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The Lost Heart of Asia
A land of enormous proportions, countless secrets, and incredible history, Central Asia--the heart of the great Mongol empire of Tamerlane, site of the legendary Silk Route and scene of Stalin's cruelest deportations--is a remote and fascinating region. Since the collapse of the Soviet Union and the emergence of newly independent republics, Central Asia--containing the magical cities of Bukhara and Samarkand, and terrain as diverse as the Kazakh steppes, the Karakum desert, and the Pamir mountains--has been in a constant state of transition. The Lost Heart of Asia takes readers into the very heart of this little visited, yet increasingly important region, delivering a rare and moving portrayal of a world in the midst of change.
384 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1994
About the author
Colin Thubron
45 books415 followersColin Thubron, CBE FRSL is a Man Booker nominated British travel writer and novelist.
In 2008, The Times ranked him 45th on their list of the 50 greatest postwar British writers. He is a contributor to The New York Review of Books, The Times, The Times Literary Supplement and The New York Times. His books have been translated into more than twenty languages. Thubron was appointed a CBE in the 2007 New Year Honours. He is a Fellow and, as of 2010, President of the Royal Society of Literature.
In 2008, The Times ranked him 45th on their list of the 50 greatest postwar British writers. He is a contributor to The New York Review of Books, The Times, The Times Literary Supplement and The New York Times. His books have been translated into more than twenty languages. Thubron was appointed a CBE in the 2007 New Year Honours. He is a Fellow and, as of 2010, President of the Royal Society of Literature.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 130 reviews
January 4, 2022
This couldn't have been a better literary start for this year. Travelling through early Post-Soviet Central Asia, Colin Thubron takes the reader upon a journey to one of the most underappreciated regions of the world. A region central to world history, a region where Muslims can be zealots as well as alcoholics, a region where the past is alive and dead at the same time.
In my eyes, Central Asia has always been enveloped in a certain kind of magic and mistery. Thubron has succeeded to give the reader a clear and thorough look into this world, while at the same time leaving a large part of the mistery and magic intact.
And even though Thubron made this journey thirty years ago, the book retains a significant part of its relevance. Issues like political uncertainty, economic inequality, ethnic tensions, environmental pollution, etc. Still pervade the region today.
If I had to summarize my feelings about this book in one sentence it would be: "One ticket to Turkestan, please!"
In my eyes, Central Asia has always been enveloped in a certain kind of magic and mistery. Thubron has succeeded to give the reader a clear and thorough look into this world, while at the same time leaving a large part of the mistery and magic intact.
And even though Thubron made this journey thirty years ago, the book retains a significant part of its relevance. Issues like political uncertainty, economic inequality, ethnic tensions, environmental pollution, etc. Still pervade the region today.
If I had to summarize my feelings about this book in one sentence it would be: "One ticket to Turkestan, please!"
November 13, 2016
I was looking for more in this book than it delivered and was disappointed by it.
Thubron accurately describes the buildings that interest him and which he has travelled so far to see. But detailed descriptions of ancient tombs and mosques can't take the place of photographs, and there aren't any here, not even black and white which would at least give and idea of the structures and environments.
I looked up some images on the web (Wikipedia and Shutterstock), especially of Samarkand, Bokhara and the Pamirs Unfortunately I can't see any quickly which I could paste in here and be certain they weren't under copyright. Samarkand, Bokhara and other places along the Silk Road were on my long-to-visit list for years, before I began to see some of the present day realities of Central Asia which held no appeal for me.
Thubron was in Central Asia not long after the Russians had pulled out of their colonies, leaving behind disconsolate Russians, Ukrainians, other Eastern Europeans, survivors of Soviet Siberian exile and their descendants. He recounts meetings and conversations with some of those people, and with locals who speak Russian, a language he spoke. Life was hard for most of them. Some lived in hopelessness, some not.
He asks about the rise of Islam now that Soviet religious repression has lifted. He's clearly interested in whether there nationalism is emerging, but I didn't get a strong sense of any pattern, rather that it was ethnic loyalty (Uzbek, Tajik) that mattered. Thubron doesn't seem particularly interested in analysing what was happening socially and politically in the countries he visited, but builds pyramids of anecdotal detail.
It is tiresomely over-written. Sometimes there were so many adjectives and adverbs that I lost sense of what he was trying to say.
As often happens with travel writing, I find myself feeling embarrassed for the people who were unfortunate enough to meet the travel writer. Drunkenness, slobbery eating habits, spongy flesh, bad teeth, foul breath and more are reported in detail, maudlin conversations and complaints are written out at length. I hope they have never read what he wrote about them.
Thubron accurately describes the buildings that interest him and which he has travelled so far to see. But detailed descriptions of ancient tombs and mosques can't take the place of photographs, and there aren't any here, not even black and white which would at least give and idea of the structures and environments.
I looked up some images on the web (Wikipedia and Shutterstock), especially of Samarkand, Bokhara and the Pamirs Unfortunately I can't see any quickly which I could paste in here and be certain they weren't under copyright. Samarkand, Bokhara and other places along the Silk Road were on my long-to-visit list for years, before I began to see some of the present day realities of Central Asia which held no appeal for me.
Thubron was in Central Asia not long after the Russians had pulled out of their colonies, leaving behind disconsolate Russians, Ukrainians, other Eastern Europeans, survivors of Soviet Siberian exile and their descendants. He recounts meetings and conversations with some of those people, and with locals who speak Russian, a language he spoke. Life was hard for most of them. Some lived in hopelessness, some not.
He asks about the rise of Islam now that Soviet religious repression has lifted. He's clearly interested in whether there nationalism is emerging, but I didn't get a strong sense of any pattern, rather that it was ethnic loyalty (Uzbek, Tajik) that mattered. Thubron doesn't seem particularly interested in analysing what was happening socially and politically in the countries he visited, but builds pyramids of anecdotal detail.
It is tiresomely over-written. Sometimes there were so many adjectives and adverbs that I lost sense of what he was trying to say.
As often happens with travel writing, I find myself feeling embarrassed for the people who were unfortunate enough to meet the travel writer. Drunkenness, slobbery eating habits, spongy flesh, bad teeth, foul breath and more are reported in detail, maudlin conversations and complaints are written out at length. I hope they have never read what he wrote about them.
September 5, 2019
Колин Таброн не е писател, а сладкодумен пътешественик, поспрял за малко край огъня да разкаже поредната омагьосваща история, навързал в пъстра огърлица Узбекистан, Таджикистан, Казахстан и малко Киргизстан в мътилката на 90-те години на ХХ век. Той е от онази порода, която е вечно на път, някъде между точка А и точка Б, рядко по най-прекия и безопасен маршрут, но винаги по най-живописния.
Междувременно отливът на официалния комунизъм от Пътя на коприната из Узбекистан и Таджикистан е оставил тревожна ничия земя, за която се борят центробежни сили. Невежият ислямски фундаментализъм; пасивната и убийствена носталгия по сигурната идентичност на homo sovieticus като гражданин на империя, не на държава; черноборсаджийството като пряк път към бленувания капиталистически рай. Тъмните тонове и въпросите без отговор преобладават - старото си е отишло, а новото още не е дошло, няма дори единодушие какво да е това ново. Нацията още не съществува, империята е рухнала, кланът и племето са заличени, историята е смътен спомен, индивидът и малката клетка на семейството остават самотни островчета и последен бастион срещу хаоса.
Историята продължава напред с кротък оптимизъм в Казахстан и Киргизстан. Наследниците на номади-воини и шамани, слабо лустросани от исляма, продължават напред без омраза и без крайности, каквито нито бойните им победи и завоевания през средновековието, нито отровената им от ядрени опити земя през комунизма, нито чистките на Сталин са успели да предизвикат.
В този врящ котел етносите са се преплели неразривно, съпроводени от два века руски империализъм. В началото на 90-те и бившите колонизатори, и бившите колонии търсят корените си, но трудно ги откриват. Каква е националността на човек с руска, китайска, таджикската и узбекска кръв? Или на корееца, потомък на емигранти в Сахалин, живеещ в Киргизстан и не помнещ каква религия са изповядвали предците му? Или руснака, роден и живял само в Узбекистан? Или на узбека, презиращ джамията и вярвал цял живот в светлите бъднини на социализма? Или на религиозния екстремист, считащ забрадката и рязането на ръце за нормална част от ежедневието?
А невъзмутимите върхове на Памир, безбрежните степи на Казахстан, и непомръкващият синьозлатист блясък в здрача на Бухара, Самарканд и Хива ще останат дълго, след като тези въпроси са изгубили напълно значението си - някъде между точка А и точка Б, заедно с вечния чужденец, Колин Таброн.
Междувременно отливът на официалния комунизъм от Пътя на коприната из Узбекистан и Таджикистан е оставил тревожна ничия земя, за която се борят центробежни сили. Невежият ислямски фундаментализъм; пасивната и убийствена носталгия по сигурната идентичност на homo sovieticus като гражданин на империя, не на държава; черноборсаджийството като пряк път към бленувания капиталистически рай. Тъмните тонове и въпросите без отговор преобладават - старото си е отишло, а новото още не е дошло, няма дори единодушие какво да е това ново. Нацията още не съществува, империята е рухнала, кланът и племето са заличени, историята е смътен спомен, индивидът и малката клетка на семейството остават самотни островчета и последен бастион срещу хаоса.
