Nonfiction Book Reviews

Sex Lives of Cannibals by J Maarten Troost

The first time I saw The Sex Lives of Cannibals: Adrift in the Equatorial Pacific by J Maarten Troost at the library, I was pretty shocked. That is *ahem* a very memorable title, and I remember wondering who would ever read that book.

Turns out, I would.

After the second or third time that I saw it while doing check-in, I flipped the book over and read the back to see what it was really about – surely this was not some sort of study done on the native tribes of the Pacific and their sex lives, right? As I read the description (which seemed to be decidedly bereft of any cannibals or sex acts) I became intrigued. I decided to give it a try.

I can now officially state that I have found a new favorite author. This was, quite possibly, the funniest book I have ever read.  I laughed until my sides ached.  There ought to be some sort of liquids warning attached to this book – I choked more than once while trying to drink and read.  A dangerous thing to do if you’ve checked the book out of the library.  Librarians are less than enthused when you return their book with grape juice sprayed across the pages (I ought to know).

So here’s the book in a nutshell: Troost has been going through the motions of life for a while – he had an advanced degree from an expensive university, and lots of student loans, but no desire to actually use what he got his degree in (international relations). He worked as a temp doing office work for a while and some other random jobs, but he couldn’t find anything that he really wanted to do.

Both he and his girlfriend, Sylvia wanted to go abroad, so they both started applying for international jobs.  Sylvia got a job offer first, and so off they moved to the South Pacific to a country called Kiribati (pronounced kir-ee-bas).  For the next two years, they lived literally in the middle of nowhere, on top of a tiny island with less square footage than most metropolitan cities here in the US.  The government was corrupt, inept, and stupid; and the people knew little about sanitation and even less about modern inventions like air conditioning or computers.

There were serious moments to this book, but the majority of the book I spent laughing uproariously.  Think of a version of Dave Barry that sticks to the facts (most of the time), and that pretty much describes Troost’s writing style. A Dave Barry who lived in the middle of nowhere for two years, and living to tell the tale about it afterwards.  That about sums up this book.

As for the title of the book, I have to say that it was the only part of the book that I was disgruntled about.  The publishers (or author?) purposefully picked a title that would be eye-catching (and eyebrow raising) just to increase sales.  There is very, very little to do with either cannibals or sex acts in this book, in case anyone was wondering.

Here’s a small snatch of the book – if you don’t think this is funny, there is a good chance you may be dead.  Just thought I’d warn you. They are flying from one island to another, and this is his thoughts on that flight:

After bowel movements, the state of Air Kiribati was the favorite topic of conversation on Tarawa. Did you hear about when the plane ran out of fuel midair and had to glide in for a landing, someone will say. Or…About when the engine died, or About when the pilot passed out mid-flight or About when they forgot to turn the beacon on at the airport, or, my favorite, The pilot let me fly the plane. Distressingly, these were not mere rumors. I had never been so uneasy about boarding a flight…

I nearly lost a few pounds when I contemplated the plane we were about to fly. This was an old Spanish prop plane that predated Franco. It tilted ominously, exuding an air of exhaustion. As the airport official clucked and fretted over our small, featherlight backpacks, I watched the pilot stand on a stepladder and tug at a wing until it aligned with the other wing. Then I smoked eighteen cigarettes. Even Sylvia asked a cigarette. Sylvia doesn’t smoke.

I did not want to cause a scene, but walking across the tarmac I did feel it was my duty to highlight to the members of Td Iitibwerere that the two engines were connected to the wings with masking tape. Really. They regarded this as very funny, and I knew then that the I-Kiribati would remain forever unfathomable to me. It was explained to us that the masking tape wasn’t actually connecting the engines to the wings, but merely covering up the parts of the plane that were corroded through with rust, and strangely, as I regarded the swaths of masking tape elsewhere on the fuselage, I didn’t really feel that much better.
~Page 209 – 210 of Sex Lives of Cannibals

I’m sorry for the length, but I just had to include the whole story. If that at all seemed funny to you, then a) Good news – you’re alive, and b) You need to read this book. If I were to compile a must-read nonfiction book list, this would be number one on the list for sheer entertainment value (although you also learn a lot about that corner of the world, and more specifically, how very, very much you do not want to live at that corner of the world.)

Troost has since written two other books, Getting Stoned with Savages and Lost on Planet China. I will definitely pick these up and read them. Based on the reviews on Amazon, it looks like they are both along the same lines as Sex Lives of Cannibals, which is a definite plus for me!

I give Sex Lives of Cannibals 4.75 out of 5 stars. I docked the quarter star because I’m still miffed about the title. Otherwise, it was a terrific read.