Widdle and Puke, a Tortoise named Achilles, and a demented albatross…

[dropcap]H[/dropcap] e sits and floats in the shallow bay with his dog while the sun, alone in a flawlessly bright blue sky, illuminates the turquoise water, shining off it like crystal and allowing him to see without trouble the myriad of underwater life that continues unperturbed around him. The cicadas’ summertime choir roars at full volume in the nearby olive groves and cypress trees and he lowers his arms into the water and –

Wait, my book is getting wet.

In the haze of Greek sunshine I temporarily forgot that I was reading a book and for a moment thought I was Gerald Durrell’s 10-year-old self in My Family and Other Animals. Looking around me now at the turquoise bay, the cloudless sky, and the tiny fish swimming around my toes, it’s easy to see how. Instead of the dog, however, it’s only my younger sister sitting next to me.

Reading this book set on the Greek island of Corfu whilst I sit on a beach in Crete, I’ve realised how great it is to read a book about a different culture and country whilst experiencing it. To read this book in England one might wonder why Durrell goes on about olive groves so repetitively (he seems to mention them at least once every paragraph), or why the noise of cicadas is so worthy of note. Unless you’ve actually travelled around a Greek island and realised that olive trees seem to make up about 98% of the foliage, and that, despite living next to the M1, you’ve never known such a permanent and deafening racket unless you’ve heard the cicadas in full chorus, it’s difficult to comprehend the scene Durrell is trying to convey.

One of the really great things about this book is the very fact that it is set in a totally different world to our own. I can’t help feeling that were it set in Cov with a terrier, a rat, and a caged budgie, it wouldn’t have nearly the same impact. But being able to parallel an author’s description of a place with the real-life version creates a kind of unison between yourself and the book that just wouldn’t be possible if you were sat in cloudy England with a cup of cocoa and a blanket: reading it in England would provide escapism, yes, but understanding and appreciating the subtleties of the author and his childhood, no. A symbiotic relationship comes to be formed between the book and the holiday, so that being on holiday makes the story more real, while reading the book adds a deeper dimension to the holiday itself.

Durrell describes an old Greek tale that he learnt while in Corfu: if you rest in the shade of a cypress tree it lulls you into a deep sleep, and while sleeping its roots steal your brain. Having the ability to peer out across the rolling landscape and spot the cypress trees, appreciating the menace that they have taken on in folklore, is such a pleasure. It turned out there were some cypress trees in the garden where we were staying so I went and had a nap underneath them. So far, no one’s noticed if the trees have stolen my brain.

So I guess all of this goes to show that to be an armchair traveller is one thing, but to read stories about foreign lands whilst actually being able to experience all of the amazing things they are describing is a different kettle of fish entirely. Reading Durrell’s book opened my eyes and my mind to things I had been blind to before: phosphorescence in the sea, secretive scorpions hidden in walls, formidable brain-stealing trees, and so on.

Not being able to live without a book by my side, and still very much of the “real” books faction, I always struggle with choosing which books to cram into the 10 kilo limit of hand luggage (this holiday I ended up taking so many books that I only had room left for two outfits and a swimming costume). Following this experience, I will make sure the luggage allowance is used to its full potential in future and will therefore make it my mission to only take books on holiday that are set wherever I am going, and I advise you all, when packing your bags, to do the same thing. It makes the read infinitely more pleasurable, while simultaneously adding to your holiday experience. And just for the record, even if you never make it to Greece My Family and Other Animals is still worth the read, being such a funny and endearing account of Durrell’s childhood, and to find out why on earth I began this article with ‘Widdle and Puke’ as proper nouns.