March 19, 2012
“I had never been up a minaret… the question was whether it was wise that I should begin with a derelict one.” Seal (A Fez of the Heart), who has long rambled the highways and byways of Anatolia, ponders this and a thousand other timeless queries as he travels the length of the river that gives his book its name. The Menderes, as it is now known, once boasted the world’s most fabulous cities along its windy banks, and caravans passed by carrying the treasures, and warriors, of Rome, Persia, Byzantium, and Egypt. The ravages of time, earthquakes and deliberate erasures have conspired to leave a forgotten region of dusty provincial backwaters, full of menacing dogs and peculiar personalities. Seal takes advantage of his circuitous route to meditate on the joy of the open road in the style of Paul Theroux or Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. Along the way, he interweaves his river’s history, from the march of Xerxes to the spread of Christianity to the atrocities of the Greco-Turkish wars, with his own observations on rural Turkey and the societal convulsions since, he muses to himself, “eople like you began to arrive.” Lively and richly detailed, this will appeal to all those who love reading about epic travelogues of arduous journeys. Photos. Agent: David Miller, Rogers Coleridge and White (U.K.).
May 1, 2012
A whimsical, winding journey by canoe and foot through the layers of Anatolia's history. A British travel writer who focuses on Turkey, Seal (Nicholas: The Epic Journey from Saint to Santa Claus, 2005, etc.) casts himself as a wandering scholar in the tradition of his earlier European compatriots William Leake, Richard Pococke and Francis Arundell. However, Seal attempted what they did not: a solo waterway trip down the 500-kilometer Menderes River (aka Meander), running from the fertile plateau of Anatolia's interior to the tourist meccas of the Aegean. The river's name, thanks to the earliest allusions by historian Herodotus, geographer Strabo and others, propelled it on a fanciful etymological odyssey that endures to this day. On his journey, Seal was harshly confronted by the befouled and eroded effects of industrialization, as many parts of the winding river have been used extensively for hydroelectricity and irrigation. Beginning at the river's source at Dinar and ending near the great classical port city of Miletus, Seal traces age-old migrations of peoples through Asia Minor--including the Hittite, Phrygian, Persian, Greek, Roman, Byzantine and Turk--all who transformed the land in their fashion. While delving into the murky historical depths and recent tensions between the country's secular and Islamist elements, Seal was keen to befriend the locals on whom he largely relied for food and shelter as he made his way by a collapsible canoe or, when there was not sufficient water for navigation, by foot. The portraits of these simple farming people are fond and charming, but the lack of maps renders this more of a literary exercise than usable travelogue. Enlightening tour through Anatolia, rich in history and visceral detail.
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June 1, 2012
Armed with a canoe, luggage, a box of baklava, and a jar full of water, Seal (The Snakebite Survivors' Club: Travels Among Serpents) began his canoeing adventure down the Meander River (now known as the Buyuk Menderes River) from its headwaters on Turkey's Anatolia plateau to its mouth in the Aegean Sea. As he recounts here, things don't go quite as well as Seal had expected. While there are moments that Seal truly enjoys, he also experiences the river's low water levels and pollution, and contemplates its uncertain future. But the book is about more than a trip down the Meander; it's about the rich and highly complicated history of the river, region, and country itself, as well as the kindness and hospitality of the people who live beside it. Though Seal is a stranger doing something strange (a solo canoe trip), they are still willing to offer him a cup of tea or a car ride. After seeing a sign on a bridge that said Meander and discovering that the historical river actually exists, Seal decided to run the river--or at least try to. VERDICT Readers of history and travel will enjoy this charming book.--Melissa Aho, Univ. of Minnesota Lib., Minneapolis
Copyright 2012 Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.
May 15, 2012
In an appropriately sinuous account of his 2008 descent by canoe of the Meander River, Seal travels through ancient ruins and modern towns as he reflectively digresses on the peoples whose myths, religions, and histories have washed over this fluvial arena. His journey, never unhampered and not always nautical, for the modern Meander has been tamed and drained by dams and irrigation, begins with a goose-chase search for the river's source in the company of a hospitable Turk, which presages the physical river's appearances and vanishings and Seal's receptions by locals downstream. Often greeted with amiable but head-scratching disbelief about his intention to paddle to the Aegean Sea, Seal verges on agreement in the face of one obstacle or another but perseveringly works around impediments as he takes in temples, churches, and towns built and ruined over millennia of empire clashing. Wrapping his wry observations around those of meandering antiquarians from prior centuries, Seal writes a charmingly mordant, twisting travelogue.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2012, American Library Association.)