
Herzog's diary of his three-week walk from Munich to Paris to visit his dying friend, the film critic Lotte Eisner. This could have been a low pick. I've always loved Herzog's eye for the dismal and his bleak, deadpan observations, but I admit I found my mind wandering at times. It reads exactly like what it is - a personal journal, not originally intended for publication - and can feel rambling and unfocused.













