| Title | : | The Happy Isles of Oceania: Paddling the Pacific |
| Author | : | |
| Rating | : | |
| ISBN | : | 0449908585 |
| ISBN-10 | : | 9780449908587 |
| Language | : | English |
| Format Type | : | Paperback |
| Number of Pages | : | 528 |
| Publication | : | First published January 1, 1992 |
The Happy Isles of Oceania: Paddling the Pacific Reviews
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Until I arrived in Australia many years ago,I had never heard of the island nations of the Pacific.But soon,I became fairly familiar with them as people from many of those islands were living there too.
In a way,I envied them.I've always found a certain charm in the idea of living on a Pacific island.Paradise,however,comes with its share of hazards.
I had earlier read about Paul Theroux's travels by train.This time,he takes an even more unconventional mode of transport,paddling the Pacific,using a collapsible boat.This way,he hops from one Pacific island to another.
The book is a mixed bag.Parts of it are very amusing,absolutely hilarious.But on some islands,things get really boring.He doesn't quite visit all the islands.No mention of Nauru, and I guess more could be missing as well.
At times,the writing is beautiful,as he sails at night and marvels at the vastness and views of the Pacific.On one island,he runs into trouble as a gang of boys attack him.
He doesn't have good words for some of his destinations.Possibly the most interesting account is that of the Tebouriand islands,as he describes their bizarre sexual customs.On his part,he takes a certain amount of delight in the lax dress code of the females.
He talks about all the nuclear testing on the Pacific atolls,particularly by France.It had,till then,conducted 160 nuclear tests there,playing havoc with the ecology of the area.
He goes to Easter island and describes how its inhabitants suffered over time at the hands of visiting sailors,who often enslaved their women and gave then European diseases.
He also briefly describes the death of Captain Cook in a meaningless scuffle on a Pacific island.The book is a bit short,however,on actual historical anecdotes.
He also spends time in Hawaii,and gives some hilarious descriptions of what passes for adult entertainment in some of the clubs there.
His trip to Australia is brief,but includes these lines :
"It is an underdeveloped country.The Australian book of etiquette is slim,but the outrageous book of rudeness is a hefty tome.Mockery is the assertive warmth of mateship.Australia is the arse of the world.The country is shaped like a bum".
About the Pacific,he writes :
"This ocean was as vast as outer space and it was like travelling from one star to another,the archipelagos like galaxies and the islands like isolated stars."
In the end,the entertaining bits more than compensated for the boring bits in this book. -
I would NEVER want to travel with (or spend any time with) Paul Theroux, but damn, can he conjure up a sense of place. Cranky, complaining and mean-spirited, but vastly entertaining.
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This book seems more pensive than Paul's usual fare, and that may be due to that fact that he set out on this trip right after he, and his wife, separated. So, he was downhearted, and at loose ends emotionally. I think it made him more in tune with his fellow man, looking outward at them from his inner place of sad solitude. He didn't write in a depressing manner, far from it. I felt it was a journey that was close to his heart, in many ways, and somehow he translated that deepness to the written pages. It is nothing like those angsty books that women seem to write after a relationship break up (thank goodness!).
He visited 51 islands in the Pacific, with nothing more than a collapsible kayak, a tent, and a sleeping bag. Since he's traveling 'slow', he really gets to rub elbows with the common folks. As always, he's deals out his views with a point blank honesty, which some folks don't like, but I do. It makes him 'real'. He's just being himself, not trying to impress anyone.
If you like Theroux's books, you'll probably really enjoy this one. If you've never read Theroux, this might be a good one to start with.
If you're interested in the Pacific Islands (including Australia and New Zealand, of course), you'll probably enjoy this book.
4 Stars = It touched my heart, and/or gave me much food for thought. -
Ah, Theroux! How much do I love Theroux?
This is one of my favourite books by him, not only because of where he is traveling. I know, many readers don't like Theroux because he is so seemingly negative. I've heard people ask why he doesn't stay at home if he doesn't like what he sees, but see, I don't think he doesn't like where he is. But he is human, and he sees and describes the world he travels thruogh as a human.
So if you expect great travel writing to sound like "and the we visited the pyramids and they were BEAUTIFUL!", then maybe you better stay away from Theroux.
Theroux doesn't travel to get somwhere or to be somewhere, he travels to travel. That alone should tell you that he is brilliant. In "The Happy Isles of Oceania" this becomes even more evident, because he leaves right after his divorce, and it's almost a bit voyeuristic to see how this affects his traveling, and how the affects change towards the end.
