Saunterings

The opening line of this book is practically an apology: Warner doesn't want you to think you're getting a guidebook. What follows is something far more interesting - a gentle, wandering meditation on the art of not hurrying. Warner saunters through Europe with the deliberate slowness of a man who believes the destination is overrated. He reflects on Columbus with a mixture of admiration and skepticism, wanders the streets of Paris and London absorbing their different rhythms, and pauses to notice what proper travel books ignore: the small details, the local color, the unspectacular moments that somehow matter. This is travel writing for people tired of itineraries - an American Victorian essayist making peace with the idea that the point of going somewhere is simply to go, to observe, to be quietly present in places you will never see again. Warner's voice is warm, self-aware, and tinged with the gentle humor of a man who knows he's not doing this right and prefers it that way.