Despite the improvisatory stream-of-comicness, lack of paneled styling, and curious traveler’s heart, An Age of License is a tethered book. Lucy Knisley makes this obvious from the half-title, shackling her floating body to the cursive “e” at the end of “License” like a ball-and-chain. We are warned, with this premonition, to recognize the limits of freedom, even when faced with a remarkable opportunity to momentarily cast aside our “normal” lives. Things that go up, must come down.
An Age of License: A Travelogue is the story of going up, but coming down never leaves its mind. For every idyllic moment author Lucy Knisley spends on Norway’s decadent cuisine or her Nordic lover’s chiseled face, there’s a sobering soliloquy on careers, marriage, or privilege. These doses of reality work greatly to the book’s advantage, lending weight–even profundity–to an already vivid and amusing tale of flights, sights, and romance. A trifle, this ain’t.