Years before Star Trek's U.S.S. Enterprise, Jacques Cousteau, or even National Geographic boldly ventured forth seeking knowledge and new territories, many Americans considered the expanse west of the Mississippi River the Great Frontier. For some, this title still holds true.

In Travels with Lizbeth: Three Years on the Road and on the Streets, Lars Eighner recounts his own adventures in the modern wild West. However, unlike his literary predecessors who lovingly detailed the majesty of the Rockies or the solemn grandeur of the California sequoias, Eighner chooses a much different subject. Instead of landscapes and flora, he describes the nooks and crannies of the Texan welfare system and the urban beast known as Los Angeles. From the perspective of a homeless man wandering across the Arizona desert, Eighner gives an update on life in today's real frontier, the streets of America.

Eighner, a writer down on his luck, did not intend to be homeless. His three-year experience is not the result of some literary experiment, an attempt to gain writing material firsthand. Instead, Eighner started his odyssey between Texas and California because he simply did not have enough money to pay the month's rent. But the process towards homelessness proved far from simple.

Alternating between objectivity and cynicism, Eighner explains the ludicrous inefficacy of the Texan social welfare system. He exposes the bureaucratic sinkhole of tax dollars and complete confusion caused by decentralization. His differing tones allow him to instruct the uninitiated, as well as to express personal disgust for an illogical system that has evidently forgotten its purpose.

Regardless of any political agenda that might emerge from the book, Travels with Lizbeth remains a deeply personal account of a man trying to maintain his autonomy and humanity despite increasingly dehumanizing circumstances. Eighner observes his surroundings with an intelligence and wit that clearly mark the individuality and self-respect that enabled him to survive. Eighner's wry sense of humor allows him to stand back and analyze his experiences with perspicacity and insight, avoiding any melodramatic pathos that could cloud his realistic portrait of life on the streets.

Especially in his matter-of-fact approach to practical matters, Eighner depicts the stark reality of homelessness. For example, his detailed instructions on how to scavenge food safely from a dumpster points out the relentless struggle for basic survival far more effectively than any Dickensian description of gnawing hunger. The details of setting up camp in a public park or washing up in a bar's restroom gives the book a firm foundation in day-to-day reality, which is quite remarkable in itself and needs no further embellishment.

Eighner's dog, Lizbeth, is his sole and constant companion throughout his problems. From the start, Eighner states that he does not intentionally personify Lizbeth, but his relationship and attachment to the dog provide an intriguing foil for the people that drop in and out of Eighner's life. Surely, perhaps depressingly, enough, the dog demonstrates far more loyalty and integrity than her human counterparts.

Lizbeth's canine faithfulness contrasts the disappointing lack of support Eighner fails to receive from other people. The ongoing image of a man and his dog facing the rest of the world resurrects the old adventuresome, pioneer spirit of the West with a contemporary twist.

Through understated diction and humor, Eighner creates a narrative that is both instructive and engaging. His experiences and observations remain uniquely his own, yet provide relevant commentary on one of the country's most urgent concerns. The personal perspective breaks down's looming social issue into the problems of individuals, giving a voice and face to what might otherwise be just another statistic.