ALAN BOOTH'S CLASSIC OF MODERN TRAVEL WRITING Traveling only along small back roads, Alan Booth traversed Japan's entire length on foot, from Soya at the country's northernmost tip, to Cape Sata in the extreme south, across three islands and some 2,000 miles of rural Japan. The Roads to Sata is his wry, witty, inimitable account of that prodigious trek. Although he was a cit ALAN BOOTH'S CLASSIC OF MODERN TRAVEL WRITING Traveling only along small back roads, Alan Booth traversed Japan's entire length on foot, from Soya at the country's northernmost tip, to Cape Sata in the extreme south, across three islands and some 2,000 miles of rural Japan.

The Roads to Sata is his wry, witty, inimitable account of that prodigious trek. Although he was a city person-he was brought up in London and spent most of his adult life in Tokyo - Booth had an extraordinary ability to capture the feel of rural Japan in his writing. Throughout his long and arduous trek, he encountered a variety of people who inhabit the Japanese countryside-from fishermen and soldiers, to bar hostesses and school teachers, to hermits, drunks, and tramps.

His wonderful and often hilarious descriptions of these encounters are the highlights of these pages, painting a multifaceted picture of Japan from the perspective of an outsider, but with the knowledge of an insider. The Roads to Sata is travel writing at its best, illuminating and disarming, poignant yet hilarious, critical but respectful. Traveling across Japan with Alan Booth, readers will enjoy the wit and insight of a uniquely perceptive guide, and more importantly, they will discover a new face of an often misunderstood nation. When I first visited Japan twenty five years ago children would point at me and shout “Gaijin da! Gaijin da!” – “Look, a foreigner! A foreigner!”. If I walked round a Kyoto temple whole classes of middle school students would crowd around to have their picture taken and practice their English.

I was just like a film star. Of course, I didn’t let it go to my head. Not in the slightest. Well, 2015 is the first year Japan has seen a tourist surplus since the fifties; more people spent money visiting When I first visited Japan twenty five years ago children would point at me and shout “Gaijin da! Gaijin da!” – “Look, a foreigner! A foreigner!”.

Advances the data reader to the. Changes made to a result set by another process or thread while data is being read may be visible to the user of the SqlDataReader.

If I walked round a Kyoto temple whole classes of middle school students would crowd around to have their picture taken and practice their English. I was just like a film star. Of course, I didn’t let it go to my head. Not in the slightest.

Well, 2015 is the first year Japan has seen a tourist surplus since the fifties; more people spent money visiting Japan than the Japanese spent travelling abroad. It’s been well over a decade since anyone pointed their finger at me and shouted “Gaijin da! I haven’t been refused entry to tiny backstreet bars nor praised for being able to use chopsticks so well for just as long. Bloc Party Four Rar Zip Online more. I’m just not special any more. But when I feel nostalgic and want to return to the times when, as a foreigner in Japan, I was just that little bit out of the ordinary I can pick up Alan Booth’s outstanding travelogue recounting his trip walking the length of Japan back in the 1980s.

Free of references to cosplay, piccachu, AKB48 or kawaii things in general I can return to a more simple time, a time when, as Alan Booth relates, a fluent Japanese speaking foreigner used to be able to have long debates with hotel owners about whether or not they could speak Japanese; a time when a foreign guest would have to explain that they had lived in Japan for a decade, understood Japanese customs and manners and were able to digest fish, which was also widely available as a foodstuff outside Japan, before they could even think of getting a room. These days Japanese hotel owners will let foreigners stay at their hotels regardless of how well they understand Japanese language, etiquette, culture or history simply in return for paying the bill. How things have changed and how I miss the old days. Man, it is hard to say just how much I like this book.

Alan Booth, seven years into his life in Japan decides to walk the length of the archipelago. In the process he seems to empty himself out completely, opening himself up to the sights and smells (and beer) of rural Japan. There is not a shred of interpretation or theorizing about 'What is Japan?' In the whole book, which just leaves you with a long series of vignettes and many, many bottles of beer. The book is funny without jokes, sad witho Man, it is hard to say just how much I like this book. Alan Booth, seven years into his life in Japan decides to walk the length of the archipelago. In the process he seems to empty himself out completely, opening himself up to the sights and smells (and beer) of rural Japan.

There is not a shred of interpretation or theorizing about 'What is Japan?' In the whole book, which just leaves you with a long series of vignettes and many, many bottles of beer. The book is funny without jokes, sad without tragedy, and beautiful without being romantic. It is one of the most lovely and most self contained pieces of writing I've ever come across.

