Customer Reviews

The Road to Oxiana

5 star:		(4)
4 star:		(4)
3 star:		(1)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(1)

 

 

Please look past the one-star review of the previous reviewer...check out other editions of the book and you'll get a truer picture. Byron was notoriously opinionated but that is what makes the book. If you have delicate sensibilities, you may want to skip this. Byron wasn't comprehensive so you are reading literature here, not a complete guidebook. His strengths were a love of architecture and hatred of hypocrisy.

This edition has the added bonus of a Preface by Rory Stewart, recent author of THE PLACES IN BETWEEN and THE PRINCE OF THE MARSHES, about Afghanistan and Iraq respectively.

My only quibble with this edition is with the photographs. They are printed on the same paper stock as the text. The publisher can do better than this with a classic.

Byron had an hysterical knack for seeing right into the souls of the various persons he met on his journeys...it didn't matter who the person was or of what ethnic group or nationality - none were spared the naked opinions of Mr. Byron, and the result is perhaps one of the best books I have read in the last decade. The serious looks at the peoples and places of a part of the world that remains today mysterious and troubled are enlightening when seen in the historical flow. Byron was interested in a type of Islamic architecture that through his writing became known to the West and I hope more appreciated in the lands he traveled.

I urge you to read this book. My copy is a small edition brought out by a now defunct publisher back in the 90s, and I waited about ten years before I got around to reading it. DO NOT take this long! If you are a reader who wants more than just the latest best seller, and you don't shy away from learning - this book is for you!

To dispose with one of the criticisms leveled at this book below: it was in fact written by a highly cultured man who went to Eton and Oxford during a time when those institutions were at their peaks. If you don't know what "elegiac" means, or have the energy to look it up in a dictionary, you won't like this book. If you're looking for funny stories about how the Yak ate somebody's hat, you will be disappointed. Go read something by a Lonely Planet cretin and be happy. This is a serious work of literature, which is why a man like Paul Fussel wrote the introduction.

For those interested in reading high travel literature, or about the history of Jerusalem, Baghdad, Syria, Afghanistan and Persia, this book is wonderful. Because Byron was a highly cultured man, he doesn't merely relate a catalogue of sights he's seen, people he has met, and things he's done. His memoir is as much a survey of the history and anthropology of the places he visited as it is "travel book." Many of the monuments he visited are victims of savagery, and the lead Afghanistan had over Persia in those days in terms of modernization has been lost, perhaps forever.

The term "The Grand Tour" is primarily associated with the British upper-class, from the 17th Century onward, members of which would take year-long tours, or more, on "The Continent," with intellectual improvement, via exposure to other cultures and the antiquities, being the purported motive force. In the 1930's, Robert Bryon, of that class, undertook a tour with much the same purpose, but took it a step further, and would eventually reach Central Asia. It was an impressive and fascinating trip, and the relevance certainly extends to the West's involvement in that area today. The "Great Depression" was truly depressing life in England, and he had the means to get away. He started in Venice, in August 1933, stopped in Cyprus, before entering what was then called The Levant; that is Palestine, Lebanon, and Syria. From there, he continued overland to Iraq, and then on to Persia (modern-day Iran), Afghanistan, and finally on to Peshawar, when, in those "pre-partition days" was part of India. He returned home in July, 1934, 11 months in total. Bryon died young, drowning when his ship was torpedoed in the Mediterranean in 1941.

So, the book is to be savored, since Bryon writes well, and is a perceptive observer, particularly of the status of the antiquities in the region, much of which cannot be really visited today by Westerners. In one case, the Buddhist statues at Bamian, which were viewed as "idols" by the Taliban, and destroyed; they will never be viewed by anyone again. Of course, in reading the book, part of the irony is that Bryon didn't think much of the Buddhist statues either! Specifically: "Neither has any artistic value. But one could bear that; it is their negation of sense, the lack of any pride in their monstrous flaccid bulk, that sickens. Even their material is unbeautiful, for the cliff is made, not of stone, but of compressed gravel...The result has not even the dignity of labour."

