O Grande Bazar Ferroviário/The Great Railway Bazaar

O Grande Bazar Ferroviário é a narrativa que Paul Theroux faz da sua épica viagem pelos caminhos-de-ferro da Ásia. Repleta de evocativos nomes de comboios lendários - o Expresso do Oriente, o Correio de Khaibar para o Entroncamento de Lahore, o Correio de Deli proveniente de Jaipur, ou o Expresso Transiberiano, entre outros -, descreve os muitos lugares, culturas e paisagens por onde passou e as pessoas fascinantes que conheceu. De farrapos de tagarelice a monólogos ocasionais, passando por envolventes conversas com outros passageiros - como com Molesworth, um agente de actores britânico, ou Sadik, um ricaço turco -, este é um maravilhoso relato das alegrias românticas das viagens ferroviárias.

The Review
This book covers a journey which takes the author by train from London to Japan, returning via the Trans-Siberian, all on the railway, bar a few necessary flights, buses and ships. As with other Theroux travelogues, it is his fellow passengers and the trains that come under the most scrutiny. On the one hand, these passengers offer an insight into their own culture, but sometimes personality clashes or a lack of a common language causes frustration on all sides.

Of his travelling companions, I particularly enjoyed reading about Mr. Bernard in Burma, his views and recollections of the Royal Artillery he worked for. In a kind of travel snobbery, much of Theroux's disdain is reserved for other foreigners, especially his compatriots. I did, however, smirk at his interchange with an American Buddhist monk looking for water, but instead finding the author intent on reminding him of his US roots.

What is strange, and rather sad, is that 35 years have passed since his journey and the world is a very different place. Vietnam is no longer at war, indeed it has been open to tourists for many years now. Other countries are all but closed off to travellers now, like Iran and Burma. The legacy of war and Empire is also visible, such as the shot-up carriages in Vietnam, the Victorian houses in Simla, the prevalence of English and British ways in the Subcontinent. It can also be seen in the people, the Eurasians he meets, such as Tony who works for the railway in Burma, or the unwanted children of G.I.s in Vietnam which women try to thrust upon the author, or the British Indian in Pakistan, caught between two cultures, feeling out of place in the U.K., where he was born and brought up, yet equally not quite a local in his adopted country.

The topic of sex is prevalent, as to be expected, the lack f it, the selling of it, tales of exotic sex acts, as well as different attitudes towards it. The candid conversations with the Japanese professor near the end were, for want of a better word, enlightening.

Like Theroux, I love travelling by train, indeed I read the book and am writing this review on a train. This means his travel books appeal to me, from the descriptions of the run-down Orient Express, the faded grandeur of the '20s train to Simla right through to Japan's bullet trains are like manna from heaven. I am reminded of my own trips, of my own experiences of dodgy carriage mates, making the book that much more identifiable with, and thus, more entertaining. I have mixed feelings on reading Theroux, whilst he can be terribly entertaining, he is rather a miserable git.

If you enjoy travelling by train, meeting random people, conversations on everything and nothing, this is the book for you. If you are looking for a travelogue with a view to visiting these places, this isn't for you