A Visitor’s Guide to the Ancient Olympics by Neil Faulkner

What an odd mix of genres this book is. It sets itself up as a travel guide: eat here, sleep here, don’t forget to pack this – but to a destination that would require time travel. As Faulkner says in his introduction, this is necessarily (by its fantastical nature!) not an entirely academic book; but he does have an academic background, and rather than wildly making things up, he does follow history & research. He just uses his imagination where it makes sense to do so, and in a way that makes sense: he makes educated guesses. (As he points out in the intro, again, he has to pick a day for each event; it is unrealistic that a guide to an Olympic festival would be unable to say when the footraces would be held.) So, note my tags for this post: travel guide; sports; historical fiction; nonfiction. It is a puzzle. A uniquely styled book.

And an enjoyable one, too. At just under 250 pages, it’s an easy read. The sections are short. There is an emphasis for most of the book on ancient Greek culture in general, and on what the Olympic Games represent in that culture (in a nutshell: this is a religious festival; sport is merely a form of religious ritual). The sport itself comes in only late in the book, and I confess that this was a slight disappointment to me: that section of the book that describes the athletic contests was very interesting to me and I wanted more of the same. But the detail on ancient Greece was intriguing, too; I have an interest in ancient Greek mythology & literature, and there were plenty of references that I was pleased to connect.

This book is probably most successful as a travel guide, which is a little awkward since as much as one might wish to, it is in fact impossible to attend the Olympic Games of 388 BC. Faulkner does a good job of elucidating the issues a person would face in attending these Games if she could. Again in a nutshell: there is no lodging, transport is difficult to arrange and expensive, food is odd and limited, and the Olympic Village would be teeming with refuse, stink, and insect activity. It would be hard to see the events on display as there are no stands; spectators 100,000 strong merely shove each other around for a view. In other words, he might have talked me out of the trip if I were planning on it. As a view into the life of ancient Greeks and especially the role of professional athletes in their society, this book was informative and fascinating. Its unique format, too, added special interest. I am bemused and intrigued. Recommended, but probably for a fairly distinct audience. I was well entertained, with my intersecting interests in sport and ancient Greece, and my tolerance for an odd format.


I read an uncorrected advance proof.

Rating: 6 events.

The Great Psychedelic Armadillo Picnic by Kinky Friedman (audio)

This is an odd book, that somewhat defies definition. If you don’t know Kinky Friedman, I should definitely start there. He’s a country music singer/songwriter, mystery author, politician (he ran for Governor of Texas a few years ago, didn’t win), Jewish cowboy, and general personality. Last I heard, my mother was a fan of his. He has a reputation for being politically incorrect. This was my introduction to his work. The Great Psychedelic Armadillo Picnic is a whimsical musing on Austin, Texas, Friedman’s adopted hometown. It is part travel guide, part history lesson, and large part tongue-in-cheek, self-aggrandizing, stereotyped Texas-style humor.

My reaction was mixed. I should share that we down here in Texas have something of a Houston-Austin… not rivalry, necessarily… maybe it is a rivalry. The cities are quite different and trade blows, each claiming superiority. I live in Houston; it’s my hometown; and while I think Austin has many charms, I have a somewhat typical Houstonian response to Austin’s shameless self-promotion: I get a little defensive. Austin’s pretty cool, but Houston has its advantages, too – in fact I prefer my hometown to the so-hip Central Texas college town – and I get quickly tired of the typical Austinian eye-rolling and patronization, so. I have a dog in this fight, is what I’m saying. Full disclosure.

So, when Kinky brags on Austin, I have to suppress an knee-jerk impulse to say “but!” – which is a good thing to suppress, because there is some funny stuff in this book, and some history lessons that I truly appreciated, not being as familiar with my iconic state’s history as I should be. Snippets of history and Texas trivia I can appreciate. There is a fair amount of Kinky’s own personal musings on the state of our culture today, which are a mixed bag, in my opinion, varying in value. I think maybe he thinks of this book as more strictly travel guidebook than I found it. I double-checked and yes, my edition is unabridged, so. There are travel-guide-like sections on restaurants, famous residents (and their grave sites), and places of interest. Perhaps it was just the audio format; who listens to travel guides on audio?? (No one, I’m fairly sure.) But this is not strictly a travel guide. It’s a glimpse into Kinky’s personality and oddities – and let me tell you, eccentricity is part of the Kinky brand, and a part he’s playing up. So, will you like this book? Answer: as much as you like Kinky Friedman himself. Me, I’m on the fence. I think Austin does all right without his “everything is bigger here,” chauvinistic (he thinks it’s funny), bombastic help.


