Title: A wonderous, beautiful book about discovering the world for the first time
Review: At 18, and freshly kicked out of school, Fermor decided to walk from Holland to Constantinople, bumming around central and eastern Europe, staying anywhere he could and striking up acquaintances with peasants noblemen and everyone in between. It's an almost weepily romantic notion of travel, and it's all compounded by the fact that he did it all in 1933, before WWII would violently wipe away virtually all of the kooky, old Europe. What makes this book so strong is that it doesn't fall into the black hole of vain self-discovery and self-affirmation that makes so much travel writing pure garbage. Fermor is fiercely erudite and he's able to synthesize convoluted central European history, architectural/artistic musings, and reflections on local customs and language into a wonderful pastiche that beautifully evokes old Europe in all of its strangeness and insular splendor. He'd be the greatest drinking buddy of all time.
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