Used Books Blog

The Happy Isles of Oceania by Paul Theroux is a fascinating synthesis of travel writing and history seen through the eyes of an acerbic narrator. Theroux documents his trip by kayak through the Pacific, from New Zealand and Australia all the way to Hawaii. But it’s the stops in between, in places like the Trobriands, The Solomons, Fiji, Tonga, Samoa, Tahiti and The Cook Islands that really make The Happy Isles of Oceania so special.

Don’t expect a shiny-happy travelogue that makes every place visited seem like a must visit destination where there is no trash, no crime and the sun shines all the time. Nor should you expect the feisty Theroux to think kindly about most of the people he meets on his trip. In fact, it’s usually the opposite.

Instead readers are treated to what I expect are far more accurate views of these destinations, both in terms of the scenery but also the culture and local life. Theroux goes a step further by unearthing the history behind many of these places and it’s these sections that stick with me long after finishing the book.

For instance, Theroux does a splendid job of explaining and analyzing the Jon Frum Movement in Vanuatu.

Was Jon Frum a friendly American pilot who had brought supplies here and shared them around? And perhaps he had said, I am John from America. And then had the war convinced the villagers on Tanna how wealthy America was?

It hardly mattered now. The dogma of the movement seemed to suggest that Jon Frum was a sort of John the Baptist, preceding the savior which was a redeemer in the form of cargo-every nice and useful object imaginable. And the important aspect was that it had come to the island directly, without the help of missionaries or interpreters. No money, no tithing was involved; no Ten Commandments, no Heaven or Hell. No priest, nor any imperialism. It was a Second Coming, but it enabled the villagers to rid themselves of missionaries and live their lives as they had before. It seems to me a wonderfully foxy way of doing exactly as they pleased.

Theroux has done his homework on these anthropological studies. He’s done the required reading. What’s impressive is that he then strolls right into these villages to do his own first hand research. This isn’t always the safest thing to do! First, lets remember that he’s paddling a kayak between most of these destinations. And the natives can be welcoming, indifferent, unsettled or even aggressive.

But that’s the other context to The Happy Isles of Oceania. Theroux is at a crossroads in his life. He’s recently parted ways with his wife of 25 years and is awaiting the results of a cancer test. Theroux runs, or paddles, away. His mindset of impending doom makes him both a bit reckless but also more open than he might have been previously.

Other reviewers have said Theroux found happiness on this trip. I can’t say whether he did or not. He still seems hyper-critical and skeptical of the motives of others but there is a greater sense of peace as he ends his journey.

The Happy Isles of Oceania is also notable because of who Theroux meets on his journey. He never seems to actively seek out these notable personalities, and yet there they are, bumping into each other half way around the world. In that way, there is a pleasing juxtaposition between the foreign nature of the surroundings and the ‘it’s a small world after all’ mantra.

I highly recommend The Happy Isles of Oceania by Paul Theroux for anyone with an interest in travel, history or anthropology. Not only will you enjoy the trip but you’ll learn a thing or two along the way.

Do you remember the Choose Your Own Adventure book series? If you grew up in the 80s I’m guessing you might. I know I do.

Here’s what Wikipedia has to say on the subject.

Choose Your Own Adventure was one of the most popular children’s series during the 1980s and 1990s, selling over 250 million copies between 1979 and 1998, and translated into at least 38 languages.

I can understand why they were so popular. Written in the second-person, these books put you, the reader, in the driver’s seat, allowing you to make choices during the narrative that effect the outcome of the book. Talk about empowerment!

Here’s an example from the The Abominable Snowman, the first book in the Choose Your Own Adventure series.

If you decide to cancel your meeting with Runal and search for Carlos, turn to page 7.

If you feel Carlos is OK and go ahead with your plan to meet Runal, turn to page 8.

You make these choices frequently through the book, winding your way to one of multiple endings. The number of endings for each book could be as high as 44, or 30 like in my favorite of the series, Inside UFO 54-40.

There was usually one really good ending. You’d try again and again to get to that ending instead of the others that ended in death, imprisonment or some other misfortune. Inside UFO 54-40 was unusual in that none of the normal paths actually got you to the really good ending. ‘Paradise’ could only be found by breaking the rules of the book and finding the ending you wanted by thumbing through to that elusive, orphaned, page.

While I certainly enjoyed the structure of the Choose Your Own Adventure books, it was the lesson in Inside UFO 54-40, about thinking outside of the box, that stuck with me.

Choose Your Own Adventure books have been praised for capturing reluctant readers. I wasn’t one of those. I was reading Watership Down, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Cat’s Cradle, Dune and Caves of Steel. But the series helped continue my passion for books. It seems to have done that for many others, and is also heralded as a great gender neutral series because of the second-person narrative style.

The series was written by a number of authors though most were penned by R.A. Montgomery and Edward Packard. Montgomery is trying to revive the series through Chooseco, his new publishing company. I can definitely see a way for the series to connect to a new generation, but it’ll take better integration with the Internet and a major overhaul of the Choose Your Own Adventure site.

