Customer Reviews

The Pillars of Hercules: A Grand Tour of the Mediterranean (Penguin Audiobooks)

5 star:		(23)
4 star:		(11)
3 star:		(4)
2 star:		(6)
1 star:		(5)

 

 

This is the first of a few Theroux books I have read. I absolutely loved it. The book provides an excellent portrayal of people in the context of their history and culture. He travels to cities and regions along the Mediterranean that many of us wouldn't otherwise give a thought. One really gets a feel for what life is like in each town. This book, like his others, highlight the difference between a traveler and being a tourist.

I've given the book only 4 stars because your ability to enjoy the book will depend on how you feel about Theroux's voice. As other reviewers have indicated, he is a critical individual with a huge ego. If you find this tone off-putting, you may not enjoy the book. He does seem more annoyed in this book than in others, probably because there are more tourists around. Personally, I was so wrapped up in Theroux's excellent prose that I hardly noticed.

I am not sure why reviewers complain about this not being a good guide - it isn't meant to be a guidebook. Look to Fodor's, Frommer's, Rick Steves, or Lonely Planet for European guidebooks.

THE PILLARS OF HERCULES by Paul Theroux is a record of one man's journey around the Mediterranean. The journey took several months and included two separate phases. Theroux tells of days of hiking, traveling by train, sailing a night steamer in a storm-tossed sea, and crusing through the sunny Greek islands on a fancy yacht. He travels light with a change or two of clothes in a backpack. He washes his clothes out by hand in the B&B's and cheap hotels he frequents. He grabs meals here and there.

Along the way he notes the writers who have passed before him, Robert Groves who lived at Deya with his WHITE GODDESS, Lawrence Durrell who knew Gaul well, the ancients including Herodotus. He stops to talk with living writers and reflect on the conditions of the areas he visits.

Theroux has written about his travels in many parts of the world, and though I've read some of his other works, I enjoyed PILLARS the most--probably because I am familiar with some of the places he describes along the coast of the "sea in the midst of the land" and I maintain a connection to the area.

Beginning in Cadiz Spain, founded by the Phoenicians 4,000 years ago on the Atlantic--where the real Pillars of Hercules probably existed--Theroux follows the coast from Spain to Italy to the Dalmatian Coast onto Greece the Levant, Egypt and then across North Africa. He relates his pleasure with one of the modern pillars of Hercules--Gibralter--the huge limestone rock jutting from the coast of Spain into the Straights of Trafalgar. Hundreds of British sailors and marines from the Napoleonic Wars are buried on this little spit of land England bought with blood and Spain wishes to reclaim.

Theroux takes the train up the Spanish coast, catches a ferry past the islands of Mallorca and Corsica and onto the Italian coast. He continues by train along the Italian coast which he notes becomes progressively more sordid as one travels southward toward Naples. On the Dalmatian Coast, he travels by car (taxi) for a while and notes the thriving stolen automobile business. He passes by the pillboxes built for war and abanoned that now serve as housing for the poor Albanians. He comments on Hoxha's ruthless abuse of the Albanian people.

He passes through Thessalonika, an ancient Greek city where hundreds of Jews lived for centuries before the rise of facism in Italy and the creation of the death camps. He leaves the Mediterranean for a while at this point, and when he resumes his journey he is on a yacht to Istanbul--the fabulous port once known to the Romans as Constantinople.

Finally, he is on land again, in the Levant, traveling by bus through god-dominated and god-forsaken areas fought over since the dawn of time. On his long trek through Turkey, Lebanon, and other war-torn terrain he notes a huge Crusader fortress that still stands almost a millenium after it's constuction, Palestinian refugees, Israeli roads paved with U.S. taxpayer money, and the grinding poverty on all sides in spite of oil wealth. His journey through the Muslim dominated countries of Western Asia and Northern Africa are difficult and at times dangerous. He skirts Libya and moves onto Tunisia.

Theroux's writing is reflective, even sardonic at times. He a critical observer, but not untruthful. Most travel books are designed to advertise the countries, places, cities they describe--and therefore by nature dishonest. Theroux is not selling the places he visits. No, this is not a travel book in the strictest sense, but it is a book for the armchair traveler who wants to know the world a little bit better. Given the ancient history of this area and the relevance of this part of the world this is not a book to be missed.