The heart of the book is Bryon's time in Iran and Afghanistan. And it was the weather that was the decisive factor in their itinerary. They crossed northern Persia (Iran,) and reached Herat, Afghanistan in November. And his comment has been felt by many, who came to Afghanistan in time of peace, or even war: "Here at last is Asia without an inferiority complex." Afghanistan has dealt rudely with foreign invaders, from the time of Alexander the Great; it still does. With the snows closing them in, they elected to return to Persia, and winter in its south, visiting Isfahan, Persepolis, and Shiraz. The travel was easier in those days, without the requirements for visas; but there was an attendant insecurity in remote areas; and in southern Persia, this centered around Firuzabad. In late spring, having retraced their route, they entered Afghanistan again on May 12. To reach Kabul, for all too many years, the transport was much easier on the southern route, through Kandahar. Byron elected the northern route, through what was then referred to as Afghan Turkestan. They eventually reached Balkh (the birthplace of the Aryan race, as it was dubbed!) and Mazar-i-Sherif. But did they actually make it to the Oxus River?

Bryon is wonderfully erudite, in terms of the historical significance of places, and the architecture. And he is reading Proust when he enters Turkestan, and remarks: "His (Proust's) description of how the name "Guermantes" hypnotized him reminds me of how the name "Turkestan" has hypnotized me. Byron resonates, but there is also much dissonance. The tone is set by Bruce Chatwin in the introduction: "In 1962- six years before the Hippies wrecked it (by driving educated Afghans into the arms of the Marxists) you could set off to Afghanistan with the anticipation of, say, Delacroix off to Algiers." I took much of the same overland route to India in 1971; never considered myself a hippie, and know that Chatwin is really complaining about the ability of those "without independent means" to travel. Bryon himself spoke of his inability to secure a "servant" to tend to their needs as they traveled. Bryon seemed to assume that the world's hierarchical power relations would be eternal. No comments about the impact of colonialism on the areas he traversed. In terms of the "natives," his tone is too often patronizing. Consider: "Poor Asia! Everything boils down to the inevitable nationalism, the desire for self-sufficiency, the wish to cut a figure in the world and no longer be called interesting for lack of plumbing. Afghan nationalism is not so undignified as Persian..."

I share many of the concerns expressed in the one 1-star review. Still, if one accepts the book from the perspective of one erudite, deeply observant, from his viewpoint, but blind from and for others, British upper class traveler, I'd rate it 3-stars.

Note: My version is the Picador one of 1981, with the Chatwin introduction; not the listed one with an introduction by Rory Stewart.

I have read about how great "Oxiana" is for a long time, so finally reading it is like arriving at a new place after a long journey. The author, who spends most of the book trying to cross Iran in order to get to Afghanistan, makes that country very interesting, especially now 70 years later it is back in the headlines. He intermixes his story with what he has read about "Oxiana." In particular, the ancient civilization in Afghanistan is represented by tombs that are built like towers with a crypt at the top. It is like nothing else I have ever heard of, and I've been reading about Afghanistan for about six years now. Obviously, the trip was very difficult, but the author lets the facts speak for themselves, and always keeps in front of himself and us the glories of a lost world. One of his most interesting stories is of a queen, who seems to have been the Elinor of Aquitaine for the Afghans.

If you harbour any thoughts of venturing via Iran into Afghanistan you might want this glimpse into former times. The writing never fails to excite, the humour is exquisite; some of the author's recounting of people and social interraction will have you falling about, though I suspect you'll have had to have had some actual cross cultural experiences to fully appreciate his position. Most poignant, his descriptions of architectural edifaces, of interior decoration, of bridges etc. is enthralling. Many of these places either no longer exist, or exist is a much reduced state. Clearly, he is enthralled by Persepolis and Isfahan and the glories of kufic script. Pp 188-189 elicit his responses to the former, and his reveries about the friday Mosque and the Royal Mosque in the latter, form some of his most sublime utterances(pp195-200). He makes no effort to conceal his disdain for Indians and India, for fellow travellers, be they Russian, American, or German; though his judgements are gently humorous. Given the journal entry mode of the book, there's a wonderful immediacy about this read. Why he records the elevations of his many stop-overs, I have no idea.This is a great read, conveys the rigours of travel back in the 30s, and is a sweet glove fit with contemporary travellers like Thubron.

