This is an up close and very personal account of Theroux’s travels from Cairo to Cape Town by bus, train, taxi, and whatever means he can find going south among rural villages.  The vivid pictures he paints of Africa completely absorbed me, but ultimately it’s a sad story of a continent he dearly loves.  He’s revisiting after 40 years away, hoping for changes and improvement, but instead he finds poverty, fear, crime, and hopelessness, most of which he attributes to aid from other countries.  Still, his love of the people and the landscape peers through the devastating conditions he encounters.  (non-fiction)