Despite his intellectual protestations to the contrary, Paul sets off in much the same way as Gaugin and others before him to find a world which never existed. Having recently separated from his wife, he embarks on a journey which could never satisfy and, finding the internal emptiness still present, proceeds to take out his frustration on the mirage which has haunted so many great artists before him.
In turn he savagely attacks islanders, Christians, the Japanese, the French, and any other group of people unfortunate enough to cross his path. The only people who seem to satisfy him are a group of islanders who celebrate a sexual freedom similar to that reported by early visitors to the region.
In his anger over the confimation of what he always knew to be a dream, he finds true companionship only in his own thoughts and solitude. In the process, unfortunately, he provides a superficial meandering through the landscape (seascape?) of a little understood region of the world.
But, then again, this is exactly what I like about this book. Frustrated negativism aside, Theroux provides a sufficient dose of current reality and informative history to serve as a foundation for deep thought by the careful reader. Rather than direct the audience through his own thought processes and conclusions, his transparent disappointment encourages others to come to their own conclusions.
Having worked for the past five years in this part of the world, I can appreciate the accuracy of his writing while seeing through the bias with which it is presented. I would encourage others to enjoy this book and to gain a glimpse into the contradictory world of Pacific island life. One can only wonder, however, how differently it may have been written had the author approached the region during a different season of his life.
