I must be the first to blog Anthony Daniels, an excellent though little-known British travel writer.
Coups & Cocaine, South America, 1986
Sweet Waist of America: Journeys around Guatemala, 1990
His 1992 book on Liberia, Africa is a shocker.
Daniels interviewed the liberator Prince Y. Johnson, an insomniac psychopath who relished showing visiting Western journalists video footage torturing predecessor Master Sergeant Samuel Doe.
The picture painted of Africa is searing.
Yet Liberia is not the worst train wreck in Africa.
Butchery, genocide, an economy ruined by stupidity, corruption & greed — this I can understand.
But the biggest surprises came from tales told of well-meaning foreign aid gone horribly wrong. Some of the worst pain inflicted on the simple villagers of Africa was wrought by tall, smiling Scandinavians.
Bono be warned.
Monrovia Mon Amour: A Visit to Liberia
Recommended by Brian.
I am a large man, with big butcher’s hands, great oak thighs, rock-jawed head, and massive, thick-lens glasses.
Libraries where I live offer books on .mp3 on a CD disk.
I love listening to audio books when I travel. I am loading up now for my next trip (Mexico & Central America). Three books ready for upload to my mp3 player:
The Worst Journey in the World, by Apsley Cherry-Garrard
Running with the Bulls, My years with the Hemingways, by Valerie Hemingway
Northern Lights, by Nora Roberts
Ripping books from CD, in comparison, was slow & painful. Death to the audio CD.
Use the IMPORT function on your iTunes (or other inferior) music software to get the track order sorted correctly.
I am very happy with my Rio Cali waterproof mp3 player — but the way to go today is with the iPod Nano, the first good iPod.
I read all his books & rank him as one of the most original writers of all time.
Come back with a warrant., read the doormat at the entrance to Gonzo writer Hunter S. Thompson’s farm near Apsen, Colorado.
On August 20th, 2005 Thompson’s ashes were blasted from a giant cannon as he had requested. The nut had committed messy suicide, emulating Hemmingway, an author he admired. He waited until after the Superbowl, football being his favourite sport, before dispatching himself.
The Woody Creek Tavern, where Thompson often had sat beneath the shaggy head of a stuffed buffalo, did good business that day.
Thompson’s longtime sidekick Johnny Depp underwrote the $2.5 million celebration. Among those paying tribute were Bill Murray, Rob Reiner, Rolling Stone’s Jann Wenner & Thompson’s artist-collaborator, Ralph Steadman.
The writer’s wretched persona embodied a manic, macho, paranoid, inflamed sense of outrage at the failings of his age.
He was insane. But I will miss him, one of the great characters of the last century.