The best books with journeys in them

Journeys are most often linear – Here to There – or circular – "There and Back Again." The Odyssey is actually a return leg in the most traumatic and perennial circular journey: going to war, and then, getting back. "Wily" (in modern terms, read, "sneaky," "trickster")  Odysseus left Troy a famous warrior, but takes seven years to get home. The fabulous episodes of that journey, the Cyclops, the Sirens, Scylla and Charybdis, Circe, and Calypso, the wreck in Phaeacia that leaves him bereft even of clothes, have grounded the Western imagination. But the concluding little things – the recognition scenes, the dog that dies, and the nurse who doesn't – push that epic past into a close, human Now.

From multi-culture epic to English 17th Century Christian allegory, from the breadth of the Mediterranean, gods, and giants, to a foot journey down a strait path to a distant wicket gate. I'm at best agnostic; like Tolkien, I don't care for allegory, and Bunyan's is rather simplistic in comparison to its masterful use in Piers Plowman, the great medieval poem. Yet years after I met them, Christian and his companion Valiant-for-Truth linger in memory. And however unassuming, Bunyan's language can suddenly take flight: as when Valiant-for-Truth dies – allegorically, crosses the river of Jordan – and, "All the trumpets sounded for him on the other side."

Founding text of the modern fantasy genre, expander of Homer's beautiful or horrific fantastic gallery; but unlike Odysseus or Christian, Tolkien's characters change, either to grow or become "better," or to spectacularly regress. This novel-type flux matches his unique gift, the modulation of style. Most good writers can find one "voice" and maintain it. But unlike the films, the books will show you Tolkien starting in a cozy-children's-story mode in the Shire, rising to the King James Bible or mythic level of Gandalf's resurrection story, or the Fields of Cormallen – and then drawing the whole vast arc of quest and war down into Sam's circle to the Grey Havens, and the six concluding so-simple monosyllables: "'Well, I'm back," he said."

An actual travel book, i.e. a memoir of real life, though it becomes a 21st Century fairytale. Starting bankrupt and homeless, Raynor and her husband "Moth" walk the UK South-West Coast Path as a last resort: the story opens into a wealth of journeys, geographical, social, emotional, and with Moth, astoundingly physiological. And a travel book's ideal mix of geography, history, incidents, encounters, emotional and physical landscapes, are all conveyed through a single but effortlessly lyric writing style. 

An M/M ("male and male") romance novella that upends traditional romance tropes. There are no aristocratic major characters, and no heroine. Instead two hero/es, Martin St. Vincent, a freed Caribbean ex-slave, and Theo Swann, a failed curate-to-be now running a "marriage mart" rag and as "Mrs. Swann," writing Gothic novels, play out the original Georgette Heyer trope of a Foolish Young Female character's thwarted elopement. Their literally bruising There and Back coach journey retrieves the female, but also develops their own attraction, and brings them through emotional or financial liberations to the threshold of a "new world." The diversity of race and sexuality is thoroughly modern, but content warning: as per usual for the sub-genre, there's plentiful sex.