The Happy Isles of Oceania (Paul Theroux, 1992)

ISBN 0-399-13726-2

I bought The Happy Isles to read on a plane. It appealed to me that I should read an American’s view of the Pacific as I flew across it on my way to America. Besides, it was one of the very few of Theroux’s ‘travel’ books I hadn’t read yet.

At the time the book was published it had made the local news on account of its unfavourable commentary about New Zealand and New Zealanders, so I was prepared for that; indeed, not having a high opinion of some of my countrymen, I was almost looking forward to it. Theroux would not be the first famous traveller to relish his departure from our shores: Charles Darwin made no secret of his feelings, either:

‘December 30th, 1836. – In the afternoon we stood out of the Bay of Islands, on our course to Sydney. I believe we were all glad to leave New Zealand. It is not a pleasant place.’
– Voyage of the Beagle, p. 430

So I do not believe it was outraged indignation which got in the way of me enjoying THI. I think, maybe, that Theroux was having an off day. The book opens with the author, coyly and ambiguously, suggesting that his wife has just thrown him out. (Well, you can’t make a vocation at being a professional asshole and get away with it your whole life, I guess.) And maybe that is sufficient to explain why the trademark rapier wit feels more like the back of a badly wielded coal shovel when Theroux snivels about the mispronunciation of his name in Australia ...

‘My throat ached from all this talk. My eyeballs felt swollen and boiled. The interviewers went on twitting me. I sat in empty studios that smelled of musty rugs, broadcasting my opinions to Hobart, Tasmania. My roomboy called me "Mr. Thorax."’ (p. 50)

... or the architecture of my home town.

‘What a bungaloid place, I thought. It is bungalows and more bungalows and little fragile chalets in Wellington, and none of them is higher than the trees around it, so that at a distance all you saw were roofs, mostly tin roofs painted browny red.’ (p. 21)

At any other time, Theroux craves anonymity – well, says he does, anyway – so it is revealing to learn of the star’s injured ego at the hands of a Tasmanian bellboy. As for bungalows, well, I like them and so, apparently does Theroux at any other time! Later on in the same book, he praises the style, though I cannot relocate the excerpt.

The memorable character studies in THI are of the king of Tonga, and two New Zealanders: former Governor General Dame Cath Tizard and former Prime Minister David Lange. He appeared to like David Lange – a very suspicious trait in my book – perhaps because they were able to compare their recent marriage breakdowns with one another.

Altogether, THI is a several-hundred page, self-indulgent wallow. Tedious and well below his usual standard.

Recommendation: Recommended for aficionados only.

Look and Feel: My edition is the usual matt-finish hardback.

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