When two paths collide
Two nice, wounded people, unknown to each other, decide to heal themselves by walking 2000km of the Camino Santiago through Spain and France. En route, they find luscious scenery, quaint locals and increasing stirrings as their steps intermittently converge. Aww, shucks.
There are the usual misconceptions at first. He’s a thief? She’s a kook? A spark glows but they’ll probably never see each other again. Aww, gee. Zoe is a Californian artist, therefore impulsive and flaky; look how she references “Leo on the cusp of Virgo”. Martin is a Yorkshire engineer, therefore dour and dogged; look how he fixes a buckled wheel then sees potential income in it.
No, be fair: the authors render their characters more subtly than that, though you know this will be a narrative where the protagonists start off bristling like cats and end up cooing like doves. If I note that the novel’s first word is “Fate”, and that its second sentence uses “laying” wrongly, do I sound picky? I do? Aww, gosh.
Major literature this ain’t but it steps along eagerly, like its walkers, and there’s never a shortage of incidents. Knees wobble, mud clogs, artist Georgia O’Keeffe is discussed, crises flare at home, Martin meets Maarten and Zoe meets tasteless crucifixes. We learn about blisters, hostels, route markers and clothes-drying (hang them from your pack as you walk).
Stretches resemble a sprightly tour itinerary; a lot of local foods and beverages get listed. So do architectural highlights. Clever, sometimes cutesy, dialogue keeps you reading though you need to brace for the aphorisms scattered along the route like loose change. “It is important to know not only what to hold on to and what to let go of but what to go back for.” Aww, cringe.
Two Steps Forward insists on being a story with spiritual significance. People tell one another: “You have a large heart . . . I feel I’ve lost touch with the universe.” They discuss their angst and inner selves with protracted earnestness. If you were walking with them, you might want to hurry on ahead.
You’ll like Zoe and Martin. You’ll enjoy their physical and metaphysical odysseys and feel pleased that they’ve laid their ghosts and each other before the mildly sugary ending. But their interminable self-analysis weighs on the narrative like Zoe’s pack. Aww, well.