Absolutely fantastic! I agree with every sentiment. I started this travelogue/bookish bio/love story early this afternoon and read it straight through, stopping only to feed my family dinner. It's hard to put into words the way Quindlen captured the feel of visiting places in England for the first time, but I think this quote says it best:

"Hyde Park, Green Park, Soho, and Kensington: I had been to them all in my imagination before ever setting foot in England. So that by the time I actually visited London in 1995 for the first time, it felt less like an introduction and more like a homecoming."

That's exactly how I felt when first visiting England in 2013. It was brand new yet very familiar and my feeling of homesickness has led me back three more times since. In fact, one of the most difficult things for me about the COVID restrictions the last 18 months is the fact that I can't freely travel back to this place that occupies such an enormous part of my emotions.

I appreciated how the author had avoided visiting London until her mid 40s, lest she find it disappointing and not what her mind had painted it up to be. She, of course, was pleasantly relieved to find that it was all she thought it would be and more. "When I turn the corner into a small, quiet, leafy square, am I really seeing it fresh, or am I both looking and remembering?" Yes. Exactly. This is one of the few "American in England" memoirs I've read in which the author seems to appreciate the realness of the experience and to separate out the fantasy to see England in its truth.

Additionally, I loved the analogy of all the "Londons" throughout history being piled atop one another like layers of earth. The history doesn't ever really disappear from this ancient city upon an ancient island---it just builds and morphs and adds to itself with each new era.

If I find any fault with the book, it's with the negligence of the editor. Quindlen overuses words like "chockablock" and "chuffed"---after discussing how she can't help but use British English in her writing. Their overuse, coupled with the fact that she doesn't start this until the second half of the book, shows that she probably doesn't actually use these words as often as she claims. She definitely adopts a different voice about half way, as well, leading me to believe she wrote part of the book and then put it away for quite awhile before pulling it out to finish. Oh, and I did get a little weirded out when she began talking about Freud in the context of her relationship with her teenage son... All this can be forgiven, however; it's truly an enjoyable read. ( )

Quindlen’s memoir pays homage to a city she loved for decades before she ever visited in person. For most of her life, she knew London only through its rich literary heritage and the description of authors like Dickens and Doyle. London is the city I called home for several years in my early twenties, so it’s a city I knew well once upon a time. I enjoyed revisiting it through Quindlen’s memoir, but, sadly, Quindlen’s memoir didn’t leave a lasting impression on me. ( )

Very quick and engaging read of what it's like to experience London from both fictional and reality-based perspectives. Fun tromp through history, fiction, and little bits of memoir. Most likely of interest more to writers than to travelers, though. ( )

The writing was solid, but the topic was one I wasn't actually interested in. So I stopped after a chapter or two.

Travel log...This was dry and lacked all the character that Quindlen usually brings. A real disappointment. ( )