Alan booth is British, and prior to his walk (in 1977), he had spent 7 years living in Tokyo, with his Japanese wife. Having what appeared to be a very fluent use of Japanese, he decided to walk from the northern most point to the southern most point of Japan, to interact with the local people, and try to get a more thorough understanding of Japan. For 128 days, over 3300 kilometres, the author walked (the backroads where possible) and interacted with the village people. He stayed mostly in ryoka Alan booth is British, and prior to his walk (in 1977), he had spent 7 years living in Tokyo, with his Japanese wife. Having what appeared to be a very fluent use of Japanese, he decided to walk from the northern most point to the southern most point of Japan, to interact with the local people, and try to get a more thorough understanding of Japan. For 128 days, over 3300 kilometres, the author walked (the backroads where possible) and interacted with the village people.

He stayed mostly in ryokan - a Japanese inn, for locals more than tourists. Booth has found a writing style which accounts for the constant repetition (eat breakfast - find coffee - walk - find lunch and beer - walk - find ryokan and beer - eat dinner and beer - sleep. Repeat 127 times) without punishing the reader. In hindsight, it is not clear how he managed this -because with descriptions of his daily surrounding, some light history, some relevant traditions and culture, some interactions with the people of his day, it should not be as good a read as this was! Setting out from Cape Soya, heading south, this book was an often amusing read, Booths writing highlighting some of the more strange conversations with the people, and many of these emphasised how he really got into the rural backroads of Japan.

Through poor weather, we share his fatigue, as soaking wet, he heads onwards from lunch for another 4 hour slog to the village he plans to stay. Through the foot-wary pain, the tedium of school children yelling 'gaijin, gaijin, gaijin', and people speaking about him, unaware he can understand them perfectly well.

And yet, Booths appreciation and respect for the Japanese is obvious throughout, even at his lowest ebb. Two things were impressive in this book - the authors self motivation and determination (how many lifts was he offered in the rain); and his prodigious consumption of beer. 4 stars for me. A couple of the more amusing parts quoted below: P102: Conversation in a bar (takes place in Japanese): 'Ah, so you have been hitch-hiking.' 'No, I've been walking.' 'Yes, yes, yes.

And what a beautiful country Japan is to walk in. But have you found it easy to obtain rides?' 'I haven't had any rides.' 'Oh, come, come, come.' 'I've walked.'

But what about the longer distances?' 'Perhaps you haven't understood me.' 'Yes, yes, yes. How marvellous to be British. I love the British.'

'But how far have you hitch-hiked?' P108: Arriving at a ryokan (inn): 'Are there any rooms free?' I asked with an encouraging smile. 'Well, yes there are, but we haven't got any beds. We sleep on mattresses on the floor.' 'Yes, I know,' I said.

'I have lived in Japan for seven years.' 'And you won't be able to eat the food.' 'Why, what's the matter with it?' 'But I like fish.' 'But it's raw fish.' 'Look, I have lived in Japan for seven years. My wife is Japanese.

I like raw fish.' 'But I don't think we've got any knives and forks. 'And you can't use chopsticks.'

'Of course I can. 'But it's a tatami-mat room, and we don't have any armchairs.' 'And there's no shower in the bathroom. It's an o-furo.' 'I use chopsticks at home. I sit on tatami.

I eat raw fish. I use an o-furo. I have lived in Japan for seven years.

That's nearly a quarter of my life. 'yes,' moaned the woman, 'but we can't speak English.' 'I don't suppose that will bother us', I sighed. 'We have been speaking Japanese for the last five minutes'. One of my least favorite parts of popular writing about Japan is how the same tired tropes keep coming up over and over again. It's either how Japan is a paradise of harmony with nature and ancient traditions in the modern age, with plenty of references to wabi sabi and mono no aware and geisha and kami and sakura, or how Japan is crazy and weird, with references to dakimakura and soushoku danshi and Kanamara Matsuri and hostess bars and low birthrates.

It is to The Roads to Sata's eternal credi One of my least favorite parts of popular writing about Japan is how the same tired tropes keep coming up over and over again. It's either how Japan is a paradise of harmony with nature and ancient traditions in the modern age, with plenty of references to wabi sabi and mono no aware and geisha and kami and sakura, or how Japan is crazy and weird, with references to dakimakura and soushoku danshi and Kanamara Matsuri and hostess bars and low birthrates. It is to The Roads to Sata's eternal credit that avoids both of these extremes.

The best summary of his attitude is found in a conversation with a reporter at the very end of the road: 'Do you like the Japanese?' 'Which Japanese?' 'The Japanese?' 'Which Japanese?' That's the attitude to have when writing about a country. People are people, after all, no matter where they are. Most of the book is in the stories of the people that he meets.

