Nigel Cliff's translation of The Travels brings Marco Polo's voyages from 1271 onwards to a modern audience. The journey spans the Middle East, China, India, and Russia, detailing the lands, peoples, customs, animals, and wealth found there. Much of the writing is extremely repetitive, using the same word patterns to describe the countless cities Polo passes through, and it makes for some pretty tedious reading. The style is also sloppy and meandering, sometimes breaking off from a subject without warning, reflecting an untrained narrative voice that would never make it through publishing houses today. The book is interesting in that one can experience an exotic world through the eyes of Medieval people who had never left England's shores, but because many of the place names have since changed, one gets geographically lost.
Scattered throughout the lengthy descriptions of towns and cities are passages detailing the wars fought by Tartars and Mongols which are likewise written in a repetitive style. The greatness of Khublai Khan is also expounded to a mind numbing degree and in some places the book starts to read more like a brothel guide for lusty sailors. I wanted very much to enjoy this book because of the way it effortlessly blends everyday facts with mystery and myth, but the sheer plodding, rambling style obliterated my appreciation. Finishing the book was a real test of patience and I frequently felt my mind wandering elsewhere. Regardless of the translator's introduction, I do not think The Travels holds much literary or historical value beyond a passing curiousity about antiquated depictions of orientalism and racism.
Rating: 1/5
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