The Slow Train to Milan by Lisa St. Aubin de Terán

 I enjoyed this book, but suspect I would have liked it even more when I was young person taking slow trains (Shout out to the Eurail pass!) around Europe. This is partly because it is a (lightly?) fictionalized account of just what it is like to be a young person wandering around Europe for no particular reason. While I did my wandering on my own or in the company of other temporarily rootless young people, de Terán's more sensational wanderings are in the company of a Venezuelan bank robber and two guerillas in exile who are his partners. She has married the bank robber on what can only be called a whim at the age of sixteen—he was about twenty years older—and follows in his wake for most of this novel. It's a pleasant ramble, mostly in Italy, but one does rather tire of the protagonist's almost complete lack of agency and her difficult to understand devotion to her not terribly pleasant husband.

Apparently this is an early entry in the currently popular sub-genre that we used to call autobiographical fiction, but now call autofiction. Slow Train ends with the couple on their way to Venezuela. De Terán writes about her time in that country in later autobiographical fiction. It sounds like she finally wakes up in South America and begins to live her own life, and eventually leaving her unprepossessing husband.