Amazon.com Review
In 1966, Allan Weisbecker "made a Manhattan run from the landlocked suburbs" to take in a siren-song movie called
The Endless Summer, a documentary that depicted the carefree life of two beach bums who roamed the world in quest of the perfect wave. Weisbecker was hooked, and he became a hardcore wave rider, a fixture on the Long Island surf scene. With a friend, Christopher, he also undertook illegal ways to finance his passion, transporting drugs from exotic countries, a business only briefly interrupted when Christopher went off to Vietnam. There he took fire and came home scarred; something in him changed, and one day he simply vanished.
Weisbecker's book, a sort of gonzo detective story blended with travelogue and peppered with hang-10 jargon, does many things, all of them very well indeed. It offers up a vision of innocent times brought to ruin by war and drugs; it recounts his search for his lost friend, whose life had gone from bad to worse far away from home; and it affords a look inside the strange culture of surfing, whose masters "understood, in a visceral and soulful and inexpressible way, the machinations of the sea, and, by subtle inference, the universe at large."
Full of regret and exhilaration, Weisbecker's memoir is a fine chronicle of a dream gone sour and a friendship redeemed. --Gregory McNamee
From Publishers Weekly
The foundation of Weisbecker's book packing all of his belongings and his dog into a camper and heading for Central America in search of surf and self, a couple of years short of his 50th birthday has all the makings of a trite, midlife crisis memoir. But the author's flair for describing natural beauty, and his strong sense of narrative rhythm and uncompromising candor, make for a lovely personal reflection that mixes the right amount of dreamy meditation with page-turning allure. Weisbecker (Cosmic Banditos) leaves his Long Island home in search of his childhood friend Christopher, who undertook a similar journey five years earlier and whose only correspondence has been a cryptic postcard signed "Captain Zero." Interspersed in Weisbecker's reports of the people he meets and his neatly composed descriptions of surfing are stories from his past that pace the book, including a hilarious account involving Christopher, an 80-foot banana boat, 10 tons of Colombian marijuana and the front yard of an unsuspecting homeowner on the Housatonic River. Weisbecker clearly delights in storytelling as much as he enjoys language itself, though his writing can get top-heavy; he describes a friend's pest problem as "a zoomorphically motile disarrangement of darting mini-saurians along with fist-sized arachnids and their flossy nets." But usually his imaginative power is better spent, as when he describes an approaching thunderstorm: "The air is charged, buzzing and tingly with ionic discharge seeking ground; then with blinding, brittle bolts that air erupts, illuminating like overexposed photographs the landscape and adjoining sea." Such imagery with a balance of pathos and humor make Weisbecker's account very worthwhile reading.
Copyright 2001 Reed Business Information, Inc.
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