Written for the Road...

Travel and technology journalist Hoffman (Hunting Warbirds) had two motives for penning this tour of the world's most life-threatening modes of transportation, including trains in India, buses in South America, and trucks in Afghanistan: to expose the "parallel reality," obscured by the tourism industry, of millions for whom "travel was still a punishing, unpredictable, and sometimes deadly work of travail"; and for thrills. By the first measure-showing how much of the world gets from place to place-Hoffman is commendably fascinating: his depiction of the horrors people endure just to see family members or get to work is unforgettable. Unfortunately, Hoffman's secondary motive dominates much of the ruminating prose, and it's hard to sympathize with his middle-aged family-man angst when he's subjecting his teenage daughter to a 24-hour ride across South American mountains in a bus with no bathroom. Elsewhere, a powerful description of the Indian train system segues into a tepid quasi-love affair. Readers with the patience to avoid some self-indulgent side-tracks will find much to reconsider during their next tough commute.

Written for the Road...

Invoking Hunter S. Thompson is a risky proposition for young writers, who can be gulled into thinking that chemical intake and sketchy reporting are substitutes for the gonzo great’s keen insight and lacerating wit. Fortunately, although Kohnstamm plays the Thompson card on his first hand, documenting a monumental pub crawl with a coke buddy called “the Doctor,” he soon finds his own voice. Scratching a bite from the travel bug, Kohnstamm walks away from a Wall Street cubicle to accept a poorly paid, impossibly deadlined job updating the Lonely Planet guide to Brazil. Sharp writing and self-deprecating wit add spice to a chronicle of the sometimes absurd world of guidebook writing. (In one memorable scene, he gets thrown out of a hotel he is researching because he looks—accurately—too poor to stay there.) There’s food for thought, too, about Lonely Planet’s journey from backpacker tip sheet to faux-hobo itinerary and the aftereffects of the travel it promotes. Kohnstamm’s hedonism is heroic, but it’s his willingness to think about hedonism’s consequences that makes this worth reading.

Written for the Road...

Van Bergeijk decided he could make a few bucks by buying a rusted-out 1988 Mercedes 190 Diesel in Amsterdam and reselling it in a Third World country. The clunker had 220,000 kilometers on its odometer. The three-month trip takes him from Holland through Morocco, across the Sahara, and into a variety of countries in Africa. Along the way, he runs into such obstacles as minefields, banditry, and a teenage desert guide who loves Tupac lyrics. There isn’t much food or water, but there is no shortage of sandstorms. He is equipped with a bar of soap, some duct tape, and a pair of women’s nylons to patch up his car’s many breakdowns. There’s much more, including a coup that he somehow survived. This has all the makings of a horrendous journey—and it is—but his dauntless, lighthearted style of writing makes the trip sound almost like a romp. --George Cohen