Booth devotes some space to the geography, but even there it's primarily in relation to the people who live there and the incidents that happen, like wandering in the hills of southwestern Honshu for hours because he repeatedly gets bad directions. The Roads to Sata is the story of children chasing after Booth and calling him names, or people buying him drinks in bars, or old fishermen singing songs about herring on the shores of Hokkaido, or an old man who tries to draw him a map but forgets the characters for ryokan (旅館), or another who tells him that a country is like a paper with a formal print-out on one side and some doodles on the other side, and that he must not forget to write about both sides. It's about the small-town police officer who's deathly afraid that he'll be bewitched by kitsune on the mountain roads, or the workman in Hiroshima who blames him for the bombing, or the person who complains about all the English on television that's creeping into the Japanese language, or the driver who refuses to believe that Booth is speaking Japanese even when his girlfriend points it out, or being turned away at a ryokan that was full only to call them less than an hour later and be immediately offered a room. It's about the festivals in small towns, and the sky lit up by fires, and the tiny towns in the mountains that are slowly dying as their children move away to Tokyo and Osaka and Kyoto.

Like life, it's about a lot of small things, that all must be taken individually even as they add up to form a whole. The attitudes displayed toward Booth seemed a bit extreme to me in many places, but when I looked up the dates, it turns out that the titular trip took place in 1977, before the JET Programme officially began and therefore before widespread exposure to native English speakers. It's entirely reasonable in many of those rural villages that the children who chased after him yelling, ' Gaijin! Had never seen a non-Japanese person before.

Add that in to the apparently-natural tendency of children to be horrifically cruel to anyone they perceive as different, and it all makes sense. It also explains why people would occasionally give him distances in rather than kilometers.

The writing is fantastic, suffused with a kind of dry wit yet never devolving into either mockery or cynicism. You can feel the frustration seeping through at times, but I'm pretty sure that I'd be annoyed if I had just been turned down at multiple ryokans that I was sure were only doing it because I wasn't Japanese. I never had it that bad, though I did recognize some similarities to my own experiences in Booth's accounts, both the good and the bad.

That's definitely part of why I liked it so much, but I think the quality stands out even for people who know very little about Japan. If you like travel writing at all, this is an excellent read.

In the 1970s, has decided to go on an adventure. Though it may not have seemed as magical as Bilbo's, people's reaction to it was just as exasperating. It's not every day, that you encounter someone traversing your country on foot; from Japan's northernmost (Cape Soya) to its southernmost point (Cape Sata). I wasn't sure what to expect, which is why I have shelved it under 'travel guide'. Is much closer to a memoir, however. Which is good and not so good.

The upside In the 1970s, has decided to go on an adventure. Though it may not have seemed as magical as Bilbo's, people's reaction to it was just as exasperating. It's not every day, that you encounter someone traversing your country on foot; from Japan's northernmost (Cape Soya) to its southernmost point (Cape Sata).

I wasn't sure what to expect, which is why I have shelved it under 'travel guide'. Is much closer to a memoir, however.

Which is good and not so good. The upside are the partial area maps shown at the beginning of each chapter. The downside is that I often found it necessary to google pictures of the places being mentioned. I like pretty pictures, shoot me (just please wait till AFTER I visited Japan). I don't normally do (auto)biographies. Try as I might, they generally end up boring me to tears. With this book, that wasn't a problem.

For the most part. Those haikus annoyed me to no end. Admittedly, they were funny in places; but I don't do poetry, and I DEFINITELY don't do maudlin.

In the end, skipping the poems saved the book from losing that 1/2 star. It was really interesting seeing various people's reaction when they found out about the trip. Having people constantly offer the author rides along the way, was also really sweet. It made me wonder how many people would do that here? I also found the rude children funny.

And I did make a note not to get mad when it'll happen to me. Two distinct episodes are my absolute 'favorite': 1)The author's rather unpleasant experience at the, [being accused of having contributed to the atomb bomb's massacre ].

It made me contemplate my possible reaction to a similar incident. I still haven't reached a satisfactory conclusion. 2)A young man's disbelief that a foreigner could speak Japanese: 'Niigata.

Toi(it's a long way). Go with car.' 'It's really very kind of you, ' I said, again in Japanese, 'but I can't accept, and anyway, you seem to be going in the other direction. What I want is.'

He went on miming. His girlfriend wound down the rear window and said, ' Ne.' 'He seems to be speaking Japanese.' (Don't be silly!)' And the pantomime continued. Score: 4.7/5 Let me tell you, if a trip to Japan was just a possibility BEFORE, now it's a definite thing. These final quotes however, make for a much better conclusion: 'Do you like the Japanese?' 'Which Japanese?'

