Divided into segments due to intermittent trips across the Equator, Bryson manages to present his journeys as a nearly continuous narrative. American travel journalists are uniformly surprised by the size of Australia, and Bryson's no exception. His travels around Australia are at a frenetic pace trying to cover the ground. He's dismayed to discover Brisbane isn't "just up the coast" from Sydney. Five minutes with a map would have disabused him of that myopic view. Always in haste, his pace leaves little opportunity for serendipitous exploration. Mostly standard travel fare, he targets the urban sites: Sydney, Brisbane, Adelaide, Perth, Darwin, Perth and The Alice.

Bryson is concerned with his comfort. He never camps, preferring hotel/motel convenience - they usually have, or are near to, pubs. For most of the book he's on the road from one town to the next. The result, particularly driving from Darwin to the Alice, allows no time for close examination of what he terms "featureless" and "inexhaustible" deserts. A little more research might have directed him to the Red Center's fascinating variety. But you have to stop the car and walk around a bit to accomplish that. Part of the reason he failed to make even brief saunters is his nearly pathological fear of Australia's fauna. The worst aspect of this book is Bryson's litany of Australia's dangerous creatures. From the box jellyfish through taipans to the infamous redback spider [which he incorrectly describes], he presents the reader with numerous examples of how careless people have suffered their defense of territory. There's a strange ambivalence here, since he's clearly enthralled by many aspects of Australia's natural wonders. His circumvention of Uluru [Ayer's Rock] comprises but two hours, all of it by vehicle. He's disappointed with the monolith's colour, unaware of the impact of changing light on The Rock.

Yet, on occasion, when he deems it safe, he alights, closely viewing some of the natural wonders. How many travel writers have the acuity to visit [and recommend] Hamelin Pool in Western Australia? As Bryson is at pains to point out, Hamelin Pool should be one of the premier World Heritage sites. It contains one of the few sites where the original organisms leading to writers and readers [after some 3.5 thousand million years] still reside. It would have been an experience to stand beside him as he explained this phenomenon to the tourist woman who disparaged what she observed. Bryson, bless him, relies heavily on Richard Fortey's LIFE; AN UNAUTHORIZED BIOGRAPHY in educating this woman. He could find few better authorities to use. And he believes what he writes.

As a travel writer, he deals with many people. Hotel clerks, restaurant waitresses, museum tenders and other tourist contacts. As in any country, there are the good ones and the others. He's forthright in his assessments, but his comfort and convenience stand paramount. He's good at laughing at himself, especially in regard to his fear of venomous creatures. Mostly the journeys are solitary, but his trips to the Barrier Reef and along the highway from Darwin to Alice Springs are in company with journalist Allan Sherwin. It becomes another chance to expound on the wildlife - particularly the deadlier forms. Among his chants of dangerous fauna, he manages to provide numerous historical anecdotes. He truly shines here, bringing to life people who have crossed the Australian scene. From the first Dutch landings [where stranded mutineers gained notoriety as the first white "settlers"] to the "dullest man in Australia [Prime Minister John Howard], Bryson fills in details on places and events. If nothing else, these vignettes provide excellent background material for his travels. It may be enough to prompt reading another Bryson book. There's a wealth of them to choose from. [stephen a. haines - Ottawa, Canada]


Set loose in the Lucky Country   August 8, 2004
 10 out of 12 found this review helpful

Once called "the Lucky Country," Australia may wonder if the designation still applies after Bryson's string of visits. Sunburned Country isn't a travel guide. It's a traveler's journal. This makes the book a bit difficult to assess. It's usually displayed in the Travel section of your local bookstore. If you're looking for recommendations of places to stay, you'll find little guidance here. If you're looking for places to visit, this book is a treasure. If you're looking for a good read, it's doubly a treasure. If you already have feelings about Australia, pro or con, then this book is certain to arouse ire. You cannot leave this book unmoved. Besides, for all its shortcomings, it's a fun read.

