From the moment that we see the jacket, where words are back-to-front, we know that this book sees things from a different perspective. Fortune Hotel is a new departure--the first collection of alternative travel writing. The chemical generation no longer need to drop Es to get spaced out--travel is the opiate of all the contemporary writers whose unusual itineraries are collected in these post-modern peregrinations.The tone of the design is continued by the apposite first story from Martyn Bedford which is, literally, full of shit: a drug-dealing backpacker comes a cropper through his dysentery. Then we have Howard Marks telling us of his way-out exploits, smuggling dope in his arse through customs: "Time for another joint", says Marks. Or another story. If some of this teeters towards crass posturing, this semi-inverted collection nevertheless offers some interesting and challenging tales. Those by Toby Litt, Will Self and Jean McNeil are beacons of sharp writing and astute ... read more