It's been a while since I read this book, but I wish there wasn't this large pile of unread books lying here that demand to be read, so that I would have the time to read this one again. -
This is the last book for my year of reading books about or set in or from Oceania. It is bittersweet indeed! This one sat on my shelf at home for several years, actually, and I almost didn't get to it again this year. I think it's Theroux. On one hand he goes on these amazing adventures, on the other hand he is cranky and judgmental and while some reviews claim this trait to be "wickedly funny" (Los Angeles Times) I have this feeling deep down that in another person's hands, the experiences might be more compassionate, perhaps more insightful, and that holds me back from diving in. He hates the travel writers who stay in 4-star hotels and write about fine dining experiences and don't see the actual people and places, and we agree on that point. Still he tends to treat each experience with a person in a place as representative of that people group and place, and doesn't leave a lot of room for a range. That comes across in a big way in this book (as anyone living anywhere in Oceania is fat, lazy, and not overly friendly, according to Theroux) but he does manage to characterize each place he visits as slightly different from the other.
He also doesn't spend a long time in any of the places he writes about, so even just because of circumstance his impressions are sometimes shallow. This is not an ethnography on any one place in Oceania. This isn't even really journalism, rather some kind of hybrid between light journalism and adventure travel writing. It helped to remind myself of this so as not to get too upset about generalizations and mistakes, of which there are plenty. This is also pre-internet, written while the first Gulf War was just winding up, where he has to listen to the actual radio or read an actual newspaper for news. Somehow that adds a slowness to the pace of the book that I actually appreciated. It is paddling (some of) the Pacific, not cruising or zipping between. (And the paddling is really done not far from any shore, he isn't in his little boat traveling from place to place most of the time.)
Still. I did not hate the book. Oceania is so huge and the literature from the countries there tends to be from the bigger places with more industry - Australia, New Zealand, a bit from Samoa, and not much beyond that (other than from journalists or anthropologists, of whom I read quite a bit this year.) Through his eyes I could see places I had yet to experience, and that definitely rounded out my reading journey.
One thing I appreciate about Theroux ever since reading
The Great Railway Bazaar is that he doesn't try to keep himself out of the writing. His personal life is the lens he views the travel through, and this time around he has just separated (permanently) from his wife. Early on he says:"Travel, which is nearly always seen as an attempt to escape from the ego, is in my opinion the opposite. Nothing induces concentration or inspires memory like an alien landscape or a foreign culture. It is simply not possible (as romantics think) to lose yourself in an exotic place. Much more likely is an experience of intense nostalgia, a harking back to an earlier stage of your life, or seeing clearly a serious mistake. What makes the whole experience vivid, and sometimes thrilling, is the juxtaposition of the present and the past-...."
While he reflects on his own life, he has some unexpected encounters. This idea of "paradise" is the first to go:"I paddled away thinking how I had once seen these islands as idyllic. I had been wrong. An island of traditional culture cannot be idyllic. It is, instead, completely itself: riddled with magic, superstition, myths, dangers, rivalries, and its old routines. You had to take it as you found it. The key to its survival was that it laughed at outsiders and kept them at arm's length.... On this visit I had felt an undercurrent of violence - and it was not only because I had been threatened. It was something in the air - a vibration, the cries of certain birds, the way the wind whipped the trees, the stifling darkness of some jungle paths, and the sudden noisy jostling in the leaves that shocked me and left me breathless."
Immediately after leaving the Trobriand Islands, there was a major battle between two groups, leaving over 30 people injured and one dead. It isn't just danger that wipes out the ideal paradise - it is more frequently the European influence, the missionaries, the move away from traditional work toward junk food. (Who could ever forget the comparison between human flesh and Spam?)
Speaking of missionaries, they make a frequent appearance in this book. From the Seventh Day Adventists who guilt islanders into not eating the meat and fish they had in their traditional diet (a similar issue illuminated in
Serpent in Paradise about the all-SDA island of Pitcairn) to the Calvinists who added restrictions in New Zealand to the entire shut-down of any business on Sundays to any denomination vilifying nudity and a more open sexuality. Not knowing much about Mormon doctrine, I was surprised/amused to learn that Polynesians were "always Mormon" and the Mormon missionaries see it as their job to "remind" them."In Samoa, as in other Polynesian places, I found myself muttering against missionaries and generally rooting for heathens..."
Throughout the book, Theroux also discusses the people from the original Oceania cultures in contrast to others - the large Indian populations in Fiji, Chileans on Easter Island, Australian tourists everywhere, and the Japanese in Hawaii. According to the author, family is so important that outsiders may never assimilate. I'm not sure he's right but it was an interesting perspective. It is also useful to view some of these islands from the water instead of the land - beauty, danger, perspective.
"Still, life went on in its passive Polynesian way and somehow people managed still to dance, to drink, to smoke and fish and make love." -
Here I am, stepping into something huge again. Paul Theroux is one of the most popular travel writers of our times and I am fully aware that it will take me years to eat myself through his literature. He has several essential travel volumes to choose from and hereby I officially promise to report on The Great Railway Bazaar and The Old Patagonian Express A.S.A.P..
