Oceania Books

Lynne Withey succeeds in providing a balanced and well-researched account of the famous explorations of Captain James Cook in the South Pacific. She discusses the impact of Cook's journeys on both the 18th century Europeans and the native peoples of the South Pacific. Although it has been popular to cast the "Age of Discovery" as a violent and invasive period for indigenous people, Withey shows that Cook generally had the best intentions when dealing with the inhabitants of these islands, and that most unfortunate incidents were the result of misunderstandings. Further, Cook showed an uncommon concern and compassion for all the people he came in contact with. Withey's book provides the reader with numerous insights into the motivations which spurred on this age of exploration, both political, in the case of the English government, and personal, in Cook's case. Her fascinating account of the complex events surrounding Cook's death in Hawaii, and the Hawaiian belief system that contributed to this unfortunate event, clearly show how two cultures can come unwittingly into conflict when they first meet. Overall, this book is a clearly written, comprehensive, and highly informative treatment of this fascinating period of our history.

This book offers a lot more than its title might suggest. Murray's survey of opinion formation about Japan in the 1930s through the Australian media ranges from political and diplomatic machinations to the intrigues of propaganda campaigns and espionage. It is richly researched, steeped in primary sources, including the author's own interviews, yet written with a light touch that maintained this reader's interest. The book's price-tag is certainly a discouragement, but it is well edited and sturdily made. It deserves a wide readership.

Best educational book on the climate and weather of New Zealand ( and Australia) ever written. Good for one studying docturates on meteorology.

If you ever have the time to visit Western Australia, the book can be a good guide to its vastness. The state is twice the size of Alaska, with scarcely 2 million people. And over half of these are in the Perth metropolitan area.

The book's coverage of Perth and Fremantle isn't bad. Describing places like Kings Park, with a magnificent view of the Swan River and the CBD. The city is basically as clean and safe as portrayed by the authors. Travel books are typically panglossian. Skipping carefully over the slums and bad aspects of a city. Since such books are sold to people going to a region. But the synopsis of Perth is accurate.

The south west has a slightly cooler climate. The grape growing in the Margaret River district is explained as world renowned.

While if you do venture north of Perth, the photos in the book illustrate the desolate beauty of the coastline. The outback stretches to the Indian Ocean. The mining towns of Tom Price and Newman are shown. Important in the global sense, for a lot of iron ore mined from here gets exported; mainly to Asia.

This is the first comprehensive whale watching guidebook to come out of Australia (other than the earlier work by Ross Isacc). There is an introduction to whale and dolphin biology, evolution, etc. plus some historical whaling facts and also a chapter on whale and dolphin watching both from land and from cruises. The best part of the book would be its excellent coverage of whale watching spots in and around Australia and New Zealand and the fantastics pics. The thing I did not like about this book was its actual style of writing. I rather read something that was written in the style used in Discovery Travels series where they write in the way that allows you to really picture the place in your head. Overall, still the best whale watching guidebook for Oceania.

University of Houston professor Gerald Horne sets forth an intriguing study into the slave trade in the Pacific during the second half of the 19th Century.
While setting down a well-documented history of Pacific "blackbirding," a euphemism for slave trading, Horne also develops an argument that the shortage of cotton and sugar created by the Civil War set into motion a series of events that gives rise to U.S. Imperialism, which eventually extinguishes Hawaii's sovereignty, fosters the White Australia policy and gives rise to Imperial Japan and ultimately, World War II in the Pacific.
Almost as intriguing is Hawaii's role in the White Pacific. Horne develops the early ambitions of Kamehameha the Great to become the Napoleon of the Pacific, using the fleet assembled for an assault on Kauai to subjugate Tahiti. These ambitions live all the way through Kalakaua, who successfully argued before the legislature for $30,000 to form a Polynesian confederation.
The King sent representatives to Samoa, where the Malietoa, or alii nui, agreed to a confederation between the two kingdoms. However, the arrangement was short-lived as Kalakaua was stripped of his power the following year when he signed the Bayonet Constitution, and a reform party ended the alliance.
Hawaii's distaste for slavery was written into the Constitution of 1852, partially on the advice of Alexander Liholiho, nephew of Kamehameha III. During a visit to the United States in 1849, Alexander Liholiho experienced slavery and racism first hand and vowed that it would never take place in the Hawaiian Kingdom.

The exploration of the Pacific was, in its day, something closely akin to modern space travel - huge risks, huge rewards, vast spaces. This useful guide takes us through encyclopaedia-length entries on both the luminaries (Cook, La Perouse) and the lesser-known Pacific explorers. Dunmore is a leading authority in this field.

I have purchased a one-way ticket to Sydney, Australia with plans to attend graduate school and possibly get a job in the country. This book, while extremely helpful, can be dry at times and is written primarily from the British perspective. However, when dealing with such exciting topics and taxation, bureaucracy and housing, one cannot expect the most spectacular prose and the British viewpoint can be easily circumvented with some careful reading.

The book is visually stunning: some readers may be disappointed, depending on what they are seeking. The book consists of superb shots of pieces from Asia, Africa, Oceana, and (South)America. The pieces consist of a variety of head ornaments: combs, bands, nose ornaments, etc., but do not include earrings (which are covered in A World of Earrings) or hats. The representation is uneven, with the collections for Asia and Africa being much stronger than for Oceana (perhaps 24 pieces) or South America (perhaps a dozen pieces). Since this is a catalog of a personal collection, one obviously cannot have pictures of what is not there, and this is not a criticism. However, the person researching international jewelry should recognize the limitation.

