Aku-Aku by Thor Heyerdahl

Chasing secrets on Easter Island

Thor Heyerdahl was an explorer who achieved worldwide fame in the 1950s and ‘60s—not quite as famous as Jacques Cousteau, perhaps, but close. The Norwegian adventurer and experimental archaeologist is best-known for riding a raft across the Pacific Ocean from Peru to French Polynesia, a journey he recounted in his book and Oscar-winning documentary film, both entitled Kon-Tiki. His follow-up to this much-celebrated achievement was an expedition to Easter Island in 1955 and 1956, which is recounted in his book Aku-Aku, published in 1957.

Easter Island, or Rapa Nui, is known for its giant stone heads carved out of lava rock. At the time of Heyerdahl’s trip, little was known about who made them, how they were made, and how the incredibly heavy rocks were transported to and erected at their various locations around the island. The thesis that Heyerdahl spent his life trying to prove is that Polynesian islanders are of American origin, essentially descendants of seafaring Inca or other Indigenous Peruvians. On Easter Island, he looked for evidence to support that theory and did find some correspondence between the artworks of Easter Island and those of the Inca. Heyerdahl was not an academic scientist, which opens him up to criticism by those with PhDs who regard him as merely an adventurer and pseudoscientst, so on this expedition he invited three professional archaeologists along on this expedition.

What amazed me the most about this book was learning that when Heyerdahl’s team arrived on Easter Island, all of the famed statues had been toppled face down in the dirt. This happened during a civil war on the island a couple centuries earlier. Heyerdahl, with the help of Indigenous workers, used traditional non-mechanical techniques to raise one of the statues upright. This was the first of such modern re-raisings. When you see photographs of a dozen monolithic heads lined up along the coast of Easter Island, all of those were raised after Heyerdahl, most of them not until the 1990s, when major restoration efforts were undertaken to encourage tourism. Heyerdahl was really the spark that set that flame of tourism alight, for better or for worse. On the one hand he brought attention to the cultural heritage of Rapa Nui; on the other hand his tactics trained the Natives to exploit that heritage for commerce.

While the giant stone heads, or moai, are quite fascinating, most of the book is not about that. It’s about Heyerdahl trying to convince the islanders to grant him access to their secret caves or hand over to him the artifacts that are contained therein. Heyerdahl’s methods of persuasion were not entirely ethical by today’s standards, nor is what ultimately happened to the artifacts (I think he just took them away on his boat). He starts out by bartering cloth and knives for small statues. He then moves up to chicanery in the form of exploiting the Natives’ superstitions to his advantage. Not only is this disturbing, it’s also rather boring. Long chapters go by in which Heyerdahl is just conning his way into these families’ caves, then not much is really said about the artifacts themselves and what they reveal about the island’s cultural history.

Heyerdahl’s theories on the Peruvian colonization of Polynesia have not stood up well to scientific scrutiny. Still, he’s usually very good at writing the adventure stories of his expeditions. Kon-Tiki is an excellent read, and I also enjoyed Fatu-Hiva, his account of roughing it in the Marquesas. Aku-Aku, however, is not as engrossing as those other books. It gets dull and repetitive, and Heyerdahl doesn’t talk much about the discoveries of the archaeologists who accompanied him. Other than collecting a lot of statuettes that aren’t thoroughly described to the reader, it’s unclear what exactly Heyerdahl and his team accomplished on Easter Island. Perhaps more is revealed in his more scientific publications, such as Archeology of Easter Island (2 volumes), published in 1965.

Forty Lashes Less One by Elmore Leonard

Smart and suspenseful Western prison thriller

Forty Lashes Less One, published in 1972, is a novel by American author Elmore Leonard. Nowadays he’s best known for his crime fiction, which has spawned many recent film adaptations, but in the early days of his career, Westerns were Leonard’s bread and butter. Forty Lashes Less One is included in the Library of America’s volume Elmore Leonard: Westerns, but it’s really only a Western because it takes place in Arizona. Yeah, it’s got some horses, but it’s got some motor cars too. This novel is really a prison drama—a thriller with comedic elements, more Cool Hand Luke than Butch & Sundance. The title Forty Lashes Less One is taken from a Bible quote and is in no way a literal indication of happenings in the story.

The novel is set in 1909 at Yuma Territorial Prison, a penitentiary on the verge of closing. A new prison is being built in Florence, Arizona, and when it’s completed, the prisoners will be moved to the new facility. While the old prison is still functioning, however, a Mr. Manly has been appointed acting warden at Yuma. Manley has no prior experience in the penal system; his background is in Christian ministry. Contrary to the fictional stereotype of prison wardens as sadistic dictators, Manly is depicted as lenient, benevolent, and naive. He sometimes calls to mind Father Mulcahy from M*A*S*H.