The volume I read this time was The Happy Isles of Oceania and to be perfectly honest, after the poetic and respectful admiration towards locals of Thesiger, the superior realism of Theroux came as a bucket of icy water to my face. While Thesiger emphasizes his travels’ substantiality and nobleness, Theroux is shamelessly critical. He calls himself a ‘natural skeptic’ but sometimes I felt he was directly rude. He is not the type to rave about his destinations and I definitely wasn’t encouraged to start planning a trip right away. After getting over this initial culture shock however, I found his book informative, drawing an up-to-date picture of the far-away and exotic islands I just dream about. It is a very personal book too, written when times were tough, which explains his bitterness of style, but I am still flabbergasted how miserably unhappy you can be in paradise. The most enjoyable passages for me were the ones where he is quietly paddling his collapsible kayak alone and his rage and anger gives way to peace in his heart. Envy filled my heart.
I really must read another book of his to get a real picture. However spoilt, ungrateful, unsatisfied and grumpy he seems, he is a brilliant observer and a great traveler.
http://mukikamu.wordpress.com -
This is one of the worst books I've ever read. I'm at the last section of the book and I'm amazed that I've made it this far without giving up. I thought this book was going to be a great ode to the Pacific islands, but instead it was just one man's cynical and downtrodden tirade. Theroux managed to make sweeping generalizations about every group of people he came across, and you were lucky if you could read an entire page without him bitching about how lazy or dumb people were.
I know from my own experience that not every place you travel to is going to be picture perfect, but to advertise this under the guise of "Possibly his best travel book... an observant and frequently hilarious account of a trip that took him to 51 Pacific islands," (Time magazine)seems like misinformation. I like to think I have a great sense of humor, so I'm a bit confused as to what was supposed to be amusing about this book.
I have always wanted to learn more about the south Pacific, but I feel reading this book was a major turn off. The only positive thing I can say about this book, is that Theroux didn't sugar coat how he felt about things. This can't be said for some other travel writers I have read. I don't want to be lead into a false sense of paradise, but I definitely think that Theroux could have made more of an effort to show some more good points about his adventure. -
"It was in the Trobriands that I had realized that the Pacific was a universe, not a simple ocean.
A fascinating account of Paul Theroux's travel in Oceania! In this book, he visits New Zealand, Australia, Trobriand Islands (PNG), Solomon Islands, Vanuatu, Fiji, Tonga, Western Samoa and American Samoa, Tahiti, Marquesas, Cook Islands, Easter Islands and finally, Hawaii. While visiting these places, he brings along a collapsible kayak, which he sometimes uses to paddle around the islands he visits.
I especially recalled how one day sailing back to an island we were delayed, and night fell. There were stars everywhere, above us, and reflected in the sea along with the sparkle of phosphorescence streaming from the bow wave. When I poked an oar in the ocean and stirred it, the sea glittered with twinkling sea-life. We sped onward. There were no lights on shore. It was as though we were in an old rickety rocket ship.
It was an image that afterwards often came to me when I was traveling in the Pacific, that this ocean was as vast as outer space, and being on this boat was like shooting from one star to another, the archipelagos like galaxies, and the islands like isolated stars in an empty immensity of watery darkness, and this sailing was like going slowly from star to star, in vitreous night."
This was the first time for me to read a book by Paul Theroux and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I loved learning about all the different islands, their characteristics, history and culture, and general observations made by Theroux about the islands and its inhabitants. It quickly became clear to me that Theroux is a well-experienced traveler, because he manages for the most part to get along with the locals, he tries to speak the pidgin language, always takes notes of certain words in the local languages of the places he visits (which gives him an overview of the striking similarity within Austronesian languages), he can understand the "unspoken" language, always asks permission of villagers if he wants to camp somewhere, always carries gifts along for potential hosts on distant islands, and he is glad to enjoy moments in nature without a camera! Unfortunately, he set out on this trip due to a very sad reason (he was about to get divorced from his first wife).
Also, while I was reading this book, I had to constantly remind myself that all of this was happening in 1991. Back then times were different. In the nineties, the Japanese were the rich people, who were investing in luxury hotels and golf clubs around the Pacific and were notoriously known for over-fishing. The Gulf War was looming ahead and many Pacific islanders were paranoid about the war coming to the Pacific (it happened in WWII) and that it would increase fuel prices. Also, the French were still doing nuclear tests in their Polynesian colonies, which drew heavy criticism from around the world. Fast forward to today, the French have stopped their nuclear experiments, the Japanese influence is probably being counter balanced by the Chinese (who are not much better) and the Gulf War has transformed into yet another war in the Middle East. Global-warming is threatening the Pacific islands like never before and plastic trash is circulating throughout the Pacific Ocean. It makes me so sad to think how much reckless devastation has been brought to and still continues to these islands and they are completely helpless - they cannot fight off the outside influence. Globalization has trumped these islands.
Some interesting notes I took:
* In New Zealand, Maori is taught in schools, and yet in Australia no school teaches any of the Aboriginal languages. (Maybe this has changed in the 21st century?)
