Customer Reviews

The Sex Lives of Cannibals: Adrift in the Equatorial Pacific

5 star:		(92)
4 star:		(39)
3 star:		(12)
2 star:		(11)
1 star:		(2)

 

 

You know how you feel when you've just finished a really good book and want to tell everyone you know about it? That is how I feel about THE SEX LIVES OF CANNIBALS. During the first few chapters I was laughing out loud so much and reading passages to my husband so often that he mentioned he wouldn't even have to read the book. However since he formerly lived in the Marshall Islands, this book hits home to him and he could hardly wait until I was done to grab it from my hands.

Maarten and Sylvia have no idea what they're getting themselves into when Sylvia agrees to a two-year contact to work on Tarawa, a remote island in the equatorial Pacific islands also known as Kiribas (The Gilbert Islands).

This was LOL funny in so many places! Maarten's turn of a phrase is so clever that he makes one laugh in the face of a nearly intolerable situation living on this remote island - part of which is so crowded it rivals Hong Kong in population density. The 20th century wasn't kind to these islanders. Their unique culture juxtaposed with the creations of the 20th century is very nearly ruining their culture. But Troost is able to find nearly everything funny (even though one wonders if he felt it was that funny at the moment) including the bowel habits of the natives. On the back of the book in Maarten's brief bio, it is revealed that he and is wife are living in California. One can only hope that he is becoming the writer for a sit-com. He makes other authors of humor/travel memoir seem dull in comparison. If I would compare him to anyone it would be Erma Bombeck-the way he is able to find hilarity in even the most mundane things.

This book deserves to be a bestseller and hopefully by word of mouth it will be.

Troost and his wife truly do go to the end of the world, to a tiny country in the equatorial Pacific, and live in an alternate reality. Troot's misadventures with the town's hygiene and sanitation, the toxic fish, a complete lack of vegetation, limited dry goods, cannibalistic dogs, a rundown airplane, high seas on a plywood boat, and the like are relayed to the reader with humor and wit. Beer is popular because it "tends to be parasite-free and calorie-laden, two very useful attributes on Tarawa." At first, Troost is an outsider, shocked by the island going-ons, but over the course of his two years there, he truly adopts the island lifestyle, so much that America is a complete culture shock for husband and wife when the part ways with Kiribati.

Troost makes some insightful comments on infrastructure--he took for granted in his previous life that water and electricity came to your house by magic. On Kiribati, he has hilariously eye-opening experiences ensuring a supply of both.

Throughout the book Troost recounts the history of Kiribati, its culture, and its relationship to the outside world. He actually does a real service to the island by recording the oral tradition and myth, and placing it in context with the slim amount of published literature on Kiribati. Over the course of his stay, he grows to be a real defender of the nation. When Kiribati sincerely accepts the offer of a British drunkard to become their Poet Laureate, the global media has quite a laugh at the nation's quaint nature. Troost is certain to set the truth straight about the lout who only lasted a few months in Kiribati.

The author describes living for two years in Kiribati, an ex-British colony in the Pacific Ocean that is now independent. He thought he was moving to a tropical paradise, but instead found that even in the national capital, people would regularly defecate in the lagoon, the grocery stores couldn't keep basic staples in stock, and water and electric supplies were irregular at best. He speaks of the Kiribati people with enormous and sincere affection, but a reader can't avoid the conclusion that these islands would be better off if they were still a British colony.

Troost writes in a light, humourous tone, making this book a pleasure to read, although there are places where Troost is a little too cute for his own good. A few photos would have been a nice touch, and is it asking too much for the publisher to include a map? And by the way, the title is misleading - there is very little here about sex and nothing about cannibalism. A book this good does not need the cheap gimmick of a misleading title.

