Three Letters from the Andes

This is a dreadful book. At least Fermor had the sense to call this "three letters" realising some excuse was necessary for such lack of effort. These are dated diary musings from 1971 which tell the reader nothing. Its saving grace is its brevity.
Half a dozen privileged people hike around Peru for six weeks. Fermor gets to show off his erudition and reassure us of his physical fitness. There is little or no attempt to engage with Peruvians. They are part of the scenery or adjuncts to the party's travel arrangements. Even the scenery and geography is bloated in its description.
The last book I would recommend for any commentary on Peruvian travel.

This is my kind of travel writing - details of the logistics of moving about the country, the trials and tribulations of booking rooms when you don't know what to ask for, who cooks and who climbs, NOT being able to go certain places, and contemplative descriptions of the world around you - good and bad. I read this non-stop and wish it was 10 times as long!

I was really surprised, I always imagined Leigh Fermor would be engaging and interesting but this is dull. A group of very privileged friends go to the Andes and literally and metaphorically look down on everyone.
Having just read Dervla Murphy’s Full Tilt which is also based on series of letters sent home while travelling there is no excuse for this level of tedium. Read hers instead, it was great.

Combining the dash and verve of Paddy Leigh Fermor's correspondence with the illumination and brilliance of his prose, Three Letters from the Andes is a small, jewel-like star in the Fermor firmament.

As I have said in other reviews, Fermor was (is, as of this writing) the finest writer of travel experience who ever lived). His humanism, enormously civilized frames of reference, and natural charm makes his writings - here, a collection of various works) an etherial experience. I would strongly recommend reading Time of Gifts and Between the Woods and the Water and givng this book to the library, where hopefully someone will find it and be sufflciently intrigued to read all the complete books.

Awful, truly awful. What preposterous nonsense! I took this with me on a trip to Bolivia. The idea being of course that it would benefit from being read in situ. It was the sort of trip where you (literally) weigh up what goes in to your rucksack as every gram counts if you have to carry it for a month. It's not a big book but I wish I hadn't. Self-indulgent twaddle.

In 1971, Patrick Leigh Fermor, then in his mid 50s, went on holiday to Peru with a small group that included his friend Andrew, the Duke of Devonshire. Twenty years later, he published this book of the letters he sent to his wife from Peru describing the group's travels by train, truck and boat, as well as a 9-day trek though the Andes with eight ponies to carry their luggage.

It's a small book of just over 100 pages; even three very long letters don't make for a long book.