Route Number 11: Argentina, Angels & Alcohol

Route Number 11: Argentina, Angels & Alcohol

by Harry Whitewolf




All alone in Argentina, with only a guardian angel, a broken heart and an abundance of beer for company.

With no plans, no time limit, and sometimes no sense, the nameless tourist travels not only around Argentina but also across the borders to Paraguay, Chile and Brazil, through a blur of smoky bars, sexy señoritas, backpackers, locals, lucky escapes and magnificent mountains, whilst being guided by signs and the mysterious 11:11 Phenomenon.

This true story reads almost like fiction. Told in a tangle of cut up twisted timelines, showing snippets and snapshots with bustling city and small town backdrops, Route Number 11 is a beat driven, beer drinking, Mind Body Spirit book with sex, drugs and reggaeton...

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781490442006
Publisher: CreateSpace Publishing
Publication date: 06/26/2013
Pages: 266
Product dimensions: 5.06(w) x 7.81(h) x 0.56(d)
Age Range: 1 - 17 Years

About the Author

Harry Whitewolf is a spiritual warrior, a stupid worrier and a stubborn smoker. He believes in peace, love, joy and compassion. He lives life by following signs, following dreams and following his heart. And he's not ashamed of admitting that he often screws it all up.

Harry's thirty seven years old, lives in England and has a background in visual art, poetry and workshop tuition. Route Number 11 is his first book.

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Route Number 11: Argentina, Angels & Alcohol 4.7 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 3 reviews.
matkondo More than 1 year ago
Did you ever find yourself looking for a book which not only takes you on a journey through places you either were lucky enough once to visit or somewhere you had always dreamed of going to, but also through the inner journey of the author, as it unfolds in his mind, the various ups-and-downs of his mental state, whether inebriated or this side of sober? If the answer is `yes', then Harry Whitewolf's first novel, Route Number 11: Argentina, Angels & Alcohol is definitely right up your paradise alley. Quite simply, this is Kerouac for the 21st Century ladies & gentlemen. Just like Sal Paradise (Jack Kerouac's non-de-plume) in the 20th Century American classic On the Road itself, `the tourist' as the author likes to call himself, sets out on a long journey unsure from the outset of his actual goal. Although we are pretty sure it's not a pot of leprechaun gold at the end of the rainbow. In fact, that is partly the main point - the journey itself IS the goal. And any journey we embark on is a small mirror of the larger journey of life that we all have to travel. And just like Jack and Neal did in On the Road, the tourist, in this modern-day travelogue, comes to not only learn more about Argentina, Paraguay and other parts of South America, but more about himself - especially what has been eating him in the past and what is pushing him onwards imploringly and relentlessly. What I loved about this book in particular is THE FEELING that is magically distilled within its pages. And it is no easy task to broach `subjects of the heart' seriously and earnestly in today's world of deeply-embedded cynicism. I'm talking about topics like heartbreak and getting over someone and "the ache of loneliness that cuts the throat out of the night" (to use a reference from my forthcoming first novel which seems also funnily enough appropriate to quote here). In this tour-de-force, Whitewolf has succeeded in distilling into one book all of the angst and acheing loneliness, heartbreak and painful hangovers (which are part of the healing process itself) and most importantly the INVINCIBLE DETERMINATION to "keep on keeping on" as Bob Dylan once put it. Incidentally, this reviewer was going through a very hard time in his life at almost exactly the same stage as Whitewolf and so it resonated very deeply with me on both an emotional and chronologically nostalgic level. So what did Jack and Neal discover at the end of the road? At the end of the American dream? Nothing. Because they had already discovered it on the way there. And they were looking for it on the road. But all along they were carrying it deep inside of them. They discovered something new about themselves on the journey whose initial mission was just simply "to go" and go somewhere. Similarly, `the tourist' in Route Number 11 discovers more about himself which is an essential ingredient towards letting himself heal (because some of us don't give ourselves a chance to heal) and every time he meets a new friend on the road in Argentina or shares a pint with another fellow tourist, you as the reader find yourself silently cheering for him saying "good for you mate. You deserve to enjoy yourself. You deserve to find happiness. Keep going! You'll get there". And it is that wonderful feeling of brotherhood and brotherly love that people together on a journey share that Whitewolf so magically captures and imparts on the reader over the course of the novel. Regarding the style of the book, I like how things are written out of conventional chronological order like a drunken jigsaw puzzle, which the reader has to put back together in his mind - like when you wake up with a screaming hangover trying to put back the pieces of the night before. I've been through that myself so many times. The non-chronological progression of the novel beautifully reflects and allows the reader to experience some of the torpor and confusion of his mind as he goes through catharsis. It reminded me in some ways of Burroughs' and Gysin's cut-up technique but the prose sentences themselves are left intact. Another marvelous thing about this book is the jazz poetry snippets that are inserted here and there in each chapter. Some of this poetry reminded me of Kerouac's more playful and experimental moments in Mexico City Blues, Book of Blues and Pomes All Sizes. This is a gutsy, sincere, compassionate, exciting and addictive read which I couldn't put down. Harry Whitewolf is amongst the best modern-day writers I have read in a while. Of that I have no doubt. He is a writer of incredible promise and talent. Before Kerouac died one of the last things he was reported to have said was "after me, the deluge". Well, come to think of it, Mr. Whitewolf himself just might be riding on the crest of that deluge wave of great subsequent writers that Kerouac had in mind.
Marc_Estes_Author More than 1 year ago
What a surprising treat of mental floss. At first I really thought I wasn't going to like this book. I've never been a fan of Allen GInsburg , and this had a surprising feel for his work. Then I kept reading. I went through an amazing emotional journey and really had to reflect on my own travels in life. Not necessarily the road journeys, but just life experiences that I have gone through on this path I'm on.  Sometimes life kicks you in the butt and I found the one-liners very effective "reality checks" . The book shows us through this journey, that we all are never really grown up, we just keeping learning and adding to our box of tools. Great work Harry Whitewolf. Keep on writing. Marc Estes,  Author of Four Pieces For Power
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
A brilliant beatnik breath of fresh air. Great stuff!