Историята продължава напред с кротък оптимизъм в Казахстан и Киргизстан. Наследниците на номади-воини и шамани, слабо лустросани от исляма, продължават напред без омраза и без крайности, каквито нито бойните им победи и завоевания през средновековието, нито отровената им от ядрени опити земя през комунизма, нито чистките на Сталин са успели да предизвикат.
В този врящ котел етносите са се преплели неразривно, съпроводени от два века руски империализъм. В началото на 90-те и бившите колонизатори, и бившите колонии търсят корените си, но трудно ги откриват. Каква е националността на човек с руска, китайска, таджикската и узбекска кръв? Или на корееца, потомък на емигранти в Сахалин, живеещ в Киргизстан и не помнещ каква религия са изповядвали предците му? Или руснака, роден и живял само в Узбекистан? Или на узбека, презиращ джамията и вярвал цял живот в светлите бъднини на социализма? Или на религиозния екстремист, считащ забрадката и рязането на ръце за нормална част от ежедневието?
А невъзмутимите върхове на Памир, безбрежните степи на Казахстан, и непомръкващият синьозлатист блясък в здрача на Бухара, Самарканд и Хива ще останат дълго, след като тези въпроси са изгубили напълно значението си - някъде между точка А и точка Б, заедно с вечния чужденец, Колин Таброн.
January 15, 2009
I read The Lost Heart of Asia while I was living in the region, in the country of Kyrgyzstan. In this book Thubron travels throughout Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, Kazakhstan and – of course – Kyrgyzstan. This was by far the most informative book on Central Asia that I have read so far, in addition to being entertaining and well penned. I was a little disappointed by the fact that he spent by far the most time in Uzbekistan, and by the fact that he came to Kyrgyzstan at the very end of his journey, when his enthusiasm for extended travel was obviously winding down. However, I highly recommend this book to those interested in what life is like here Central Asia and/or the history thereof. Also, the fact that Thubron spent so much time in Uzbekistan meant that he penned pages upon tantalizing pages, which have left me itching to go there next.
March 19, 2011
Thubron travelled through Central Asia in the aftermath of the fall of the Soviet empire. Enabled by his knowledge of Russian, he managed to do it largely without intermediaries, so this trip is far beyond what one would expect of a grand tour of this huge region. Yes, there are visits to the touchstones, the abandoned ruins of almost-forgotten empires, the unimaginable savagery of the Mongols, the still-worshipped tombs of Sufi saints. Yes, there is the obligatory tale of the vermin-infested underground prison used by the sybaritic emirs of Bukhara and the two British officers who spent years in it before their execution. Thubron recounts how Central Asia had played host to a strain of Islam that was inquisitive and intellectual (it produced one of the Middle Age's great thinkers, Avicenna) and how it was crushed. But what really sets Thubron apart is his affection for the people of these countries, and how they adapted to the wrenching decades of Russian domination, followed by the devastation of the Russian collapse. (This is still the nineties; the self-satisfied, oil and gas-rich Russia of Putin has not yet appeared, it is gripped by the chaos of Yeltsin). Thubron listens, not always the most notable talent of Westerners abroad, even if it's to the guide who swindles him, or the elderly widow who, having lost a father and a husband to the Soviet terror, still believes in Communism. He engages everyone, down to the shepherds who turn out to be some of the last speakers of Sogdian, spoken by Xerxes, Darius and Cyrus the Great, one of whom says of that language, without sadness, that it belongs in the past. Above all, in this collection of countries and cultures so poorly-understood in the West, Thubron has a talent for getting women to talk to him, whether it is the tough matron nostalgic for the Soviets, or the resourceful daughter-in-law who supports the family, or the Kazakh woman who dreams of being a conductor. And, in this inflation-ravaged region, there is always the dream of moving, to Thubron's England or New York. This isn't a book about dust and ruins or elites or about deluded, comic foreigners (I think Sascha Baron Cohen should be sentenced to memorizing it), it is about the people who live there, enduring and often failing but still struggling to create something new.
March 30, 2011
I really couldn't get into this book, but I tried to plough through since it was a book club selection. Timing defeated me, and I had to return the book to the library, but I figured I can always pick it up again hopefully before the meeting, otherwise after, when everyone at book club tells me that the second half makes it all worthwhile.
Surprisingly, I had read the most pages in the book! Some got bogged down as early as page 35. My biggest complaints were that the author was quite smug throughout, and really put down the people he was meeting and describing. It was very disjointed and there were no transitions between big description/colourful character portrayal/moving to the next location. It felt like a large canvas of connect the dots, before someone attempts to fill in the page.
The language was very flowery and overly full of itself with big words that no one knows the meaning of. One of the book club members pointed out that every taxi driver had inscrutable eyes in a harsh face. Not recommended x 6 of us.
Surprisingly, I had read the most pages in the book! Some got bogged down as early as page 35. My biggest complaints were that the author was quite smug throughout, and really put down the people he was meeting and describing. It was very disjointed and there were no transitions between big description/colourful character portrayal/moving to the next location. It felt like a large canvas of connect the dots, before someone attempts to fill in the page.
The language was very flowery and overly full of itself with big words that no one knows the meaning of. One of the book club members pointed out that every taxi driver had inscrutable eyes in a harsh face. Not recommended x 6 of us.
June 3, 2023
First published in 1994, this travelogue by Colin Thubron looks at the five Central Asian countries which had been under the thumb of the Soviet Union for decades. One rarely hears about these areas, sandwiched as they are between Russia, China, Iran and the Indian sub-continent. Arriving there when Soviet rule had disintegrated overnight, he takes the reader on a ride through the lives of local residents and through the land itself, still full of history from the Mongols and Tamerlane.
Here, too, was the inborn colonial expectation that people be grateful for what they had never requested.
The Russians had long considered the “Stans” to be rightfully theirs, having intrigued to gain influence during The Great Game with Great Britain. But these lands were basically used as wastebaskets by Stalin and his followers for deportations and environmental degradation. The countries themselves prove to be elusive in pinpointing their own identities as the people Thubron meet consider themselves to be part of tribes which overlap each country. Even their Islamic religion is different, less angry than that of Iran and more a culture than the firebranding of Afghanistan. As the author meets various residents, it becomes clear that the Russians who still lived there are yearning for the ‘good old days’, when they ruled and had the better housing and the better jobs. As the Soviet Union crumbled apart, these same people realize the future belongs to the true locals and now they, the Russians and Eastern Europeans, are the interlopers.
The Communists had feared them. Sufism posited a world which they could not touch: a migration back into the heart.
I learned quite a bit reading this, even though I had a difficult time with the author’s description of the people he meets. None of them really come out ahead, with remarks made about their physical appearances and attitudes. Granted, the dissolution of the Soviet Empire was not something most of them would have expected, so the timing of the book really hits with the stupefaction of both Russians and locals. But while the natives can look with pride upon their past history of the Khans and the mighty Tamerlane, the suddenly out-0f-luck Russians can only consider themselves victims, blaming the locals for laziness and the decline of the post-Stalin world. However, I did enjoy his vicarious rides, usually via taxi, into historical lands in search of forgotten tombs and magnificent ruins. One can almost hear the winds whistle over the steppes.
A previous book I read, Chai Budesh? Anyone for Tea?: A Peace Corps Memoir of Turkmenistan, made me want to learn more about Central Asia, including the history of these countries, which is why I eagerly read Colin Thubron’s publication. Has the poverty endured? Is pollution still overwhelming? Has fundamental Islam taken hold? Is it just meet-the-new-boss-same-as-the-old-boss? I assume there is a 21st-century update on these countries, if anyone would like to recommend such a book.
Book Season = Spring (golden masks, green veils)
Here, too, was the inborn colonial expectation that people be grateful for what they had never requested.
The Russians had long considered the “Stans” to be rightfully theirs, having intrigued to gain influence during The Great Game with Great Britain. But these lands were basically used as wastebaskets by Stalin and his followers for deportations and environmental degradation. The countries themselves prove to be elusive in pinpointing their own identities as the people Thubron meet consider themselves to be part of tribes which overlap each country. Even their Islamic religion is different, less angry than that of Iran and more a culture than the firebranding of Afghanistan. As the author meets various residents, it becomes clear that the Russians who still lived there are yearning for the ‘good old days’, when they ruled and had the better housing and the better jobs. As the Soviet Union crumbled apart, these same people realize the future belongs to the true locals and now they, the Russians and Eastern Europeans, are the interlopers.
The Communists had feared them. Sufism posited a world which they could not touch: a migration back into the heart.
I learned quite a bit reading this, even though I had a difficult time with the author’s description of the people he meets. None of them really come out ahead, with remarks made about their physical appearances and attitudes. Granted, the dissolution of the Soviet Empire was not something most of them would have expected, so the timing of the book really hits with the stupefaction of both Russians and locals. But while the natives can look with pride upon their past history of the Khans and the mighty Tamerlane, the suddenly out-0f-luck Russians can only consider themselves victims, blaming the locals for laziness and the decline of the post-Stalin world. However, I did enjoy his vicarious rides, usually via taxi, into historical lands in search of forgotten tombs and magnificent ruins. One can almost hear the winds whistle over the steppes.
A previous book I read, Chai Budesh? Anyone for Tea?: A Peace Corps Memoir of Turkmenistan, made me want to learn more about Central Asia, including the history of these countries, which is why I eagerly read Colin Thubron’s publication. Has the poverty endured? Is pollution still overwhelming? Has fundamental Islam taken hold? Is it just meet-the-new-boss-same-as-the-old-boss? I assume there is a 21st-century update on these countries, if anyone would like to recommend such a book.