* People in Melanesia never say that their ancestors came from another island, instead they have creation stories. On the other hand, Polynesian people are very proud of their sea-faring ancestors, who arrived from other islands.
* Even though Polynesians are descended from great sea-faring people who used complex star maps, most people Paul Theroux came across in Polynesia were extremely hydrophobic people, who easily got seasick.
* And even though the islands are surrounded by the vast ocean with fresh fish, almost everybody in the Pacific prefers to eat canned fish (and of course corned beef, luncheon meat and what have you)
* Many Christian sects trying to find followers in the Pacific.
* Fresh water is becoming an increasing problem in several islands.
* No one in the Pacific fears sharks.
* "They [the Aborigines] were not frightened of snakes. They believed they were related to snakes - to kangaroos, to the whole earth; and they did not see the point where the earth began and their lives ended. It was all part of a continuum, a natural process, in which with the blessings of the gods they whirled around with the rocks and stones and trees."
* Although the natives in the Trobriands often appear to be laughing, violence can suddenly and easily emerge behind those smiles.
* Comparable with the Philippines, Samoa's and Tonga's economies rely heavily on remittances of their compatriots abroad.
* The so-called naked natives in Polynesia have swapped places with the colonizers. Now the natives are covered from head to toe, while the foreign tourists walk around nude under the sun.
"Travel, which is nearly always seen as an attempt to escape from the ego, is in my opinion the opposite. Nothing induces concentration or inspires memory like an alien landscape or a foreign culture. It is simply not possible (as romantics think) to lose yourself in an exotic place. Much more likely is an experience of intense nostalgia, a harking back to an earlier stage in your life, or seeing clearly a serious mistake. But this does not happen to the exclusion of the exotic present. What makes the whole experience vivid, and sometimes thrilling, is the juxtaposition of the present and the past."
"The smaller one feels on the earth, dwarfed by mountains and assailed by weather, the more respectful one has to be - and unless we are very arrogant, the less likely we are to poison or destroy it. In the Pacific the interlopers were doing the most damage - bringing nuclear waste [...], digging a gigantic copper mine at Panguna in the North Solomons, stringing out miles of drift nets to trap and kill every living creature that came near its ligatures, testing nuclear devices at Moruroa Atoll in the Tuomotus."
"I was all for foreign aid, but there was a certain type of aid that undermined people and made them dangerous."
"No one needs their culture more than colonized people. What else do they have?"
"Three hundred years of colonialism have done less harm to the world than thirty years of tourism." (quote by a German writer than Paul Theroux meets)
"Nothing is more expensive than preserving the past."
"Rachel Carson wrote in 'The Sea Around Us,' thirty years ago: in a reasonable world, men would have treated these islands as precious possessions, as natural museums filled with beautiful and curious works of creation, valuable beyond price, because nowhere in the world are they duplicated." -
Damnit Paul Theroux, once again you made this book work by the skin of your teeth. Almost as if you can make your books work by sheer force of will and effort as opposed to any clear message. And somehow that works.
So the gimmick or setting of this Paul Theroux travel book is a year and a half, yup, a year and a half spent traipsing through the Pacific islands with a collapsible kayak. Theroux is a master of creating this fantasy of perfect travel: exquisitely written little vignettes informed by a serious amount of research and firsthand reportage. I certainly learned a ton about a part of the world I had previously known next to nothing about (i.e. the Polynesian expansion, Oceania's missionary legacy, France's insistent nuclear testing, etc.)
However, Theroux does have this smug and knowing damn tone that skirts a few big issues. For a book that discusses the personal lives of so many people Theroux is pretty damn reticent about his own. Like how did he finance this whole thing? Was he really never concerned about money? And why does he keep on dropping references to how sad he is about the failing relationship with his wife without telling us why the heck it's happening? You could argue it's tact, but dropping hints all over the place and then saying you can't talk about it isn't tack, just weird party manners.
In anycase wouldn't even be writing this if Theroux's book weren't so damn good. A lot of gripes but he pulls off a doozy of a wrap up, and in retrospect every individual scene is masterful in its grasp of the human dance of comedy and tragedy. They do end up as just a pile of well written moments however, never linked together by a narrative more complete than the financially mysterious and romantically ambiguous journey of Theroux from island to island. -
Travel writing isn't easy. I've read books that start off as engaging, but quickly lose the reader with dense facts, boring subtleties and the rigors of a timeline based storytelling ("this happened, and then this happened, and then this happened."). Yes, this book has the facts, the subtleties and the rigors, but they are never too dense or rigorous or boring. Paul Theroux is a gifted writer and in this book, he managed to keep me hooked all through its 528 pages. The fact that I traveled to Islands in the South Pacific while reading this book helped. I was able to make connections, layer my own little observations on top of Theroux's rich tapestry to create a resonating picture in my mind. But even if you've never traveled to this part of the world, I suspect you'll still deeply enjoy this book, for the writing is witty, insightful, and madly entertaining.
