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amymo73's review against another edition
4.0
The book recounts the 1995 expedition of former Peace Corps worker Jeffrey Taylor who decides he needs to seek his life's purpose by traveling the Congo in a dugout canoe. I picked up this book upon the recommendation of a friend and as I started it, I was skeptical. Sure the writing was beautiful and his images of then-Zaire, of both the physical and political landscape, were haunting. But did my friend really steer me to a book about another 30-something white male who needed to out on adventure to find himself?
I kept with with the story because at points he hinted at this self-reflexive truth.
I literally cheered out loud when in the final pages of the book, after he had to abandon his journey due to the illness of his guide, he wrote, "I found myself stung by my failure and trying to deny what I would later come to see as obvious: that I had exploited Zaire as a playground on which to solve my own rich-boy existential dilemmas."
And therein lies how this is more than just an adventure travel memoir. It gave me pause to consider the luxury of free time, to consider the suspicion that accompanies a history of violence and exploitation and another lens through which to look at the world. I am lucky in that I do not live hand-to-mouth, that every day is not about the fates of survival, even in a modern American context. I do not have that life experience. But I can cultivate empathy. And perhaps, in fact, being able to cultivate empathy is a luxury of my relative wealth, health and safety.
I kept with with the story because at points he hinted at this self-reflexive truth.
I literally cheered out loud when in the final pages of the book, after he had to abandon his journey due to the illness of his guide, he wrote, "I found myself stung by my failure and trying to deny what I would later come to see as obvious: that I had exploited Zaire as a playground on which to solve my own rich-boy existential dilemmas."
And therein lies how this is more than just an adventure travel memoir. It gave me pause to consider the luxury of free time, to consider the suspicion that accompanies a history of violence and exploitation and another lens through which to look at the world. I am lucky in that I do not live hand-to-mouth, that every day is not about the fates of survival, even in a modern American context. I do not have that life experience. But I can cultivate empathy. And perhaps, in fact, being able to cultivate empathy is a luxury of my relative wealth, health and safety.
lizziekam's review against another edition
3.0
I am endlessly fascinated by stories of adventurers doing insanely dangerous trips, but Tayler's trip seemed like a selfish indulgence, unreasonably risky, and frankly, utterly miserable. I never really understood his motivation beyond the fact that he was bored, being a travel writer in Moscow. I found his descriptions of Mobutu-led Zaire, a totally failed state and its utter desperation to be fascinating, much more interesting than his actual journey down the Congo, which consisted repetitive descriptions of encounters with hostile people, biting mosquitoes, and making camp just before thunderstorms. Meh.
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