As the novel opens, prisoner Harold Jackson arrives at the Yuma prison, having been transferred from Ft. Leavenworth. Jackson is the only Black prisoner at Yuma, and he is singled out for abuse by some of the meaner guards and prisoners, led by Yuma’s resident alpha convict Frank Shelby. Raymond San Carlos, an Apache-Mexican prisoner, is sent by Shelby to pick a fight with Jackson, and the two prisoners of color soon develop an animosity for one another. Warden Manly, however, takes a special interest in these two prisoners and singles them out for his own private motivational ministry. As Jackson and San Carlos are repeatedly thrust together into work assignments and solitary confinement, they develop a friendship and begin to realize that they don’t have to play by Shelby’s rules, nor Manly’s.

I have expressed admiration for Leonard’s Westerns before, and Forty Lashes Less One is every bit as good as Hombre, Valdez Is Coming, and Last Stand at Sabre River. I’m not even a habitual fan of the Western genre, but what a run of novels! Leonard’s prose is about as perfect as it gets. Not a word is wasted. Every sentence develops the characters or propels the story forward. Every line of dialogue is sharp, smart, and often quite funny. There are some ridiculous elements to this story, but Leonard manages to make them come across as realistic, yet without denying their ridiculousness. This ain’t your everyday prison Western. It’s quirky but not silly, and it’s an entertaining and exciting ride.

Quentin Tarantino purchased the rights to Forty Lashes Less One back in the 1990s, but he never made a movie from it, and he probably never will. That’s a shame, because a film adapted from this novel surely would have been better than The Hateful Eight. The well-drawn characters and engrossing plot of this novel are ripe for a cinematic adaptation and would yield some great roles for its cast of actors. Regardless of whether that will ever come to fruition, this book is a great read, whether you’re a fan of Westerns or not.

The Complete Tales of Edgar Allan Poe, Part 1: 1832–1839

Off to a slow start

Unlike other A-list names in the history of American literature, Edgar Allan Poe is not known for his novels. He only published one: The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket (1838), and it wasn’t a hit. Other than his poem “The Raven,” we know Poe primarily for his short stories. Counts vary, based on what’s considered a short story, but I’m going to go with Wikipedia and the Delphi Classics and say he published 65 stories, plus one unfinished at the time of his death. These stories, or “tales” as they are often called in Poe’s case, have been selected and shuffled like a deck of cards into thousands of published volumes. I’m going to review these 65 and a half stories in chronological order, in three chunks of about 20 stories each.

Poe’s first published story, “Metzengerstein,” happens to be a horror story, and a pretty good one, but very few of the tales published in these first seven or eight years of his career could be considered classic Poe horror stories. Another early entry, the nautical ghost story “MS. Found in a Bottle,” is also a step in the right direction. “Ligeia,” from 1838, seems like a turning point in Poe’s career. This is the first story to really epitomize the mix of gothic romance and terrifying horror that we usually think of when we think of Poe. “William Wilson,” a horror story about a man tormented by his doppelganger, is another strong entry from this period. The only selection from this chunk of stories that can truly be considered a Poe masterpiece, however, is “The Fall of the House of Usher.” Poe is also remembered for mystery stories and, to a lesser extent, science fiction. None of the former category are here, but sci-fi is represented by the postapocalyptic “The Conversation Between Eiros and Charmion,” and “The Unparalleled Adventure of One Hans Pfaall,” which shows us Poe operating in Jules Verne mode, with only partial success.

In this first act of Poe’s career, he wrote just as many humor stories as horror stories. In most cases, the humor has not survived the past nine decades very well. A couple of these comedic efforts remain moderately funny, however, like “Devil in the Belfry” and “A Predicament.” In “How to Write a Blackwood Article,” Poe satirizes the typical fare from the English literary periodical Blackwood’s Magazine. Many of the literary pretensions Poe pokes fun at in this piece, however, are sins he is frequently guilty of committing himself. In these early writings, his biggest fault as a writer is his uncontrollable desire to show of his erudition by loading his prose with gratuitous references to classical poetry, mythology, opera, or other high-brow literature. He also loves to throw in untranslated phrases in French, Latin, Greek, and maybe even German. There’s no need for any of this, and it’s just Poe showing off how well-read he is. In this regard, he’s more pretentious than Melville or Hawthorne. Thankfully, Poe seems to gradually cure himself of this annoying habit towards the end of the 1830s.

I had read “greatest hits” collections of Poe’s horror stories in the past and liked them well enough, but I have to admit that this first foray into his complete works was a disappointment. As previously mentioned, there’s just too much laughless humor and too much effort to impress with high-falutin allusions. His writing did improve over the course of these years, however, and I am confident that the second round of his stories that I dive into will be superior to the first.

Stories in this collection

Metzengerstein

The Duc de l’Omelette

A Tale of Jerusalem

Loss of Breath

Bon-Bon

MS. Found in a Bottle

The Assignation

Berenice

Morella

Lionizing

The Unparalleled Adventure of One Hans Pfaall

King Pest

Shadow

Four Beasts in One

Mystification

Silence

Ligeia

How to Write a Blackwood Article

A Predicament

The Devil in the Belfry

The Man That Was Used Up

The Fall of the House of Usher

William Wilson

The Conversation of Eiros and Charmion