Rating: 3 bars on 6th St.

book beginnings on Friday: The Great Psychedelic Armadillo Picnic by Kinky Friedman

Thanks to Rose City Reader for hosting this meme. To participate, share the first line or two of the book you are currently reading and, if you feel so moved, let us know what your first impressions were based on that first line.

Here’s an odd little nonfiction mashup, if I can say that, by an odd Texas personality. It is subtitled, “a ‘walk’ in Austin,” and it begins:

Time, they say, changes the river. Time changes the city, too. Over the years, many people have helped Austin to shine in the spotlight, bask in the limelight, and skinny-dip in the moonlight.

Welcome to Austin, Texas, which has birthed the Republic of Texas, Janis Joplin (okay, she was born in Orange, but Austin helped bring her up), Willie Nelson, and (shudder) George W. Bush. Kinky Friedman is an appropriately eccentric guide. What are you reading this weekend?

Lonely Planet Ireland

I took a fresh new 2012 copy of Lonely Planet Ireland with me on our trip there recently. My parents are fairly experienced travelers and users of travel guides, and my mother recommended Lonely Planet just barely above Rick Steves for our use on this trip. Also, the first Dublin taxi cab driver we encountered raved on and on (and on; he was a real talker) about the author of the Dublin & Cork sections, Fionn Davenport. The book was recommended, is what I’m saying.

And frankly, I was disappointed. This book frustrated me repeatedly. A few beefs:

  • A number of places and businesses that I was interested in appeared on maps of various cities but apparently had no other reference in the book. These include the hotel nearest the Guinness Storehouse (showed on the map with a name but no other info: no contact info, no price range) and, surprisingly, the Jameson Distillery. I know they give tours there because a friend of mine took one recently; but again, other than appearing on a map, no Jameson in the book.
  • The price of a train from Cork to Dublin was quoted in the book, and was within a Euro of being correct (it is a current book, after all; and I happily allow a few dollars’ discrepancy) but there was no mention of the fact that that price applies for online purchases only and if you show up to buy tickets in person the price almost doubles. This cost us almost $100 and is a great example of where a guidebook could have paid dividends. But didn’t.
  • Recommended that we not order Guinness in Cork but didn’t explain why. What is the cultural beef there? What are the consequences? Please teach me something!
  • Map unclear on national border between Republic of Ireland and North Ireland. As we drove from one to the other we kept wondering; no map in the book helped. Beyond that, I looked around for discussion of the two countries, their relationship, differences beyond the pound vs. the Euro, and found none.
  • Perhaps the biggest issue of all: no warning about “dry Friday” (Good Friday, when no alcohol is sold in the Republic). This, after saying something to the effect that “pubs are likely to be a large part of your reason for visiting” (they were) and “you may find it awkward to turn down a drink.” I think “dry Friday” deserved a mention. Even in the “Holidays” section, when I looked it up, it indicated that “many businesses close” but it is not a formal or legal holiday; which is not what we found there. Again, another failed opportunity for this guidebook to save the day.

I think this book missed several important points. But on the other hand, having it around was far better than having no book at all! The maps helped us get around on a few occasions (although they were far from ideal), and it gave us a few options for activities that we hadn’t considered. It helped explain Dunluce Castle after we saw a sign, and that helped us decide to stop. It told us about the Belfast black taxi tours of the political murals, that we ended up enjoying so much. It recommended the restaurant we ate at in Cork – which, by the way, despite being this book’s “top pick” we found just mediocre. Final verdict? Carry this book rather than no book at all. But in the future, I will look elsewhere than Lonely Planet for my travel guide needs.


Rating: 2 pubs.