BOOKS: “Writers’ Journeys That Shaped Our World” by Travis Elborough

The Writer's Journey: In the Footsteps of the Literary Greats (Journeys of Note, 1)The Writer’s Journey: In the Footsteps of the Literary Greats by Travis Elborough
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Publisher Website

This book discusses important travel events in the lives of thirty-five prominent writers and poets. Some of these were long international travels and some entirely domestic, some aborted and others completed. All of these trips in some way influenced the subsequent works produced by these writers. In some cases, it was just for a scene, as with Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s use of Reichenbach Falls to kill off his widely beloved (but personally soul-sucking) character, Sherlock Holmes. In others, the trip became the basis of a book, as with Joseph Conrad’s travels on the Congo River. And in yet others, the trip would become the basis of multiple works, such as Jack London’s travels in the Klondike. Of course, there were some travels that had more indirect influence on the writers’ works by way of shifts in worldview and life experience.

The graphics for this book are excellent and include a simple route map for each trip as well as photos from key locations, as well as a few relevant historic artworks. The maps and pictures help to give one a feel for the appeal of these places, and — in some cases — to better understand literary works once read.

If you are a traveler, are interested in literary history, or are both, this book is well worth investigating.

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“The quality of mercy is not strained” by William Shakespeare [w/ Audio]

The quality of mercy is not strained;
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest;
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:
'T is mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown;
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;
But mercy is above this sceptred sway;
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,
It is an attribute to God himself;
And earthly power doth then show likest God's
When mercy seasons justice.
Therefore, Jew,
Though justice be thy plea, consider this,
That, in the course of justice, none of us
Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy;
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much
To mitigate the justice of thy plea;
Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice
Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there.

From The Merchant of Venice (Act IV, Scene I.) Spoken in a court of law by Portia while she is disguised as a lawyer, Balthazar.

“Shiloh: A Requiem” by Herman Melville [w/ Audio]

Skimming lightly, wheeling still,
The swallows fly low
Over the field in clouded days,
The forest-field of Shiloh--
Over the field where April rain
Solaced the parched ones stretched in pain
Through the pause of night
That followed the Sunday fight
Around the church of Shiloh--
The church so lone, the log-built one,
That echoed to many a parting groan
And natural prayer
Of dying foemen mingled there--
Foemen at morn, but friends at eve--
Fame or country least their care:
(What like a bullet can undeceive!)
But now they lie low,
While over them the swallows skim,
And all is hushed in Shiloh.

“Beginners” by Walt Whitman [w/ Audio]

How they are provided for upon the earth,
(appearing at intervals;)
How dear and dreadful they are to the earth;
How they inure to themselves as much as to
any -- What a paradox appears their age;
How people respond to them, yet know them not;
How there is something relentless in their fate,
all times;
How all times mischoose the objects of their
adulation and reward,
And how the same inexorable price must still
be paid for the same great purchase.

“Silk-Washing Stream” by Su Shi [w/ Audio]

Stream-washed leaves are glistening.
Someone is boiling cocoons.
Workers gossip, I'm listening.

Dim-eyed man with a cane spoons
Food into a bowl, bending
To pass it before I swoon.

I ask when the bean leaves yellow.

“Grown about by Fragrant Bushes” by Robert Louis Stevenson [w/ Audio]

Grown about by Fragrant bushes,
Sunken in a winding valley,
Where the clear winds blow
And the shadows come and go,
And the cattle stand and low
And the sheep bells and the linnets
Sing and tinkle musically.
Between the past and the future,
Those two black infinities
Between which our brief life
Flashes a moment and goes out.

“Of Glory not a Beam is left” (1685) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]

Of Glory not a Beam is left
But her Eternal House --
The Asterisk is for the Dead,
The Living, for the Stars --

“The Little Boy Lost” by William Blake [w/ Audio]

Father, father, where are you going
O do not walk so fast.
Speak father, speak to your little boy
Or else I shall be lost,

The night was dark no father was there
The child was wet with dew,
The mire was deep, & the child did weep
And away the vapour flew.

“The morns are meeker than they were” (32) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]

The morns are meeker than they were --
The nuts are getting brown --
The berry's cheek is plumper --
The rose is out of town.

The maple wears a gayer scarf --
The field a scarlet gown --
Lest I sh'd be old-fashioned
I'll put a trinket on.

“The Paradox” by Paul Laurence Dunbar [w/ Audio]

I am the mother of sorrows,
I am the ender of grief;
I am the bud and the blossom,
I am the late-falling leaf.

I am thy priest and thy poet,
I am thy serf and thy king;
I cure the tears of the heartsick,
When I come near they shall sing.

White are my hands as the snowdrop;
Swart are my fingers as clay;
Dark is my frown as the midnight,
Fair is my brow as the day.

Battle and war are my minions,
Doing my will as divine;
I am the calmer of passions,
Peace is a nursling of mine.

Speak to me gently or curse me,
Seek me or fly from my sight;
I am thy fool in the morning,
Thou art my slave in the night.

Down to the grave will I take thee,
Out from the noise of the strife;
Then shalt thou see me and know me --
Death, then, no longer, but life.

Then shalt thou sing at my coming,
Kiss me with passionate breath,
Clasp me and smile to have thought me
Aught save the foeman of Death.

Come to me, brother, when weary,
Come when thy lonely heart swells;
I'll guide thy footsteps and lead thee
Down where the Dream Woman dwells.