Book Season = Spring (golden masks, green veils)
February 24, 2021
Признавам си, че я четох през няколко страници, защото вниманието ми непрекъснато се разсейваше от заобикалящата ме действителност и не можеше да се прикове в разказа.
Книгата е писана само няколко години след като Становете (извинявам се, но аз така наричам всички държави със "стан" в името си в съответния район) напускат Съветския съюз. От гледна точка на историята пътеписът е доста интересен и показателен за положението в региона към онова време. Авторът е класически пътешественик, очевидно.
Това, което н�� успя да ме задържи, е именно... неактуалността. От онова време досега са минали 20 години, че и повече. Един от минусите на подобна литература е именно, че става неактуална за много кратко време и много малко от книгите в жанра успяват да вълнуват със същата сила векове наред. Някои неща, които авторът е видял, несъмнено все още са си истина, но аз, пък макар и с историческо образование и съответен исторически интерес, предпочитам книги за държавите такива, каквито са сега (независимо, че за хората след 20 години книгите от моето "сега" пак биха били стари).
Запланувала съм още две книги със сходна тематика, да видим как ще продължи опитът ми с тях. (Не обичам пътеписите, защото авторите им са били там, където и аз съм искала да бъда, а не съм била! xD Завистта ми невинаги е благородна).
Книгата е писана само няколко години след като Становете (извинявам се, но аз така наричам всички държави със "стан" в името си в съответния район) напускат Съветския съюз. От гледна точка на историята пътеписът е доста интересен и показателен за положението в региона към онова време. Авторът е класически пътешественик, очевидно.
Това, което н�� успя да ме задържи, е именно... неактуалността. От онова време досега са минали 20 години, че и повече. Един от минусите на подобна литература е именно, че става неактуална за много кратко време и много малко от книгите в жанра успяват да вълнуват със същата сила векове наред. Някои неща, които авторът е видял, несъмнено все още са си истина, но аз, пък макар и с историческо образование и съответен исторически интерес, предпочитам книги за държавите такива, каквито са сега (независимо, че за хората след 20 години книгите от моето "сега" пак биха били стари).
Запланувала съм още две книги със сходна тематика, да видим как ще продължи опитът ми с тях. (Не обичам пътеписите, защото авторите им са били там, където и аз съм искала да бъда, а не съм била! xD Завистта ми невинаги е благородна).
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September 15, 2019Колин Таброн - "Изгубеното сърце на Азия", изд. "Вакон" 2019, прев. Маргарит Дамянов
Десет дни търсих "Изгубеното сърце на Азия".
А щяха да са по-малко. Предвидено беше да са по-малко. Но се намесиха други събития, други книги и други хора, и търсенето се удължи.
Това обаче не променя факта, че книгата - за разлика от "Йерусалим" - ми хареса. При това доста. И за пореден път ме накара до си дам сметка колко малко знам. Защото Таброн пише за места, за които всички сме чували. Но много от нас не познават тези места. Знаят само, че ги има,че са някъде там. И именно тогава книги като "Изгубеното сърце" могат да ни дадат известни познания, да ни запознаят с историята и географията на тези места. А в случая с книгите на Таброн - и с малко от политиката и с "живия живот". Защото, макар това да не е роман, а пътепис, по страниците "срещаме" и много хора - обикновени хора, които споделят своите преживявания и своите виждания за промяната - или отсъствието на такава - след разпадането на Съветския съюз.
Вероятно съм го казвала за много книги, но ще го кажа и за тази. "Изгубеното сърце на Азия" не може да бъде определена просто като "интересна" или "неинтересна" книга. Защото тя не е измислена история, а своеобразна хроника. И в нея има всичко - минало, настояще, догадки за бъдещето. Има докосване до непознати обичаи и култури. Има вяра. Има наивност. И живец - именно защото на страниците й се "чуват" и думите на обикновени хора. И защото има описания на живот, който би бил безкрайно чужд на повечето от нас.
Споменавала съм, че не харесвам у Таброн снизходителното и понякога високомерно отношение към местата и хората, за които пише. Тук не го открих. Тук има по-скоро съчувствие и опит да разбере тези хора. И - което наистина ме изненада - "самопризнание", че е склонен да "лепи етикети". Може би това също беше една от причините книгата да ми допадне повече от предишната - а, честно казано, и от повечето му книги.
Определят Таброн като сладкодумен разказвач. Мисля, че тук за пръв път усетих това сладкодумие и дори се изненадах, когато книгата свърши - толкова ме беше увлякла накрая.
Хареса ми това търсене на "Изгубеното сърце на Азия". Хареса ми, макар че по страниците му има понякога доста мъка и тъга. Но няма как да е иначе, след като това е историята на една разпаднала се страна, при това - на най-затънтената и загадъчна /за мен/ част от нея. Намерих ли това "изгубено сърце"? Едва ли. Но поне се докоснах малко до него. И усещането беше прекрасно.
Десет дни търсих "Изгубеното сърце на Азия".
А щяха да са по-малко. Предвидено беше да са по-малко. Но се намесиха други събития, други книги и други хора, и търсенето се удължи.
Това обаче не променя факта, че книгата - за разлика от "Йерусалим" - ми хареса. При това доста. И за пореден път ме накара до си дам сметка колко малко знам. Защото Таброн пише за места, за които всички сме чували. Но много от нас не познават тези места. Знаят само, че ги има,че са някъде там. И именно тогава книги като "Изгубеното сърце" могат да ни дадат известни познания, да ни запознаят с историята и географията на тези места. А в случая с книгите на Таброн - и с малко от политиката и с "живия живот". Защото, макар това да не е роман, а пътепис, по страниците "срещаме" и много хора - обикновени хора, които споделят своите преживявания и своите виждания за промяната - или отсъствието на такава - след разпадането на Съветския съюз.
Вероятно съм го казвала за много книги, но ще го кажа и за тази. "Изгубеното сърце на Азия" не може да бъде определена просто като "интересна" или "неинтересна" книга. Защото тя не е измислена история, а своеобразна хроника. И в нея има всичко - минало, настояще, догадки за бъдещето. Има докосване до непознати обичаи и култури. Има вяра. Има наивност. И живец - именно защото на страниците й се "чуват" и думите на обикновени хора. И защото има описания на живот, който би бил безкрайно чужд на повечето от нас.
Споменавала съм, че не харесвам у Таброн снизходителното и понякога високомерно отношение към местата и хората, за които пише. Тук не го открих. Тук има по-скоро съчувствие и опит да разбере тези хора. И - което наистина ме изненада - "самопризнание", че е склонен да "лепи етикети". Може би това също беше една от причините книгата да ми допадне повече от предишната - а, честно казано, и от повечето му книги.
Определят Таброн като сладкодумен разказвач. Мисля, че тук за пръв път усетих това сладкодумие и дори се изненадах, когато книгата свърши - толкова ме беше увлякла накрая.
Хареса ми това търсене на "Изгубеното сърце на Азия". Хареса ми, макар че по страниците му има понякога доста мъка и тъга. Но няма как да е иначе, след като това е историята на една разпаднала се страна, при това - на най-затънтената и загадъчна /за мен/ част от нея. Намерих ли това "изгубено сърце"? Едва ли. Но поне се докоснах малко до него. И усещането беше прекрасно.
March 22, 2013
A brilliant insight into a vast, but little-known, little-explored area on Earth - Central Asia. A very simple account, yet, heart-warming and heart-wrenching. An exploration of not only physical places, but of the people, their culture, and their painful history. An effort to uncover and understand hitherto unknown facts of a place pushed back to a corner in world history and politics. A wonderful read. Both as travel and as exploration of human emotions.
Read
April 21, 2016I was probably spoilt when I read this book. Either I had read too many good books, or too many bad ones. Either way this one didn't stand out as worthwhile. I thought it was an ok travel book. Thubron travelled in Central Asia a couple of years after the end of the Soviet Union in the period of transition while the current regimes were still establishing themselves. Before the reoccurrence of large-scale fighting in Afghanistan and steady migration of ethnic Germans and Russians out of the region.
Among the Russians I felt was a more successful book, although probably far too dated now to interest many, possibly because Thubron spoke (some, at least) Russian and so in Central Asia is dealing with people through the old colonial language. Perhaps also because most of the areas he saw in the former book were part of a single cultural continuum rather than as in this book the border regions of a handful of civilisations nestling against the grasslands and cities in fertile valleys.
Central Asia is a diverse area, and too remote from most English language readership to be anything other than lost I imagine. Entertaining and readable, although I didn't think it was particularly insightful, my abiding memory is of Thubron comparing a group of kebab eaters cleaning their skewers by plunging them into the sand to Roman legionaries, it is an example of how a travel book doesn't offer a lasting portrait of a region but a snapshot, momentary and elusive.
Among the Russians I felt was a more successful book, although probably far too dated now to interest many, possibly because Thubron spoke (some, at least) Russian and so in Central Asia is dealing with people through the old colonial language. Perhaps also because most of the areas he saw in the former book were part of a single cultural continuum rather than as in this book the border regions of a handful of civilisations nestling against the grasslands and cities in fertile valleys.
Central Asia is a diverse area, and too remote from most English language readership to be anything other than lost I imagine. Entertaining and readable, although I didn't think it was particularly insightful, my abiding memory is of Thubron comparing a group of kebab eaters cleaning their skewers by plunging them into the sand to Roman legionaries, it is an example of how a travel book doesn't offer a lasting portrait of a region but a snapshot, momentary and elusive.
