Roads to Quoz: An American Mosey
Once, while visiting North Carolina, I waited in a store as the check-out girl made leisurely, meaningful conversation with every single customer on line ahead of me. I stood white-knuckled with impatience until I grasped, 鈥淭his is a marvel that you may never see again.鈥�
That鈥檚 also the spirit in which to sink into a book by William Least Heat-Moon. Heat-Moon long ago dropped out of academics to write about America鈥檚 lesser-known byways. (His 1982 鈥淏lue Highways鈥� is a travel classic.)
Heat-Moon never speeds you from one significant site to another. Rather, he charms you into ambling with him to places you never thought previously of wanting to visit 鈥� with countless digressions en route.
Roads To Quoz, Heat-Moon鈥檚 latest book, is aptly named. (鈥淨uoz,鈥� he explains, is 鈥渁nything strange, incongruous, or peculiar ... the mysterious.鈥�) Most often accompanied by his wife Q (鈥渟he鈥檚 never felt much kinship鈥� for her real name, Jo Ann) but occasionally by other pals, Heat-Moon takes a series of journeys.
He plans to do things like explore the Ouachita Mountains of northern Arkansas, seek out the vanishing waterman鈥檚 taverns along Florida鈥檚 Gulf Coast, track the Quapaw Ghost Light across Kansas, and sail the Intracoastal Waterway.
En route, however, he investigates a long-forgotten murder, reminisces about his stepgrandfather who once pitched to Babe Ruth, and recounts the history of the Railcycle.
There鈥檚 also a bit of enticing regional dining along the way. A trip with Heat-Moon naturally requires fried catfish, hush puppies, oysters with pepper sauce, and pickle pie.
But that鈥檚 just a slice of it. For readers, 鈥淩oads to Quoz鈥� is a chance to sit back, shift into low gear, and perhaps discover America anew.
鈥淭o live more otherly is to live more lastingly,鈥� Heat-Moon writes. For those hungry for communion with things 鈥渙ther,鈥� this is your book.
Marjorie Kehe is the Monitor鈥檚 book editor.