Perhaps a few dedicated fans with technical savvy can reach out and help Chooseco? It’s a worthwhile endeavor in my opinion.

In the mean time, check out the great collection of covers and reviews at gamebooks.org and pick up a few used copies for your kids (or you).

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams is like that old Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups advertising campaign. You know, the one where the peanut butter and chocolate lovers clumsily bump into each other.

“You’ve got peanut butter on my chocolate! You’ve got chocolate in my peanut butter!” they exclaim before finding out just how delicious the combination turns out to be.

Replace peanut butter and chocolate with science fiction and humor and you get Douglas Adams’ brilliant The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

Follow the rollicking exploits of Arthur Dent and Ford Prefect as they pinball around the universe, getting into tight scrapes and meeting up with a zany assortment of outlandish characters. You won’t find hard science here or a complex tale mirroring a modern day social issue. In fact, Adams lampoons these staples of science fiction and instead creates a wild parody without equal.

Here’s a secret. You’ll even learn the puzzling answer to the meaning of life, provided by Deep Thought, the second greatest computer in the universe.

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy begins when a nasty bunch of officious aliens called the Vogons destroy Earth to make way for a ‘hyperspatial express route.’ Arthur and Ford survive by thumbing a ride on the Vogon spaceship. They’re able to do this only because Ford happens to be an alien and, more importantly, is a researcher for The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, a type of electronic tome which is a cross between a Lonely Planet guide, a George Carlin cassette (remember this was published in the late 70s) and the Encyclopedia Britannica.

Adams uses entries in the Guide with great effect, providing quick tongue-in-cheek explanations or background information without it feeling forced. The cast of characters are entertaining and undeniably memorable: the wisecracking Ford Prefect; straight man to the farce, Arthur Dent; the swashbuckling Zaphod Beeblebrox, President of the Galaxy, who happens to have two heads and three arms; Marvin, the Paranoid Android, a severely depressed robot; and a beautiful woman by the name of Trillian.

This motley band of characters jet about the universe on The Heart of Gold, a stolen ship powered by an Improbability Drive and equipped with an annoyingly cheery computer named Eddie.

Forget about highly defined plot lines and let yourself bounce from one screwball situation to another. Give in to the lunacy and snappy dialog that drive the novel. Douglas Adams is without a doubt the funniest science fiction author in the universe. Sadly, we lost Adams well before his time.

Don’t panic! The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy is just the first in a classic and oddly titled five book trilogy. So there’s plenty more to read if you enjoy this introduction to the series.

Think twice about reading this in public, since a bark of laughter in your local cafe may earn you some odd looks. Though this could work to your advantage if you want some space during your commute to or from work.

Wasp by Eric Frank Russell is the first in what I’m calling a Retro Review. These are books that I’ve read in the past instead of recently and are most likely older books that aren’t currently in popular circulation. I’m also using the cover art for the edition I have on my bookshelf. Thank you to the Denver Science Fiction & Fantasy Book Club from which I sourced this image.

The artwork was a big reason why I picked this out ages ago when I was in my teens. My dad had - still has - a large collection of science-fiction paperbacks in the basement. So, when I wanted something to read I’d go down and leaf through the musty books looking for something interesting. I’d often look for some of the names I’d come to rely upon: Heinlein, Laumer, Aldiss. But I could also be persuaded by a cool looking cover. Wasp was appealing (particularly the finger print font) and the quick teaser got me to open up the book and trudge up the stairs to start reading.

Wasp is about “intergalactic guerrilla warfare” and is based on the idea that small things can have big effects. The analogy is about how a wasp, “under half an ounce … killed four big men and converted a large, powerful car into a heap of scrap.” Furrowing your brow on that one? The scenario is that the driver is stung by a wasp and loses control of the car and crashes.

We follow James Mowry - reluctant hero - who is recruited as a wasp in the war between Terra and the Sirian Empire. Mowry is dropped on the planet Jaimec after undergoing training and surgery to blend into the humanoid Sirian population. What transpires next is a taut, but darkly comic look at psychological warfare.

After 9/11 and with terrorism such a buzz word, Wasp has been revived, discussed and debated. I’ve read Wasp twice and just can’t get myself lathered up about it being too close to home. Newly minted critics feel it’s a bad example. The thing is, most of what Mowry does is psychological warfare and not outright terrorism. Mowry creates a mythical rebel organization, places stickers and decals on storefronts, writes menacing letters and places fake wire-tapping devices in high-profile government buildings.

Wasp is about how to use communications to create paranoia and fear. In that way, I find it extremely relevant and interesting. But to tell the truth, each time I’ve read Wasp I simply fell into a reverie of rooting for David against Goliath while marveling and chuckling at the way in which Mowry went about his business. Russell’s Wasp is far more like reading one of Laumer’s Retief novels - a fun, yet intelligent, winking at the reader space opera.

It’s only after enjoying the tight plot line and too cool Mowry that you might connect the dots to present day geopolitics.