I've been reading Paul Theroux's Ghost Train to the Eastern Star, the book in which he revisits the scene of The Great Railway Bazaar. That book, about traveling by train through Europe and Asia, was published in 1975 and it not only made Theroux famous, it created a craze for travel books that lasted through the 80s. Then, as we all know, the memoir came along.
In Ghost Train, Theroux is 33 years older than he was when he took that first train trip, and quite a bit more introspective. But he hasn't lost his boundless curiosity, his delight in life's absurdities, his brilliant descriptive skills, his gift for maxims ("Luxury is the enemy of observation."), his I'm-here-and-you're-not love of being alone in a strange place.
But the book, while well-received by critics, has not sold nearly as well as the first one. This is sad and a bit confounding. A book that promises the story of a man who boards a train and just keeps going - especially a man like Theroux - is going to be more enlightening - and probably entertaining - than a book about someone who had a rough childhood or overcame an addiction. For most people, sure, it's not as easy to relate to, but isn't the whole point of reading (as of travel) to be transported?
