIAN EXPRESS remains a highly entertaining read and I recommend it heartily.

Jeremy W. Forstadt

I like all of the Theroux books. He is not flattering, he simply describes what he experiences. When he finds something displeasing, he says so. And that is missing in so many travel books.

Theroux doesn't bore with cautions and warnings, he doesn't make pretty was isn't. When it is uncomfortable he says it's uncomfortable. When he finds it ugly or distasteful, he says so.

I have traveled many of the places he describes, and reading The Patagonia Express, I could relive many of my own experiences. He is not sugar-coated, neither am I. He doesn't shrink away from hard experiences and misery, neither do I. He travels exactly the way the locals travel, so do I.

Being squeezed in between six people on a seat made for three isn't "fun", but it is reality. And being between these people who haven't bathed in days isn't fun either, but it is reality. It is a good reality and readers should realize that most of the world doesn't live like we do.

This - or any of his books - is not for the superficial traveler. It isn't for someone who just wants pretty or enjoys blinders as not to recognize that the majority of humanity lives is true poverty.

Theroux is a wonderful writer who knows how to bring the real world very close.

When I saw the title and read the introduction on the back I thought this was the travelogue I have been waiting for. I also like to travel and enjoy the process of travel much more than collecting souvenirs or boasting material. I find walking through the main street of a strange place and observing the public behavior of the people and sometimes overhearing their conversations much more interesting than visiting museums or other tourist locations about which I can read from any book sitting at home. When I got this book I wanted a third party confirmation of my ways. But this book disappointed me.

It is about Theroux's travel from one end to the other end of Americas by train. He hardly feels anything interesting or appealing on the many trains he takes or the people he meets. He takes all in as a necessary evil so that he could write a book. When ever people offer him opportunities to get out of his self absorption he rebuffs them and if this is not enough calls them idiots. While spending a great deal of time in interpreting his enlightened reading material for us he seems content to call poor miserable and hot weather unbearable. If I believed that calling the poor miserable would make them rich I would have enjoyed the content of his descriptions much more.

Here comes the best part of the book. His clear, precise prose and his ability to work with short dialogues to give as a prejudiced but clear picture. In this sense this book is a very interesting read and you feel compelled to finish it once you start. If you are one of those people charmed by clear precise prose with a bit of exotism thrown in this is the book for you.

First book I read by Paul Theroux and was blown away by his refusal to play the all-too-easily-pleased and polite traveller/tourist. Theroux is a thinking traveller not afraid to mix it up with the locals or allow people to make fools of themselves. I just wished he had taken another route home and written another book about that.

This is an excellent read. Theroux engages everything and everyone with a sort of biting-embrace. He doesn't mince words. He tells the story of the Americas as he experiences it. It's not necessarily pretty and it isn't always complimentary.Theroux's mixes observation with historical background and literary references that add to the text. Theroux's power of description can be breathtaking. "Flocks of white herons blew across the grass tips like flecks of paper in a breeze" It is this type of prose juxtaposed the poor living conditions of the people that adds allure to the story. I think Theroux's writing rests on the edge of what people find comfortable, but the reality is traveling to a third world country is not COMFORTABLE. One must fine riches and beauty amongst the squalor.

Near the end of a two week trip to a far off land (for me at least), those uncomfortable things that at first seemed new and exciting start to become annoying and old.

It seems like Paul Theroux started feeling this way after his first two weeks... actually maybe even before. He manages to leave his personal stamp of disaproval on every Central and South American country in his wake... er... track.

The good thing is that his negative attitude is so obvious that you become desensitized to it, and it starts to feel like the grumpy narrative to a beautiful slideshow presentation by your Great Uncle Horrace.

Theroux's descriptions of people and places are so vivid, that his journey becomes less of a personal trip, and more of a documentary film of the beautiful landscape and interesting people that he meets. He is but a character in the film that you can choose to ignore.

Sidenote: Before I bought this book I had really wanted to go to the Patagonian area of Chile and Argentina. Since that was the only place that Theroux didn't seem to have a problem with, I instead went to Peru (he both hated it and got altitude sickness there, so I figured it must be a great place... and of course it was).

The Old Pantagonian Express is about 20 years old now but I still re-read it every couple of years. From the starting point in Massachussets, Theroux remarks on how his fellow commuters are merely commuting a short distance, whereas he is travelling to the tip of South America! There are many great moments and observations in this book. Travelling through Panama, Theroux finds himself with a repetitive fellow passenger who keeps pointing out the re-appearance of a pipeline that is coming in and out of view. Mundane stuff, but Theroux weaves it into the narrative in a way that only he can. Of course there are there are many interesting journeys through Mexico, Central and South America, but told in a unique way that was unlike any travel book I had ever read before. Theroux's many other travel books are entertaining and stimulating, but none so much as this book.