Mr. Theroux is making an attempt to achieve something very difficult; to make a trip through lands of different culture, history and political status and describe their people, mentality and way of life. I followed his path step by step. Sometimes feeling like a secret fellow traveler somewhere hidden in the same bus, the same train the same ship. I passed through lands I have never visited and his eyes became my eyes. I was discovering paths and myths I had never encountered. New worlds revealed to me: Spain, Sardinia, Croatia, Albania, Turkey. Apart from that, I was expecting to cure my homesickness; to virtually visit my motherland Greece and walk together with Paul Theroux into the same streets I had grown up, look the same sunsets and smell again a scent, just a scent, of the classical dream.

On the contrary his view on our country frightened me. Through his eyes the sun became black and the people ugly, aggressive, illiterate and dirty. Through his descriptions monuments became pissed stones. In his 200 Km bus trip, only shepherds existed.

It is not my intention to judge a famous and distinguished writer whose writing always excited me. The writer has the freedom to reflect his thoughts into the paper and his eye is always valuable and welcomed whatever unfair we feel it is. I would only like to discuss certain parts which I find to be politically incorrect and kindly contribute some ignored information.

In page 326 the author claims that 'The Greeks were not Greek, but rather the illiterate descendants of Slavs and Albanian fishermen (sic!)' and 'Beyond the headland was the Greek island of Chios, where Homer was born - if there was a Homer (sic!)' (p.355) According to that, not only the modern Greeks do not exist, but probably not even the ancient ones. The above is a surprising statement since it is very difficult for a two day village visitor to conclude on the cultural and historical continuity of a whole nation during the centuries. It is also notable and rather unexpected ! for an educated man like Mr. Theroux, that his travel to Greece he does not even visit one of the 1614 museums, or at least a theater performance and an exhibition.

'many words that we think of as distinctively Greek are in fact Turkish: kebab, doner, kofta...' : all Turkish.' (p.332) In fact most of these Turkish food nouns are not used at all in Greek and in any case, it can not eliminate the contribution of the Ancient Greek in thousands of words of the western languages. The above especially applies in science and medicine or words starting with (ana, anti, para, ev, syn)- (i.e. anaesthetic, antithesis, paranoia, parameter, evangelist, synopsis, apart from other words such as economics, electronics, stereotype, geography or Europe) - the tasteful kofta cannot change that.

'After almost two thousand years of neglect, during which Greek ruins had been pissed on ...- the ones that were not hauled away (indeed rescued for posterity) by people like Lord Elgin...' It is true that the marbles started attracting scientific attention after 1821 when Greece became an independent state after a four century rule of the Ottoman Empire. The motives of Lord Elgin though, who 'hauled' two statues from the Parthenon were indeed impressive. He sold them to the British Museum where they are still exhibited. A huge discussion is open at the moment in the United Kingdom about the feasibility of their return to Acropolis. The new archaeological museum of Athens which is already built for the Olympic Games of 2004 has kept a place for them.

' The litter in Greece was remarkable- the roadsides, the beaches ...' Apart from the fact that the author did not visit any beach, the Greek seas were voted as the second cleanest in Europe for 1998 after Belgium. (by the European Commission relevant authorities). They are also 'voted' every year by more than six million tourists.

'The average Greek was just as pathetic as the average Albanian' (p.288) and 'Greece was a successful version of Albania' (p.339). On th! e contrary, the total income per capital for Albania (C.I.A. factbook , 1997) is almost the 10% of the Greek one and no serious comparison can be made.

'They boasted in their glorious past , but were selective... in the 1960s these passionate democrats had welcomed a military coop.' (p.332) No coop in the history was welcomed - otherwise it would take on power through elections. In fact, after seven years of difficulties and fighting, a stable democracy was reestablished in 1974. Seven years later the country became a full member of E.C.. It is also interesting that during the last 50 years all the Mediterranean countries had a period of dictatorship. (Spain, Italy, Greece, Turkey)

During the author's visit in Cyprus , an always difficult objectivity test, the northern of the two divided parts is treated as having the same legal status although it is the result of the 1974 Turkish invasion and it is not recognized by any country in the world (including U.S.). It is obvious that I agree that the visit of the author in both sides is helpful and also that simple people are usually the victims of politics. Nevertheless the care given to the people talking about the Greek-Turkish 'differencies' is substantially disproportional (pages 341-416 vs. only 465-469).

Apart from the above I would recommend the 'Pillars of Hercules' and I did not abandon the journey due to its inaccuracies. It is very well written , very human, and the 'Therouxish' type of humor is remarkable. Besides, the Greek people will never feel insulted by a writer. They can only welcome another visit of Mr. Paul Theroux, probably together with less prejudice and more information. But even if this is not feasible, the invitation is still valid.

