With a razor wit and a kind heart, Bryson serves up a colorful tale of boredom, kitsch, and beauty when you least expect it. Gentler elements aside, The Lost Continent is an amusing book. Here's Bryson on the women of his native state: "I will say this, however--and it's a strange, strange thing--the teenaged daughters of these fat women are always utterly delectable ... I don't know what it is that happens to them, but it must be awful to marry one of those nubile cuties knowing that there is a time bomb ticking away in her that will at some unknown date make her bloat out into something huge and grotesque, presumably all of a sudden and without much notice, like a self-inflating raft from which the pin has been yanked."

Yes, Bill, but be honest: what do you really think?

Product Description
An unsparing and hilarious account of one man's rediscovery of America and his search for the perfect small town.

When I started reading this book, I laughed so much my wife wouldn't let me read it in bed. Then she picked it up and discovered how funny it was, and wanted to read it before me. Eventually we compromised, and kept it in the car; the rule was that whoever was driving had to read it to the driver. Several times, however, the reader was laughing so hard that they couldn't get comprehensible words out, and the driver had to pull over to the hard shoulder and grab the book for themselves.

Yes, he's a curmudgeon, as other reviewers here have noticed. That's just his style. He's not deep, either; his occasional ruminations aren't negligible, but he's no Mark Twain. But he has an acidly sharp eye for inanity and stupidity, and his anecdotal technique is flawless.

His other travel books are along much the same lines, but to me this is the funniest, though "A Walk in the Woods" does show he is capable of good introspective writing. "The Lost Continent" is sharp, satirical, acute, and unkind--wickedly funny in every sense of the word.


Depressing and repetitive. Move on to his other works   May 31, 2006
 31 out of 32 found this review helpful

I had high hopes for this book since I thoroughly enjoyed and laughed out loud while reading Bryson's 'In a Sunburned Country'. I was more than a little disappointed after finished `Lost Continent' I came away feeling more than a little disappointed.
Before I bought this book I was puzzled at the contrasting reviews here and I initially took the most of the negative reviews with a grain of salt. I figured these were written by people who mostly just took offense way too easily and were unable to laugh at themselves as Americans. I have to say though, after reading the book I find myself agreeing with some of the negative reviews of this book.

First off, as an American that has lived overseas for 3 years now, I feel I'm more than capable of looking at America with an objective eye. I'm completely aware of America's many shortcomings - ie. the propensity for urban sprawl, the seemingly declining interest in it's rich history, the ever growing dependence on technology and increasing laziness that invariably comes with it etc. etc.

Having said that, I still regard this book primarily as just one endless, tiring, repetitive rant by an unhappy man. One would be hard pressed to find more than a couple instances where Bryson spent more than three of four sentences at a time describing anything he found ENJOYABLE. As one reviewer pointed out, Bryson comes across as being exactly like the kind of people he constantly complains about in this book...rude, ignorant, and, just like Bryson himself, overweight (apparently he hasn't stepped in front of a mirror lately). One has to wonder why someone would put out a book that is so consistently sour in tone. If I had just finished such a thoroughly unsatisfying and unhappy trek as this, I would be hard pressed to come up with a good reason (other than a quick buck perhaps) to actually write a book about it. Let me get one thing straight, if this were a book about Canada or anywhere else outside the U.S. I would feel the same way. Yes, there are a few funny passages in his book, but his air of superiority along with the overuse of metaphors pretty much dampen it at times. As demonstrated in `In a Sunburned Country', his strength lies in sharing facts and history of the places he finds himself in, and the humor is always much more engaging when it isn't over the top and written as if he's trying to impress himself.

There was a span of about 12 years between the writing of `Lost Continent' and `In a Sunburned Country', and it shows. This is a younger Bryson, a man who seems to have a problem with every little detail, and it becomes increasingly tedious and irritating as the book goes on. He rarely displays anything other than contempt for the places he finds himself in. A couple of other reviewers also made valid points when they found it curious that (with the exception of his Iowa drug buddy) he never manages to engage anyone in anything resembling a meaningful conversation to actually get a handle on their mindset (as he did in "In A Sunburned Country' for instance). His interactions with locals are mostly limited to ordering food at local restaurants and asking for directions. He seems perfectly content coming to conclusions about entire groups of people based on no real substance and communication whatsoever.

In this book, sadly, he comes across as nothing more than a sarcastic, anti-social loner with a bone to pick with just about everyone and everything. Any remotely kind words he has about anything (and they are few and far between) are all but smothered by the sour tone of the book as a whole. I SO wish I could recommend this book for others to read, but I'd be lying if I said it's time well spent.


A bizarre mixture of nostalgia and bitterness   April 10, 2001
 21 out of 29 found this review helpful

As with most of Bryson's books, he reveals too much of his own personality, which is pretty distasteful. This rather privileged baby boomer son of the American upper-middle class (he admits that his father was a well-paid sportswriter) roams across the country, finding fault with virtually everything he sees and experiences. It's amazing and disheartening how many of his observations are just exercises in bashing the white American working class and lower-middle class, those "tacky" people who actually shop at K-Mart. While in those sections that describe his travels in the Southern states he takes great pains to express his sympathy for oppressed blacks, he has no compunctions in writing about lower-class whites in language that would be considered incredibly racist if his victims were members of racial or ethnic minority groups.

