I certainly like this book and the two boys who travel from place to place and have accomplished the remarkable feat of mapping their adventures – checking each location against their criteria: beds, meals, whiskey sours, and the possibility that a funny madman named Rudolph Moshammer, André Heller, or Erich Priebke once stayed there. The grand achievement lies in writing down all the madness. The boys have the wonderful trick of giving the main character of their adventures the title 'The Traveler.' This refers to us – the readers of their adventures. It fits perfectly. This comes from the nineteenth century, the era of great travel literature. It is equally poetic and affected. It's wonderfully offbeat, and – let’s note: this hasn’t changed since Mecki, the Hörzu hedgehog, since the adventures of Tintin and the travelogues of an Alexander.