Broadening the mind without moving

The phrase ‘armchair travel’ sounds quaint; suggestive of austerity at home and anarchy abroad; an era of currency restrictions and mustachioed bandits, when it was altogether more advisable to stay at home and read some daredevil’s account of the Damascene soukhs or the Grand Canal than risk venturing into such places yourself. But travel is now so easy that settling for its sedentary reflection looks like admitting to rather withered aspirations: so it is a surprise to see four attractively packaged books from Haus in a new series cheerfully called ‘Armchair Travellers’.

Among them is one for which I can think of no precedent, a travel book written by someone who stayed at home. The only other claimant that comes to mind is Frederic Prokosch’s The Asiatics, but that was a novel. Although the arrangement in Damascus: Taste of a City is bizarre, it is done with aplomb and it has both logic and charm. Rafik Schami grew up in Damascus but he has not lived there for 25 years. He wrote this book on the basis of extended telephone conversations with his sister, who still lives there. Together they proceed street by street through the city, visiting relatives and old haunts. He recounts all sorts of ancient tales related to the places, then always homes in on a recipe. This provides a neat structure for the book and will no doubt delight foodies.

Only the most slavish of foodies could be excited by the gastronomic content of Venice for Lovers, however. The establishments Anka Muhlstein praises sound insufferably snobbish and claustrophobic. The book consists of three essays by a married couple who have spent months in Venice every year for 30 years. They obviously love the place, but their tone of self-congratulation is such that anybody reading this book would wish to give the city a wide berth for fear of encountering these smug old ducks.