The Road to Little Dribbling - Bill Bryson

I’ve resumed my rereading of the works of Bill Bryson, first with Made In America: An Informal History of the English Language in the United States, which I didn’y have much to say about other than I liked it, as I do all Bill Bryson books, and then with The Road to Little Dribbling.

Dribbling might be my least favourite of Bryson’s books, which is not to say I don’t like it. he’s funny as ever, and his deft writing is always good company. But it always felt to me arbitrary, and suffers from comparison to the inimitable Notes from a Small Island. The book is indeed, something between a sequel and a reboot of Notes. Written for the 20th anniversary of the previous book, Bryson once again tours his adopted homeland, this time following a route that is obstensibly anchored to the Bryson Line—the longest straight line that can be drawn through Britain without crossing over water—and that starts and ends at its termini, but otherwise ventures more or less wherever he pleases.

Bryson makes an effort not to retread too much old territory, but repeat visits are inevitable, and his opining on the state of modern Britain can feel a bit one note. There was always a tone of cranky old man in Bryson’s writing, even when he was a young man, and this element seems to have gained prominence as he’s aged. That being said, Bryson raises crankiness to an art form, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy his acerbic takedowns of foolishness.

All told, Dribbling is a Bryson book and as such worth reading. It likely won’t go on my regular rotation alongside his true masterpieces, but I’m happy to have it on hand on my bookshelf.

Notes from a Small Island - Bill Bryson

Notes from a Small Island is one of Bryson's most beloved works, and for good reason. Though I wouldn't rank it above Thunderbolt Kid or A Walk in the Woods in his catalog of travel literature, it remains a funny and informative exploration of the British land and its culture. His genuine affection for the place doesn't blind him to its flaws, and he is unflinching in his criticism where he feels criticism is warranted.

I don't have much to say about this one apart from that I like it. It's Bryson—probably even Quintessential Bryson—and that's enough for me.

The Adventures of Tom Sawyer - Mark Twain

It seems kind of pointless to explain who the main character of the Adventures of Tom Sawyer is. You know him already, as I did long before I finally got around to reading it. My only previous encounter with Tom was from Huckleberry Finn, which I read in high school and liked well enough. Comparing the two is difficult, given how long it's been. I got different things out of both books, but whetherit that's a result of the books or me is hard to say.

One thing that struck me about Tom Sawyer is how episodic it feels. There is an overarching plot involving the boys witnessing a murder and a stolen treasure, but its first inklings don't appear until almost a third of the way through the book, and drop off regularly to explore the minutia of daily life as a boy, which seems to be the book's true passion. The plot heavy stuff almost seems like an excuse to justify the gags and slice-of-life vignettes, which is where Twain excells and where the book comes most to life. It's no surprise that the most famous scene, where Tom tricks the neighborhood children into whitewashing a fence for him, has nothing to do with Injun Joe or stolen gold at all.

The plot is fun as a parody of adventure stories popular at the time, but the book's greatest strength is its humor, and a lot of spots were very funny. I don't recall seeing Huck Finn that way, but again that may have been a lack of familiarity with older literature. In any case, my appetite has been sufficiently whetted to make me pick it back up in the near future.