I received this book in LibraryThing's Early Reviewers programme. In 2012. I appreciate that my review is not exactly 'early', but better late than never right?

I really enjoyed this interesting and entertaining exploration of a state that the author had first 'discovered' for himself while on a family holiday some twenty years earlier. That visit came at the end of an American sabbatical for the English academic. Fraser Harrison's writing has been described by some earlier reviewers as reminiscent of Bill Bryson's. As an admirer of Bryson's books, I wouldn't disagree, but would add that Harrison is often perhaps more charming, more laconic, and more willing to put more of himself into the book than Bryson is. ("I could tell the story of my youth in rivers.")

The book is split into seven lengthy chapters each focusing on the different main locations or aspects of South Dakota's story: 'Harrison' (a quirky self-indulgence in which the author explores the tiny township of his name - which in turn leads, among other things, to an unexpected exploration of the earliest pioneer settlers of the state), 'Lewis and Clark', 'The Badlands', 'Mount Rushmore', 'Deadwood', 'Wounded Knee', and a final chapter 'Sketches' which pulls together all sorts of diverting loose ends from his travels as a whole.

Harrison is not afraid to explore uncomfortable truths concerning the USA's historic westward expansion, and her relations with, and treatment of, the indigenous populations. The section on Wounded Knee is a case in point, and while it does not amount to what could reasonably be called 'enjoyable' reading; the all too tragic subject matter is very sensitively approached and covered in a way that I found profoundly moving.

I was usually pleased by his frequent tangents and interesting distractions as he floats smoothly from one subject area to the next. All in all a book I found well worthwhile my time. I'll certainly keep an eye out for other titles by the same author. My 'uncorrected proof' copy was devoid of photographs or maps, and I hope that the final edition included some, as that would probably elevate the book to a more complete publication of the South Dakota State Historical Society Press. ( )

I really wanted to like this book. I really did. ... I had approached South Dakota with low expectations and was blown away. Thus, I approached Infinite West: Travels in South Dakota with heightened expectations and was, sadly, left flat. Read the complete review at http://spwebdesign.livejournal.com/773542.html. ( )

British travel writer Fraser Harrison knows most travelogues are written with the writer's home country in mind. He admits, though, that he didn't necessarily aim Infinite West: Travels in South Dakota at British or other readers. He also is addressing "the people who inhabit the exotic land through which I journeyed." Although writing as a tourist, he intends to describe the face of South Dakota to those who live here.

The extent to which Harrison succeeds may be in the willingness of the reader to accept Harrison's outsider and more objective view of the state and its history. Don't be mistaken. Fraser is infatuated, if not in love with South Dakota. It's just that he occasionally makes factual and historical observations perhaps no longer apparent to many of us who live here may be somewhat immune. This recurs throughout the book, whether from his visit to a town named Harrison (simply because he has the same name) to exploring part of the Lewis and Clark trail to the Badlands to the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation. What these things have in common for Fraser seems to be how they reflect the state and its people.

Another theme running through Infinite West is Fraser's use of his travels and experiences in South Dakota to recall episodes of is own life. He not only tells us of his fascination with the American West growing up, but it is not uncommon for his geographic tales and descriptions to inspire reminiscing that isn't directly connected to the state.

Still, it is the face that South Dakota presents the world that comes through. Take the town of Harrison, for example. Located west of Corsica, it is representative of many small towns in South Dakota -- and many that have already disappeared. With a population of less than 50 in 2010, it is "an old person's town." In 2000, more than half its residents were age 65 or older. Although it has a variety of well-kept homes and two churches, there are no businesses. And what struck Harrison in visiting with the town's residents was their tendency toward certitude. "They had been taught by their church and their parents that the Bible contained answers to all the philosophical questions that might otherwise have disturbed them," Fraser says, "and I felt I was confronting a mind-set that, for all its friendliness, had not changed since 1884, when the original settlers had founded their church."

While many South Dakotans may not say so out loud, few of us who have spent any time in the state's small, aging and declining communities can deny this. Whether pioneer spirit, a strong streak of conservatism or, as Fraser says, "the product of a particular set of historical circumstances that was no longer available to South Dakotans," this is often the face the state's smaller communities may present.

It isn't as though South Dakotans are blind to change. In fact, his journey to Deadwood recalls the reaction of many of the state's residents to its conversion to a "town-sized casino." Although Fraser believes the town gained some "probity" since his first visit there in 1992, there still is evidence of how we tend to disguise aspects of our history. For example, a tourism brochure describes Dakota Territory as having been "fairly uninhabited" before gold was discovered by the Custer expedition in 1874. How many of us have asked the question that struck Frasier: "why did a simple reconnaissance expedition require the protection of a thousand soldiers, three Gatling guns and a cannon?"

This also is seen in Fraser's visit to the site of the Wounded Knee massacre, one of several he's made on his various journeys to the site. It is a place he believes everyone should visit. To him, Wounded Knee "is the quintessential locus of the Sioux's subjugation," and historically crucial.

[Wounded Knee] represents a symbol not only of the Sioux's final, conclusive defeat, but of the last perceived challenge to the white population's acquisition of the Sioux's traditional lands. The latter aspect of its symbolism is not often acknowledged... South Dakota was wrested from its American Indian occupants, a fact that does not deserve to be erased by tourism's need for an inoffensive account of history. Among other things, Wounded Knee is a monument to the country's completed transition to white authority, and it is therefore worth seeing because it quantifies the price of that transition and shows who paid it.

It would be wrong to conclude that Fraser doesn't see beauty and good in South Dakota and is people. In fact, Infinite West often seems a paean to the state. Still, one of his goals was to perhaps those of us who live here to see it from an outsider's perspective. Although some may take offense at them, views such as those set out above are necessary for that goal. After all, looking at ourselves in a mirror does not always reveal what others see.

(Originally posted at A Progressive on the Prairie.)

I requested a copy of Infinite West from Early Reviewers as the write-up sounded quite good and I was interested to see the British author’s take on an area in the US that as another Brit I knew very little about. Although I may well never visit South Dakota (though I have noted a few places to try to see – or to avoid – if I am ever there) I now know a lot more about it.

The author writes well, even though the introduction was, for me, a bit long. He makes the book quite personal, often talking about things such as his childhood in Liverpool and schooling in Shrewsbury as background to his descriptions of the places he visits and the people he meets in South Dakota.

He starts by visiting Harrison, a town that shares his name, then follows some of the route of Lewis and Clark, before moving on to more famous locations such as the Badlands, Mount Rushmore, Wounded Knee and Deadwood. The last chapter, ‘Sketches’, collects together a few other pieces/places that did not really fit elsewhere.

The blurb on the back cover makes comparisons with Bill Bryson, which is to my mind a fair comparison. Both have a slightly rambling style and quirky sense of humour. My husband read a bit of the book and complained that the author seemed to take a long time to get to the point – but I liked the style though just occasionally a bit more editing may not have come amiss.

So, all in all, I was quite positive about the book. The main negatives as far as I was concerned were that there was no map provided (a black and white outline map with some of the places, rivers etc would have saved having to get out an atlas) and the fact that although it was written by a British author the spellings were American. (I realise that the publisher is in the US and much of the market may well be there, but I found the US spelling and word usage distracting when coming from the ‘mouth’ of someone I knew to be British.) ( )

A slim travelogue by a Brit, with sections on Deadwood, Wounded Knee, and the Badlands. Harrison writes well and wryly, although much of the time his subject matter doesn't allow for humor. I enjoyed this book quite a bit.