lives than the entire invasion on Utah beach the following month.Īnd at Cornwall, we hear about the feats of the volunteer Royal National Lifeboat Institution. At Torcross, Devon, the author recalls a World War II incident in which a German U-boat attacked a D-Day dress rehearsal, claiming more U.S.

At George Everest’s grave in Hove, for instance, we learn that the man who lends his name to the world’s tallest mountain not only never saw the great peak but also never went near the Himalayas. “The Road to Little Dribbling” is especially good on mundane British things, like infrastructure.įor Bryson, riding the train from London to Cornwall, which crawls along at a mere 55 miles per hour or so, “is like rigor mortis with scenery.” The harbor at Penzance “could be lovely with a little paint and imagination, and perhaps one or two sticks of dynamite.” And the befuddling system for numbering highways, like all British systems, “gives life a richness and unpredictability that endows even the simplest undertakings with an air of challenge and uncertainty.”Īlong the way, we also get wonderful trivia. “I am not for a moment suggesting that the rumors are entirely true,” Bryson writes, “but I will say that when the police do DNA checks after crimes they sometimes have to arrest as many as twelve thousand people.”

“As I said in Notes from a Small Island,” he writes, “if you want to know your shortcomings you won’t find more helpful people anywhere.”Įlsewhere, he pokes fun at Norfolk’s dubious reputation for genetic homogeneity. He applauds the citizens of Yorkshire, for example, for their spectacular bluntness. A sequel to his 1995 bestseller “Notes From a Small Island,” “The Road to Little Dribbling” takes readers on a cheeky romp through Britain’s heart - loosely following the “Bryson Line” from Bognor Regis on England’s southern coast to Scotland’s Cape Wrath in the north - that affectionately celebrates, and devilishly skewers, the island’s wild places, peculiar customs and colorful people.Īn American who hails from what he calls “The Land of Shocking Sprawl,” Bryson has lived in England for decades, and he has the people of Britain’s distinct regions pegged. Bryson is perhaps chief among those who do.

The road to little dribbling