Clara’s Verdict
I picked up Don’t Go There on a gloomy Tuesday evening when I desperately needed to be somewhere, anywhere, other than my flat. Adam Fletcher delivered. What begins as a tear-gas incident in Istanbul snowballs into a genuinely peculiar travelogue, one that takes in Chernobyl, Transnistria, Liberland, and a North Korean water park, among other places you’d never choose of your own free will. This is Book 1 of his Adam’s Adventures series, and it announces Fletcher’s sensibility with impressive self-assurance: British sarcasm, genuine curiosity, and an unfailing ability to make catastrophe funny.
At 7 hours and 44 minutes, narrated by Liam Gerrard and published by Tantor Media in November 2020, it sits in the tradition of comedic travel writing that stretches from Bill Bryson to Danny Wallace. Whether Fletcher achieves that standard is a question I will address honestly below. But I will say this: I laughed more than I expected, and I thought more than I anticipated. This is not a shallow gap-year memoir dressed up as something more serious than it is.
About the Audiobook
Don’t Go There covers ten destinations that Fletcher describes as places everyone else is trying to escape from. The premise is sharp: a man who got tear-gassed on what was supposed to be a normal holiday in Istanbul decides, in response, to seek out the world’s most avoided corners. Each chapter is structured around a place, though the connective tissue is always Fletcher himself, and his long-suffering German girlfriend Annett, who functions as both foil and co-protagonist throughout.
The series label is worth noting. Calling this the first instalment of Adam’s Adventures suggests Fletcher sees these books as ongoing, and that ambition is mostly justified here. The writing is event-driven and propulsive, and each destination carries its own atmosphere. The Liberland section, involving Croatian police boats and the world’s newest country, is particularly good. The North Korea chapters carry genuine unease beneath the comedy. Fletcher does not editorialise heavily; he tends to let the absurdity speak for itself, which is the right instinct for this kind of material. When you find yourself a reluctant diving board star in a Pyongyang water park, the facts need very little ornamentation.
There are moments where the book reflects more on Fletcher’s own psychology than on the places he visits, and some readers have found this imbalance grating. It is a fair criticism. The book is primarily a portrait of its author’s curiosity and self-deprecation, with the destinations as the stage rather than the subject. Whether that appeals depends entirely on whether you find the author worth spending seven hours with. I did.
The Narration
Liam Gerrard handles the material well. His tone is dry and unhurried, which suits Fletcher’s brand of deadpan observation. He does not oversell the jokes, which is exactly what this kind of comedy requires. A narrator who mugged for the punchlines would undermine the writing. Gerrard instead reads as though he finds the situations mildly baffling, which amplifies the comedy considerably. He renders Annett with a light touch rather than deploying a heavy German accent, which is sensible given that Fletcher himself describes her with affection rather than mockery.
The performance occasionally smooths over the tonal shifts between comedy and genuine tension, particularly in the Chernobyl section, where the stakes feel more real. But this is a minor criticism. Gerrard keeps the 7-hour-plus runtime from dragging, and his pacing through the Turkish opening chapters is particularly assured.
What Readers Say
Listener response has been warm, though the rating count of 3 means we are working with a limited sample. One reviewer compared Fletcher directly to Bill Bryson, David Sedaris, and Peter Mayle, citing his fast-paced and witty style and describing the book as one of the few travelogues that are an absolute delight to read. Another positioned him as warmer than Karl Pilkington, closer to the wide-eyed wonder of Danny Wallace, noting an admirable disarming, casual voice. A third called it hilarious, eclectic and downright odd, and praised the relationship with Annett as a genuine counterpoint to the chaos of each destination.
The single dissenting voice found the book too focused on the author’s personality rather than the destinations themselves. That criticism has some merit. Fletcher is the lens through which everything is filtered, and if you find his particular brand of self-deprecating English bewilderment tiresome, the book will grate. But the majority of readers clearly did not find it tiresome.
Who Should Listen?
If you enjoyed Bill Bryson’s Notes from a Small Island, or Danny Wallace’s Yes Man, this will suit you well. Also recommended for anyone who follows dark-tourism content online and wonders what it would actually feel like to go to these places. Listeners who prefer travel writing that foregrounds landscape and culture above personality may find this less satisfying. Those who find self-deprecating British humour grating should avoid.
Don’t Go There is available now on Audible UK. Listen on Audible UK