Paul Theroux has produced a stunning book here, his recounting of an ambitious tour along the Mediterranean coastline, starting at Gibraltar and ending in Morocco across from "the Rock," along the way visiting just about every place in between, including Spain, France, Sardinia, Corsica, Sicily, mainland Italy, Slovenia, Croatia, Albania, Greece, Turkey, Cyprus (both sides), Israel, Malta, Syria, Egypt, and Tunisia. He tried to visit Lebanon but was unable to, and was warned off from visiting Algeria. He never seriously attempted to visit Libya. Vowing never to take a plane, he travels along the coast and to the various islands by train, bus, taxi, ferry and cruise ship (both luxurious such as the $1000 a day Seabourne to the more decrepit, workaday Turkish vessel Akdeniz).

Though Paul seems at time a romantic, quotting descriptions of places from epic poetry, the Illiad, or modern works of fiction, time and again he finds something different, and often that is a great deal more gritty, spent, or to use some of his massive vocabulary, enervated, melancholy, moribund, or lugubrious (I had to use a dictionary several times in reading it, but hey, I learned something). Though some of it comes off as depressing, some quite depressing, I wouldn't have it any other way; he tells it like it is, describing the places he really saw and the people he really met. Avoiding the tourist's Mediterranean, not wanting to just see ruins, castles, and pretty beaches, Paul shows us in this work how the people live, work, and play in the countries of this great "Inner Sea." Expressing "traveller's guilt" at times for being a "voyeur," Paul observed often times the sorrows, tragedies, and miseries, but also the joys and the friendliness, of the inhabitants of this part of the world.

Paul does not romantize any of the countries he sees. He describes in detail the desolate look of the Spanish seacoast in winter (Paul deliberately traveled in the toursit off season), of all the English-language signs, cheap hotels, billboards, shops selling cheap souvenirs, trailer parks, all waiting forlornly for the summer hordes of tourists, a vacation mecca that was more English than Spanish. He goes into considerable detail his efforts to understand the bloody spectacle that is the bullfight in Spain, talking to Spaniards everywhere and even attending a few (and watching some in smoky bars in Spain), but never develop a true comprehension (or liking) for it. He visits war-torn Slovenia and Croatia, sharing dirty hotels with desperate refugees, worried about snipers, harrassed by police at border checkpoints, looking at bullet and mortar holes in ancient structures. His time in Albania is surreal, a land of screaming and whining beggars, virtual starvation, a land that just recovered from one of the most xenophobic dicators in history, one that mandated everyone has his own bunker and not even own his own car - his description of Albania alone was worth the price of the book. Northern Cyprus he spent some time in, a ghost-town, a phantom nation, one that doesn't exist except in a legal limbo, cut-off from the rest of the island by the Green Line, forever a truncated failure of a country, in reality an expensive Turkish colony. He referred to Greece as "the ragged edge of Europe," a poor country that was basically a slightly better Albania as it were, a nation that was not really modern and an EC welfar state, and despite its rich cultural history, the people of that nation today - he writes - are not really truly aware of or part of the heritage of Aristotle, Pericles, and Archimedes. I could go on at length here, but suffice it to say his portraits of each country are fascinating. Some are a bit brief; he doesn't spend that much time in Slovenia for instance (not as much as he did in Croatia for example), and I got the impression in Morocco he was just glad his trip was finally ended.

The book is not perfect though. Some of the locations I thought he would spend more time on, specifically Jerusalem, Istanbul, and Venice, but perhaps if he did the book would be massive. At the very least in Istanbul there were political and terrorist problems, thus complicating his stay. All in all though I found this book quite worthwhile.

...and not just for the reader. I had the impression that Theroux himself was tired of his journey about halfway through, and his cynicism and displeasure became increasingly evident throughout the latter portion of the book. Still, it was well-written, and I enjoyed it enough to read The Kingdom By the Sea. I'll keep reading, but I'll take him and his attitudes with a grain of salt.

