There is plenty of research to do while I’m writing a memoir about my first Grand Tour of Europe. This research extends beyond cuisine, culture and history – and into the history of travel writing itself.
Beautiful Rome
With each piece that I read, I’m inspired with new ideas on how to make my travelogue even better. I’m reminded of people I met during my journey, and am armed with ways to tell their stories that is respectful and meaningful. I have great samples of how to infuse humor in a serious story, how to make food come alive on the page and how to bring in universal qualities so that hopefully, on final draft, the memoir will be more than just my story: it will also be a valuable travel manual, a case study of cultures and an inspiration for others to take their first leap across the pond.
Some might be surprised to know that not all travel writers are journalists by trade. I’m not – I still consider myself a poet first and travel writer second. When I heard that Irish poet Harry Clifton had written a little-known travelogue about time spent in Abruzzo, Italy, I had to get my hands on a copy.
Sold out in bookstores, unavailable on the Internet, I finally sat down with On The Spine of Italy by Harry Clifton thanks to a friend who lent me the slim memoir. Clifton’s poems have an incredible attention to detail and ability to craft the perfect metaphor. I was looking forward to seeing how this talent would translate for the poet when describing Italy.
My interest in this book extended beyond Clifton. My mother’s family is actually from a small village in the Abruzzo, where Clifton and his wife spent a year reading and working in the mountains. There is nothing extraordinary about what the poet encountered, but that was the point to me. He brought the small village to life in his pages – from the neighbors who lent him wood to the humorous postal worker. They were such interesting characters, and all real.
South of France
The ability for an outsider to observe, nail down, and describe a culture comes from a lack of familiarity. The small things stand out, the flavors are more lasting, traditions and customs are brand new. It is with this eye that I approached my Grand Tour, and continue to approach life each day in Ireland.
To continue a list of top three travelogues I’ve read recently: 2. A Year in Provence, Peter Mayle. There is a reason this travelogue is so popular and it’s not just because everyone loves the story of a pig hunting truffles in the woods. Mayle taught me that I’m going to need to provide focus in my memoir – that the places won’t be enough and I’ll need to get to the root of them.
Some of the best passages in the memoir are on the simplest days. Taking a drive to seek out a restaurant, having a meal, meeting the restaurant owners, experiencing the town markets. This is the kind of writing that keeps me up at night. And there isn’t even any romance.
3. Homage to Catalonia, George Orwell. A very different type of memoir from the above, here Orwell describes his experiences in the Spanish Civil War. His outsider’s eye is acute, and he manages to break down the struggle between political parties in a way that people with no background on 1930′s Spain can understand.
Ronda, Spain
History was entangled with my trips to Berlin and Prague, and Orwell has shown me how to weave this information in with my narrative. He also provides great insight into how to feel comfortable in a land that isn’t your own.
So as I write, I will continue to read. Check back for more influences as I research my travelogue The Great American Travel Dream.
