As we prepare for a 8.5 month overlanding road trip down the back bone of the Andes from Columbia to Patagonia and onward to Rio de Janeiro we checked a dog-eared copy of The Old Patagonian Express out of the local library. Paul Theroux's weak brew is pressed from the limp leaves of an idea that a travel book about getting there is somehow more authentic than a travel book about the actual destination. Perhaps an observer less obsessed with himself and his superiority over the inhabitants of the continent he chooses to travel through might make for compelling reading. Not Theroux. Arguably his is an example of modern-day colonial mindset; "I the great white God am so vastly superior to the natives, that my snide observations of their inferiority, peppering 400 pages of mostly boring anecdotes, will somehow be interpreted as original." It isn't. Before wasting any money on this book, skim any five page section of the book and decide whether your time will be better spent elsewhere, learning from a more thoughtful and non-judgemental observer.