On the other hand, the last few chapters of the book, when he has finished his grand circuit of the United States and has finally returned to his beloved Iowa, degenerate into almost a hokey Midwestern boosterism. He tells us ad nauseum about the wonderful, homespun virtues of the Midwest, and especially Iowa, in contrast to the alleged coldness and hostility of Westerners and Southerners. (Perhaps people in the latter two regions had seen his photo in his previous books and recognized him, which might explain their behavior; I certainly wouldn't want any contact with Bryson.) Ironically, Bryson chose to settle in New England when he finally returned to the United States, which suggests that his nostalgia for the good old Midwest was short-lived.

I finished this book, which Bryson dedicated to his late father, with the impression that it was a kind of emotional catharsis for him after his father's death. There seems to be a strong whiff of unfinished business about this whole work, as if it were a long apology to a parent with whom he had lost contact forever.

In short, Bryson is an glib but shallow writer with a bad case of Anglophilia. If he finds American life so repugnant, he should probably return the the U.K. permanently and take out British citizenship.


Bill Bryson sets out to see America's worst - and finds it   April 5, 2002
 17 out of 23 found this review helpful

Bill Bryson's lazy shallow 1989 cheap shot of a debut wilts to his exceptional work of just a few years later. Bryson is a funny provocative man - the thoughtful 'A Walk in the Woods' & the informed ecstatic 'In A Sunburned Country' are excellent books, even better on tape/CD as read by the author. (Bill Bryson is a superb reader - I highly recommend you pick up any of the audio versions.)

But 13 years on, Bryson may regret "The Lost Continent." It's a simple tale of a European expatriate eager to trash America, driving (never walking or meeting) to any city/town/site that might confirm his set opinions and match his sloppy travel planning. It's a tale of a very silly ignorant man.

It's interesting that a writer who condemns fast-pace fast-food instant-gratification American culture drops so many phrases like "I drove on...", "Driving on...," "Within minutes I reached...". These phrases don't happen sometimes - they happen with every other page. This is obviously the work of a writer who spends too much time driving. How American. Even in his best writing, Bill Bryson is not a physical guy. He gets his best material from research, and mostly, just talking with the locals. In this book, he mocks roadside sad-eyes but barely lifts a finger to question, talk or ask. He doesn't give the locals a chance. Worse, Bryson wastes a lot of ink comparing TV commercial excess with his boring truck-pit surroundings. Like TV was ever about reality?...

What did he expect? I myself have driven many thousands of miles in Nowhereville, Boondock, Hicktown. In fact, I've driven most the routes Bryson took. Yes, there isn't much culture, yes it's mostly truck pits, sure it's hard to find good food. But I never expected more - I knew what to expect, and took my experience for what it was. I was in the 'nowhere zone' of USA highways - I accepted it as just that. Bryson takes those experiences and condemns the nation.

Bill Bryson saves his worst pitch for the last 2 pages. He writes "Well, that was my trip more or less." (This is as bad as a high-school student writing "in conclusion...") He then writes "I saw pretty much everything I wanted to see and a good deal I didn't." This says more about the author and his sloppy aimless travel path. What would you say about a tourist who drove through Santa Fe but didn't bother to experience Navajo Nation? What would you say about a guy who drove through the (winter-closed) North Rim Grand Canyon but didn't bother to check unique Sedona Arizona? Or a bizarre clutz who checks out non-descript flat Pueblo Colorado, makes a point to see Aspen, and - like Inspector Clouseu - gets snowed under. Bryson did not see Denver or even Boulder - he just saw podunk towns. He didn't see Seattle, he didn't see Zion or Bryce Canyon, he didn't check out San Francisco, hike Lake Tahoe, experience Yosemete, or even climb a hill in Yellowstone.

What would you say about that travel-writer? A jackass. Obviously Bill Bryson has come a long long way in the decade since. Check out his wonderful recent stuff - skip this.


Boring!   December 24, 2005
 17 out of 23 found this review helpful

This is another book by a smug expatriate making facile criticisms about life in America. He does this with a fraction of the wit of Paul Theroux. The book is about a road trip he makes across the United States after living many years in England. The problem is, he sticks to long stretches of interstate highway venturing off rarely for a tourist attraction, lodging or food. He then laments the boring stretches of highway, the fastfood (which he always seems to eat) and the motel rooms. He rarely talks to any people except those that work in the aforementioned establishments. He comes off as the fat, ignorant, small-minded and cheap midwestern American that he attempts to label everyone else. He travels to National Parks but doe not venture far from the parking lots. His trip is my idea of a nightmare: logging endless miles trying to hit as many states as possible, seeking out the well-received stereotypes for each area. His father whom he tries to belittle comes off as helluva guy, less smallminded than his son turned out to be.