Book Review: Visit Sunny Chernobyl (Again)

[This post originally presented itself on August 2, 2012. If you wonder why it’s currently in revival, visit here.]

Do I have a treat for you: a travelogue of a kind I can guarantee you haven’t experienced before and will not find published by Michelin or Fodor’s.  My review copy of Visit Sunny Chernobyl was provided courtesy of LuxuryReading.com, which also hosted the original (shorter) post of this book review on July 1, 2012 (available here).

How can you not want to read a book with this title?  Seriously?  I became a teensy bit enraptured with Chernobyl after watching Anthony Bourdain visit.  The haunting image of the Ferris wheel (which is actually in Pripayat, but still – Chernobyl-adjacent and definitely one of the most severely hit areas during the disaster) against the grey sky, a lone focal point in a devastated and abandoned landscape is unforgettable.  Before I even knew what this book was about, I was intrigued (a perfect example of a “shiny thing”, to me).  Once I read the blurb and saw it was a travelogue version of one man’s journey to vacation in the most polluted places in the world, well, I was hooked.

I love weird, random, quirky destination-stories.  Actually, I pretty much love weird, random, quirky stories of any kind.  But when they’re to unusual places (real or imaginary), I’m doubly-curious.  It takes a certain kind of skill to make places that are so far out of the ordinary, so beyond the experience of everyday life, into something the reader can really feel a part of and experience.  To keep this journey from feeling flat or second-hand is, to me, what the craft of writing really entails.  If you can transport your readers into your world – be it the world of oil sands fields in Alberta, Canada, or of the polluted Ganges, or of the Pacific Ocean’s Garbage Patch (seriously, there is such a thing, and seriously, apparently it’s well-known – but it wasn’t to me, so thanks to Andrew Blackwell for teaching me about this one) – and make him/her see, smell, and feel your experience, well, I think you’ve mastered your craft.

Andrew Blackwell paints a nice picture, but ultimately, his was not the craft for me.

The premise is a great one.  Blackwell’s voice is snarky and educational in turns – a blend I love and respond well too.  The destinations were unusual and the narratives sprinkled with fun facts, tongue-in-cheek observations, and a lot of enthusiasm.  But somehow the book still fell a little flat for me.

It is entirely possible that this is due to my lack of knowledge and/or interest in the major environmental issues of our day.  I know, that’s a terrible thing to admit.  I have step-kids, nephews, and a younger sister.  I should be worried about the state of the world they will inherit – and I am.  I recycle religiously – even though I watch the garbage men dump my carefully separated recyclables in with the regular trash every other time they pick stuff up.  I buy enviro-friendly products when feasible (and by ‘feasible’ I mean a combination of price-appropriate, user-appropriate, and household-appropriate – I don’t live alone on an infinite budget).  But I can’t help it – I can’t gin up much enthusiasm for reading about oil refining or waste management or clean water.

Perhaps if Blackwell had been a tish more liberal with the snark, I would have had an easier time with this one.  His voice is a spot-on blend of sarcasm, cynicism, and unbridled joy in the ridiculousness of the world that resonates with me beautifully – but only when he is talking in it instead of simply relaying information.  I would have enjoyed a bit more of him in this book, and a bit less Environmental Studies 101.  That’s not to say his writing of the latter is poor or problematic, it’s just not my cup of tea.

I’ll look for his next book to see if more of the voice I enjoyed came through.  As for this one, I doubt I’ll re-read it – but I will pass it on to a few of my greener friends.