January 17, 2019
I read this book after visiting Uzbekistan and I found it really terrific. Although Thubron had visited the region about a quarter century before us, I thought it was great to see how little, in essence, the places have changed. Thubron also captures the singular approach to Islam that the central Asians have with great faithfulness and it's heartening to see that time has not hardened their views.
The language in the book is outstanding - some passages are strikingly beautiful and stay to haunt you days after. Thrubon's vocabulary is enormous and I discovered a fair number of new words I hadn't known.
One change, though, is with the people. Thubron visited the region in the throes of of calamitous change, and there is an air of hopeful but cautious optimism that pervades the book. Today the caution is largely gone (in Uzbekistan, at least) and the region seems to have much greater confidence and optimism than earlier.
All in all, a lovely read and almost perfect. I'd give it 4 and a half.
However, it's possible that my enthusiasm for the book is informed by the fact that I've visited at least half the places in the book. I found a few other reviews critisising the book as not being able to capture the place in writing in a way that's explainable. I can certainly sympathise, and I think that while the book is a terrific supplement to visiting the various monuments and places, perhaps it's not a substitute.
The language in the book is outstanding - some passages are strikingly beautiful and stay to haunt you days after. Thrubon's vocabulary is enormous and I discovered a fair number of new words I hadn't known.
One change, though, is with the people. Thubron visited the region in the throes of of calamitous change, and there is an air of hopeful but cautious optimism that pervades the book. Today the caution is largely gone (in Uzbekistan, at least) and the region seems to have much greater confidence and optimism than earlier.
All in all, a lovely read and almost perfect. I'd give it 4 and a half.
However, it's possible that my enthusiasm for the book is informed by the fact that I've visited at least half the places in the book. I found a few other reviews critisising the book as not being able to capture the place in writing in a way that's explainable. I can certainly sympathise, and I think that while the book is a terrific supplement to visiting the various monuments and places, perhaps it's not a substitute.
September 22, 2023
Ciekawy reportaż o byłych republikach radzieckich w centralnej Azji. Książka napisana na początku lat 90tych więc powoli przesuwa się w kierunku książki historycznej. Obecnie odwiedzane przez autora kraje zapewnie wyglądają nieco inaczej po 30 latach od rozpadu ZSRR. Książka mimo iż ciekawa, bo autor odwiedził region w interesującym momencie, to jest napisana dość ciężko. Narracja jest pierwszoosobowa, ale brnęłam przez nią z trudem.
February 24, 2021
This is very much slow travel. Colin Thubron travelled through the Central Asian states in 1991 to 1992, soon after they had gained independence from the Soviet Union, as the Union disintegrated. The countries left behind were floundering without any guiding principle, after having being told what to believe for several generations. The Soviet Union, especially in Stalin’s time, had used these faraway places to send the people they didn’t want, or wanted to work for them. Kazakhstan was full of former labour camps and collective farms. There were pockets of descendants of German farmers, imported to farm on the Volga by Catherine the Great, but sent off to work in the fields of Central Asia once the Germans invaded during the Great Patriotic War (WWII). In each of these countries he meets displaced Russians who long to go ‘back’ to the mother country, even though they may never have lived there themselves. And what of those who only have one Russian parent? In Soviet times, their Russianness gave them status. Now they are hated or tolerated or considered irrelevant.
Thubron had obviously done his homework on the history of each country and the shifting waves of peoples and empires that had swept across the region, leaving behind distinct cultures and traditions. Yet each country is inhabited by many different peoples, who seem mostly tolerant towards each other, but the prospect of ethnic violence is always a possibility, especially as all the countries seem to be heading towards economic ruin.
The part of this book that I most enjoyed are his descriptions of scenery, few and far between. This closely followed by his conversations with the people he meets along the way. Some are mere fragments, others last a couple of days or even longer, in the case of Oman, who drives him through the second section of his journey, alternately opening doors and bringing the whole trip to a standstill with his over-emotional reactions, his prodigious drinking and his maudlin reflections on society. He is by turns a coward who wants to give up on the whole enterprise and a wild adventurer who wants to push the boundaries. In fact, he’s like many of the people Thubron meets. These new nations have split personalities.
What I didn’t enjoy so much were the expositions of each country’s history, usually at the beginning of a new section of the journey or the crossing of the border. Yet I did learn a lot from the information dumps, though I doubt if I’ll retain it. During the course of the book, I gradually built up a picture of this vast region, its history and the various ethnic groups that people it. I’m not sure he would still feel comfortable publishing some of his characterisations of different groups nowadays, describing types of noses or physical types. They can’t be very accurate and certainly not politically correct. After all, he is constantly surprised by his misidentification of people he at first identifies as ‘Russian’, only to discover they claim to have ancestors from some other part of the former Soviet Union. As he observes, many people tell a version of history that confuse actual history and Soviet mythology, Islamic lore and shamanistic traditions and superstitions.
I was less fascinated with his endless descriptions of mosques and mausoleums and tombs. By the end of the book, I had decided this wasn’t an area I wished to visit, even though tourism is undoubtedly more developed now. However, I don’t think I would enjoy visiting quite so many tombs and graveyards. Of course, a travel book like this could have benefitted from some photos. I suspect the reason that Thubron didn’t take any was that he didn’t want to be accused of spying. A man with a notebook (the paper sort) arouses far less suspicion. Nowadays you would probably arouse more suspicion if you didn’t have one.
Given this trip was almost exactly thirty years ago, I wonder what has changed and what has become of all those people he met.
Thubron had obviously done his homework on the history of each country and the shifting waves of peoples and empires that had swept across the region, leaving behind distinct cultures and traditions. Yet each country is inhabited by many different peoples, who seem mostly tolerant towards each other, but the prospect of ethnic violence is always a possibility, especially as all the countries seem to be heading towards economic ruin.
The part of this book that I most enjoyed are his descriptions of scenery, few and far between. This closely followed by his conversations with the people he meets along the way. Some are mere fragments, others last a couple of days or even longer, in the case of Oman, who drives him through the second section of his journey, alternately opening doors and bringing the whole trip to a standstill with his over-emotional reactions, his prodigious drinking and his maudlin reflections on society. He is by turns a coward who wants to give up on the whole enterprise and a wild adventurer who wants to push the boundaries. In fact, he’s like many of the people Thubron meets. These new nations have split personalities.
What I didn’t enjoy so much were the expositions of each country’s history, usually at the beginning of a new section of the journey or the crossing of the border. Yet I did learn a lot from the information dumps, though I doubt if I’ll retain it. During the course of the book, I gradually built up a picture of this vast region, its history and the various ethnic groups that people it. I’m not sure he would still feel comfortable publishing some of his characterisations of different groups nowadays, describing types of noses or physical types. They can’t be very accurate and certainly not politically correct. After all, he is constantly surprised by his misidentification of people he at first identifies as ‘Russian’, only to discover they claim to have ancestors from some other part of the former Soviet Union. As he observes, many people tell a version of history that confuse actual history and Soviet mythology, Islamic lore and shamanistic traditions and superstitions.
I was less fascinated with his endless descriptions of mosques and mausoleums and tombs. By the end of the book, I had decided this wasn’t an area I wished to visit, even though tourism is undoubtedly more developed now. However, I don’t think I would enjoy visiting quite so many tombs and graveyards. Of course, a travel book like this could have benefitted from some photos. I suspect the reason that Thubron didn’t take any was that he didn’t want to be accused of spying. A man with a notebook (the paper sort) arouses far less suspicion. Nowadays you would probably arouse more suspicion if you didn’t have one.
Given this trip was almost exactly thirty years ago, I wonder what has changed and what has become of all those people he met.
December 25, 2017
Desolation in lost heart
I've been thinking about Turkestan travel lately, not so much that I plan to do it in person, but more in terms of literature. The whole field of travel literature is such that there are distinct styles among the authors and it's pretty much up to you to select the style that you like. One style that I definitely don't like is the "Yuck" style guaranteed to wrinkle noses, elicit groans, turn stomachs, and produce the reaction "thank God it was her, not me". Authors of this school no doubt garner kudos for having "braved the wilds of X" but it's basically a kind of fraternity/sorority gross-out tour. Still another variety of travel writer finds everyone an idiot, venal, politically incorrect, or somehow unappetizing; definitely not "like us" (which is bad). Everything is awful; if only he'd come here ten years ago---they say it was paradise then, but now, look at all the plastic bottles on the beach. Etc. etc. What about your hometown, buddy ? I'm not exhausting all the possibilities here, but let's turn to two more appealing schools---the Beautiful, Enchanting place group, and the Sad, Wrecked, and Disoriented place group. I could plump for either of these because a) there are some really beautiful places in the world and you can have some great experiences almost anywhere, come to think of it, and b) the world is pretty messed up too, and a lot of places have been wrecked by wars, poverty, and misgovernment, the people have a hard time getting by, and things look pretty grim. I don't require that everything look lovely, but what I do want in a travel book is a writer who doesn't condescend, who doesn't try for laughs at the expense of the people she meets, and who puts in a fair bit of background information on the particular place so that I learn as well as travel vicariously.
