…is the title of Bill Bryson’s new book. It’ll be wonderful. His books always are, imbued with charm, humour and wisdom. And yet he remains underrated as a writer. Maybe because his books are non-fiction and usually travel books with a broad, almost populist appeal he seldom receives the literary plaudits he deserves. If that old maxim “Easy reading, hard writing” applies to anyone, it applies to Bryson. His simple, stylish prose with its near perfect grammar and syntax is, I suspect, the result of a great deal of hard graft. He’s currently giving interviews, promoting the new book, and I’m dismayed to discover that the way he speaks is nothing like the way he writes. He has a weak, whiney voice and poor, lispy diction. I’d always imagined him to sound deep, sassy and mischievous. A bit like Lee Hazlewood.
The Road to Little Dribbling….

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