To skip the intro spiel and jump straight to a review, click on one of:-

Forgot to order tickets for the 2000 Olympics? No problem. Bill Bryson will take you through more of Australia than any other tour operator you'll find. In that dependably humorous and articulate fashion that's made him one of the world's favorite travel writers, Bryson will gently point you towards its tremendous diversity, its wonderful people, its....hundreds of unique and horrifying ways to die! I mean, c'mon guys, where else can you avoid sparkling beaches a-bustle with the world's deadliest species, the box jellyfish, or entanglement in the webs of deadly garden-variety spiders on an unsuspecting suburban stroll? Escape encounters with the cassowary, whose name conjures something cuddly but which is more like a Giant Jungle Penguin of Death? Wander the tops of the world's tallest trees and experience endless hours of featureless desert without being late for dinner?

Who can resist a travelling companion for whom Australia is a "wondrously venomous and toothy country", the outback "a place where men were men and sheep were nervous"? Or an author who describes an Oz dining-car decor as "fin-de-siècle brothelkeeper"?

In his lazy peregrination of the Antipodes, Bryson gives us an unforgettable impression of its cities, beaches, outback, history, quirkiness, diversity and - people. It's not all Crocodile Dundee, but where else could you imagine someone finding a pet supplies-and-pornography shop, sharing his urine in aid of whatever, drawing spawning salmon cartoons for the Prime Minister, and relishing the world's greatest assortment of things that will kill you?

Laugh? - you'll cry. And so will the Brits when they read his inimitable description of cricket. But, hang on....isn't Bryson an honorary Brit anyway? Click on the link to order a hardback copy of this hilarious trip Down Under from Amazon(UK).

In America, you can buy it under the title In a Sunburned Country. By the time the Olympics flame arrives, you'll feel you've already been there. You'll see more of the games and the country than anyone who's spending their kids' college money on the plane ticket, and you'll never have to wait in line for the bathroom. Bryson got the sunburn, so you don't have to. Go on, buy it now!

It's not all Fawlty Towers, but Bryson's gentle, tilting look at the British Way of Life should have you chortling into your tea leaves.

Here's a review from someone who, like me, enjoys travelling mainly in the imagination, Lori Patrick:-

More Fun than You Ever Had With Geography

Pay attention, class. Study the following list of place names. Here's a clue: they may or may not have some connection with the book we are about to discuss: Great Shagging, Coldbath Square, Little Puking, Old Toejam, the Buggered Ploughman, Ram's Dropping Bypass, Tumby Woodside, Shepherd's Bush, The Butts. There will be a test. Now, here's what it's about....

"You have way too much fun with this guy," my husband observed indulgently as I lay in bed giggling through my nth dip into Bill Bryson's Notes from a Small Island. He can't complain. He's been enjoying the same journey himself lately. Michael couldn't resist finding out what has made me laugh uncontrollably and taken me on a unique walk through the British Isles over and over, this past year.

The book arrived out of the blue on a fine summer day in the last century. I'd never heard of Bryson before. Now I don't know how I got along without him.

I can't remember what mundane emergency finally yanked me from my hammock and back to daily life in the Midwestern US but this armchair traveler left reluctantly and returned as soon as it was decent to do so. I don't think I've ever completely come back.

Bill Bryson has so many endearing qualities--he's intelligent and funny, linguistically gifted but unpretentious, perniciously fallible and not ashamed to admit it. He indulges equally in unbridled sarcasm and impressive self-restraint, in compassion and indignation, in self-righteous, patronizing liberalism and honest, self-deprecating humanity. Here is a man who can be captivated by tacky tourist souvenirs one moment and in a high snit over bad architecture the next, wax eloquent over lost works of art and reckless environmental negligence and then head out to buy some plastic vomit. Could this book possibly be boring?

Comparisons can be invidious. To my mind, Bryson's honest but gentle take on the strengths and quirks of the English reminds me of Garrison Keillor's unbridled affection for the semi-fictional citizens of Lake Wobegon. He paints a candid but sympathetic portrait of a people who can be prickly, opinionated, and aloof, but also friendly, welcoming, and highly tolerant. He made lasting points with me describing his gradual seduction into the English way of appreciating small things--an extra pair of warm socks, a hot cup of tea-- frankly admitting that this practice of simple contentment has made his life immensely richer.

Notes from a Small Island is a journal of Bryson's farewell walking tour of his beloved adopted country just before he returned to the States with his English wife and family. It will delight anyone, whether veteran traveler or dedicated homebody. His devotion to journeying on foot and by public transport may seem a bit quaint to automobile-addicted Americans, but it does give a perspective we will never get from our homogenous, standardized Interstate system. I have to admit to being one of those people whose personal discomfort is exponentially tied to my geographical distance from home times the length of time I've been away so my favorite parts of the book were those in which Bryson found himself returned to the bosom of his family and closed the door behind him. But I will go walking with him, word by delectable word, anytime.

Okay, here's the geography test I promised you: From the list in the first paragraph, choose which English names are real and which spring from Bryson's benevolent and irrepressible imagination. The answers may or may not be in the book.

Have fun.

A collection of columns written from America - Alastair Cooke style - for an appreciative British audience. The usual Bryson combination of rambling jokes and musings on the absurdities of everyday life, mundane events and wonderfully idiosyncratic people across the Pond.

Why, for instance, should America boast more lawyers than the rest of the world put together? How can a Lear jet plane disappear into the woods of New Hampshire and never a trace be found? Why do Americans need to have it explained to them that Scotland is a country 'to the north of England', and how is it that '13% of women in the US cannot say whether they wear their tights under their knickers or over them'?

For reflections on these, and many such trivial yet somehow important questions, order Notes from a Big Country here.

In America, you can buy this under the catchy title I'm a Stranger Here Myself : Notes on Returning to America After 20 Years Away

Bryson's humorous account of his 1000-mile amble along the Appalachian Trail with pal Stephen Krantz. You can buy an American paperback version by clicking HERE

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