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Fajny opis ciekawej podróży. No i w bonusie opis jak wyglądała Wyspa Wielkanocna 30 lat przed moją wizytą 😉
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Huh. Well. What to say about this book that won't put off the rest of my book club fellows before they've read it.
I did not enjoy this book. I think it probably could've been named "The Depressing Isles of Oceania" and been a lot more accurate.
The author is not a very happy person as he travels in his collapsible kayak around the isles. This is perhaps a bit understandable as he & his wife have just split up.
However, there doesn't seem to be anything that can make him happy. People are either too helpful, or not helpful enough. He's desperately afraid that he's going to be robbed in (American and Western) Samoa. He really seems to have a problem with fat people (repeatedly mentioning that certain islanders are fat, such as Samoans, Tongans, various chiefs, etc.).
He searches for the decadence of the mythical South Pacific, but seems a little disturbed when it's actually hinted at. He abhors religious (which, fine, I'm not fond of it either), but actually will challenge and mock individuals for their faith. I'm always up for a debate, but I think he mistook the word "debate" for "baiting."
I have never been anywhere close to the Isles Mr. Theroux visits (not even Hawaii...sigh), and although I do believe they're likely not the paradise depicted by films and books, I have a hard time believing that they are as sad & depressed & lazy & gluttonous & obnoxious & unfriendly & nosy as they are depicted in this book.
In one of what I thought was the most telling passages in the book, Mr. Theroux scoffs at anthropologist Thor Heyerdahl's belief that the Moai statues on Easter Island could not have been created by the Polynesian inhabitants of the island**: "Probably the most obnoxious aspect of Heyerdahl is that he appears to display a deep bias, bordering on contempt, against Polynesians. In Fatu-Hiva, he maintains that the Marquesans are too lazy to have create the ambitious stonework and carvings on Hiva Oa." This is funny, considering he spends a lot of the book's chapters talking about the laziness of the Pacific Islanders (from the chapter on American Samoa): "[The American Samoans:] were victimizers, they were oafish, and lazy, and defiant, and disrespectful."
Overall, I hope that Mr. Theroux is in a happier place now (he seemed much happier in Hawaii, although whether that was due to the fact that he was beginning to accept his divorce, or whether the comforts of America were all he needed for a good cheer up, I can't say) - and I'd like to read another book about this region from a more positive point of view.
**I am trying to say that the reason he scoffs is what amuses me - it's been proven that the Easter Islanders are in fact of Polynesian (Marquesas, I think) descent, and that they did, indeed, create the Moai statues. -
This book was really neat. Mr. Theroux took a year to kayak around many Pacific islands in a collapsible travel kayak. He navigates around sharks, warring tribes, head hunters, and new age Hawaiians. I found that he was happier in this book than some others. He is a sharp observer, even if I don't agree with all his thoughts. He shows how travel can test one's civility. I appreciate that he doesn't hide this, and shares his experiences warts and all. Culture shock sneaks up on you, surprises you, and makes you grow. His readers can do this from the safety of their armchairs. This book makes one want to set up a kayak rental shop in Sulawesi. Someone told me there are great whites there though. Books are dangerous.
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Paul Theroux’s The Happy Isles of Oceania
I’m a big fan of Paul Theroux, at least his travel literature (the only novel of his I’ve read is Waldo, his debut, which, despite moments of hilarity, doesn’t quite come off). In the travel genre, I’ve read his The Great Railway Bazaar, The Kingdom by the Sea, The Pillars of Hercules, Dark Star Safari, Riding the Iron Rooster, and Ghost Train to the Eastern Star.
The Great Railway Bazaar is a masterpiece, the others merely very good to outstanding. Time magazine called The Happy Isles of Oceania (1992) “possibly his best,” and I wondered, as I took up the book, whether this were overstatement or requisite gushing, the deification of another American intellectual. But Happy Isles really is possibly his best – possibly. It’s certainly his most unique. Theroux has become famous for being “that travel writer who travels by train,” yet here he explores 51 Pacific islands mainly by foot and collapsible kayak. He could have rented cars (and he did, occasionally) and trudged around the more developed areas (he does, sometimes), but no, this author is prone to doing things the hard way – exploring the middles of myriad nowhere, and even setting up camp – and the reader is rewarded for it.
Happy Isles is divided into four happy parts: Meganesia (New Zealand and Australia), Melanesia (the Trobiands, the Solomons, Vanuatu, Fiji), Polynesia (Tonga, Western Somoa, American Somoa, Tahiti, the Cook Islands, the Marquesas, and Easter Island), and what Theroux calls Paradise (the Hawaiian Islands). The isles are diverse, yet similar. Words have travelled thousands of kilometers, and the writer talks about how most islanders have a sense of family, of connectedness. And this is what Theroux doesn’t have; he’s just broken up with his wife, and his journey is a sort of cathartic, extended “walkabout.”