'Do you feel at home in Japan?' 'No, I think it would be a peculiarly thick-skinned foreigner who was able to do that.' 'Do you think you've learned much during the last four months?' 'Yes, I think I've learned a bit about Japan and a lot about myself.'

This is the account of an Englishman’s somewhat unromantic walk from the most northerly tip of Japan to its southernmost extremity, a 2000 mile journey along the Western coastline, punctuated by a myriad of incidents, encounters and anecdotes. Seven years of life in Tokyo had equipped Alan Booth with fluent Japanese, an ability to eat raw fish and a confident mastery of the sandals worn in Japanese toilets, but at no point in his journey was he ever other than a “gaijin” - a foreigner - to the p This is the account of an Englishman’s somewhat unromantic walk from the most northerly tip of Japan to its southernmost extremity, a 2000 mile journey along the Western coastline, punctuated by a myriad of incidents, encounters and anecdotes.

Seven years of life in Tokyo had equipped Alan Booth with fluent Japanese, an ability to eat raw fish and a confident mastery of the sandals worn in Japanese toilets, but at no point in his journey was he ever other than a “gaijin” - a foreigner - to the people he met. The book is a hypnotic read, despite the utter absence of any plot or story, a patient passage through one location after another, for which most merit only a few pithy lines and none more than a few pages. There are descriptive passages, there are brief historical interludes, there are occasional serious conversations that shed light on aspects of Japanese life. Often, though, a single sentence or brief snatch of conversation is sufficient to convey the essence of each experience and these moments of insight (epiphanies) can be a joy to read. He does not romanticise the Japanese - their lives often seem very restricted and narrow - but he describes them in affectionate terms. When they annoy him, though, he retaliates by immortalising their silliness in this lovely book and that is a tradition which many other writers have observed and of which I greatly approve.

Some quotes Naoetsu is described in the official guidebook as “one of the flourishing industrial centers on the Japanese Sea Coast.” It is so flourishing that from a distance of four kilometers you can’t see it. As you get closer, the mechanics of its disguise become apparent. The chimneys of the Nippon Stainless factory and the Mitsubishi petrochemical complexes pump a solid stream of choking brown smoke into the Sunday afternoon sky. The dock is full of cranes and filthy little tramp steamers and a continuous trickle of dust filters down from the snow roofs that ward off nature from the pavements. Naoetsu has the distinction of being the only city in Japan whose beer shops I raced by without a second glance.

I had a vision of petrochemical yeast dissolving most of my vital organs which were then replaced by a stainless steel liver and an injection-molded Mitsubishi stomach.I fled Naoetsu in top gear and didn’t look back at it till forty minutes later by which time it had disappeared. [p134].while the temple gardens are meant strictly for contemplation, you can stroll along the pathways of Kenrokuen as you would through an English park. A European might not consider Kenrokuen old. It was laid out in 1822 and in Europe there are parks and gardens that predate it by centuries.

But here in Japan, where fires and earthquakes so frequently ravish the cities, and where, consequently, many of the most famous landmarks have had to be rebuilt in modern times, anything that has stood for a hundred years can claim to be venerably “old”. You can experience a little of Kenrokuen’s peace by looking at the photographs in the guidebook. I went to see Kenrokuen on a fine Monday afternoon. Children screamed, young men shouted, businessman drank and staggered about, cameras clicked, babies cried, thousands of people followed dozens of guides along the paths between the unruffled ponds and the long-suffering trees. Each guide carried a flag in one hand, so that her charges would not lose themselves in the crush, and a portable loudspeaker in the other hand, through which she furnished the explanations so essential to the appreciation of natural beauty. The older tourists listened to the guides and stayed so close to their heels that they seemed to be on leashes.

The younger tourists listened to the transistor radios they carried slung across their shoulders: I want you baby I want you ba-a-by [pp148,9] Near the top of one hill I came to a cleft that several generations had used as a rubbish dump. There was a little wooden shrine above the stinking heap of cans and cartons and again I couldn’t help pitying the deities for the slums they are lodged in. “There are thirty thousand gods in Japan,” a friend once boasted to me. “Yes” I had retorted, in a bloody mood, “and about three of them paid any respect.” [202]. Booth quickly became a tiresome traveling companion. He seemed annoyed through much of the trip and I started to feel like the main point of this book was to complain.

About how he was a spectacle to children, businessmen, and Japanese people in general. (Let's ignore the fact that he was the one who chose to take a walking tour from one end of Japan to the other, thereby making himself stand out even more.) About the weather. About the traffic. About the trash on the side of the road. I also co Booth quickly became a tiresome traveling companion.

