His experiences, the people he meets, the conversations they enjoy, make for an extraordinary insight into America.

His writing sings in the way that the old story tellers did...weaving a web that captures and captivates you until you finish the book. And then you don't stop until you've read all of his books! (Wish he'd write some more). I recommend this book highly for personal reading and for gifts.

37 of 39 found the following review helpful:


Blue Highways is the last roadmap you'll ever need  Nov 05, 1999
I ended up buying 17 copies of Blue Highways before I finally got all the way to the end of it, because I kept giving the one I was reading to friends that I knew would enjoy it as much as I did. Each year since, re-reading Blue Highways melts away the hibernation chill of winter by rekindled the fire of wanderlust and the need to eat some "ho-made pie" at a four-calendar cafe. My own "blue highway" pinacle was a memorable lunch with my college roommate during a two-lane cross-country trip where we found ourselves in a booth in a diner named Grandma's where the menu was what Grandma told us she had cooked for the day and we knew we had hit blue highway heaven when she scolded my friend, smacked his hand with a big wooden spoon and told him he couldn't have both potatoes and macaroni and cheese, that he had to eat a vegetable or she wouldn't let him have any pie for dessert. I caught her winking at the trucker at the counter, and he said that even though he hated vegetables himself, he had eaten them there every day for 20 years because Grandma's pies were worth it. He was right.

Here's how Blue Highways reveals the secret to eating well on the road: "There is one almost infallible way to find honest food at just prices in blue-highway America: count the wall calendars in a cafe.

No calendar: Same as an interstate pit stop. One Calendar: Preprocessed food assembled in New Jersey. Two calendars: Only if fish trophies present. Three calendars: Can't miss on the farm-boy breakfasts. Four calendars: Try the ho-made pie too. Five calendars: Keep it under your hat, or they'll franchise.

One time I found a six-calendar cafe in the Ozarks, which served fried chicken, peach pie, and chocolate malts, that left me searching for another ever since. I've never seen a seven-calendar place. But old-time travelers - road men in a day when cars had running boards and lunchroom windows said AIR COOLED in blue letters with icicles dripping from the tops - those travelers have told me the golden legends of seven-calendar cafes."

No maps are needed to travel Blue Highways. Just make sure you eat your veggies and don't make Grandma smack you with that big wooden spoon of hers and enjoy your pie.

23 of 24 found the following review helpful:


A Gift  May 05, 2006 By Terrence E. Martau "Terry Martau"
William Least Heat-Moon's Blue Highways is referred to by many as a "cult classic". If so, it's a shame this book is not better known. It is 1978 and William Least Heat-Moon is 38 years old. Upon the near-simultaneous loss of his college teaching job and his marriage, he needs to get out of town, to leave places of sadness, futility and routine, to clear his mind and renew his soul. William leaves Missouri driving a '75 Econoline that he also intends to live in for the next several months; the truck has been named "Ghost Dancing". He has determined that he will drive only the blue highways, the old map color for single-lane rural highways and county roads, the roads that lead to all the small places in America, lost and forgotten by time, faded in economic or historic significance. He will travel and look around and listen, meet new people and learn new things and new ways of thinking. Most of all he will think, taking an inward journey as well.

Born of English-Irish and Osage ancestry, William Least Heat-Moon also has an Anglo name. He writes, "I have other names: Buck, once a slur...also Bill Trogdon." He explains his Osage identity humbly: "My father calls himself Heat Moon, my elder brother Little Heat-Moon. I, coming last, am therefore Least. It has been a long lesson of a name to learn." With that we begin.

Experts categorize this book as "travel literature". It is a travel book, for William does travel 13,000 miles across the United States and briefly through Ontario. He describes places, converses with people, learns or reviews history. As may be expected, the places are common and strange, mundane and magical. Some are pleasing and peaceful; others evoke indignance in William, unpleasantness and judgment. Most of the people are kind, some of them are wise. Some are alive with vitality and hope, others ghosts or near ghosts. But they are all human still, and in some way each is a gift. And that's what makes Blue Highways worthwhile: it is also a philosophy book, filled with the humanity of the author and the people to whom he gives voice. He is old enough to understand and appreciate the people and places he encounters, young enough to feel wonder and room to grow.

Two special voices live within William Least Heat-Moon's head and heart: Walt Whitman and Black Elk. Whitman, the poet traveler who has seen it all before, rides along to chuckle occasionally or illuminate an experience or thought. Black Elk offers gentle guidance and comfort; he is a steady hand.

It is inevitable that William Least Heat-Moon makes his way home. And it is not surprising that along the way he discovers that he can - that he has - "remade" himself. Blue Highways is beautiful book.

32 of 36 found the following review helpful:


Over the Blue Highways  Dec 20, 1999 By Shawn Weil
In search of the real America, or in need of escape, the author sets out to circle the country in a van, staying only on the state and local roads - the one's that appear blue on his maps. This is the record of what he saw on his trip, from the deep South to the Pacific Northwest, fishermen to farmers, through forests, snowstorms, deserts, and beaches.

This novel was deeply personal, and it reflected a feeling I have had in my life to explore the world by experiencing it first hand, not by reading about it in the book. However, sometimes the author seems overly sentimental, bemoaning the loss of regional distinctiveness and lambasting the homogenization of America while not always acknowledging that sometimes changes happen for the better. America has always been a country of change, and he realizes that change is always accompanied by a little bit of pain.

As he travels, the philosophizing is not overly explicit. Neither are his personal problems, which are alluded to but not expounded upon. Instead, he lets the people he meets and his experiences with them speak for themselves. Unfortunately, there is nothing very cohesive about the stories, no incentive to get to the end except to see the author's cycle completed. Perhaps a second reading would allow me to pay more attention to the author's personal struggle, but even so, the stories are basically independent, with only the underlying theme of coping with change to tie them together. Perhaps that was the authors' struggle all along.

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