There are books that may be enjoyable but not particularly worthy of discussion and there are books that are worthy of discussion but not particularly enjoyable. In that second category is Bill Bryson’s “In A Sunburned Country.”
After loving “A Walk in the Woods” and being disappointed by “Lost Continent”, I decided to try this travelogue of Australia, mainly because I was looking forward to reading a book that didn’t contain the phrase “Most Americans _____.” (Yes, Americans are idiots, but Bryson usually points this out in a way that makes you wonder how he hasn’t pulled a muscle from patting himself on the back.)
Conversely, Bryson goes too far in the opposite direction with Australia. It’s like when someone wants you to meet their friend and have talked your ear off about how great this friend is to the extent that you hate them before you even meet them. Just as “Lost Continent” was essentially a laundry list of complaints and disappointments about America with no real conclusion or evolution, “Sunburned Country” lacks any significant tension or suspense as Bryson travels across the continent, experiencing one wonderful thing after another, using the words “charming”, “cheery” and (especially) “arresting” ad nauseum.
In general Bryson is stronger when delivering facts, not opinions. He has a definite knack for making history and science interesting without dumbing them down. He partially makes good on his promise to describe the country’s unique and often deadly wildlife (the box jellyfish seems like a particularly tough customer.) He’s unsparing in his description of how the Aborigines were treated and presents interesting questions on how they may have come to the island to begin with. He paints a fairly engaging picture of the vast space and searing sun of the Outback, describing several of history’s ill-fated attempts to cross it. He clearly loves Sydney, Melbourne, Adelaide and Perth, providing some historical background on each. Still, the reality is that it took me almost two months to get through this book, ultimately bailing on the appendix about the Sydney Olympics.
What would have made “In A Sunburned Country” more effective?
Trimming some of the personal narrative would have helped. Bryson spends nearly 30 pages on a visit with a friend in Victoria; while this section of the book has some good historical anecdotes and descriptions of the natural landscape, it easily could have been halved. The friend certainly seems like a nice enough fellow but he’s just not that interesting. More of a dramatic arc would have been nice. In “A Walk in the Woods”, Bryson’s plight on the Appalachian Trail makes him seem more sympathetic to the reader; he earns his soap box time. At the beginning of “Sunburned Country” he loves Australia; at the end of “Sunburned Country” he loves Australia. Perhaps I may someday visit Australia and understand why he loves it; if so I will happily revise this review. For now, I will stick to foreign vacations with a shorter flight time.
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