One would think that "The Sex Lives of Cannibals" was a psychological reference book about the libidinous habits of Hannibal Lector and friends. Actually, it refers to the historical beginnings of the peoples on a remote Pacific island called Tarawa. The ancesters of those native to the atoll apparently lost their men to invading cannibals who went on to procreate with their women through force, creating a non-descript race of islanders. Not exactly what immediately comes to mind upon reading the title of J. Maarten Troost's first novel, a true story about his two year adventure on a small piece of land in the middle of the an endless bowl of water.

It all begins with Troost's lethargic approach toward his job. He's fed up with it. When his girlfriend Silvia is given the opportunity to work in a program designed to benefit the health and environment of the Gilbert Islands, Troost joins the unemployed and goes with her. Thus begins their whirlwind island lifestyle amid searing heat, lackluster living conditions, consistent health problems and just overall doing without. Many of their trials are humiliating, frustrating, inhuman and sad.

Tarawa has no waste disposal system so people relieve themselves in the ocean. Refuse piles up along its narrow roads and beaches, ignored. The author's cement, vermin-infested dwelling place is considered prime living compared to the thatched homes of the natives. Other countries bully them, depleting their only revenue of tuna by greedily fishing in Tarawa's coveted waters. They have no working fire trucks, have to use sticks instead of toilet paper and four hours of electricity isn't only a rare gift, but a pleasant surprise. Dogs are disease-ridden predators that prowl in huge packs, eating their own in sheer desperation. The daily menu is fish, fish and more fish. Boil your water and you might just go a day without parasites polluting your insides. These are the things poor city-dwellers Maarten and Silvia dealt with on a daily basis from the moment they stepped off the rickety plane that had to abort its first landing because pigs were on the runway.

The best way to experience the hardships of others is to walk around in their shoes. Troost did this with reluctant gusto and there's a feeling of dread in every chapter that most of us can't identify with. The descriptions are harrowing, from Tarawa's ridiculous do-nothing government to the I-Kiribati's (pronounced Kee-ree-bas) unusual preoccupation with the song "Macarena." The people seem amicable enough, just dealing with the cards fate dealt them in that laid-back island way. Most of them don't know what it's like to have a vcr or to use a toilet or have air conditioning. They don't steal, preferring to rely on the "bubuti" system of just saying, "I bubuti you for your shirt," or "I bubuti you for bus fare." It sounds like an agreeable way of life at first, but it's also a good way to go broke. Luckily(?) most of the people don't have much anyway.

That's just one example of Troost's depiction of his own culture shock after settling in Tarawa. He goes on to show us much, much more. And he does it in a funny, clever prose that sometimes veers off into rambling or preaching. He benefits from his time away from the states, even when he complains of being harassed by drunken villagers. The only real drawback of the piece is the lack of personality or character in his wife-to-be, Silvia. Wasn't she the reason they were there in the first place? Troost mostly writes about the heinous living conditions and his interactions with the I-Kiribati. Silvia is often ignored and gives very little to the experience. But that can be overlooked - those people have experienced enough as it is.

Author J. Maarten Troost and his girlfriend Sylvia moved in their mid-twenties, in the late 90s, to Tarawa, the capital of the Republic of Kiribati, a country in the equatorial Pacific that is composed of 33 atolls--comprising in toto a mere 300 square miles--spread across a patch of ocean as big as the continental United States. Sylvia had been hired as the new director of the Kiribati office of the Foundation for the Peoples of the South Pacific, succeeding in this position an ostensibly malevolent, angular woman who, as she herself explained--dyspeptically, ill-omenedly--just couldn't take it anymore. Troost, who had recently finished graduate school in Washington D.C. and was looking to avoid serious work, and who besides had a yen for travel in lesser-known locales, was in Kiribati as a hanger-on and adventurer. He would also, of course, serve as a chronicler of the exotica to be encountered.

Among the first things Troost found worthy of thus chronicling after his arrival in Kiribati was his first blissful swim in the Pacific--all palm trees and booming surf and brilliant sun--an idyllic atmosphere that was marred by what Troost found waiting for him in the shallows when he waded back to shore: there, directly between the author and dry land, was a large pair of defecating human buttocks, whose owner soon took to wiping himself with twigs and casting aloft these feces-laden utensils on the outgoing tide...outgoing, that is, in the direction of our in-wading author. Troost later discovered that at low tide the beaches of his atoll tended to be pockmarked by reeking piles of human and animal waste.

