Bill Bryson's "A Walk in the Woods," remains one of my favorite travel books, and so I was surprised that this reads like a snarky, blow-by-blow Yelp review of England. Cities I've only heard about in British television shows, he's visited and has a cynical anecdote about some aspect of its architecture, people, or history.

Not to say his stories aren't interesting or untrue, but I found myself reluctant to pick up this book, because reading it is like visiting that crotchety loved one to whose rants your most enthusiastic reply is "Interesting," "Oh Really?" or "Hmmm."