An Island Race

For about two thirds of JD Taylor's Island Story I'd assumed that he had a fixed political attitude and a bit of a chip on his shoulder about traditional targets of establishment authority. Well, he probably does but it was only towards the end I realised that he was genuinely curious about people's sense of identity - whether misguided or not - and openly humane.
He is an entertaining but far from traditional guide around the country and sees life from a very different perspective to, say, Bill Bryson or Wainwright's walks. Taylor is an angry, bewildered, stoned young man; not a sardonic grumpy old man and that's fine.
The only reservation I would have though is the pace at which he cycles. He steams through large expanses of countryside where I would have preferred if he had gone to fewer places but spent more time, with more attention to detail. Like all pilgrimage-style journeys I suspect he learned more about himself than his surroundings but he travelled a long, long way from social work in South London and his mind was broadened as well as the reader's. He's a cyclist without a pointy hat and pink lycra and that's got to be a plus.