Nicolas Bouvier’s “The Way of the World”
New York Review Books, 2009
Two Swiss men are at the Iranian border. The year is 1953, just a few months prior to the CIA-sponsored coup. The night is dark. A customs officer emerges from his pavilion and shines his acetylene lamp on the men: “I am sorry my friends,” he says, “you must have a soldier to escort you as far as Maku.” The officer then produces “a mongoloid midget in puttees . . . as though he d plucked him out of his slipper.” The travelers continue down the road. Nicolas Bouvier, twenty-four, is at the wheel. Thierry Vernet, twenty-six, is in the passenger-seat rolling cigarettes. The midget is sat on the bonnet, “smiling a sweet smile.” He reeks of mutton and is humming a little tune.