He seemed annoyed through much of the trip and I started to feel like the main point of this book was to complain. About how he was a spectacle to children, businessmen, and Japanese people in general. (Let's ignore the fact that he was the one who chose to take a walking tour from one end of Japan to the other, thereby making himself stand out even more.) About the weather. About the traffic.

About the trash on the side of the road. I also counted at least five instances in which he mentions road kill. I'm sure this lends a sense of realism and authenticity to the narrative, but was there really nothing more important to have as a trope running through the story? More importantly, I never felt like I understood the journey or the reasons for it. What kind of midlife or personal crisis had sent Booth walking for 2000 miles?

He consumed huge amounts of beer, didn't see his wife for months and only once or twice tried to pick up other women. It seemed inexplicable.

Additionally, although he spent more time interacting with people than he could have from a car, there was no sense of getting to the heart of any of the individuals he met. Rather it always felt like there was an air of superficiality about even the most authentic of his interactions. Booth was at his best describing the historical context of some of the locations and rhapsodizing about the scenery and I wish he had stuck to this.

I do feel I have a slightly larger understanding of Japan, but not by much. An introspective travelogue, focused more on the inner than outer journey -- my favorite kind of travelogue, in fact.

Booth walked from the northernmost to the southernmost points in Japan, a trek of some 2,000 miles. Although he spoke fluent Japanese, he found that the perceptions (especially in rural areas) of his 'foreignness' created almost an invisible barrier. Still, there were times when he transcended cultural perceptions and had amazing encounters. Rather episodic by nature, Booth's obs An introspective travelogue, focused more on the inner than outer journey -- my favorite kind of travelogue, in fact. Booth walked from the northernmost to the southernmost points in Japan, a trek of some 2,000 miles. Although he spoke fluent Japanese, he found that the perceptions (especially in rural areas) of his 'foreignness' created almost an invisible barrier. Still, there were times when he transcended cultural perceptions and had amazing encounters.

Rather episodic by nature, Booth's observations and insights never pall. There's humor, here, too, particularly as many of the Japanese assumed he spoke no Japanese, and so were rather unbuttoned in their remarks made in his presence. One especially ripe scene takes place in a ryokan. The owner insists that he can't accommodate Booth because he (Booth) doesn't speak Japanese. But, of course, the conversation is taking place in Japanese.

One aspect of the book that really resonated for me was the inclusion of numerous fragments of haiku. Masters of the form such as Issa and Basho, of course, were great travelers. Booth's keen appreciation for that tradition brought depth to his account.

I was just thinking about this book again recently, and looking back I see I never wrote a review. There was so much that I loved about this account of a walk from one tip of Japan to the other. The author set out walking and reported what he saw, the good and the bad. Mostly he was walking through rural areas that you never hear about in other accounts of Japan or in travel guides. There was no spiritual journey or journey of self-discovery where the reader has to slog through painful accounts I was just thinking about this book again recently, and looking back I see I never wrote a review. There was so much that I loved about this account of a walk from one tip of Japan to the other.

The author set out walking and reported what he saw, the good and the bad. Mostly he was walking through rural areas that you never hear about in other accounts of Japan or in travel guides.

There was no spiritual journey or journey of self-discovery where the reader has to slog through painful accounts of divorce, drug addiction, any of the usual torture that is the popular travel memoir. There was no attempt to leave out the less interesting parts of the trip. Fans of the long and mundane in literature and film will enjoy the style of this writer.

Best of all the author is just really funny. It was particularly funny that he noted every time (which was a lot of times) he had beer at the inns he stayed at along the way. I read this book in the hopes of becoming enthusiastic about an unwilling move to Japan. I was hoping to learn about the culture and some out of the way sights.

Unfortunately, this book was about a man walking along roads, with no particular interest in sights. Entirely readable and thoroughly depressing. I learned: that the Japanese litter, there are an awful lot of snakes in Japan.

Also an awful lot of racism. If you don't like fish, you'll probably be eating random and weird things. This auth I read this book in the hopes of becoming enthusiastic about an unwilling move to Japan.

I was hoping to learn about the culture and some out of the way sights. Unfortunately, this book was about a man walking along roads, with no particular interest in sights. Entirely readable and thoroughly depressing. I learned: that the Japanese litter, there are an awful lot of snakes in Japan.

Also an awful lot of racism. If you don't like fish, you'll probably be eating random and weird things. This author did fine with all of that because he drank like a fish the whole time.

Needless to say, I will not be picking up the author's second book on Japan, because I'd like to have a small amount of enthusiasm left.