Colin Thubron's travel book about the five new/old nations of Central Asia, written in the early 90s, definitely pleases. Speaking a fair amount of Russian, Thubron was able to talk to many people over the several months he spent travelling around. He seems to have had a number of contacts, gleaned in England, but he also met up with various characters along the way. I admired his lyrical descriptions of the land, of places, of ruins, and of conditions, as well as his portrayals of the people he met. His is not a very optimistic view of human nature, nor of the conditions extant in those lands at the time (not that they have vastly improved). The sudden collapse of Russian rule left a vacuum, political, economic, and cultural. Everything turned upside down. Even the most optimistic traveller might have been hard pressed to find upbeat material in the detritus of the Soviet colonial legacy. In none of the five countries does he describe rulers---not even the later-notorious, egomaniacal Saparmurad Niyazov in Turkmenistan. He concentrates solely on the people he meets, who long incessantly for a better material standard of living, who often say that Communism, even Stalin, was better than the present mess. He meets many people who cling to Islam, either in fact, or merely in retrospect, holding onto some dimly-recalled shred of their nearly-erased cultural past. Some of the rather odd characters will touch your soul. Asia had lost its heart long before in the case of these repressed, depressed, and suppressed peoples, condemned to be cotton growers, pollution dumps, or open prisons by successive governments in Moscow. Overall, his is a thoughtful, beautiful book that anyone interested in Central Asia should read.
I've been thinking about Turkestan travel lately, not so much that I plan to do it in person, but more in terms of literature. The whole field of travel literature is such that there are distinct styles among the authors and it's pretty much up to you to select the style that you like. One style that I definitely don't like is the "Yuck" style guaranteed to wrinkle noses, elicit groans, turn stomachs, and produce the reaction "thank God it was her, not me". Authors of this school no doubt garner kudos for having "braved the wilds of X" but it's basically a kind of fraternity/sorority gross-out tour. Still another variety of travel writer finds everyone an idiot, venal, politically incorrect, or somehow unappetizing; definitely not "like us" (which is bad). Everything is awful; if only he'd come here ten years ago---they say it was paradise then, but now, look at all the plastic bottles on the beach. Etc. etc. What about your hometown, buddy ? I'm not exhausting all the possibilities here, but let's turn to two more appealing schools---the Beautiful, Enchanting place group, and the Sad, Wrecked, and Disoriented place group. I could plump for either of these because a) there are some really beautiful places in the world and you can have some great experiences almost anywhere, come to think of it, and b) the world is pretty messed up too, and a lot of places have been wrecked by wars, poverty, and misgovernment, the people have a hard time getting by, and things look pretty grim. I don't require that everything look lovely, but what I do want in a travel book is a writer who doesn't condescend, who doesn't try for laughs at the expense of the people she meets, and who puts in a fair bit of background information on the particular place so that I learn as well as travel vicariously.
Colin Thubron's travel book about the five new/old nations of Central Asia, written in the early 90s, definitely pleases. Speaking a fair amount of Russian, Thubron was able to talk to many people over the several months he spent travelling around. He seems to have had a number of contacts, gleaned in England, but he also met up with various characters along the way. I admired his lyrical descriptions of the land, of places, of ruins, and of conditions, as well as his portrayals of the people he met. His is not a very optimistic view of human nature, nor of the conditions extant in those lands at the time (not that they have vastly improved). The sudden collapse of Russian rule left a vacuum, political, economic, and cultural. Everything turned upside down. Even the most optimistic traveller might have been hard pressed to find upbeat material in the detritus of the Soviet colonial legacy. In none of the five countries does he describe rulers---not even the later-notorious, egomaniacal Saparmurad Niyazov in Turkmenistan. He concentrates solely on the people he meets, who long incessantly for a better material standard of living, who often say that Communism, even Stalin, was better than the present mess. He meets many people who cling to Islam, either in fact, or merely in retrospect, holding onto some dimly-recalled shred of their nearly-erased cultural past. Some of the rather odd characters will touch your soul. Asia had lost its heart long before in the case of these repressed, depressed, and suppressed peoples, condemned to be cotton growers, pollution dumps, or open prisons by successive governments in Moscow. Overall, his is a thoughtful, beautiful book that anyone interested in Central Asia should read.
Shelved as 'abandoned'
May 19, 2015Three weeks and only 141 pages in (through the end of Chapter 5) means I'm not enjoying this one, so it's back to the library for now. I haven't read travel writing before (aside from tourist guides like the Lonely Planet, when actually visiting a place, which is not at all the same thing although they are shelved together in the library), and perhaps given my impatience with travelogue fantasies it's unsurprising that I didn't much like this. Thubron spends a lot more time by himself, viewing landscapes or ruins, than I anticipated, and the cast of local characters that he meets turns over very quickly. He has a strange way of writing about people, all of whom come across as mysteriously tragic. He surmises personality from physiognomy and always seems surprised when the people he meets are unemotional about historical events that occurred long before their births. He also has a vague, atmospheric way of writing about history - he is clearly impressed with the long and brutal history of Central Asia, but names and dates and specifics tend to get lost, and all that stuck in my head were the descriptions of torture, which I could have done without.
There are some interesting characters here, and Thubron did have some exposure to the culture and write about it in an interesting way, but it wasn't enough to keep me going through this rather slow-moving and dense narrative.
There are some interesting characters here, and Thubron did have some exposure to the culture and write about it in an interesting way, but it wasn't enough to keep me going through this rather slow-moving and dense narrative.
October 12, 2016
Another great read from Thubron. This time travelling through central Asia in the time just following the fall of communism and the break up of the Soviet Union. He captures the vastness of central Asia, and the sense of former faded glory that did pervade much of it and I recognise from my time living and travelling there. There is much of the transience of life and societies. He also captures the local people's search for answers and the tendency to fall simply into the "the old times were good / the old times were bad" thinking. The truth is unfortunately much more complex - the Soviet Union caused many horrors, but there were some benefits. Independence may be potentially better, but the journey to achieve that potential has many pitfalls and pains.
As always with Thubron, he himself does not always come across as a sympathetic character. He paints what I assume is an honest picture of himself and at times he can be irritating. He is annoyed that poor people in broken regimes hassle him. I would have thought he should have expected this and been more patient. But the quality of the writing and his insights mean you can skate over his own personality. However, as I've said before, if you need to love your authors to enjoy their writing, this may not work for you.
As always with Thubron, he himself does not always come across as a sympathetic character. He paints what I assume is an honest picture of himself and at times he can be irritating. He is annoyed that poor people in broken regimes hassle him. I would have thought he should have expected this and been more patient. But the quality of the writing and his insights mean you can skate over his own personality. However, as I've said before, if you need to love your authors to enjoy their writing, this may not work for you.
August 19, 2012
Fascinating account of places I knew little about. A little drier than In Siberia but great writing and very enjoyable.
August 9, 2019
A travel book with a slice of history.
Colin Thubron travelled through these newly-independent countries almost immediately after they had left the USSR, and so he captures them at a unique time transition in their history. He records that moment when they were neither one thing nor the other. Some people hankered for the stable past of full employment and economic security. Others looked forward to a future which, though it might be uncertain, with unemployment and rampant inflation, at least promised them freedom.
The dilemma was neatly summed up when Thubron visited the spacious headquarters of the Writers' Union in Bishkek, the capital of Kirghiztan, "once a bureaucratic hub of mediocrity and obstruction". There he met a writer named Kadyr, and asked what people did there now. They don't do anything, said Kadyr. They had hundreds of writers, but no money and no paper. At last they had freedom to write, but the publishers could no longer afford the paper to print what they wrote. "Our spiritual situation is richer, far richer, but our material one is hopeless."
Last month I read The Road to Miran, also about Central Asia, but a little further east, in the Xinjiang Region of China. It's a part of the world that has always been rather vague in my mind -- lots of countries with names ending in -stan, but I was never quite sure of where they were in relation to each other. And what I learned about their history from this and some of the other books I have been reading was mostly new to me and quite revealing.
The four countries that are the subject of this books were the creations of Stalin in the 1920s, which I had not known. Their convoluted borders were drawn in Moscow, regardless of geography, so that now major roads sometimes cross international borders several times within a short distance. In that, and in several other ways, they resembled Dr Verwoerd's "Bantu Homelands", and as I read I got a new insight into why the English-language newspapers in South Africa referred the "homelands" as "Bantustans". Perhaps the analogy came from Dr Verwoerd himself, as he tried to explain his vision in the South African parliament, but at any rate the name, and the similarity, stuck.
One of Colin Thubron's concerns, and one that was quite widespread in the West, was that these four countries, where the majority of the population was nominally Muslim, might embrace Islamic fuindamentalism. A lot of his conversations, especially in the earlier part of the book, reflect this concern. In many of the towns he visited he would visit a madrassa and talk to the students who were studying Islam, and try to get their views on this. Most of the mosques and madrassas had been closed under the Bolsheviks, but were rapidly reopening, though for many, particularly in the northern parts, their Islam was more cultural than religious.
The landscapes he describes are also interesting. It seems that much of the arable land was turned to cotton monoculture, the the diversion of rivers to irrigate it dried up the Aral Sea, so that in one case one of the main ports was 60 miles from water. Many other places were turned into industrial wastelands, with polluted air and water.
The book was published 25 years ago, and was written a couple of years before that, so it provides a snapshot of a unique moment in the history of those countries.
Colin Thubron travelled through these newly-independent countries almost immediately after they had left the USSR, and so he captures them at a unique time transition in their history. He records that moment when they were neither one thing nor the other. Some people hankered for the stable past of full employment and economic security. Others looked forward to a future which, though it might be uncertain, with unemployment and rampant inflation, at least promised them freedom.
The dilemma was neatly summed up when Thubron visited the spacious headquarters of the Writers' Union in Bishkek, the capital of Kirghiztan, "once a bureaucratic hub of mediocrity and obstruction". There he met a writer named Kadyr, and asked what people did there now. They don't do anything, said Kadyr. They had hundreds of writers, but no money and no paper. At last they had freedom to write, but the publishers could no longer afford the paper to print what they wrote. "Our spiritual situation is richer, far richer, but our material one is hopeless."