The pictures themselves are stupendous: large with extremely clear detail. Depending on the item, there may be several on a pages (as with small hairpins) or one piece may have a double spread. The pictures are solely of the pieces; there is no attempt to display them as they would be used. They are arranged in geographical sections, with a brief introduction to the jewelry of that area. All of the caption information is collected at the end of the book, which I suppose avoids detracting from the pictures, but which some may find annoying. At least every page seems to have a discreet page number, so it is easy to match them to the captions. Anyone with a scholarly interest may find this disappointing: there is minimal information about the size of the pieces, generally the largest dimension only, and only one, even if multiple pieces are shown in the same picture. Only a very broad provenance is given, and little about the age. One comb for example, notes that this style was derived from the Spanish mantilla beginning in the 17th century, but it does not indicate if it is also contemporary. I a a little confused by the notation in the caption about a piece from Nigeria referring to Pharaonic Egypt. Does this reflect cultural sharing? Does this mean that the piece is from the time in history? The precise comment is that the ancient Egyptians often copied natural forms, but looking through the pictures, isn't that true of most cultures?

The index is very detailed in that one may, for example, look up pieces from Ming Dynasty China under either Ming or China. It would be helpful if a time period was specified for the dynasties. Also, the page numbers refer only to text, either in the section introductions or the captions. Thus, one is directed to the captions for the jewelry, and goes from there to the pictures. There are also maps and an extensive bibliography.

Well worth oohing and ahhing over, but will be only a supplement for a person with scholarly interests.

Before starting to read PT's travel books, I had to search for a book to read and I started many which I ended up throwing away after reading a hundred or so pages and I decided to give up on writing negative reviews as a result. Then I read Dark Star Safari and now I want to read all of PT's books.

Theroux mentions so many different things during his travels that it is difficult to tell you just what the books are like, except to say that while reading, it feels like you are there witnessing these people and places with him. I will give just one example from Oceania which I found great fun to read, namely his description of Dame Cath Tizard's way of eating. He wrote, "She scraped food onto her fork, but before she heaved it she nudged more onto the fork with her thumb. And after she ate the forkful she licked her thumb. Once I caught her grinning at me, but she was not grinning. She was trying to dislodge a bit of food that had found its way between her teeth, and still talking and grinning, she began picking her teeth. Having freed the food from her teeth, she glanced at it and pushed it into her mouth. (while talking of her being chosen governor-general)...Her finger was in her mouth, fishing for bits of trapped lamb sinews... And she slurped the food off her finger, and then began scraping the plate...." I'm not saying I have the greatest table manners myself, but I simply revelled in reading this description.

I can understand that there are many people who wouldn't like reading him and who would disagree with Paul Theroux's views. I am saying I find his writing thoroughly entertaining and relaxing because I like to see the world the way it really is, the beautiful as well as the ugly, and this book satisfies my curiosity about much of the South Pacific.

This is a good read. Theroux gives it to us straight. I found it refreshing to read the good and the bad of all the islands and I strongly disagree with two of the previous reviews. This is not about Theroux's children and wife and if he does whine his melancholy only enriches his experience.

I did not have high expectations for this book as I picked it up at a library sale for a quarter and a friend of mine that had lived in Tonga said he disagreed with Theroux's perception of that Island. After reading the section on Tonga I felt it interesting, humorous and I felt as if I had been there myself and would have experienced it as Theroux did, the outsider "Palangi", not as my friend did with a two year Peace Corps stint.

Theroux likes some places he visits and dislikes others. I would not have believed anything else and would not have wanted to read a superficial treatment of the area. Not every island is a paradise, certainly not American Somoa but he does reveal the paradise of the Cook Islands, The Marquesas, and the fascination of Easter Island.

Theroux may not be the perfect person but he is very nearly the perfect travel writer and I very much enjoyed seeing Oceana through his eyes.

To be honest, it took me a while to get into this one. I found the sections on Australia and New Zealand uninteresting and somewhat disorderly, and not any way as compelling as what was to come. The book took off as soon as he hit the north-eastern coast of Australia, camping on the beaches around Cookstown etc., and his subsequent journey to the Trobriands, and on across the pacific. The portrayal of the characters was really excellent, and I found myself sharing in Theroux's humiliation at the hands of the islanders, escpecially the teasing he endured from the children in the Trobriands, frightening really.
Like my title suggests, this was a pleasant enjoyable read.

I find Paul Theroux's travel books to be a delight to read, and Happy Isles of Oceania is one of my favorites. Reeling from a split with his wife, PT begins his journey on a book tour in NZ and Australia, and then travels around much of Oceania. He kayaks and camps on most of the islands, and makes many discoveries about the various people and cultures. Most notable is the natives' consistent use of the ocean as a toilet and a garbage dump. He hikes in NZ's southern alps; explores the Aussie bush; attends the unusual Yam-festival in the Trobriands; meets the King of Tonga; insults a politician from NZ; plays Robinson Crusoe for a week; contracts a disease; gets stung by jellyfish; makes friends; drinks kava; wonders what drew Robert Louis Stevenson to Samoa and Paul Gaugain to Tahiti; and visits a Hawaiian island that few are allowed on. If you like PT's other travel books, you'll love this one. If you haven't read any, this is a great one to start with.

This book is a prolonged snivel about the pain of voluntarily going to places the author then found tacky, hostile or boring. By his own account he had not a moment's pleasure from his travels until he reached Hawaii, where it was all American and OK and Not Foreign. The only puzzle is why he did not at a much earlier stage of the trip get on a plane and go there direct; presumably he'd taken an advance from his publisher and had to deliver a book of some sort. The whole thing carries a moral for modern travellers: if you can't engage constructively with the places you go to, then please, please, stay at home - that way you'll be happier, the foreign people will be happier, and you won't needlessly contribute to airline CO2 emissions.