2005-05-11 Top-Rank Modern Travelogue

I came to this book as someone who enjoys a good travelogue and has a long-standing general interest in Central Asia (I've read all the Hopkirk books). I have to say that despite Bissell's cautionary notice at the beginning that he is not attempting history or reportage or travel writing, but that the book is "a personal, idiosyncratic account of a place and a people and the problems and conflicts they share," this is one of the best modern travelogues I've encountered. Like all the best in the genre, it is outstanding precisely because it is such a personal work. Those interested in just the logistics of getting around and seeing the sights of Uzbekistan can always just pick up a good guidebook or three, and those interested in pure history have plenty of works to pick from. What Bissell brings is sparkling prose and a refreshingly open-hearted approach that admits his own limitations.

Bissell's relationship with Uzbekistan began with an ignominious Peace Corps stint in the 1996, which saw him leaving after less than a year due to a mental breakdown. He returned in 2001, ostensibly to research and write an article about the decline of the Aral Sea, but in a large part, to confront his demons from that earlier experience. As the title foreshadows, he spends most of his trip bouncing around the country in an attempt to come to grips with it (indeed, it isn't until the final 50 pages that he gets to the Aral and discusses its plight). Bissell isn't on any particular itinerary so much as he wants to see the high points and take care of a few tasks (like smuggling money to someone). Because his Uzbek is shaky and his Russian is almost non-existent, he hires a 20-something Uzbek translator named Rustam. This college student peppers his speech with "dude" and "bro", and is a Depeche Mode devotee, not to mention a bit of a ladies man. More importantly, he provides a forum for Bissell to bounce his impressions of the country, its Soviet legacy, and Islam, off of -- and their disagreements are often highly illuminating.

Bissell travels around, from Tashkent to Gulistan, to Samarkand, the Ferghana valley, the T'ien Shan Mountains, and finally to Nukus and the Aral Sea. Modes of travel vary from local bus to hired car to Uzbek Air, and he experiences all the grime and discomfort such travel involves, including a harrowing encounter with some militia who stop their hired car, rather casually club the driver to the ground, take Rustam away for a full body search, and menace Bissell. Contrary to several reviews on Amazon, the most laughable of which reads that he "keeps the indigenous people of Central Asia at arms-length" Bissell interacts heavily with the people and places he visits. Upon arrival in a new place, the first thing he usually does is head out for an aimless hour-long walk to try and get a sense of the place.

Interspersed with his travels, Bissell recounts the political, cultural, and religious history of the country and the region. This ranges all over the place, from linguistics, to British and Russian Imperial history, ethnography, political economy, folk tales, internal Soviet politics, modern corruption, and all manner of things besides. These are generally largely cribbed summaries from other sources (listed in the bibliography), but Bissell does a nice job of putting it altogether in highly readable prose lightly sprinkled with jokes, asides, and personal commentary. Some might find this approach too freeform or meandering, but Bissell makes it work. It all wraps up with the sad tale of Karakalpak people, who used to fish and live off the Aral Sea and now live over 100 miles from its shore, and Bissell is left contemplating the rusting hulks of fishing vessels adrift in an ocean of sand. A brilliant piece of non-fiction from a very talented writer.