The volume is ironically named. Though there are happy inhabitants in the South Pacific islands, or at least contented ones, the writer reports on the despondent, the taunting, the slow-witted, and the downright peculiar: a man standing up to his neck in a lagoon while puffing on a cigarette; another cradling and cuddling with a large pig. The first Iraq War is on, and people in the Solomons worry about the war spreading to their islands. There are harbours of fish, yet people eat canned tuna and spam. Beaches are often used as communal toilets or dumps. Locals warn the paddler he’ll never make it to that distant island, yet he usually does in an hour; the witch winds and sinister currents people speak of never make an appearance. Villages are often threadbare – huts and what not; missionaries have convinced islanders they are sinners, and the Mormons are out recruiting souls for their planet in outer space. And even where there things are more “civilized” they are buggered. The French have politicized Tahiti beyond repair and ruined fragile ecosystems with their atomic bombs; residents of Queensland drink too much and have racist views about the “abos.” Theroux probes and ponders, questions and interrogates. He draws people out, and jots down what they say. He plays botanist, beachcomber, anthropologist, investigative journalist, humourist, historian, philosopher, and bum – and he does it all so well. Above all, he is a snoop, one with an appreciation for the outdoors, a limitless curiosity, a sharp understanding of human nature, and a gloating abhorrence for political correctness.
In addition to being his most personal book, this is arguably Theroux’s funniest. Consider this chapter intro:
In the way that tardy and negligent people are often blame-shifting and chronically mendacious, many of the Tongans I met in Nuku’alofa were unreliable, and some outright liars – or, to put it charitably, they meant very little of what they said. This could be tiresome in a hot climate. My solution was to take my boat to a part of Tonga where there were no Tongans.
In another bit, the narrator describes a tribal chief as being visible as tribal chief because he had on a less dirty shirt. There’s no racism here, for Theroux lambasts all – his description of a pompous New Zealand politician stuffing her gob with meat is deserving of a commemorative plaque. But he’s respectful and charitable when people are generous, informative, and normal. Like most sensible people, he just doesn’t suffer fools.
There are great “characters” in the “story,” and you’ll learn tonnes about the region: everything from how to get by in Pidgin English to the complex social structure of Honolulu. I’ve read Bill Bryson’s Down Under, but Theroux better conveys what Australia is like in about 50 pages. When Theroux is exploring Easter Island, Vanuatu, and the Marquesas you feel as though you’re exploring it, too. Travel literature can take you far, far away, and Paul Theroux is a superb guide.
If I have any criticism about the book it’s the usual one for Theroux: it could have been whittled down a little. Sometimes, there are sections where not much happens, though that makes for balance and mimics the experience. When travelling, it’s normal for not much to happen. Still, 528 pages could have been 475, maybe 450.
Paul Theroux remains the godfather of travel literature. There may be others who, on a technical level, write better (Jan Morris, Colin Thubron), but Theroux writes exceptionally well – the descriptive prose in this book is visceral and exquisite. As far as travel writers go (and travel writing is such a rich genre), no one has nearly as much to say.
Troy Parfitt is the author of Why China Will Never Rule the World -
https://poseidons99.wordpress.com/202... -
The south sea islands! Stevenson's Samoa, Gauguin's Tahiti, Melville's "Typee," Michener's "Tales of the South Pacific" (with music by Rodgers and Hammerstein), Heyerdahl's "Kon Tiki." Theroux brings their story up to date in a long and detailed travelogue, covering an extensive territory.
His journey starts with New Zealand and Australia, parts of the prosperous western world, though their native inhabitants do not seem to share much of that prosperity. It ends in Hawaii, which also seems familiar. But in between he moves off the beaten track to the Solomon islands, the Marquesas, Tonga, Fiji, Tahiti, Easter island, and some whose names I had never heard until I opened this book--Vanuatu, Aitutaki, Trobriand islands, Vava'u group.
A travelogue on television usually involves more than meets the eye--a camera crew is always around, and what seems spontaneous often isn't. Not so here. Theroux travels alone, carrying a collapsible kayak for travel around and between islands; he talks to countless natives and visitors, learns pidgin, collects words (all Polynesian languages seem related), camps in his small tent on deserted beaches and no doubt, takes copious notes throughout his trip.
Like other travel books by Theroux, this one too seems a bit too personal--too many pronouncements, too much of the writer's ego, and the reader may also wish for more passion for the islanders. No matter: so much is crammed here that the reader is swept up by the story. It is an easy read, most chapters stand on their own and it makes little difference whether you read them in order or skip around.
The lush islands and the sunny lagoons are all still there, but times have changed. Having fought bitterly over some of these islands in World War II, the world has largely lost interest in them. Once again they are a backwater of civilization, and once again their inhabitants have to live austerely off fish, coconuts, yams and foraging pigs. The old culture, though, is fading: old seafaring skills are neglected and lost, and ancient traditions are smothered by missionary Christianity. Alcohol, rock music and canned food make inroads: societies which until recently had lived in the stone age do not adapt gracefully to modern times.
