A Sense of the World: How a Blind Man Became History's Greatest Traveler

Fourth-born Britain James Holman was destined for the clergy. Instead, he got bit by the travel bug. Like any decent explorer, James Holman bucked authority. After inexplicably going blind at the age of 25 he refused to stand still. When doctors wanted him to languish in the warmer climates of the Mediterranean for his health, Holman instead ignored their advice and set out for France by himself. Naturally Holman didn't stop there. He joined the Navy to continue his travels through far reaching places such as Siberia and Africa.
Despite Holman's remarkable ability to perceive the world as though sighted he was mostly viewed as a novelty and when he passed away his fifteen minutes of fame were quickly up. Roberts decided to resurrect show more Holman's biography because he simply couldn't believe the world had forgotten about this remarkable, yet blind, traveler. He best describes Holman as such, "Alone, sightless, with no prior command of native languages and with only a wisp of fund, he had forged a path equivalent to wandering to the moon" (p 320). Pretty remarkable. show less

An extraordinary story about a blind man who circumnavigated the globe in the early half of the nineteenth century, this book argues against the notion that blindness is a disability. James Holman, known as the Blind Traveler, traveled alone to Siberia, and then eventually around the world on a series of ships, traversing parts of South America, Australia and Africa on horseback. He made this possible, in large part, by being an affable, outgoing individual of tremendous courage. The author, who used only what he could find in the written record, eschewing any made-up dialogue, has given us a full portrait of the man, his blindness and adaptation to it, and the social history of the period. An utterly involving read and one I highly show more recommend. show less

A fascinating and well-written account of a blind man who managed to travel literally all over the world, despite living in a society where blindness was considered totally incapacitating. Roberts does a good job of coming to grips with how a blind person experiences the world. The main character, James Holman, seems to have been an incredibly personable and likeable person. This is a quick and light read.

An interesting man who went from being a naval lieutenant who suffered from joint pain then became blind and traveled the world alone. Fascinating! And this all takes place from 1787-1857. James Holman was an apothecary/shop owner's son who was destined to follow in his father's footsteps when family fortunes changed. He goes to the Navy at 12 and expects to be there for the rest of his life but his health turns bad and he must retire on half-salary. He becomes a Naval Knight of Windsor to retain his half-salary. He absents himself a lot from his duties as he travels the world. What is does and how he learns his way around with short funds and limited language skills is remarkable.

I loved that the history of the time is explained and show more that what is happening in the countries he explores is also given. That he often is on naval vessels and helps is remarkable. I also enjoyed seeing the societal downsides of his times. He is a remarkable man. I am glad the bookseller recommended it as I was checking out. Excellent read! show less

I loved this book.

The story of James Holman (1786-1857) who became blind while serving as a lieutenant in the British Navy. Holman had more wanderlust than probably anyone in history, perhaps even more than Ibn Buttata.

In spite of his blindness, maybe even because of it, he was able to travel around the world, through Siberia, through Brazil and through Africa. He helped fight the slave trade in West Africa; he met the czar of Russia; he climbed to the top of Mt. Vesuvius; and visited every country in Europe, on his own, without knowing the local languages before arriving, and with very little money.

He supported himself through a small pension and through writing about his travels. His books were very popular and he was very famous, but show more all of that faded away before the end of his life. He died, almost penniless, in a disreputable part of London, just about forgotten. The autobiography he was working on at the time of his death was never published and is now lost.

A Sense of the World is a fascinating read, perfect for the summer. Roberts focuses on the most interesting aspects of Holman's life and travels. While the book is not comprehensive, it is made more entertaining by this fact. We do not have to wade through the details a more scholarly biography would include just to get to the good stuff. Roberts conveys the personality of Holman, his conviviality, his humor, his positive outlook on life and on his situation, not without pathos, but with a sense of wonder and appreciation for all Holman accomplished. show less

I loved this book.

The story of James Holman (1786-1857) who became blind while serving as a lieutenant in the British Navy. Holman had more wanderlust than probably anyone in history, perhaps even more than Ibn Buttata.

In spite of his blindness, maybe even because of it, he was able to travel around the world, through Siberia, through Brazil and through Africa. He helped fight the slave trade in West Africa; he met the czar of Russia; he climbed to the top of Mt. Vesuvius; and visited every country in Europe, on his own, without knowing the local languages before arriving, and with very little money.