Do NOT read this book if you are looking for a travel guide (unless you are looking for places NOT to go, like the entire Mediterranean region). This is essentially a book by an extremely well-read and erudite misanthrope who pours (not undeserved in many cases) scorn upon most everyone he meets and every place he visits, preferring to reflect on the dead authors and men of genius admired by him who visited or inhabited these places. (One exception: ALMOST dead in the case of Paul Bowles.) His basic approach can be summed up in a statement in Chapter 7 he makes regarding the Sardinians: "Excessive friendliness is perhaps a philistine trait; in a place where no one reads, no one values or understands contemplative solitude, and so they need each other to be friendly and talkative." It doesn't seem to occur to him that a man might be complex enough to be both extremely friendly and extremely contemplative; perhaps because Theroux himself is not, or perhaps because to recognize the possibility would staunch the outpour of his vile, which is really what this book is all about. The book does have its moments. Snide remarks have their place, and his dismissive, irreverent comments on Syrian president Assad and his contempt for the Israeli dependence on American largesse hit the mark like no other writer can. But anyone familiar with Theroux's work can not help but be reminded of his alter ego and the protagonist of his earlier novel, The Mosquito Coast, who ends up destroying himself and his family because of his disdain for non-geniuses....Well, at least Theroux knows what he's about. I can't really think of whom to recommend this book to besides intellectual snobs who are not MERE snobs but truly well-read and who get a rush out of hearing about where famous authors worked and lived, and, of course, what Theroux thinks of it all. Theroux probably gives it all away when he (supposedly) visits the ailing Paul Bowles, and the first thing he records Bowles as saying as our author enters the room is: "Yes, I know your books.".............All is vanity, saith the preacher.

In THE PILLARS OF HERCULES, Paul Theroux travels a well-trodden path, for once, and one which has perhaps been excessively romanticized in the past. In contrast to many of the other regions of the world in which he has traveled and of which he has written, the Mediterranean has a long literary history consisting of native writers and expatriates alike. In much of this book, Theroux manages to skirt the most touristed regions of Mediterranea while seeking out the landmarks and icons (some living) of the literary Mediterranean. In some ways, THE PILLARS OF HERCULES is substantially different than any other travelogue published by Theroux.

In other ways, however, this book remains true to the Theroux we have always loved or reviled. How could it not be? Theroux's acerbic pen has not lost its bite, and his misanthropic self is as prominent a character in this book as it is in all his others. Now, however, he is treading a sacred path: one which, for once, may have been crossed by a substantial number of his readers.

Beginning in Gibraltar, Theroux's plan is to circumnavigate the Mediterranean while remaining as close to the water's edge as possible. The plan to stay within sight of the water sometimes causes Theroux (or perhaps it provides the excuse he needs) to miss some of the more popular locations of the Grand Tour, yet it keeps him close to those who make their livelihoods at the shores of the great sea. In one of the most traveled regions on earth, Theroux manages to find those out of the way places--not gems perhaps, but surprisingly untouched by the tourist trade--where we can really experience a sense of place and of culture.

THE PILLARS OF HERCULES ends up being a deeply satisfying work for those who love to travel in a vagabond manner, though perhaps not for those whose travels consist of packaged tours and managed activity schedules (and perhaps not as well for those possessed of eternally sunny dispositions). Whatever your travel preference, I would strongly recommend this book to anyone pondering a Mediterranean vacation. There is bound to be something interesting or entertaining here for anyone.

Jeremy W. Forstadt

I've always enjoyed Theroux's books, and this one was no exception. What I like about Theroux is that his books are not merely descriptions of the landscape or brief snippets of cities, but actually attempt to capture the journey he undertakes. Pillars of Hercules is a trip around the Mediterranean- not just the traditional countries associated with it, but also going into Albania and North Africa- some of the more interesting parts of the book.
What I like is how he talks with so many of the people he meets; it gives a sensation of what the country is like in the time while he is there. The literary meetings that he has with a variety of authors throughout the book add something that most travel books lack.

Started the book and realised that Mr Theroux has a keen eye for uglyness. His trip around Spain is really sad. I am sorry he couldn't find any of the wonderful towns and people on this coast. For his satisfaction, I can reassure him, he would be able to find his translated work not only in Barcelona, but in other coastal and inland cities and towns in Spain. Sorry to contradict, but there is not a bull fight on TVE everyday. I have found these chapters so misleading that I couldn't carry on with the book.

Paul Theroux's travel books are a unique delight, and "Pillars of Hercules" is one of his best. In it, he travels from Gibraltar to Tangier, the long way, around the Med Sea. It's compelling reading: The places he visits and the people he meets; his 'take' on things. I had never even considered wanting to travel to Croatia or Albania or Syria or Tunisia, but now I'd like to go. But it's PT's take on places I've been to - Spain, France, Italy - that were most enjoyable, for he usually travels to out of the way places. I was pleased that he also noticed how much dog crap is on the sidewalks in France. His conversations with famed writers Naguib Mahfouz (after being stabbed by a fanatical Muslim)in Cairo and with Paul Bowles in Tangier are two of the books best parts. I highly recommend this book.