As an American who grew up as an Anglophile, reading about Bill Bryson's experiences living in Great Britain (and other travels) has been a lot of fun ever since the early '90's and will never get old. Little Dribbling is a great addition to the collection.

This is a wonderful continuation of the book Notes From a Small Island. Bryson brings the same fondness and exasperation to his visits to various parts of Britain. He has such overwhelming affection for this fair isle, and its carried through with warmth to his writing. His slightly irascible asides about the ways that Britain has changed for the worse in the last twenty years are sharply on point, particularly his comments about immigration and what it actually means. Quite poignant coming from the pen of an immigrant. A gentle, unassuming and enjoyable way to enjoy a few hours - much like Britain itself.

Bill Bryson is probably my favorite travel writer of all-time, and his newest book does not disappoint. I love his humor and quirky way of telling stories - this volume is a great companion to Notes from a Small Island.

Peevish

That's it. Peevish, and a bit tiresome. I very much enjoyed "Notes From A Small Island" when it came out. I followed that up with the Australia and the Appalachian Trail books. Both good fun. I had my doubts about a twentieth reunion redo of "Notes...", but I figured Bryson could and would resist the grumpy/crotchety decline than one saw in writers like Paul Theroux, and a bit even in a superwoman like Jan Morris. But sadly, no.

There are set pieces about aging in which we get, literally, two pages about Bryson's nose and ear hair. There are innumerable incidents of Bryson insulting and mocking perfectly innocent kids working behind counters. There are, of course, interesting historical asides and bits of trivia and a few countryside rhapsodies. This is still, after all, Bryson. But, a general sour tone and mood and eye made the whole project read more like a muffled, resigned gripe. Even the bits that were supposed to be rants didn't have appropriate rant-like energy. And while Bryson professes to be a bit contrite about his more baseless outbursts and aspersions, it seemed fairly clear that he was quite pleased to be peevish and grumpy.

Bryson has a fine eye for the telling detail, and great descriptive powers. But this book reads like the passing thoughts of a tutor who's grading the papers that have been submitted by especially dim students, and that just wasn't enough, for me, to make it worthwhile. (Please note that I received a free advance ecopy of this book without a review requirement, or any influence regarding review content should I choose to post a review. Apart from that I have no connection at all to either the author or the publisher of this book.)