He supported himself through a small pension and through writing about his travels. His books were very popular and he was very famous, but show more all of that faded away before the end of his life. He died, almost penniless, in a disreputable part of London, just about forgotten. The autobiography he was working on at the time of his death was never published and is now lost.

A Sense of the World is a fascinating read, perfect for the summer. Roberts focuses on the most interesting aspects of Holman's life and travels. While the book is not comprehensive, it is made more entertaining by this fact. We do not have to wade through the details a more scholarly biography would include just to get to the good stuff. Roberts conveys the personality of Holman, his conviviality, his humor, his positive outlook on life and on his situation, not without pathos, but with a sense of wonder and appreciation for all Holman accomplished.

I am grateful that Mr. Roberts found out about the Blind Traveler and could bring his story to us. I'm giving A Sense of the World five out of five stars. show less

An engaging read for me because of my interests in history, travel, other cultures, and a desire to understand something of the experience of being visually blind.

I had never read a description of haptic perception, nor was I familiar with the word.
With sight-centric consciousness "your visual spatial map begins to degrade with your first step, and in the absence of new data soon becomes useless. It appears to be enduring, but is, in fact, a repeated ephemerality, persistent only because it is continuously updated. Like the screen display of a computer, it needs constant refreshing..."
"Touch-based understanding, or haptic perception, is quantitatively different. Where vision gulps, tactility sips. In the haptic world, an object yields show more up its qualities not all at once...but successively over time, and in sequence of necessity. ...like the procession from rough sketch to finished portrait."
"A blind visitor...approach to orientation... ...the obstacles are blocked out; their precise shape is of less concern than their solidity and permanence. Then zones of uncertainty are identified--the variable placement of chairs...a door that might swing... Everything is then connected by the process of physical motion... The blind choreograph their world."

Pages 224 and 324 give some pinpoint description, but throughout the book the assumed inability of the blind is described. This was most informative to me, as I have experienced some of the same comments when mentioning my shared experience of Israel with a blind travel companion. It seems obvious to me that availing myself of the perspective of another that I am unable to have alone broadens and enhances my experience. It seems ludicrous to me to be unaware of the richness of another's view simply because I can't "see" it for myself. It seems to me that enough change has not occurred since the early 1800's on our view of others, whether racially, visually-impaired, etc. The blind traveler was often accosted with the question of why a blind person would have any need for travel.

Page 247 quote I liked:
"On one particularly tranquil morning the African drifted past an estuary plan, where what was clearly one of the island's larger rivers met the sea. The estuary had an unusual feature: "a remarkably large stone lay on the beach near its mouth.” Struck by the way the waters flowed gracefully past this massive obstruction, as if it were no impediment at all, Owen was reminded of his companion. He declared it the Holman River, and its landmark Holman’s Rock.”
We all have massive rocks in our rivers. I like the imagery of the graceful flow around the rock, at once circumventing it while incorporating it.

The description of malaria beginning on page 247 was informative for me, never having read a description before.

I met a kindred spirit in Holman, or at least one I admire and wish to be more like than I already am. “Holman was untroubled by the rapidity of change. He’d always been more interested in newness than familiarity…” I would have enjoyed knowing Holman, and would have felt the loss at his absence as he left for yet more travels.

The ending of the book:
“There will never be another James Holman. But there will always be people who must summon the courage to plunge, wholeheartedly, into a word complex beyond our illusions of comprehension. It was to them that Holman addressed his most unguarded words. Contemplating his circuit of the world, he confessed that the most profound moments left him feeling not blind, but mute.

On the summit of the precipice, and in the heart of the green woods…there was an intelligence in the winds of the hills, and in the solemn stillness of the buried foliage, that could not be mistaken. It entered into my heart, and I could have wept, not that I did not see, but that I could not portray all that I felt.

Time, if not space, renders all of us travelers. Cling as we might, we are ultimately compelled to let go of the familiar, to forge affinities with the new, and to sense the approach of the more unfamiliar still. We feel our way. If we are as fortunate as the Blind Traveler, we are given the grace to listen, with equal attention, to the intelligence of winds and the solemnity of silence. To remain, joyfully, awake to the path itself.”

1/6/07
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