  Awful, 2008-10-31
I bought this book because being from Barcelona and after 8 years living in the UK I thought it would be interesting to see what a British traveler made of my country. The idea of travelling around Spain on a bike seemed quite interesting to me and the route the author follows in the map seemed quite nice. How mistaken I was!
I could not even finish the book as I found it depressing. This woman seems to be having the worst time of her life. Maybe in reality she was having a great time but all she does is moan, moan, moan, moan and moan a bit more about absolutely everything! she hates the people, the places, the signs... I am surprised she lasted more than a week travelling. If she was having such a bad time she should have taken the first plane out of Spain. I did not see any positive comment about Spain or her trip whatsoever. In fact I even felt sorry for her for having such an awful holiday.
The book, of course!, is full of stereotypes such as "mañana, punctuality, body types, and so on". The history accounts are just simplistic I had to skip them after reading a few of them. This is like if a 5 year old person would write this book.
There was a moment when I really had to throw the book off my hands because I could not take it any longer. This moment is when she accuses Salvador Dalí of being just a mad man who painted fairies... Only a stupid, common person could write that. And there are so many other examples but the list would be too long and I would almost have to mention every single line of her fastidious book.
Julio
Excellent read, 2007-07-19
I don't know why some people judged this book so harshly. I admit there were times when she seemed somewhat bigoted but on the whole the book was thoroughly enjoyable. I found the background history of the areas she visited was very useful and her descriptions were wonderful. I could see the places she described in my mind's eye and I feel that I would like to visit Spain myself now.
Very disappointing, 2008-11-27
For me, this book has been a bit of a struggle. It was quite amusing in parts but some of it was a bit OTT and I ended up skipping a few pages. Most of the historical information was put forward in an interesting way but I just felt that the whole thing lacked something. Perhaps a bit more interaction with some local people was needed. For the record, I don't know why Ms Evans chose to bypass Malaga as it's a beautiful city and has so much to offer.
It's Not About the Bike Trip, 2006-04-24
This book was a real disappointment. I bought it thinking I was going to find out about an adventure in Spain, but the fact is the writing is quite amateur, self-important, and at times, just downright offensive.
I have to agree with the reviewer who states that this is not truly a book about Spain but more a book about the author. Furthermore, it is in its essence three stories: one is about biking, another is about the people and places observed along the way, and the third is about history of the places. Too much of the writing, however, is ultimately about the writer.
The historical bits are sometimes interesting, and the tempo picks up in those sections, because the writing is more genuine. Sadly, the other parts are not terribly well-written and at times childish. Finally, they reveal a good deal about the writer, but what is brought to light isn't terribly flattering.
There are repeated incidents where the writer observes OAPs on holiday and refers to them as "the rinse brigade" or "fossils", as if all readers accept as common knowledge that the elderly are useless and that we are all judged by how young we are. Perhaps it's just me but I don't see why exactly this is supposed to be funny or entertaining, and I'm in my thirties, so I don't say this because she's referring to people like me.
She also goes off at one point about how a group of older women clearly have lost touch with fashion, all wearing black. She goes on for some time about it. As a child of parents from Sicily, I have to say, has she ever heard of tradition? These women aren't out of touch. They are widows, who dress in black because this is part of their tradition.
However, tradition is something Polly clearly forgot to research. Throughout the book, she rants and complains about one thing or another. One example is the fact that dinner isn't served until at least 9pm in Spain. That is life in Spain. Just accept it and move on. Complaining about something so basic is not interesting to read about. It's ground-level writing, making observations that offer no real insight. If she had taken the time to research the culture a bit before heading to San Sebastian, Polly might have saved herself six weeks on a bike and the rest of us a very disappointing read.
Lastly, Ms. Evans observations about many places she sees and people she meets are unflattering, and if this is truly such a dull experience for her, one wonders why she continues - or why we, as paying readers, should be expected to read on.
I wanted this book to be great, but it just isn't. I forced myself to continue reading, because I'm headed to Spain and was hopeful that I would be inspired and that the pace would pick up. It doesn't. Get yourself a bike and ride for 1,000 miles through Spain yourself - it will be less painful and infinitely more interesting.
You can tell she can write because she makes it look easy, 2006-04-27
I'd seen Ms Evans book about touring NZ on a motorbike - but only the cover, and as I was learning at same time, put it on my book wish-list. I had just finished reading Lance Armstrong's book 'It's Not About the Bike'. The co-incidences were mounting and I decided to get around to reading this author's work from this, her first publication.
Her seamless, speedy style is completely delightful.
One moment she's talking about cute piglets and their curly tails trotting ahead of her route; then she expands this into a discussion about pork, chorizo sausages, the historical wars between Christians and non-Christian and how eating pork would literally save your bacon and stop you imminent demise.
A terrific read - encore.
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