I’m a bit late to the Bill Bryson fan club, but consider me an official member. A Walk in the Woods is my third Bryson book and by far my favorite. I’m nearly done, after having just started it two days ago. It is one of those books I only want to put down so I can sleep to get energy to read some more. It is that funny.

My favorite excerpt so far:

“I was especially riveted by an amateur photograph in Herrero’s book, taken late at night by a camper with a flash at a campground out West. The photograph caught four black bears as they puzzled over a suspended food bag. The bears were clearly startled but not remotely alarmed by the flash. It was not the size or demeanor of the bears that troubled me — they looked almost comically unaggressive, like four guys who had gotten a Frisbee caught up a tree — but their numbers. Up to that moment it had not occurred to me that bears might prowl in parties. What on earth would I do if four bears came into my camp? Why, I would die, of course. Literally shit myself lifeless. I would blow my sphincter out my backside like one of those unrolling paper streamers you get at children’s parties — I daresay it would even give a merry toot — and bleed to a messy death in my sleeping bag.”

I am going to be sad when I finish this gem.