Traveling from the highland desert of northern Mexico to the steaming jungles of Honduras, from the seashore of the Caribbean to the exquisite highlands of Guatemala, Mary Morris, a celebrated writer of both fiction and nonfiction, confronts the realities of place, poverty, machismo, and selfhood. As she experiences the rawness and precariousness of life in another culture, Morris begins to hear echoes of her own life and her own sense of deprivation. And she begins, too, to overcome the struggles of the past that have held her back personally; as in the very best travel writing, Morris effectively explores her own soul while exploring new terrain and new experience. By crossing such boundaries throughout the pages of
, she sets new frontiers for herself as a woman—and as a writer.
Great travel writing has always been about the person making the trip as well as the things he or she encounters, and Mary Morris's category-defying 1988 memoir was an instant classic as much for its candid revelation of the author's turbulent emotions as for its sensitive, unglamorous portrait of a Latin America most tourists never see. Living in a poor neighborhood of the small Mexican town San Miguel de Allende, Morris befriends a neighbor, Lupe, who is struggling to support her many children (fathered by three different men) and to cope with her current, openly unfaithful partner. Scenes of life in San Miguel alternate with Morris's voyages around Central America, from the historic ruins of Teotihuacán to the contemporary turmoil of Nicaragua under the Sandinistas. Memories of her past crowd in: her parents' tense marriage, which sparked the restlessness that keeps their daughter on the road; her difficult relationships with often cruel men; the desolation of the years prior to her departure for San Miguel. Neither her affection for Lupe nor her love affair with a Mexico City man can prevent Morris's eventual return to the U.S., but her eloquent, elegant prose makes it clear that the grim, grand landscape and its tenacious inhabitants have left an indelible imprint on her soul.
Customer Reviews
Average Customer Review
I declare this book a worthwhile read, November 1, 2008
By
Beverly Bachel (Minneapolis, MN United States)
I have several writer friends who rave about San Miguel. I've always wondered why. Thanks to Mary Morris, I now have a better appreciation of what they value and why, and what it could be like to move to such a place and try my own hand at writing/living. I'm not sure I would be up for the challenge, which I believe Ms. Morris did a wonderful job of describing.
Nothing to Declare, September 9, 2008
By
Mary G. Gardenhire (Tennessee)
This book is so fantastic that I have re-read it and also bought a copy for a friend. She was delighted and said she stayed up all night to read it.
Mary Morris has written a fascinating insight into living in San Miguel, Mexico (although she also visited other Central American countries). Her characters in San Miguel really come to life. And in the bargain, she also gives a very honest picture of her personal changes. I think her situation is one that many women can relate to. I cannot say enough good things about this book and can see why she has received so many literary awards.
In reading some of the other reviews, I think some people have not "gotten" the point of the book. Certain in terms of those expecting research to the point of giving specific names of animal species, etc., please know that those are topics for another kind of book. The reader of this book gets the big picture, and it is played out in a very personal account.
Well..., July 16, 2008
By
Meg Johnson (USA)
I had just read Eat Pray Love and wanted to read more of the same. I was excited to find Nothing to Declare, but found it quite disappointing. She complains a lot about Mexico, how she hates to be alone, her new boyfriend (who takes care of her and makes her feel like the man in the relationship), and so on. If there was any self discovery in this story I missed it. Skippable. Read Eat Pray Love instead.
an empty read, December 29, 2007
By
Hope E. MorrissettI finished reading this book only because I'm on vacation and short of other books. Also, I couldn't believe that there wouldn't be more to it at some point. Ms. Morris does write fairly well. There are some errors in the text and she clearly is not a craftwoman - she doesn't do the research at various points to name animals (for instance the 'large rodent' in the Guatemalan jungle). The critiques of other reviewers are very correct - she is self-absorbed, but not in an interesting way. The entire book is of her taking from others what she can, with very little giving back, except to her generous neighbor, Lupe, and even in that relationship it doesn't feel as if she's really able to be humanly touched. Her travel descriptions are pathetically shallow and useless for those of us who are curious and want to know the flavor of places. The texture and description which bring the essence of a place to a reader are mostly absent. The whole book reads as a cryptic list of 'places I've been with the crummy places I stayed while there and how I didn't like it' saga. I would have given the book one star, except Ms. Morris does have some writing ability. I'm very surprised this book is still in print. Ms. Morris has now had a number of other books printed and I for one can't imagine ever picking one of them up after having read this one. If those books are better than this one, Ms. Morris, do yourself a favor and take this one out of circulation.
Ho hum..., November 27, 2005
By
Kate (Australia)
Although Morris would (and does) believe that she is a natural and effortless traveller, this text attests otherwise. Morris spends the majority of the work lamenting the inefficencies of Mexico and reminding us how bold she is for taking the journey. The other portion consists of her waxing lyrical about her indifference to love or how generous she is as the privileged and revered American. She continously struck me as bitter and egocentrical.
Similarly, I think she adheres to the stereotypes she seemingly casts away. I particularly loved when she decided that she felt more like a 'man than a woman' in her relationship with the pampering/cleaning Mexican man. I also shuddered when she declared that her aforementioned Mexican love was like an 'Indian' when drunk.
As others have suggest, the cast that populates the background are more interesting than Morris herself. Beautiful writing and landscape, but intensely annoying subject.