Apart from fecal matters, which seem to loom very large indeed on Tarawa, Troost discusses the surprising abundance of fabric softener on the atoll (surprising, that is, as the I-Kiribati do not own a single dryer among them), the difficulty of riding a bike in an equatorial climate on a road covered with pigs and chickens while holding a large, wet fish, and the unexpected allure of cannibalism: "I had no desire to eat anyone's arm, but once you've digested raw sea worms and boiled moray eels you begin to think a little more creatively about what precisely constitutes food." There are, besides, bits of good-humored, informative narrative thrown in. In a section on the ethnic origins of the I-Kiribati, for example, Troost writes of the possibility that the original population of the atoll had once been displaced--read "eaten"--by savage Polynesians from Samoa:

"The Polynesians worshipped the god Rongo, and what Rongo liked was human flesh. The sails of their war canoes were creatively decorated with the likeness of a human head, called te bou-uoua. There was another crest called tim-tim-te-rara. This translates as drip-drip-the-blood, a reference to the heads driven on stakes that Rongo liked to see scattered around like knickknacks. So, picture lolling about on the beach, idly scanning the horizon, when suddenly you see hundreds of warriors approach in canoes bedecked with the image of a severed head. It's not going to be a good day."

This sort of fish-out-of-water memoir--Troost calls it a "travel, adventure, humor, memoir kind of book"--depends for its success not so much on the otherness of the location under discussion: the mores and denizens of a local diner can probably seem interesting and alien enough to warrant a book given the proper write-up. Success depends rather on the personality and writerly wit of its author. And J. Maarten Troost is a very fine writer indeed. The Sex Lives of Cannibals is a funny and charming and even eye-opening little book, just the thing to take to the beach.... But do be on the lookout for any incoming severed-head-bedecked boats.

Reviewed by Debra Hamel, author of Trying Neaira: The True Story of a Courtesan's Scandalous Life in Ancient Greece

I picked up this book as an impulse; the title was intriguing.

It's a very funny read; I laughed out loud numerous times which I rarely do when reading. With the humor there were some social/political issues that did get one thinking. I appreciated the fact that Troost never preached or got on some political band wagon. Regardless, there were issues explored that caused me to ponder man's existence on this planet.

It is a quick read; it's hard to put down.

Troost's writing style is somewhat academic; even he makes comments on his long sentences. However, once the reader gets used to his style, it's engaging.

I can not recommend this book any more highly.

I admit I was sucked in by the title of this book. I mistakenly purchased it, believing it was a piece of fiction. I quickly realized my error when I noticed the word "travelogue" on the spine. That word filled me with terror as I envisioned a boring read about a place I had no real interest in. I couldn't have been more wrong. This is an excellent book for anyone who has the slightest hint of a sense of humor. J. Maarten Troost is a fantastically funny author, whose willingness to self-deprecate is displayed at every turn. He is human and the majority of the experiences he shares in his novel about the South Pacific ring true. Whether he is describing battling the stormy sea in a small, rickety boat or meeting the locals and partaking of their traditions, he is honest. We learn as much about the author and his pseudo-wife, as we do about the islands he visits and the people he befriends. Each chapter is brilliantly introduced with clever summaries that will have you laughing out loud. Enjoy this book. It deserves nothing less.

I think the author used the title just to grab our attention. Duh! Of course there aren't any cannibals in the book--you can tell if you read the back cover. This is a humorous, fascinating look into an island who is responding---or not, to Americanization. Its a look into how a modern young, educated couple could survive in the Tropics, if they really could persevere. I don't know if I could've made it through all that the author and his beloved Sylvia could have. The trials and tribulations they go through are just----winsome. Its like an anthropology lesson and a comic book; the author has done his research and has also maintained a respect for his subject.
This book is "light" meaning that you can easily read it and enjoy it at the pool or at the beach. I recommend an outside setting when you read it. It adds to the ambiance that is set up.
I recommend this story---and look forward to more if the author feels duty bound to write another in say, 10 years or so. Its an unusual type of book, but its worth the read. I'm sharing it with my friends and family!

