Thor Heyerdahl (1914–2002)

This was a lot of fun to read. I enjoyed everything about this adventure. Heyerdahl is a fabulous storyteller and really funny too. Although slightly inaccurate, Heyerdahl was convinced there was a connection between the peoples of South America and the population of the Polynesian (Easter/Tahitian) Islands. Building a raft made of the same materials the Incas would have used (balsa wood, bamboo and other natural elements), Heyerdahl and five companions spent 101 days crossing 4,300 nautical show more miles of the Pacific ocean in all kinds of weather to prove the point. The six men (five from Norway and one Swede) took turns cooking and steering and got along surprisingly well for a group of grown men stuck in the middle of the Pacific for almost four months. They endured raging seas, wild winds and all sorts of aquatic creatures that insisted on joining them on the raft. The episode with the squid was especially disturbing.
The photography, while in 1940s black and white, is a helpful addition to the story. Imagining the size and heft of the raft would be difficult without it. show less

There is BAD speculative/alternative/fringe history. Think David Hatcher Childress, Von Daniken, and their ilk. There is BETTER speculative/alternative/fringe history. Think Graham Hancock and the author of this work: Thor Heyerdahl. It is disingenuous to put someone like Von Daniken or Tsoukalos in the same category as Hancock or Heyerdahl. Thor Heyerdahl's great 1947 work Kon Tiki concerned his theory that balsawood rafts from ancient Peru could have made the ocean journey to the islands show more of Polynesia. How did sweet potatoes reach the area? What of Polynesian myths of settlers from the east? The gripping first-person narrative of Heyerdahl explains his theory, the building of the raft, and his journey, with his companions, across the Pacific. As a first person travel story it is grand and gripping. No wonder it sold so many copies, engendered many copycats, and spawned a documentary film. (A documentary film I grew up watching clips from in various forms on old A&E and Discovery channels in the 1980s and 1990s back when they were good, documentary channels.) There are some spots of the is 1947 book that read funny to modern ears: some subtle racism or Eurocentrism. Some funny old fashioned terms. (And some odd translation choices.) But all-in-all, it's a classic of the speculative history genre and for good reason: it's a gripping yarn of can-do post-WWII attitude. This version is illustrated and "enriched" with a supplementary section that provides some good pics and some odd commentary and context. But, a good paperback version to have. A good book. show less

My husband spotted a copy of this in a used book store, and picked it up upon noticing that it is actually autographed by Thor Heyerdahl himself, 1974! Heyerdahl was the instigator of the famed Kon-Tiki expedition in which he and others successfully navigated a raft from South America to Polynesia, to prove that Polynesia could have been first populated by indigenous Americans.

This book is about events pre-dating Kon-Tiki, when a coming-of-age young Norwegian named Thor decides he's fed up show more with civilization - but unlike most teenagers, gathers the wherewithal to do something about it. He convinces his university professors and parents to aid him in a trek to an isolated part of the world where he can live "in nature" in as primitive conditions as possible. Against all odds, he also manages to find a girlfriend eager to go with him! Thus after completing their university studies, newlyweds Thor and Liv set out for the tiny spot on the map which they decided was destined to become their own island paradise; that spot was Fatu-Hiva, an island in the French Marquesas group.

And the craziest thing is, they do find their paradise; it's just not a permanent situation. They are troubled by mud, mosquitoes, tropical diseases, and other people. But through it all were blissful days upon days where they traipsed through their longed-for garden of Eden.

They seem to find an extended period of peace and nirvana on the far side of the island, living alongside a longtime hermit and his pre-teen adopted daughter, far away from the other islanders, by the shore where the mosquitoes are few. The idyll is eventually destroyed, however... no spoilers, but it seems hell is indeed other people. That, and demon drink.

There are many pages where Thor just goes on about the beauty of nature around them, which can get a bit monotonous. His philosophy tends towards the simplistic - civilization bad, white man bad, state of nature perfect, etc. - especially towards the beginning of the story; and he tries to bend all his observations to his philosophy - diseases come from the white man, diseases would never happen when living correctly in a 'state of nature', for example. He seems to mature a bit over his long year on the island, however.

There is little to no sidelong mocking of the natives in this book... individuals and behaviors often get his scorn, but each islander is presented as a full human being, never a caricature. Indeed, Thor conveys his growing realization during the year that the islanders are people exactly like us, with every bit as much intelligence; he observes that we tend to think of illiterate people as childlike, which is a gross injustice and blindness. We are all human beings, doing everything we can put our minds to, given the resources before us.

But while it seemed to me that Thor was generally refreshingly respectful and equitable in his treatment of his fellow islanders, there was one exception where his behavior left me flabbergasted. He and Liv begin a collection of human skulls which they take from areas considered "tabu" by the natives. There are photos of Liv grinning happily while surrounded by human skulls. This seemed horribly disrespectful, not to mention ghoulish.

Liv was an absolute saint, by the way. By all accounts, she had all the eagerness for the adventure as did her husband; the book is by and large written in first person plural, not singular. It is Thor and Liv as a unit who discover, learn, enjoy, suffer together.

There are lots of amazing black-and-white photos throughout the book. I was truly astounded by them, for various reasons. a) Some of the photos have both Thor and Liv in them, in some remote situation - who took the picture?! b) How did they manage, through all their soggy trials and travails, to keep their camera and film with them, and dry enough to be functional? c) What faith did it take to keep taking pictures of things, with no ability - I presume! - to develop the film until if and when you or the camera made it back to civilization? I don't know, maybe there was a Foto-mat in nearby Tahiti where they were sending things.

I found myself thinking at the book's beginning, as the adventure first gets underway: but what about modern medicine? What about birth control? How will they keep healthy, and is Liv prepared to birth babies without assistance on an island? They never really address the latter, except one passing remark towards the end that Liv might "at any time" by "blessed" with a baby; so apparently no birth control. As for medicine, illnesses and injuries are dealt with as they came, and both heroes lived to tell their tales.

This book really did make me think about nature, civilization, and the commonness of human ingenuity. show less

Crackpot science, excellent writing. I hadn't read this since grade school and was instantly reminded of why it became a classic, despite it's ridiculous theories of Polynesian origins. Nice description of the entire trip, from getting the balsa logs in the Andes to surviving the final wreck. High adventure, indeed.