We join Bill Bryson as he walks (mostly) from Dover to John O Groats in a book once voted ‘the book that best represents Britain’ – Notes from a Small Island.
Notes from a Small Island – the blurb
In 1995, before leaving his much-loved home in North Yorkshire to move back to the States for a few years with his family, Bill Bryson insisted on taking one last trip around Britain, a sort of valedictory tour of the green and kindly island that had so long been his home. His aim was to take stock of the nation’s public face and private parts (as it were), and to analyze what precisely it was he loved so much about a country that had produced Marmite; a military hero whose dying wish was to be kissed by a fellow named Hardy; place names like Farleigh Wallop, Titsey and Shellow Bowells; people who said ‘Mustn’t grumble’, and ‘Ooh lovely’ at the sight of a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits; and Gardeners’ Question Time.
You can’t judge a book by its cover
They say you can’t judge a book by its cover and I try not to. Instead when reading a book if there is something on a particular page that I liked, found funny or agreed with I fold down the corner of the page (I know, I know). This is my copy of Notes from a Small Island:
Britain to a tea
For those of you who don’t know, Bryson is an American (a fact I won’t hold against him). He has done a bit of writing before including a certain Short History of Nearly Everything that nearly killed me. I had the pleasure of meeting him a couple of years back at a charity walk in the fantastic grounds of the Blagdon Estate. In anticipation I bought Notes from a Small Island which he duly signed (not whilst walking I hasten to add). It then kicked around on my bookshelf for the obligatory two years before it made its way to the top of the pile.
The book had me from the get go. Bryson just simply gets Britain and most importantly, he respects the mighty cup of tea! Bryson gets Britain (catchy slogan for a political campaign?) and I get him. His sense of humour, his feelings towards wooden church pews and his opinions on Arndale shopping centres. It all made for a wonderful read that I enjoyed immensely.
Near, far, (but not Bradford)
During his journey Bryson extensively covers Britain from the small to the mighty. I was surprised to even see my neck of the woods mentioned when he visited Ashington, home to the Pitmen Painters. I’m ashamed to say I haven’t visited even half of the places he does in the book. I now want a weekend in Windsor, to walk the Dorset Coast Path and to studiously avoid Bradford whose role is to ‘make every place else in the world look better in comparison.’ In which guide book would you get a line like that?!?
I could quote you on that
I’ve strayed in to dangerous territory here as I could quote practically the whole book at you (you’ve seen the corners.) I won’t, instead I will strongly advise you to read Notes from a Small Island and laugh out loud at the bit where he dresses as a giant blue condom. Or argues train enthusiasts perform unnatural acts with steam train videos. I’m quoting again, I’ll stop.
The book was written in 1995 and despite obvious differences – no Brexit, Woolworths still existing, so much is applicable to today’s Britain. Do the words ‘Monarchical crisis’ seem familiar? It really is a book that brilliantly sums up England and I loved it. I’m now off to purchase the follow up to Small Island – The Road to Little Dribbling written in 2016 and strongly suggest you do the same.
If you like to see the world from a foreigner’s point of view, try the very good Almost French, about an Australian moving to Paris.
