Lars Eighner is a better writer and a better story-teller than most of the people filling books in bookstores and lying on Oprah these days. But those are not the only reasons you should read the book. The primary reason is because, unlike almost anyone else you will meet in public life -- authors, professors, officials, savants, celebrities -- Eighner is an intelligent, honest, humane, authentic and _original_ person. Reading _Travels with Lizbeth_ is like reading _Walden_: there's some kind of mind on the other side of the page, a mind which unlike the ciphers on television is awake and can see things. Including, as he says towards the end of the book, "all the way to the bottom", because he's been to visit more than once while most of the rest of us were pretending it wasn't there. (As the social fabric continues to decay we might want to get to know something about its geography.) I am reminded of Whitman's "Who touches this book touches a man." And a dog as well. Buy, beg, borrow or steal this book. It might wake you up a little. And if you're already awake it'll help you to know that there's someone else out there, across the night.

Engaging and largely unsentimental account of being one of the itenerant homeless, with the added complication of having a dog. The author does not anthropomorphize Lizbeth which is the best decision he could make. Rather than a heartwarming story straight out of "Touched by An Angel" we get a complex picture of his world: the various hitchhikers, Good Samaritans, petty bureacrats and lost souls who, through reasons besides simple irresponsiblity, happen to find themselves on the streets. Luckily, the chronicle has a happy ending, but it feels earned and not fake.

This is one of my favorite memoirs. It reads less like an autobiography than a collection of related short stories, each one witty, poignant, and carefully drawn.

It also serves as bracing lesson, not so much about "homelessness", but about how even an uncommonly intelligent and capable, if somewhat non-standard, person can slip through what's left of our social safety net and end up on the street. As Eighner tells it here, if it weren't for a couple of strokes of random good fortune, he would not have been a position to put a roof over his head again, much less publish this book.

For those wondering what Eighner is up to now, he's still writing. Examples of his recent and not-so-recent work can be found on his website, which can be easily found by putting "Lars Eighner" in a search engine. As for the reviewer who felt cheated because the book did not offer sufficient details of Eighner's sex life, there's a link to Eighner's erotic writing on the site as well -- that ought to satisfy your cruelly frustrated needs.

This book was very interesting. It totally deconstructs dominant ideas that most people have concerning the homeless. Very rich in detail and was a pleasure to read.

This is a mildly amusing but disappointing book about a gay, homeless person. He lives in Austin with his dog, Lizbeth, then hitchhikes to Los Angeles, then hitchhikes back to Austin. There he stays for a few years, living as a bum, and getting his food from dumpsters. He is a dumpster diver.

He's a smart guy, and many of his observations are sharp. He talks about how alcoholism and drug addiction are the scourge of many of his kind, how he manages to feed, bathe, and clothe himself, and where he stays and sleeps. He's fair in his observations; never bitter or resentful towards those who have things.

And he is a man of principle. He will not beg, or steal. He doesn't drink, or do any kind of drugs. He always tries to keep himself clean, and he makes great sacrifices for his dog, whom he loves. The problem is, he is not entirely forthcoming about his sexual life.

For example, during his first hitchhiking excursion to Los Angeles, he tells us of getting a ride just outside of Tuscon, during which he earned "five dollars." To earn this money he had to continue the ride a few miles beyond a truck stop, and he commented that from this he learned that it was always best to hitchhike from a truckstop, rather than several miles beyond it. But how did he earn this five dollars? He doesn't say until much later in the book, when he mentions that he "turned a trick." And this is it.

But what exactly does he mean by this? I guess it doesn't take to much imagination to figure it out, but why doesn't he come out and say so? On this first trip he also gets a ride from Darrell, who turns out to be a cigarette thief. After travelling with this fellow for a while, it becomes clear to him in an unspoken way that Darrell would be willing to accept him as a partner. The author declines, explaining that although he was "attracted to Darrell," the kind of life he was leading was too dangerous. But what does this "attractive" business mean? Was Darrell gay also? Did they have some kind of relationship?

Oh, he talks about his relationships occasionally, but only in an offhand, brief manner. Once he mentions being concerned about the police after enjoying a "noisy threesome" in the park. Another time he mentions missing the encounters he formerly had with men he met in a public restroom since closed.

Believe me, I'm not particularly interested in the lurid details, but here is a guy who is principled in many ways, yet it seems he will engage in sex with just about anybody at anytime; he had done so at least once for money, and he had done so at least once with more than one man. Is this typical? My limited information of the subject tells me that it is, but I really don't know, and the author clearly does not wish to spell this out. Why not?

Therefore, and despite many good qualities, the book is ultimately dishonest, and one leaves it feeling cheated.