A TIME OF GIFTS

An all time favorite travel writer, Patrick Leigh Fermor, who wrote among other things, a trilogy of books about his walk from the hook of Holland to Constantinople. He was 18 at the time and crossed through Europe in 1933-4 as it was slowly moving toward a war footing. Fermor is a favorite because of his gift with language -- his travel narratives descriptions are more like poetry than prose. Later, he fought in WWII in a British commando force conducting raids in Germany occupied Crete, including the kidnapping of a German General. He was later knighted for his services. Fermor's writing is truly one of a kind by combining adventure and his gift for language, he keeps you turning the page to see what person or village he would encounter next. I even wrote a Cento poem derived from the first book, A Time of Gifts that was published.

Sharing a random sample of some phrases I like (this is about a tenth of what I underlined):

I was abroad at last, far from my familiar habitat and separated by the sea from the tangles of the past; and all this combined with the wild and growing exhilaration of the journey, shed a golden radiance.

...a hangover from early anarchy.

He is a dangerous mixture of sophistication and recklessness, which makes one anxious about his influence on other boys.

...napkins were half mitres and half Rajput turbans. 

...terrifying glamor.

...steaming rustics. 

...vanished from the scene but deep in the bloodstream nonetheless.

Moody and unbalanced, he lived in an atmosphere of neo-plantonic magic, astrology and alchemy.

a vagabond full of random learning.

... all prospects glowed.

... irredeemable pumpkins.

... fast and ugly deeds.