Searching for Adventure

You finally made it to the bookshop. Good for you. We both know how busy you’ve been. What’s that? You’re only here because your partner is trying on shoes across the street? Well, that hardly matters. The important thing is you are here, looking for a new companion.

But where do we start? There are so many books on these shelves, and so little time. Do you have some tricks? Why didn’t anyone ever help us with this?

Some people choose at random. Not you. You’re the sort who wants to know what you’re getting yourself into. You feel the paper. Note the font type. Give it a quick smell. (Nothing strange about that.) You know how much time you’ll spend immersed in a book – in the grass at the park, leaning against the subway wall, on the toilet (a terrific position that), and of course, the most intimate location, in bed. So be prudent. Be vigilant. Use that eraser in your mind. Cancel out whole swaths of books from the shelves. Quick, get rid of all of the Books I Should Read Because Everyone Else Has. There’s no place for guilt in a bookstore. Cancel out the Books I Half-Finished Long Ago and Really Should Read Now. Don’t be sparing or merciful. This is your time we’re talking about here. Murder the Books That Seem OK But Are Too Expensive. You’ll find them in a hotel lobby somewhere. Don’t worry.

You’ve wriggled your way through stacks of children’s books and various clutter near the door, to the New Books section. There’s even a New Travel column in one of the sturdy old shelves. Perfect! That’s just what you’re looking for. An adventure.

You pick out three titles based solely on covers. Don’t be bashful. Everyone does it. And let me say, you have picked some beauties. The first has a colorful drawing of a rolling countryside, with a bright yellow sun over kaleidoscopic fields.

You open it. The story goes something like this: guy is sad about COVID-19, guy gets sadder when his friend dies, guy gets even sadder when he can’t afford his posh house. So he decides to go on a bike trip for two reasons. First, to sell you this colorful book (in order to keep the posh house). Second, to walk us through his anxiety and depression-riddled trip through Britain, a sort of experiment in thinking aloud. One chestnut remains in your memory: “Life’s sharpest corners are best navigated at the gentle pace of a bicycle.” No. Let’s use that eraser again. Call me insensitive, but I think we all have quite enough first-hand experience with our own neurosis. We don’t need to be taking someone else’s to bed with us. Erase!

Perhaps this next travel memoir then? The cover is a sketch of a girl running along the top of a steep cliff face, a pink trail extending into the distance. Where is she going? Why is she running? Not wanting to be fooled a second time, you flip to the blurb for an idea of what’s in store. First line: “Elise was spending a lot of time crying on buses.” (Gee, that sounds just like the type of person you want as a travel companion, doesn’t it?) It goes on to say that Elise was miserable for a myriad of reasons. She was miserable about her shiny new flat. She was miserable about her first job. She was even miserable (and I’m not sure how this is possible) about her “budding” relationship. Now, if the author can’t feel anything other than “miserable” about shagging a new partner, I don’t think her travel writing promises much in the form of excitement, do you?

The more you search, the more frustrating it becomes. Book after book is full of authors “finding themselves,” “searching for love and truth.”

Needless to say, these aren’t the sort of adventures you’re looking for. What you want is a true adventure – that hopeful leap into the unknown, the possibility of danger, and the observations of an enthusiastic travel partner. But where is it?