Like with many other books I read, Bangkok Days just happen to find its way to the side of my bed. I didn’t buy it, never heard of it before, but somehow the woman who was reading it left it behind her and so I took it. I liked the simple title. I think I should really write a post once about the way I choose the books I read, and the way they sometimes choose me. This time the title was the key, the simplicity and the smells coming from those two words, Bangkok Days, just made me open the book and delve into it.
At first you may think this book is about Bangkok, and indeed I was disappointed that the publisher didn’t include a map inside, so guys like me, with no knowledge about this big city, could at least try to follow Osborne’s quick steps in it. But then after you read some 40-60 pages, you get it. This book is not at all about Bangkok, or the hookers, or the messy streets. It’s about the loneliness in the west, and what it brings there.
The book is written beautifully, and it creates a gap between the low-life Lawrence Osborne speaks about and lives in Bangkok, and the life he is indeed part of backhome, life that includes less alcohol and more literature.
Interesting picture of a difficult-to-grasp city, through the eyes of an Englishman.here’s a quote of Osborne from an interview he gave about his book:
It’s a very convivial city, but I think people are very isolated because there’s no social glue to connect people. If you’re a foreigner living there, you don’t have any social reason to meet other people, unless you’re working for a bank, or a newspaper or something. And I wanted to write about these guys, because they’re all retired or f—ed up or whatever. There are drifters, and they may not be significant, but I think they’re more symptomatic of the kind of people who end up in Bangkok. It’s quite sad. And that sadness is very important.