Monster of a Book

Like many, I read Travels with Charley by John Steinbeck at a young age and it made me want to roam. I even named my Siamese cat Charley, and told everyone I named him after an irascible unicorn. Later, I read Blue Highways by William Least Heat-Moon and Roadfood by Jane and Michael Stern, and when I graduated college I hopped in my Mustang and drove to New Orleans and visited some of the places mentioned in the books. I’ve circumnavigated most of the lower 48 by car in different times: north to Prince Edward Island; west to Minneapolis, and from there to Nevada for Burning Man; from California to the Grand Canyon. I usually stuck to the interstates, ignoring the lessons of all these books, which is take the long way home, and talk to people.

Lauren Hough took their lessons to heart when writing Monster of a Land, which was directly inspired by Steinbeck’s book. Before we go any further, Lauren is acutely aware that “he made it up1,” and stayed in some fancy digs because he was dying of heart disease and wanted to spend more time with his wife and dog. I don’t feel betrayed. I’ve camped in the woods, I’ve driven cross-country in a camper RV built from a Toyota, and I will take the bougie hotel over that every damn time.

Lauren—who I will call by her first name because we are friends and I’m not going to pretend that this is an objective review, I fucking love her writing—suffered for her art like a good writer and fixed up a shitbox Dodge van to sleep in with her dog, Woody2, on her travels. Woody is named for Woody Guthrie, but he could be named that because he loves the woods. A husky-pit mix, he has the speed of a sled dog with some of the bulk and all the friendliness of a pibble. He’s not a city dog, and gets anxious there, so Lauren kept to campgrounds where a van was less likely to get bothered if you are sleeping in it.

She had other reasons, which you may know if you read her first book, Leaving Isn’t the Hardest Thing. She was homeless and living out of her car for a time in D.C., and it’s traumatizing. You can get arrested and lose your dog while they stuff you through the meat grinder of the justice system. I do not blame Lauren for avoiding cities and parking lots as places to stay for this trip.

The road trip starts in Amarillo where she grew up, when she wasn’t around the world with her parents—see book one—and circles the continent, sneaking into Ontario for one of the funniest interactions with a mechanic in a long time. It made me want to go get an oil change at Rick’s. Not all her interactions with people are funny. There’s a lot of people hurting out there, and she lets them talk. Lauren is a good speaker, but an even better listener.

My friend Hannah and I went to Lauren’s reading at As You Are in D.C., a gay bar and cafe with a great vibe, a “third space” where you can get a few beers and a fine espresso martini if you wish, but also they make a damn good cappuccino3.

Jenn Morson and Lauren were “in conversation,” as these things are called. Like a lesbian Dick Cavett show with a live studio audience and a sleeping flatulent dog for comic relief. If you are too young to remember Dick Cavett, I’m sorry. People used to just watch smart people talk, and they didn’t do it in short soundbites. Nowadays, if you are lucky, these events are recorded and shared. This one wasn’t, so you’ll have to take my word.

You don’t see many road trip books written by women. Cheryl Strayed (what a great name for a travel writer) wrote Wild about hiking the Pacific Crest Trail; women traveling alone, even with a big dog, have a very different experience than men. This alone would make Monster of a Land by Lauren Hough stand out, but her perspective, observations, and voice make this book a gripping and enjoyable read on their own. I call her a potty-mouthed Molly Ivins, but she’s not a political writer in that vein, or that middle of the road. But she’s witty and from Texas.

A lot of readers said the book gave them hope. Some people that you’d expect to be jerks turn out not to be, and to have personal tragedies. I think the point here is that when we’re in person, and not riled up by billionaires and algorithms, most people are generally decent. I think we see a lot of exceptions to that on social media videos. Jason Pargin described Reddit as “people getting angry about how somebody parked in another country eight years ago,” and you see a lot of recycled content meant to sow outrage, and distrust of your neighbor. I think the wealthy and foreign nations have the most to benefit from us feeling that way about each other. Lauren’s book calls bullshit on the narrative they are trying to sell, and tells us a good story in the process.

You can buy Monster of a Land at the link and read more of Lauren’s work at Badreads.