Publishers Weekly
04/24/2023
Comedy writer Roberson (How to Date Men When You Hate Men) quit her Late Show with Stephen Colbert job to visit national parks and—despite naysayers insisting she was “going to get murdered”—lived to tell the tale in this wobbly seriocomic travelogue. Taking her “Great American Road Trip” in the spring and summer of 2019, 30-something Roberson believed that “if I let myself be truly present, something alchemical might happen” to her generational malaise. She started at Lake Superior’s Isle Royale, “the least visited national park in the contiguous United States,” and awarded herself Junior Ranger badges along the rest of her odyssey, a gimmicky “organizing principle” that detracts from Roberson’s more serious-minded considerations of global warming, the displacement of indigenous peoples, and how influencers cause overcrowding at national parks. Side trips to Los Angeles (“to take meetings”) and art mecca Marfa, Tex., land less like unplugging and more like “I-hang-with-the-cool-kids” striving, and Roberson overall struggles to mold her experiences into a coherent narrative. She’s undoubtedly funny and great on a line level, but jokes alone don’t save this meandering memoir. Agent: Dana Murphy, the Book Group. (Apr.)
From the Publisher
"America the Beautiful? is so funny and special and illuminating that it makes even me, a person who cannot tolerate trees or weather, wish I could've tagged along in the back seat." — Samantha Irby, author of Wow, No Thank You. and We Are Never Meeting in Real Life.
"This hilarious, thoughtful, and big-hearted book will have you packing for a journey, whether it’s a road trip or just a deep-dive into your own psyche. Either way, bring toilet paper.” — Emily Flake, author of That was Awkward and Mama Tried
“Blythe invites you into her world with ease, and you’re all too happy to stay awhile, so you can laugh, think, and feel. Also, my Black behind is way too scared to ever road trip it alone, so thank goodness for this book so I could live vicariously through her. Brave woman. Fantastic writer!” — Phoebe Robinson, author of You Can’t Touch My Hair
"Blythe is such a funny writer that I would read about her going to the toilet, never mind going on a great American road trip! She writes about these national parks with a joy and a wonder that makes you lust for adventure, but that doesn’t protect their often villainous history from her lucidly honest and deliciously salt-coated writing. This book is a revelation for anyone who has ever driven on a road in America.” — Will McPhail, author of Love & Vermin
"Blythe perfectly captures the beauty of solo travel: the relentless horniness, the existential spiraling. Basically, she's the ideal travel companion!” — Catherine Cohen, author of God I Feel Modern Tonight
“So relentlessly funny, smart, and inspiring that it made me question my rule of only sleeping in places with a lobby. I wolfed down this book like a tub of car-temp hummus—one of Blythe’s trusty road staples and a food I’d happily live on if it meant sitting next to her a little longer for more irreverent, seriously fascinating hilarity.” — Jen Spyra, author of Big Time
"A thoughtful, reflective, and highly self-aware book that’s also entertaining to read." — Buzzfeed
“An American travel narrative with a humorous, feminist edge . .. Readers riding shotgun will relish this long, strange trip while enjoying Roberson’s rants, realizations, and discoveries of wonder.” — Booklist
"Hilariously entertaining." — Stylecaster
Kirkus Reviews
2023-01-24
A Brooklyn-based humor writer and comedian travels the U.S. seeking freedom and adventure.
In her latest book, Roberson, author of How To Date Men When You Hate Men, recounts her trip across the country with the goal of writing “a female American travel narrative” in the vein of those written by Jack Kerouac. “My book,” she writes, “would answer the question: what if Bill Bryson got his period?” Despite safety warnings from her family and friends, Roberson quit her job and ventured out in a borrowed Toyota Prius, traveling predominately west across the U.S., hitting popular national parks along the way. Though she set out to chronicle the next Great American Road Trip, “acquiring Junior Ranger badges was the organizing principle of my trip.” At each destination, Roberson gives brief, occasionally intriguing details about the history and wildlife of the area, but she seems more content completing the activities in the Junior Ranger booklet than deeply experiencing each region. Most of her stops involved a short hike, where she wanders the landscape and flirts with park rangers, before dashing off to her next location. Throughout the narrative, Roberson shares information she learned regarding the effects of climate change and offers well-intentioned yet overly familiar, surface-level critical discussions of the European genocide of Indigenous peoples in North America. Further, she questions the morality of visiting national parks, including the part she is playing. Though she contends that one should not feel guilty for enjoying the national park system, “we should work toward returning control of the parks to Native Americans.” While many of her political and environmental points have validity, few of them are novel. The author’s goal of writing a memorable female American travel narrative is commendable, but she tries to accomplish too much, skating across numerous themes and tones, resulting in a book that fails to leave a lasting impression.
An admirable work that falls short of its goal.
