This is one of the strangest travel books you will ever read. I suggest you read it aloud, for there is wonderful music and poetry in just the names of what constitute the travelled land. The Holloway is an ancient, deep, sunken pathway in south Dorset in England, which has now fallen to such disuse that in its current state it is composed as much of darkness as of tree-tangled dreams. Why should we care about a holloway in Dorset Because it is an archive, marked gently but surely in stone, of contact between a land and its travellers. When you are done with the book, by all means dream of misty Dorset, but above all, think of the thousands of walkways that have timelessly woven together the world as we know it, and go out and find a bit of earth to walk on.