Unlike almost everybody, though, I reluctantly judge one of Robert Byron's earlier works, "The Station" (1928) to be slightly superior to "The Road to Oxiana" (1933). Why? I am hesitant to tell you up front, but please bear with me. I like "The Station" better for one reason alone: stasis. It is not what it is about that is important, but how it is about that wins us over.
Although, "The Road to Oxiana" is a classic adventure tale of romp and circumstances and derring-do filled with dizzying movement across the mappa mundi, "The Station" remains stationary in time and space, almost like it never happened in the first place. Byron obviously wants us to see that he isn't just scrounging space or mooching moussakas among the black-robed Greek Orthodox brother monks swinging censers for free food and spiritual uplift. No, he is returning to Mount Athos to prove that he really is an expert on Byzantine art, culture, and life. But with spiritus mundi on his side as the only real guide or critic.