In 1933 the 28 year old Robert Byron set out on a journey to Central Asia. Unlike many, perhaps most, previous travelers to the region he was neither a military man with a hidden agenda of spying, nor an archeologist, nor a classic discoverer of "firsts". Instead he clearly enjoyed traveling and was a well educated student of architecture. Setting off from a nice hotel in Venice the journey went to Cyprus, Syria, Palestine, Irak, and eventually through the key destinations of Persia and Afghanistan. Along the way he provides great commentaries on not just the architecture, but also on nature, people, and the adventures he and his traveling companions encounter along the way. The classic and historically interesting places he visited included Persepolis, Isfahan, Mazar-i-Sharif and many others. One other place he visited on the way home was Bamiyan, well known these days as home of the two gigantic Buddha statues that the Taliban blew up some years back. Perhaps Byron would have objected less to such an outrage than most people given his comments that: "Neither has any artistic value. But one could bear that; it is their negation of sense, the lack of any pride in their monstrous flaccid bulk, that sickens."

Particularly in the beginning the writing takes the form of short observational vignettes, often very witty. On encountering carob in Cyprus he comments: "It looks like a shriveled banana and tastes, I found, like a glucose doormat". At other times he relates short dialogs that may or may not have actually taken place, but that are nevertheless insightful and entertaining. Some are even "set to music", indicating the state of agitation of the speaker through notes of (pp) through (roaring ff). One may wonder how he put all this wittiness and high-brow architectural commentary together in a diary in the middle of nowhere and the answer is that he didn't. In reality he spent several years after the trip writing the book. That doesn't diminish the writing, in fact it is probably far better than a "dear diary" type of account would have been.

Byron's book changed the nature of travelogues at the time and it is unfortunate that he didn't get to spend a long life writing many more. WWII broke out within two years of the book's publication in 1937 and Byron perished during the war.

All the good things said it should also be noted that this is not a particularly breezy read. I don't read all that slowly but it felt like a bit of a slog to get through the book. I can't quite pinpoint the issue. Perhaps I got too sidetracked looking up unfamiliar but interesting words. Along the way I learned that "loophole" refers to the holes in castle and similar walls from which one can observe and attack the enemy. The "loop" part is apparently from the Dutch for "peering", perhaps related to "loupe". But I digress...

Byron's travelogue through the Near East early in the twentieth century provides the serious scholar with a flawless insight of the region's cultures, art, architecture, religions, commerce, and politics. Byron's book is considered, by those who are tasked with serious and sensitive work in that region, as being a seminal work. His unique education coupled with his extraordinary capability as an observer has provided for a remarkable view of the Near East in a manner literally unequaled by the majority of Western scholars over the past almost one hundred years. As a person who lived and worked in Iran, I found his book indispensible.

The book is fine, but there was a glitsch in the ordering process;

I ended up with two copies of the book, which I had to pay for.

Correcting this sort of problem is anything but obvious.

In the early to mid 1930s, Robert Byron traveled to Venice, Beirut, Palestine and finally to Iran and Afghanistan for 10 months with his companion, Christopher Sykes. Oxiana is an area in Afghanistan south of the Russian border around the Oxus river which is now called Amu Darya.

Byron's "The Road to Oxiana" became the magnificently boring and superficial account of his trip, devoid of any emotion, attachment to anything or anyone, including his travel companion whom he rarely mentioned in the book, full of English arrogance and racist remarks about Jews, Persians, Afghans and blacks. Here's what he had to say about Jews he saw at a port in Jerusalem: "Physically, Jews can look the best or the worst bred people in the world. These were the worst. They stank, stared, shoved, and shrieked." He also continuously referred to blacks as negros, but I suppose that was the English norm at the time, so he was generationally prejudiced. Ironically, Byron fiercely denounced Nazi sympathizers following his trip to Nuremberg, but he was still well known for his anti-semitic remarks.

The Road to Oxiana was Byron's second and final attempt at gaining recognition for this trip. His and Sykes' original work on the diary titled "Innocense and Design" in a comic novel format was largely unsuccessful.

If you're a fan of literature with big words and metaphors, you may enjoy this book which was by no means an easy read. I suppose Byron had a knack for describing architecture, and Oxiana changed the genre of travel writing since its publication. For me, it changed nothing as Byron lacked the connection to people and places to engage the readers. His account of interactions with the locals were brief and lacked depth.