Last month I read The Road to Miran, also about Central Asia, but a little further east, in the Xinjiang Region of China. It's a part of the world that has always been rather vague in my mind -- lots of countries with names ending in -stan, but I was never quite sure of where they were in relation to each other. And what I learned about their history from this and some of the other books I have been reading was mostly new to me and quite revealing.
The four countries that are the subject of this books were the creations of Stalin in the 1920s, which I had not known. Their convoluted borders were drawn in Moscow, regardless of geography, so that now major roads sometimes cross international borders several times within a short distance. In that, and in several other ways, they resembled Dr Verwoerd's "Bantu Homelands", and as I read I got a new insight into why the English-language newspapers in South Africa referred the "homelands" as "Bantustans". Perhaps the analogy came from Dr Verwoerd himself, as he tried to explain his vision in the South African parliament, but at any rate the name, and the similarity, stuck.
One of Colin Thubron's concerns, and one that was quite widespread in the West, was that these four countries, where the majority of the population was nominally Muslim, might embrace Islamic fuindamentalism. A lot of his conversations, especially in the earlier part of the book, reflect this concern. In many of the towns he visited he would visit a madrassa and talk to the students who were studying Islam, and try to get their views on this. Most of the mosques and madrassas had been closed under the Bolsheviks, but were rapidly reopening, though for many, particularly in the northern parts, their Islam was more cultural than religious.
The landscapes he describes are also interesting. It seems that much of the arable land was turned to cotton monoculture, the the diversion of rivers to irrigate it dried up the Aral Sea, so that in one case one of the main ports was 60 miles from water. Many other places were turned into industrial wastelands, with polluted air and water.
The book was published 25 years ago, and was written a couple of years before that, so it provides a snapshot of a unique moment in the history of those countries.
January 23, 2017
I picked up a 2nd hand copy of Colin Thubron‘s The Lost Heart of Asia (1994) after being attracted by it’s cover illustration and the glowing reviews that are listed on the covers. Like many people I read as much as I could about Afghanistan after it catapulted to centre stage in 2001 (e.g. this review, this one and this one are the 3 most recent that I’ve read). Since then I’ve been fascinated by Central Asia and read some great books such as A Carpet Ride to Khiva, visited exhibitions, and spent time fantasising about travelling there. After reading an excellent summary of the modern history of the Arab world, I turned at last to Thubron’s masterpiece.
I can’t understate the pleasure that I gained from reading this fascinating account of an incredible journey from Turkmenistan, through Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, part of Kazakstan and Kirghizstan during the first spring and summer of Central Asia’s independence from Moscow. Thubron obviously read very deeply and widely into, not only the ancient history, but also the modern history of the entire Central Asian region. He never lectures but imparts small historical vignettes on the reader at apposite points during his journey. He also obviously meticulously planned his journey, to optimise visits to sites of archaeological and anthropological significance. In the face of Thubron’s mastery of history, language, planning and calm attitude towards adversity I feel boring and unprepared in my own travels. It was with surprise recently that I read an email from a female colleague (who is older than me and has travelled a bit) saying that she thinks I am very intrepid! I think that I should be with my children rather than allowing my work to send me to the Middle East, but I digress.
When I viewed an exhibition of the treasures of four main archaeological sites in the north east of Afghanistan I pondered who these people were and how nomads could amass such stupendous treasures. Thubron amply answered that question. When I read the tragic history of the land of my Polish forefathers I wondered who the exceptionally violent and inhumane raiders that rode in from the East and left death, pregnancy and destruction behind them could be. Thubron amply answered that question too.
When I read The Road to Oxiana I was intrigued to learn more about Ulug Beg and his grandfather Tameralane. Thubron certainly provided not only the history I wanted to know but also visited their tombs and shared his feelings of fear and revulsion towards Tamerlane. While Byron kept himself aloof from the locals and looked down upon them (as a throwback to the attitudes of colonial England), Thubron had a very different approach. Helped by his ability to speak and read Russian, his understanding of Central Asian cultures, religions and history, and his empathetic attitude, Thubron made connections with locals everywhere that he went. Some of these are prolonged, such as his car journey through the Pamir’s with Oman (see below) and others are fleeting like his meeting with a Russian Babushka at the far eastern end of Issuk-kul. He was searching for a drowned 13th Century Nestorian monastery when he met her. She had left Sibera 30 years beforehand and lived a very hard and impoverished life but said:
Everything’s fine, it’s wonderful! When people say how terrible everything is, I ask Why? … Why can’t people be content? I have a little garden over there… where I grow cherries and nuts, and there’s a plot of land for pensioners where we plant potatoes. I’ve got everything I need… Our Gorbachev did the right thing (breaking apart the USSR)… Who doesn’t make mistakes? Nobody is walking on this earth who hasn’t made mistakes… But I was ashamed when Gorbacheve said his pension was insufficient… I wrote him a letter offering him two hundred roubles out of mine! I told him I could manage on seven hundred and five, even if he couldn’t get by on four thousand.
Five years ago I visited an exhbition on the Silk Road and saw then a letter written by a Sogdian trader. I was fascinated by these mysterious, highly organised and literate people of whom so little is mentioned. Thubron obviously shares that fascination because he went on a long car journey through the north-west Pamir on tracks that climbed to 11,000 feet and caused his friend Oman’s battered Lada to ‘buck like a stallion’ in search of goatherds who still speak Sogdian. His interaction with, and voice recording of, Sogdian-speakers in a secluded valley was an exhilarating encounter with the distant past.
Yes, they said, they were Yagnobski. They all spoke Sogdian in the home, young and old, and had inherited the language from their parents, by ear … I listened almost in disbelief. This, I told myself, was the last, distorted echo of the battle-cries shouted 2500 years ago by the armies of the Great Kings at Marathon and Thermopylae, all that remained from the chant of Zoroastrian priests or the pleas of Persian satraps to Alexander the Great. Yet it was spoken by impoverished goatherds in the Pamirs.
This passage is paraphrased from an interesting review in the Independent that you can read here: The Seljuk city of Merv in the 10th century CE, while Europe was repeatedly raided by Vikings, was the second city of Islam: a flourishing Silk Route capital, made rich from trade with China and tributes paid from an Empire extending from Afghanistan to Egypt. Along with three other great cities in the region (Tashkent, Bukhara and Samarkand), Merv developed a rich culture, was home to great universities, and attracting such leading minds as the polymath al-Biruni (I listened to a very interesting podcast about him on In Our Time with Melvyn Bragg), the lyric poet Rudaki (considered the founder of Persian classical literature), and the great Ibn Sina, (Avicenna – I also listened to a very interesting podcast about him on In Our Time with Melvyn Bragg), who wrote 242 books of stupefying variety and whose Canons of Medicine became a textbook in the hospitals of Christian Europe for over 500 years (and referred to heavily by Mehran in the novel Rosewater & Soda Bread).
The golden era was shattered in a single year when the stinking hordes of Genghis Khan swept through Turkestan, destroying everything that stood in their wake. It was unable to recover as a trading centre because Europe discovered a sea route to the East and the Silk Route caravans grew infrequent, finally drying up in the 17th century. 200 years later, the Czar’s armies were able to conquer the whole region – an area the size of Western Europe – with just 40 casualties.
When Thubron visited Merv he discovered:
The ruins of their once magnificent capital lie now amid the camel-coloured wastes of Turkmenistan: a scatter of mud walls, a few ambiguous foundations, the cracked dome of a mud-brick Muslim tomb. This ghost capital lies forgotten now on the outer edge of a polluted and provincial Soviet town: on one side a forest of smokestacks belches fumes into the desert, on the other, a spread of barren collective farms extends towards the encroaching dunes.
This is an excellent book and I unreservedly recommend it to anyone who is interested in Central Asia, pines for a true adventure, or likes to read about random interactions with strangers.
As Dervla Murphy put it in the Spectator:
Within these pages Turkmenia, Uzbekistan, Kirghizia, Tajikistan and Kazakhstan become real places, inhabited by individuals with whom we can identify — places at once anciently romantic and Soviet-squalid, their beauty and their ugliness equally extreme. Communism brutally overwhelmed these artificial ‘republics’, importing millions of superior (in their own estimation) Russians and establishing borders as meaningless as the colonial lines on the map of Africa. In many areas industrial pollution …(is) rapidly debilitating communities bred to survive nature’s toughest challenges. And now the ordinary folk must struggle to adjust to their frighteningly abrupt liberation.
I first posted this reveiw on my blog: https://strivetoengage.wordpress.com/...
I can’t understate the pleasure that I gained from reading this fascinating account of an incredible journey from Turkmenistan, through Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, part of Kazakstan and Kirghizstan during the first spring and summer of Central Asia’s independence from Moscow. Thubron obviously read very deeply and widely into, not only the ancient history, but also the modern history of the entire Central Asian region. He never lectures but imparts small historical vignettes on the reader at apposite points during his journey. He also obviously meticulously planned his journey, to optimise visits to sites of archaeological and anthropological significance. In the face of Thubron’s mastery of history, language, planning and calm attitude towards adversity I feel boring and unprepared in my own travels. It was with surprise recently that I read an email from a female colleague (who is older than me and has travelled a bit) saying that she thinks I am very intrepid! I think that I should be with my children rather than allowing my work to send me to the Middle East, but I digress.
