Feeling intimations of mortality, Jan Morris (1926-2020) embarked on a wholly novel literary enterprise, crafting a potpourri of mini-essays and vibrant reminiscences: odes to whistling and cursing, cats and exclamation points. With characteristic verve, Morris ponders experiences both majestic and mundane, and she memorably recounts riding the Orient Express, traveling Europe with a purely metaphorical dog, and returning to the foothills of the Himalayas—where Morris burst onto scene with her on-the-spot reportage of the first ascent of Everest.

"Distinctive, elegant, formidable…. Morris made travel seem like the best way to truly be alive in one's skin."—New York Times