this week i took a little vacation from listening to music at work. probably because i had such a rotten day of music with steve's 2008 pop vol. 2 and kelly clarkson's my december. i'd reserved several books on cd at the library and had the opportunity to listen to one while driving to portland last weekend. i was so entertained and excited about this book; if it had been in hard copy, it would have been one of those books you stay up all night reading because it's so good.
the sex lives of cannibals by j. maarten troost is a story about a guy who feels sort of lost in the world, until his girlfriend gets a job on a small island in the south pacific and they move there. their lives are turned upside down, though, they did not move there with such grandiose notions of modern living. and they were open to the experience and adventure. and got just that. the book wasn't really about sex lives, or about cannibals - i suspect the author just used that to get your attention; the book was recommended to me, i didn't even pick it out myself - but about their experiences on this tiny, tiny remote island. what they ate, who they met, the music (la macarena was the main song being played over and over and over, and loudly), the heat, the sweltering heat, the drought and lack of fresh water, the bugs, the people, the culture, the ocean, and most of all, poop. i suppose if he'd named the book something about poop, no one would have wanted to read it.
his style of writing is the kind that i like to read. i would gladly read another. i hope to!
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