When I viewed an exhibition of the treasures of four main archaeological sites in the north east of Afghanistan I pondered who these people were and how nomads could amass such stupendous treasures. Thubron amply answered that question. When I read the tragic history of the land of my Polish forefathers I wondered who the exceptionally violent and inhumane raiders that rode in from the East and left death, pregnancy and destruction behind them could be. Thubron amply answered that question too.
When I read The Road to Oxiana I was intrigued to learn more about Ulug Beg and his grandfather Tameralane. Thubron certainly provided not only the history I wanted to know but also visited their tombs and shared his feelings of fear and revulsion towards Tamerlane. While Byron kept himself aloof from the locals and looked down upon them (as a throwback to the attitudes of colonial England), Thubron had a very different approach. Helped by his ability to speak and read Russian, his understanding of Central Asian cultures, religions and history, and his empathetic attitude, Thubron made connections with locals everywhere that he went. Some of these are prolonged, such as his car journey through the Pamir’s with Oman (see below) and others are fleeting like his meeting with a Russian Babushka at the far eastern end of Issuk-kul. He was searching for a drowned 13th Century Nestorian monastery when he met her. She had left Sibera 30 years beforehand and lived a very hard and impoverished life but said:
Everything’s fine, it’s wonderful! When people say how terrible everything is, I ask Why? … Why can’t people be content? I have a little garden over there… where I grow cherries and nuts, and there’s a plot of land for pensioners where we plant potatoes. I’ve got everything I need… Our Gorbachev did the right thing (breaking apart the USSR)… Who doesn’t make mistakes? Nobody is walking on this earth who hasn’t made mistakes… But I was ashamed when Gorbacheve said his pension was insufficient… I wrote him a letter offering him two hundred roubles out of mine! I told him I could manage on seven hundred and five, even if he couldn’t get by on four thousand.
Five years ago I visited an exhbition on the Silk Road and saw then a letter written by a Sogdian trader. I was fascinated by these mysterious, highly organised and literate people of whom so little is mentioned. Thubron obviously shares that fascination because he went on a long car journey through the north-west Pamir on tracks that climbed to 11,000 feet and caused his friend Oman’s battered Lada to ‘buck like a stallion’ in search of goatherds who still speak Sogdian. His interaction with, and voice recording of, Sogdian-speakers in a secluded valley was an exhilarating encounter with the distant past.
Yes, they said, they were Yagnobski. They all spoke Sogdian in the home, young and old, and had inherited the language from their parents, by ear … I listened almost in disbelief. This, I told myself, was the last, distorted echo of the battle-cries shouted 2500 years ago by the armies of the Great Kings at Marathon and Thermopylae, all that remained from the chant of Zoroastrian priests or the pleas of Persian satraps to Alexander the Great. Yet it was spoken by impoverished goatherds in the Pamirs.
This passage is paraphrased from an interesting review in the Independent that you can read here: The Seljuk city of Merv in the 10th century CE, while Europe was repeatedly raided by Vikings, was the second city of Islam: a flourishing Silk Route capital, made rich from trade with China and tributes paid from an Empire extending from Afghanistan to Egypt. Along with three other great cities in the region (Tashkent, Bukhara and Samarkand), Merv developed a rich culture, was home to great universities, and attracting such leading minds as the polymath al-Biruni (I listened to a very interesting podcast about him on In Our Time with Melvyn Bragg), the lyric poet Rudaki (considered the founder of Persian classical literature), and the great Ibn Sina, (Avicenna – I also listened to a very interesting podcast about him on In Our Time with Melvyn Bragg), who wrote 242 books of stupefying variety and whose Canons of Medicine became a textbook in the hospitals of Christian Europe for over 500 years (and referred to heavily by Mehran in the novel Rosewater & Soda Bread).
The golden era was shattered in a single year when the stinking hordes of Genghis Khan swept through Turkestan, destroying everything that stood in their wake. It was unable to recover as a trading centre because Europe discovered a sea route to the East and the Silk Route caravans grew infrequent, finally drying up in the 17th century. 200 years later, the Czar’s armies were able to conquer the whole region – an area the size of Western Europe – with just 40 casualties.
When Thubron visited Merv he discovered:
The ruins of their once magnificent capital lie now amid the camel-coloured wastes of Turkmenistan: a scatter of mud walls, a few ambiguous foundations, the cracked dome of a mud-brick Muslim tomb. This ghost capital lies forgotten now on the outer edge of a polluted and provincial Soviet town: on one side a forest of smokestacks belches fumes into the desert, on the other, a spread of barren collective farms extends towards the encroaching dunes.
This is an excellent book and I unreservedly recommend it to anyone who is interested in Central Asia, pines for a true adventure, or likes to read about random interactions with strangers.
As Dervla Murphy put it in the Spectator:
Within these pages Turkmenia, Uzbekistan, Kirghizia, Tajikistan and Kazakhstan become real places, inhabited by individuals with whom we can identify — places at once anciently romantic and Soviet-squalid, their beauty and their ugliness equally extreme. Communism brutally overwhelmed these artificial ‘republics’, importing millions of superior (in their own estimation) Russians and establishing borders as meaningless as the colonial lines on the map of Africa. In many areas industrial pollution …(is) rapidly debilitating communities bred to survive nature’s toughest challenges. And now the ordinary folk must struggle to adjust to their frighteningly abrupt liberation.
I first posted this reveiw on my blog: https://strivetoengage.wordpress.com/...
September 30, 2017
Beautifully written account of travels in a fascinating part of the world, complemented with interesting historical facts and wonderful descriptions of landscape. The stories of the dreadful impact of Russian occupation on the people, the culture and the land are a little depressing but eye opening as well.
July 8, 2008
A great book about an interesting, volatile part of the world. Thubron is a travel writer, not the Lonely Planet adventure or tuscan sun package travel writer, but a journalist who travels to see places, meet people and learn about the history, culture and politics of a place. In this book he travels throught Central Asia in mid 90's soon after the collapse of the USSR and the Central Asian countries are cast adrift. You can see the confusion, as in statues of Lenin still in squares; on person says they want to take down Lenin's statue but they don't know what to replace him with. Very telling, good summary for the development and problems forging of a national identity for these new nations.
The people he meets are fascinating, Russians who feel scared now that they are a minority, Tajiks, Uzbeks, Koreans, Turks who are seizing new opportuniities or rehashing old grievances or making new idenities for themselves. Everyone he meets and travels with has a unique story to tell, some are sad, some funny, some inspiring, some revolting. Not everyone he meets is a nice person, some people are ignorant, some are schemers, some are racist, but all are interesting and worth hearing from. The geography and scenery he describes is beautiful and forbidding, and the history and political commentary are interesting nad thought provoking. What I found interesting was the realltionship the Central Asians had with the USSR. It is ambivalent at best, the older folks he meets were vets of WW2 and still wear Soviet Service medals proudly while Russian is their second language and they are concious of the cultural and ethnic distinctness. Most areheavy vodka drinkers, one of the more permanent and ingrained cultural contibutions of Russia.
It is about 12 years ago he mad ethe journey, so it's a little out of date, but that onlymakesd you want to learn more about this region. His commentaries on Islam and fundamentalism pre 9/11 are prescient and revealing. The story stands alone as an interesting, exciting, funny adventure story. Its also a historical document, a snapshot of nations at a pivotal moment in history
The people he meets are fascinating, Russians who feel scared now that they are a minority, Tajiks, Uzbeks, Koreans, Turks who are seizing new opportuniities or rehashing old grievances or making new idenities for themselves. Everyone he meets and travels with has a unique story to tell, some are sad, some funny, some inspiring, some revolting. Not everyone he meets is a nice person, some people are ignorant, some are schemers, some are racist, but all are interesting and worth hearing from. The geography and scenery he describes is beautiful and forbidding, and the history and political commentary are interesting nad thought provoking. What I found interesting was the realltionship the Central Asians had with the USSR. It is ambivalent at best, the older folks he meets were vets of WW2 and still wear Soviet Service medals proudly while Russian is their second language and they are concious of the cultural and ethnic distinctness. Most areheavy vodka drinkers, one of the more permanent and ingrained cultural contibutions of Russia.
It is about 12 years ago he mad ethe journey, so it's a little out of date, but that onlymakesd you want to learn more about this region. His commentaries on Islam and fundamentalism pre 9/11 are prescient and revealing. The story stands alone as an interesting, exciting, funny adventure story. Its also a historical document, a snapshot of nations at a pivotal moment in history
July 11, 2013
Jesus, Thubron seems like a trial of a person. He's humorless, relentlessly critical, condescending and seems to not understand the concept of joy. And yet, I keep coming back to his books. Why? He's blisteringly intelligent, and he writes history like no one else - he makes places come to life, even as they existed hundreds and even thousands of years ago. Because I'm heading to Uzbekistan (Inshallah) in the coming months, I was happy with the content imbalance in this book because it favors that country. He almost seemed to enjoy himself in some spots, remarkably. The descriptions of life under the khans was evocative and, in parts, chilling. Pretty sure I'll be taking this with me on my trip to reference it.
September 18, 2009
"It is the traveler's illusion that everyone is assimilated except himself," writes Thubron, the best living travel writer, in this brilliant book in which he recounts his journey through central Asia following the collapse of the Soviet Union. He may write primarily in short, declarative sentences, but they convey all you need to know about the landscape, the people, the culture, and, above all, the history of wherever he finds himself. Thubron's voice is often so subtle that you forget the power contained in his words. And then he drops an observation like the one quoted above, and you remember.
