The Black Penguin by Andrew Evans

This fascinating memoir can be read two ways.  It gives us a marvelously detailed picture of an overland journey from Washington D.C. to the Antarctic.  But it is also a part of a series called “Living Out: Gay and Lesbian Autobiographies”, published by the University of Wisconsin Press.

Naturally, for A Traveler’s Library, I am inclined to focus on the journey. However, the author’s personal story is undeniably riveting.  Both succeed because of his complete honesty and his ability to observe details of life while he is living it. (If you’ve never tried it, you may not realize how difficult it is to pull that off.)

The title and cover photo emphasize the Antarctic and the  black penguin, a rare bird that doesn’t fit in with the tuxedo-clad King and tiny Adélie penguins crowding the icy land. That unique all-black bird makes an appropriate metaphor for Andrew Evans, who grew up as a devout Mormon, but was expelled from his beloved church because he is gay. First they tried to reform him, and he tried to conform, but he could not change any more than the melanistic penguin could choose to look like his brothers. Although Andrew Evans has found a partner he loves and a satisfying life, there is still a hole where  the routines and rules and rituals of the church used to be.

However, if you are looking at this as the memoir of a travel writer, the cover and title are somewhat misleading. The book is not about the Antarctic. The continent stirred the curiosity of the young, geography-obssessed boy and became a lifelong dream. Now it is the goal of the journey but does not take center stage until the very end of the book.

As travel literature, the fascination of The Black Penguin lies in the difficulties Evans has undertaken by choosing to travel only by bus all the way12,000 miles through the Southern USA, Central America and South America.  He has already achieved the travel writer’s Holy Grail–an assignment from Keith Bellows at National Geographic Magazine.  When Bellows asked if it was even possible to travel all the way by bus, Evans fudged the truth and answered with an enthusiastic ‘yes.’

Maybe not.

But the rides on buses varying from sleek, modern air-conditioned marvels to Central American “chicken buses” provide a different view of the countryside along the way, and allow Evans to introduce us to an array of interesting characters. The long bus ride also provides the writer ample opportunity to ponder his life and gracefully weave thoughts about Andrew Evans, former Mormon and gay man into the story of Andrew Evans, travel writer on an adventure.

There is plenty of danger along the way, from anticipated highway robbers and drug cartels to washed out roads along dangerous cliffs, car ferries turned back by wild seas. Evans presents these dangers with skillful suspense. At the end, the suspense builds on the time honored question of time. Will he get to the port in time to board the National Geographic exploration ship that will take him to his destination?

The writing is skillful. The story is compelling and well worth your time.

Inspired Journeys: Travel Writers in Search of the Muse, Edited by Brian Bouldrey

Destinations: Many

When publishers inquire whether I want to review a book of travel essays, I generally have said “No, thanks. My readers prefer a place-specific book.”  Inspired Journeys breaks that rule.  Fortunately, the publisher, University of Wisconsin Press, sent it without asking in advance.

It sat on my shelf for a while, because I didn’t think I would like it much.  Essay collections are generally so uneven that I hate wading through the chaff to get at the fruit.  (to mix an agricultural metaphor).  Plus which, the title was off-putting–all a bit to woo-woo for me.

But one day I picked it up and started reading. I am glad I did.  The seventeen essays, so different from each other in subject and style, have in common outstanding writing. No, of course, I did not love them all equally, but I can honestly say there were none that I thought was a total waste of time.   I am not sure how Brian Bouldrey was able to pull off getting so many excellent writers in one book, but I appreciate his effort.

As for that woo-woo title–the book does have a strong theme, but the theme is hard to explain (as is evident in the divergence between title and subtitle.)  Each writer, in essence, is on a pilgrimage, or a quest.  Some are trying to connect with a favorite writer. “Little Log Houses for You and Me” by Kimberly Meyer relates a trip through Laura Ingalls Wilder country. “The Way of the White Clouds” compares writerTrebor Healey’s life to Jack Keroac–some actual travel, but lots of travel through life. We even go on a trip to visit the history of the world’s worst poet in “The Terriblest Poet” by Brian Bouldrey, the editor of the volume.

The more traditional pilgrimage of Camino de Santiago in Spain gets a look in “Buen Camino” by Sherman Apt Russel.  A particularly beautiful and well-structured piece by Russell Scott Valentino, called “An Accidental Pilgrimage,” visits family history in the Azores. He quotes a Russian writer friend as saying, “travel for its own sake is always a search for God.”  The quote is just one of things that makes this piece memorable.

Many philosophical questions arise from the imperious comment of a border guard in “What means Go?”  by Lucy Jane Bledsoe. One thought, common to everyone of us who call ourselves travel writers–“I never know if I’m a writer so that I can travel or if I’m a traveler so that I can write.”

“The Chevra” by Goldie Goldbloom taught me about a Jewish ritual I was unaware of. I found the piece to be particularly moving because of the author’s spare, matter of fact style in describing very emotional subjects.

But I really must stop, even though I have not mentioned every excellent piece of writing in this little gem of a book.  I hope you will give it a look.