With the travel writer's classic self-deprecating, fish-out-of-water humor, Troost chronicles his two years on a remote Equatorial Pacific island with as much insight as hilarity. Drifting aimlessly at age 26, he jumps at the chance to join his girlfriend, Sylvia, on her aid-worker posting to Tarawa, in the island nation of Kiribati.

Of decidedly northern sensibilities, he packs jeans and a sweater along with his shorts and flip-flops and imagines an island paradise where he will write a literary masterpiece of a novel. The disillusionment process begins immediately.

His chapter heading (Troost employs witty 19th century-style chapter headings) for arrival: "In which the Author finally sets foot on Distant Tarawa, ... and, Conceding that it is indeed Very Hot on the Equator, he Bravely overcomes his Fear of Sharks and encounters something Much, Much Worse."

By which he means the casual parade of people defecating into the water where he is swimming. Along with no sanitary facilities and bad water, Tarawa has a slum where the population density is the highest on earth - he never explains why they don't spread out to the relatively idyllic northern end - presumably they are not wanted - and of course no one has fuel to boil the water.

Almost nothing grows on the island, which is, in addition, suffering from drought, and because of the pollution, the inshore fish are "guaranteed to induce gastric explosions." Ciguatera toxicity, caused by untreated sewage, and sometimes fatal, is common in larger fish (who concentrate it by eating smaller ones) and everyone everyday consumes fish. And then there's the trash, the most ubiquitous import, which, having no other place to go, litters the beaches.

After a while all this becomes normal and Troost begins to make friends and enemies, adopts a few feral dogs (the major form of wildlife), and goes native enough to discourage the prowling peeping toms who would never dare intrude on their own kind. He learns Kiribati mythology and absorbs some history and gradually begins to understand their customs as something more than inexplicable eccentricities.

Having arrived with rather American notions of safety in terms of food, means of travel, and daily preservation, he discards many of these prejudices, thereby inviting new experiences: he body surfs in shark infested waters, narrowly misses fishing on the high seas in a leaky open canoe, crosses 20-foot storm-tossed seas without getting seasick, and becomes marooned on an island with lobster. "The I-Kiribati do not have a taste for lobster. I believed this was because their taste buds died when the English arrived." Not so, he is told. They avoid lobster because it is a "disgusting reef cleaner." And we know by then, as well as Troost does, what that means on Tarawa.

The isolation of the place is captured perfectly in a chapter on the Clinton-Lewinsky mess: "In which the Author begins to hear rumors of Lurid Happenings in Washington and suddenly he Regrets his Situation, his Location, and Wishes only to have access to a tabloid newspaper, a television, an Internet connection, but he is Denied."

He is scathingly hilarious about the corrupt, inefficient government, the implausible schemes of the World Bank and other international organizations, and US nuclear history in the South Pacific.

But when the two years are up, he and Sylvia are ambivalent about leaving. Indeed, after a short stint back home, Sylvia accepts a position in Fiji, where their son is born. After this wildly funny, witty and informative debut, readers will hope he is planning a Fiji chronicle to follow soon.

Troost's book is just plain funny. You gotta read it and pass it on. Actually there's nothing plain about it... it's original and very witty. The author can really keep you entertained from cover to cover. Having been to the equatorial Pacific and met some of its citizens, I know Troost has invoked poetic license to embellish some of their everyday lives, traits and circumstances (as he admits) and his challenges in getting adjusted to the island life and culture. The result is a successful attempt at light humor that is guaranteed to make this book a "must read." It's a quick antidote to any serious textbook... definitely makes for good book to bring on your next vacation!