Divided into segments due to intermittent trips across the Equator, Bryson manages to present his journeys as a nearly continuous narrative. Americans travel journalists are uniformly surprised by the size of Australia, and Bryson's no exception. His travels around Australia are at a frenetic pace trying to cover the ground. He's dismayed to discover Brisbane isn't "just up the coast" from Sydney. Five minutes with a map would have disabused him of that myopic view. He seems always in haste, his pace leaving little opportunity for serendipitous exploration. Mostly standard travel fare, he targets the urban sites: Sydney, Brisbane, Adelaide, Perth, Darwin, Perth and The Alice. A couple of exceptions will be noted.

Bryson is concerned with his comfort. He never camps, preferring hotel/motel convenience - they usually have, or are near to, pubs. For most of the book he's on the road from one town to the next. The result, particularly driving from Darwin to the Alice, allows no time for close examination of what he terms "featureless" and "inexhaustible" deserts. A little more research might have directed him to the Red Center's fascinating variety. But you have to stop the car and walk around a bit to accomplish that. Part of the reason he failed to make even brief saunters is his nearly pathological fear of Australia's fauna. The worst aspect of this book is Bryson's litany of Australia's dangerous creatures. From the box jellyfish through taipans to the infamous redback spider [which he incorrectly describes], he presents the reader with numerous examples of how careless people have suffered their defense of territory. There's a strange ambivalence here, since he's clearly enthralled by many aspects of Australia's natural wonders. His circumvention of Uluru [Ayer's Rock] comprises but two hours, all of it by vehicle. He's disappointed with the monolith's colour, unaware of the impact of changing light on The Rock.

Yet, on occasion, when he deems it safe, he alights, closely viewing some of the natural wonders. How many travel writers have the acuity to visit [and recommend] Hamelin Pool in Western Australia? As Bryson is at pains to point out, Hamelin Pool should be one of the premier World Heritage sites. It contains one of the few sites where the original organisms leading to writers and readers [after some 3.5 thousand million years] still reside. It would have been an experience to stand beside him as he explained this phenomenon to the tourist woman who disparaged what she observed. Bryson, bless him, relies heavily on Richard Fortey's LIFE; AN UNAUTHORIZED BIOGRAPHY in educating this woman. He could find few better authorities to use. And he believes what he writes.

As a travel writer, he deals with many people. Hotel clerks, restaurant waitresses, museum tenders and other tourist contacts. As in any country, there are the good ones and the others. He's forthright in his assessments, but his comfort and convenience stand paramount. He's good at laughing at himself, especially in regard to his fear of venomous creatures. Mostly the journeys are solitary, but his trips to the Barrier Reef and along the highway from Darwin to Alice Springs are in company with journalist Allan Sherwin. It becomes another chance to expound on the wildlife - particularly the deadlier forms. Among his chants of dangerous fauna, he manages to provide numerous historical anecdotes. He truly shines here, bringing to life people who have crossed the Australian scene. From the first Dutch landings [where stranded mutineers gained notoriety as the first white "settlers"] to the "dullest man in Australia [Prime Minister John Howard], Bryson fills in details on places and events. If nothing else, these vignettes provide excellent background material for his travels. It may be enough to prompt reading another Bryson book. There's a wealth of them to choose from. [stephen a. haines - Ottawa, Canada]


In A Sunburned Country live the oddest history & creatures!   January 14, 2001
 21 out of 24 found this review helpful

I'd not read a Bill Bryson book before so as I began his trek around & across Australia, I found myself chortling & enchanted at this author's mischievous sense of the absurd. This book is packed with historical, geological, botanical, biological & unusual travelogue detail of his adventures Down Under.

He is a keen observer of culture & cupidity. Whether he's relaxing in Alice Springs with a brew, watching the white Saturday world mill before him, into which stumble 20th Century Aborigines. This author puts down his newspaper & ponders on the history of Australia's First People; of the incoming European settlers' morals with regard to these elusive inhabitants who had survived, quite nicely thank you, for thousands of years only to be devastated by the plague of prejudice.

Or whether he's off on a train to Western Australia or enchanted by a lovely clean city or dabbling in the waters of New South Wales. This author dwells upon the peculiarity that Australia is home to more hair-raising critters of the deadly kind than anywhere else around this globe. With all his research, Bill Bryson is still not sure why.

Few details escape this intrepid traveler; he's especially good when illuminating the early sorties into the forbidding interior which, because he crisscrosses it a few times himself, he describes in bright, busy visions & has definitely whetted my appetite for a gander at Down Under.