A couple of years back, in the lead-up to a visit to Russia, my girlfriend bought a Lonely Planet guide that I took an immediate disliking to. Reading Alex Garland’s The Beach in my youth had predisposed me to disliking such guides, even as it turned me into something equally pernicious: a traveller who loudly and obstinately disparaged them. (That Lonely Planet mentions The Beach on its list of books to read before visiting Thailand tells you as much about The Beach as it does about Lonely Planet.)
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