And yet. And yet, life on these islands still echoes old tribal ways, and as Theroux drifts from one island to another, he experiences many interesting encounters. It is a world tourists rarely see: read this book and catch a glimpse of it, for it might not last much longer.
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I also chose this book, Happy Isles of Oceania: Paddling the Pacific, by Paul Theroux, in preparation for our trip to Hawaii (alas, now at least a month in the past). Mr. Theroux describes the journey he began in New Zealand, a journey essentially retracing the steps (!) of the ancient Polynesians as they settled the islands of the Pacific. Mr. Theroux traveled by airplane, not by outrigger canoe, but he carried a little collapsible boat with him, and made sure to get some paddling in at each island.
I've read several books by Mr. Theroux before, and have always thoroughly enjoyed his observations and envied his travels. He is a bit of a curmudgeon and does not shy from injecting a fair amount of the personal (indeed, I suppose he is simply explicit about the degree to which his travel writing is subjective, which other writers simply do not acknowledge) in his book. This said, I was flabbergasted to reach the section on Hawaii -- fully expecting a peevish complaint about tourism and tourists -- to find Mr. Theroux relaxing and enjoying himself. Upon arriving there myself, I understood.
I was most interested in Mr. Theroux's ongoing tally of Polynesian words that are cognate from island to island, whether Tahiti, Fiji, Easter Island, or on Hawaii itself. I was most saddened by his descriptions of the loss of seafaring, fishing (and thus was elated beyond all measure to eat, in Hawaii, a native Hawaiian fish that we bought from a local fisherman), and navigational skills of the islanders, and was fascinated by the theory -- advanced by an anthropologist and repeated by Mr. Theroux -- that cannabalism is the result of a food scarcity, and not the by-product of war or religion. The theory seems to postulate that war and religion were essentially used as after-the-fact justifications for cannabalism, rather than its raison(s) d'etre. I suppose we're all animals first, and thinking, rational beings second. -
This book was my first Paul Theroux. I probably got it almost twenty years ago, and have read and read and read it. What is he looking for, in this tough moment in his life? I admire his ability to resist making himself look good in every book, but in this one in particular, he is vulnerable and open in his need to find comfort in the familiar, the interesting, the strange. I'm reading it again right now, for the twenty-somethingth time. He's in the Troubled Trobriands right now. I'm not sure why I find this particular book so soothing. I suppose it's a wish that I'd have the money or the time or freedom to deal with my own angst by exploring, with an open mind.
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If you seek a book about a bitter, narcissist raining elitist disdain on peoples of every culture and circumstance, seek no more.
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"What I find is that you can do almost anything or go almost anywhere, if you're not in a hurry."
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Surprisingly good comparing to other books of "the-ultimate-train-traveller" Paul Theroux. I like the way he describes the atmosphere, culture and heritage of the pacific islands. After that book, a kayaking on the south seas is definitely a new high priority on my bucket list ;)
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Theroux takes planes, ferries, helicopters, and his kayak around fifty-odd Pacific islands. As usual, he's critical of all he sees, occasionally hypocritical, observant but prone to overgeneralization, often unhappy. But, he experiences a lot, he gets into conversation with a lot of people without taking advantage of them, he's funny. I think what distinguishes this from the previous Theroux I read, "Dark Star Safari," is that Theroux overall very much enjoys his travels through the Pacific, and doesn't want them to end. The final set piece, of a total eclipse in Hawaii, is a little awkward, but still a cute ending.
> Paddling along, the sound of the paddle or the slosh of the boat would startle the fish, and they would leap from the water and skim across the waves, shimmying upright, balancing on their tails – more than one, often eight or ten fish dancing across my bow as I paddled towards a happy island.
> “If someone, say your mother, gets bad sick, you feed your pig a lot of food. Get him fat.” “Because you might need him for your mother’s funeral?” “Right.” I could just imagine a sick Tongan’s sense of doom when he or she looked out the hut window and saw the family pig fattened. “Also your horse.” “To be in the funeral procession?” “Not the procession but the feast. We eat the horses.”
> Even with my stinging arm in this choppy sea, I would rather be here among the cathedral-like contours of the cliffs on this high island than seeing its architectural equivalent in Europe – and I knew that the next time I saw Westminster Abbey or Notre-Dame I would be instantly reminded of the soaring Na Pali coast and miss it terribly. -
A combination travelogue and personal reflection, Theroux provides us with his impressions as he travels and paddles his portable kayak from Australia to Hawaii. He visits each of the island groups of the Pacific and provides his impressions of the people who inhabit them and their culture.
Filled with Theroux's witty and humorous observations, the book is a commentary of the clash of the native people and the European's who sought paradise at the expense of native language, culture and sovereignty. Theroux is merciless regarding the pillaging of these beautiful natural gifts, particularly the French nuclear poisoning of islands and reefs with their ill-advised "testing."
