In the age of Trip Advisor, Yelp, and travel blogs, of what value are guidebooks? Is the purpose of the guidebook now only to inspire? While I formulate my own thoughts, have a peek at Ted Trautman’s take over at The Atlantic.
“To His Dead Body”
By Siegfried Sassoon
When roaring gloom surged inward and you cried,
Groping for friendly hands, and clutched, and died,
Like racing smoke, swift from your lolling head
Phantoms of thought and memory thinned and fled.
Yet, though my dreams that throng the darkened stair
Can bring me no report of how you fare,
Safe quit of wars, I speed you on your way
Up lonely, glimmering fields to find new day,
Slow-rising, saintless, confident and kind—
Dear, red-faced father God who lit your mind.
Since my whisky conversion, I’ve happily proselytized about the spirit to anyone who’d listen. And here’s just the flowchart–via a whisky neophyte friend–to help my cause.