The most recommended tourism books

This was one of the first books that got me thinking critically about ‘dark tourism’. Harrison inspired me to look at how the dead maintain their relations with the living. In turn, the book galvanized my thinking of the many touristic places where the dead cohabit the world of the living. These range from graves, monuments, and memorials, and made me think about how we give the dead a memorialized afterlife. Drawing upon philosophy, history, and poetry, Harrison teaches us that as we follow in the footsteps of the dead, we are not self-authored. Instead, the thought of death shapes the communion of the living. Within the ‘Dominion of the Dead’, the dead become our guardians where we give them a future so that they may give us a past. 

Spontaneous photojournalism has not been a feature of the People’s Republic as the state-run media prefers rigid control of any media message. One of the most distinguished early practitioners of documentary photography to challenge this dull approach was Wang Fuchun. His book on life on the long-distance trains that trundled across the country delighted and informed first his compatriots and then the world. Most of the journeys he witnessed were in the age before mass tourism and are a far cry from the world-beating high-speed trains of the 21st century. It feels like ancient history but steam-powered locomotives were still produced in China until the 1990s, the last country to give up the coal-burning dinosaurs.

This book enlightened me by learning that people have long travelled to visit the dead. With ‘dark tourism’ initially portrayed as an imitation of postmodernity, Westover dispelled that perspective. Instead, I learnt that travelling to meet the dead had long been a feature of the literary tourism landscape. A provocative play on the word ‘necro’ with visiting deceased authors’ homes, haunts and graves during the Romantic period, Westover offers an inspired contribution to understanding Romanticism within the context of death studies and travel history. I argue that in an age of antiquarian revival and a love of books, the emergent ‘Necromantic’ culture that created touristic habits continues to the present day. To that end, Necomanticism exposes a nexus of book love and memorial ritual that has deeply influenced (Western) literary culture. 

This book introduces a problem of cultural overtourism, too many people visiting museums and historical sites to the point they are extremely overcrowded and often damaging to the sites. Frey suggests, instead of limiting people coming to these sites, expand the demand side by providing more sites that are exact replicas of them through “Revised Originals.” This book helps readers rethink the status quo of cultural heritage tourism and how it can be reimagined to preserve important historical sites all over the world and generate user experiences that are not crowded but transformative. It’s a completely different way to think about what is authentic and what it means to experience it.

No one does Florida-Funny like Carl Hiaasen.

A long-time columnist for the Miami Herald, Hiaasen has written theme-based novels about the foibles of Florida living—the politics, the sugar industry, the plastic surgery industry, the lottery. I imagine him banging out these novels with sardonic ire, seething at what has happened to his beloved Florida. But his rants are so funny readers need to stop from choking and hold onto to their hats.

I’ve read all of his books, and Tourist Season is one of my favorites, hooking me on page one with that mysterious limb found on the beach, page one. Then the race is on to find the culprit—and the rest of the poor devil who’s missing a leg. When asked where he gets his ideas, Hiaasen once said, “The police blotter…You can’t make this stuff up.”

I was sad and happy to have read this book during the pandemic for these reasons: I loved this book because Roberts’ went to many of the same places I visited a decade later, and I found her stories refreshing, funny, and interesting.

And like Suzanne, I’ve had to sort through feelings of guilt regarding my privileged place in the world, have tried to be mindful of reducing my carbon footprint, treating sentient beings better, and simply the moral dilemmas one often faces in “developing” countries.

The sad part about reading this during COVID was that I found out that Suzanne lived in my area, and I missed all her talks and workshops and classes, and nothing was planned again until the pandemic was over. Thankfully, I have been able to take a couple of classes with her since and have become a much better writer for it. I believe… show more.

I found this to be one of the most compelling novels I’ve read to draw me deep into the fabric of the hardscrabble life of a New England community down on its luck with the crash of the cod fishing industry.

The sympathetic but thwarted characters are all entangled in dangerous waters of one kind or another, from drug smuggling to physical danger to marital issues. I was as fascinated to learn about the economics and lifestyle of the fishing life as I was moved by the struggles of characters caught in a complex net of change outside their control. 

The author gets ahold of his mother’s copy of Frommer's 1967 Europe on Five Dollars a Day and uses it as his basis for a contemporary visit. Like his mother, I, too, did the tour in 1967. I was curious to see what had happened to Europe and to my view of it. Of course, most of the restaurants no longer exist, and $5 dollars a day was more like $50 dollars a day, but this travel memoir is full of funny, disastrous, and touching adventures. I admit to a fondness for funny disasters.

I read this book where Leo Hickman describes so many of the places I have been to which are no longer as amazing as they were when I visited them. It outlined how too many tourists and irresponsible choices can harm both the environment and the communities we visit. I came away shocked and stunned but it inspired me to write a book on the solutions!

Chariot racing. Gambling. Alcohol. Sex. If you’ve ever wondered what ancient Romans did for fun, look no further than Jerry Toner’s book. His book makes me laugh and learn in equal measure. Toner excels at revealing what is distinctive about ancient Roman practices (regularly bathing nude in public)—but also what feels startlingly modern (betting on horses and drinking with friends). From the wealthiest to the poorest of Romans, Toner shows just how serious the business of fun was in the Roman world. I love this book because it makes me think about quintessentially Roman topics from a bottom-up, rather than elite, perspective.