The Blind Traveller

Frankly, I thought I’d had my fill of books by or about intrepid white men travelling the colonised world but Jason Roberts’ unlikely tale of the life and times of Lt John Holman aka ‘the Blind Traveller’ who roamed the earth in the early 19th century took me by surprise. Roberts’ hero is humanised both by his misfortune (blinded at 18) and by his cheerful, determination to see the world at the same — “with my feet”. The story of his adventurous career from obscurity to fame and back again is an affecting one and his resurrection in A Sense of the World is well-deserved, overdue, and delightful.

Holman’s travels took him to every continent and by Roberts’ calculation “totalled no less than a quarter of a million miles”. Whether this qualifies him as “the world’s greatest traveller”, is an open (and not particularly interesting) question. But this hyperbole is a minor distraction.

Roberts is good on historical detail — I was particularly fascinated by the chapters on Holman’s early naval career and his later stint on an anti-slaving mission on the remote island of Fernando Po (now part of Equatorial Guinea). His affection for his subject is obvious and pleasing. He avoids the temptation to invent narrative from Holman’s perspective and his discussion of the sensory challenges and capabilities of the blind is intelligent and revealing. The only problem is that despite Roberts’ evident concern for his hero’s struggle to escape the prevailing sentiments of prejudice and ‘pity’ towards the blind, there’s a slightly emasculating niceness to his own portrayal. My other quibble is with the publishers: the complete absence of maps in such a globe-trotting book is a ridiculous omission.

Roberts’ achievement in rediscovering so much about this obscure individual is impressive enough to invite comparison with his intrepid hero. The past is indeed another country, and in such company it’s a much more interesting one.