Trawler is a remarkable work of travel
writing, flush with delicious technical words like winch, grapnel,
trawl-doors, otter-boards and, of course, ordinary nautical terms like gunwhale,
port/starboard, fore/aft, stern and bow, all of which—though I can
never keep them quite straight—add to the frenetic delight of the story, which is
simply of a middle-aged zoologist-adventurer who plunges himself into extreme
situations and describes them with the utmost zest (and humor).
For
those who are wondering, Henry James has got to be the best travel writer there
ever was, though—contemplative, leisurely, lounging—utterly different from a knockabout maniac like O'Hanlon. Here's a sample from Italian Hours:"...the charm of Pisa (apart from its cluster of monuments) is a charm of a high order. The architecture has but a modest dignity; the lions are few; there are no fixed points for stopping and gaping. And yet the impression is profound; the charm is a moral charm. If I were ever to be incurably disappointed in life, if I had lost my health, my money, or my friends, if I were resigned forevermore to pitching my expectations in a minor key, I should go and invoke the Pisan peace. Its quietude would seem something more than a stillness--a hush. Pisa may be a dull place to live, but it's an ideal place to wait for death."