May 27, 2018
Would be interesting for the author to write an update
November 2, 2019
It's relevant to me and my life and travels in Central Asia, and I think my favorite parts were his profiles of people he met and his conversations with them about the Soviet Union and Islam and the futures of Central Asian countries. It's interesting how little has changed, in some respects, since the fall of the Soviet Union, but also how much has changed and developed and grown since then. The Tashkent and Khiva I just visited, and Bishkek, would be near unrecognizable to the Thubron of 1991. Most of the buildings are the same, but the atmosphere and hordes of tourists and amenities and transportation options are nothing like what was available to him on this journey.
Thubron's writing could be too flowery, though, and I frequently got lost (not in a good way) in descriptions of buildings. I don't like the way he describes people's appearances, either; it's rarely flattering, and gives unnecessary details that often come off as racist and sexist, or body-shaming or just judgmental. His heart seems to be in the right place, and he's definitely put in the time and effort to get to know locals and "walk a mile in their shoes", but still persists in "othering" the people he encounters and trying hard to categorize them according to his terms. And it's pretty bleak and he ceased describing any enjoyable moments by the end of the book; he expressed interest in his surroundings but it clearly felt like a slog and a trip he was eager to get to the end of. Kyrgyzstan got the shaft at the end. I mean, I understand how fatiguing it would be; such a trip would really take everything out of you in 2019, never mind in 1991, but I would've liked a little more positivity, if possible.
Worth reading, interesting, but heavy and flawed.
Thubron's writing could be too flowery, though, and I frequently got lost (not in a good way) in descriptions of buildings. I don't like the way he describes people's appearances, either; it's rarely flattering, and gives unnecessary details that often come off as racist and sexist, or body-shaming or just judgmental. His heart seems to be in the right place, and he's definitely put in the time and effort to get to know locals and "walk a mile in their shoes", but still persists in "othering" the people he encounters and trying hard to categorize them according to his terms. And it's pretty bleak and he ceased describing any enjoyable moments by the end of the book; he expressed interest in his surroundings but it clearly felt like a slog and a trip he was eager to get to the end of. Kyrgyzstan got the shaft at the end. I mean, I understand how fatiguing it would be; such a trip would really take everything out of you in 2019, never mind in 1991, but I would've liked a little more positivity, if possible.
Worth reading, interesting, but heavy and flawed.
August 25, 2024
Ciekawa próba zawarcia „przygody” w reportażu. Opisy, jakich można się spodziewać po brytyjskim podróżniku, który trafił do Azji Środkowej - czyli orientalizacja i dużo oceniania (m.in. opisanie jurty jako „brudnego igloo”). Pod tym względem bardzo podobne do „Starego Ekspresu Patagońskiego” P. Theroux. No ale należy pamiętać, że to wszystko było 30 lat temu i traktować całość z przymrużeniem oka.
August 18, 2022
I’m surprised that something so racist and badly researched was still ok in the 90s but maybe shouldn’t be. More motivation to correct these narratives I guess!
June 11, 2020
Fascinating read. I travelled in some of the countries Thubron explored last year, and to read his account from the early 1990s was sobering: everything changes, everything stays the same. Incredibly detailed and descriptive prose married with deep insights into the people he moves among make this chunkier and more satisfying than the average travel book fare.
June 17, 2016
Travel writing seems to be to be a tricky genre. There's so much room for the blurring of an author's capacity of subjectivity and objectivity that the genre itself is splayed uncomfortably between memoir and non-fiction. Its an odd place to be as a reader, and it becomes even more challenging when you the reader are familiar with the place being described. Often, as in travel itself, the author's shadow side casts itself over the narrative, whether the author intends it to or not. I imagine that much of the worst of this often gets edited out, but a fair amount remains--how can it not?
I mostly enjoyed Colin Thubron's "Lost Heart of Asia", even while some part of my brain prickles at the slight condescension of calling Central Asia "lost" when the only people it has ever been "lost" to are people who aren't from there. Mr. Thubron visited the five 'stans that make the formerly Soviet Central Asian bloc right after the fall of the USSR, and captured with sympathy the confusion and turmoil that these economically tattered and corrupt states were and still are in as they try to define themselves as a cohesive nation. Mr. Thubron has enormous skill as a writer, effortlessly weaving in history and culture as he talks about the sights and people around him. He is very knowledgeable about the region, especially Uzbekistan, and is willing to put himself at risk to find remote historical sights and explore the country around him. Still, there is a subtle tone of superiority when he comments on the people that didn't sit right. Mr. Thubron himself was an interesting study--always willing to engage with whoever he came across, yet very much removed and cushioned by his Englishness. Part of it is that I had some of the same attitude while I was serving in the Peace Corps in Kyrgyzstan, always comforted in my worldly Americanness that my views were the correct ones. I'm not proud of it, but I certainly hope that as I've gained maturity and perspective that I would be more sensitive to the cultural differences that can make it easy to generalize about a whole race of peoples. Central Asia is often very culturally isolated, and that can mean that sometimes the views of the people there are extremely localized--same would probably be found if you visited many rural places in the US. In addition, some of his comments the various ethnic groups are outright racist. Of the Turkmens he sees when he first lands at the Ashkhabad airport, he comments that "[t]hey seemed like nomads still: predators and opportunists...". When in Kyrgyzstan, he speaks of the "flocks of sturdy women", and a people who "looked like last-generation herdsmen, coarser and burlier than their Kazakh cousins...They lumbered along the streets...and would drop unthinkingly to their haunches on the pavements. Their mastiff necks rolled into barrel chests...Many looked like pantomime peasants. Their rolling-pin arms swung out from muscle bound shoulders, and their felt hats lent them a doltish gaiety." Wow. As someone who spent two years in the latter country, that isn't how I'd choose to describe the ethnic Kyrgyz population as a whole. Or any population, really.
Culturally and geographically diverse, and recovering from having the imprint of Soviet Russia forced on them, Central Asia makes for a fascinating study. Often overlooked due to its landlocked and remote location, it can be a rough place to travel. Poor tourist infrastructure, government corruption, and, admittedly, a cuisine that lacks a ton of appeal makes for a lackluster destination for leisure tourists, yet the vestiges of the Silk Road as well as its diverse cultural milieu marks it as a worthwhile place to go for those with some grit who want authenticity in their destination. At the crossroads of the empires that have traversed Asia throughout history, indelible marks of these epochs have been left on the people who reside there. The Turkic language roots coming from the west, the Mongoloid features of the east, the rise of Islam from the south west, the Cyrillic alphabet from the north--each of these affect the 'stans differently and every region has a culture that is uniquely theirs. I loved revisiting the region, but could have left the author behind on some occasions.
I mostly enjoyed Colin Thubron's "Lost Heart of Asia", even while some part of my brain prickles at the slight condescension of calling Central Asia "lost" when the only people it has ever been "lost" to are people who aren't from there. Mr. Thubron visited the five 'stans that make the formerly Soviet Central Asian bloc right after the fall of the USSR, and captured with sympathy the confusion and turmoil that these economically tattered and corrupt states were and still are in as they try to define themselves as a cohesive nation. Mr. Thubron has enormous skill as a writer, effortlessly weaving in history and culture as he talks about the sights and people around him. He is very knowledgeable about the region, especially Uzbekistan, and is willing to put himself at risk to find remote historical sights and explore the country around him. Still, there is a subtle tone of superiority when he comments on the people that didn't sit right. Mr. Thubron himself was an interesting study--always willing to engage with whoever he came across, yet very much removed and cushioned by his Englishness. Part of it is that I had some of the same attitude while I was serving in the Peace Corps in Kyrgyzstan, always comforted in my worldly Americanness that my views were the correct ones. I'm not proud of it, but I certainly hope that as I've gained maturity and perspective that I would be more sensitive to the cultural differences that can make it easy to generalize about a whole race of peoples. Central Asia is often very culturally isolated, and that can mean that sometimes the views of the people there are extremely localized--same would probably be found if you visited many rural places in the US. In addition, some of his comments the various ethnic groups are outright racist. Of the Turkmens he sees when he first lands at the Ashkhabad airport, he comments that "[t]hey seemed like nomads still: predators and opportunists...". When in Kyrgyzstan, he speaks of the "flocks of sturdy women", and a people who "looked like last-generation herdsmen, coarser and burlier than their Kazakh cousins...They lumbered along the streets...and would drop unthinkingly to their haunches on the pavements. Their mastiff necks rolled into barrel chests...Many looked like pantomime peasants. Their rolling-pin arms swung out from muscle bound shoulders, and their felt hats lent them a doltish gaiety." Wow. As someone who spent two years in the latter country, that isn't how I'd choose to describe the ethnic Kyrgyz population as a whole. Or any population, really.
Culturally and geographically diverse, and recovering from having the imprint of Soviet Russia forced on them, Central Asia makes for a fascinating study. Often overlooked due to its landlocked and remote location, it can be a rough place to travel. Poor tourist infrastructure, government corruption, and, admittedly, a cuisine that lacks a ton of appeal makes for a lackluster destination for leisure tourists, yet the vestiges of the Silk Road as well as its diverse cultural milieu marks it as a worthwhile place to go for those with some grit who want authenticity in their destination. At the crossroads of the empires that have traversed Asia throughout history, indelible marks of these epochs have been left on the people who reside there. The Turkic language roots coming from the west, the Mongoloid features of the east, the rise of Islam from the south west, the Cyrillic alphabet from the north--each of these affect the 'stans differently and every region has a culture that is uniquely theirs. I loved revisiting the region, but could have left the author behind on some occasions.
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