Theroux has a unique gift for connecting with the native peoples and presenting their stories, both positive and negative. He praises those who have struggled to retain their cultures in spite of the zealous interference of missionaries and tourists, while excoriating those who have become lazy and dependent on handouts from those who have moved in and taken their land and heritage from them.
I thoroughly enjoyed this book, even though much of the information is probably dated. Theroux is opinionated but fair in his assessments, and immensely entertaining in the process. -
I am now 45 years old and this is the first Paul Theroux book I have read (add a suitably embarrassed emoji). I have seen the Mosquito Coast film and most of his travel books are on my wishlist. This is not a Bill Bryson laugh out loud or a Michael Palin pleasant trip with many helpers but a one man tour-de-force in a collapsible kayak.
I admit it did take me a little time to get into but was rewarding once I did. What an insight to these islands and the people this book is. Don't expect a lovely little travelogue of meeting wonderful people on paradise islands. Theroux gets down and dirty. He meets the good the bad and the downright ugly and that stands for both the people and the islands.
We meet christian preachers, seventh-day Adventists and Jon Frum worshippers. He talks to many islanders and certainly meets some characters in his over 50 island journey.
Why only the three stars? I thought it was over-long and I would have preferred more detailed maps of where he went and his route. That would have been a lovely accompaniment. -
This travel book by my favorite travel author, Paul Theroux, did not disappoint. Written back in 1992, it is an account of a trip taken through the Pacific Islands shortly after the breakup of his first marriage. Setting off from New Zealand, he travels to Papua New Guinea and then follows the clusters of islands throughout the Pacific Ocean, passing through Easter Island and finishing his trip in Hawaii. Not everything is pleasant in the Happy Isles as I learned that the island of Kahoolawe, just off Maui, had been used for target practice by the U.S. military for over fifty years. There were other issues as well such as trash littered beaches and coves full of styrofoam containers and bottles. It was an eye-opener for me. I wonder if things have improved over the past 23 years since it was written. I sure hope so. Paul Theroux, now 83, will come out with another travel book "Deep South: Four Seasons on Back Roads" later this month. Looking forward to it!
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Tropical paradise? Forget about it! After divorcing his first wife,
Paul Theroux went for a long journey in the South Pacific, visiting all of 51 islands. The result of his travels was
The Happy Isles of Oceania: Paddling the Pacific, a somewhat less than halcyon view of Oceania, including Australia, New Zealand, and Hawaii. Perhaps the collapse of his marriage had something to do with it, but Theroux did not find much to like in the Happy Isles: In fact, most places get an outright pan, as having been despoiled by a combination of missionaries and developers.
This is my second reading of the book, which is fascinating throughout. Perhaps there are no Happy Isles. If that's true, it's an important lesson to take to heart. -
I always like to spend my travel time with the world's leading chronicler of assorted miseries, Paul Theroux, and the idea of the South Pacific has been quite appealing to me lately. He finds things to love-- Hawaii, Easter Island, the Trobriands-- and a great deal to hate as well. And when he hates, he often delivers a hell of a zinger-- that the Fijians, once cannibals, now wanted to push their Indian population out, like diners sending a meal back to the kitchen, for instance.
But oftentimes, he's something I would never have expected from him-- craven. This is a travel writer who's generally been pretty good about accepting local cultures on their own terms. In his other books, he seems a bit more willing to actually investigate. In The Happy Isles of Oceania, he comes off more as a whiny tourist. -
This book honestly does have some solidly entertaining moments, but Theroux's whole gig was just to complain about everything the whole time while insisting that actually he's just being neutral.
It just seemed like he was in a really cranky and judgmental mood, and he literally didn't enjoy himself once until he got to Hawaii, which is where he spends the last 55 pages of the book. Overall the tone of the book was just too negative to be really enjoyable or transporting, which are pretty much the only qualities I look for in travel writing. I'll keep reading Theroux's stuff because he definitely can write well, but I just hope he visits somewhere that he actually wants to go at some point! -
Have read a number of Paul Theroux’s books, this may have been the best so far. I realised why I like his style while reading this one. He is brutally honest, has a dry, darker sense of humour and spends longer telling you about the people he meets, more than the places he visits.
Of course, he describes the Polynesian islands in good detail but he retells his conversations and meetings with the local inhabitants so well, it’s the people that matter.
I learned a lot about all the islands included in this book, in Meganesia, Melanesia and Polynesia. He gives a good historic background of the islands contrasting this with their modern day situation.
Enjoyable, page turning, informative and not your conventional ‘travel’ book. -
This was a good book, but it gets tiring when he doesn't like any of the islands until he gets to Hawaii and into a posh hotel. I would rather read a travel writer that found interest in people in other countries instead of pointing out the bad. All I remember was his complaining about how the natives used to ocean for garbage and the restroom, and then the posh hotel in Hawaii.
