In Trouble Again is on the National Geographic list from where I learned about it. It is of that genre of biting British humor that reminds me of college, Monty Python, Blackadder and similar distant memories from the 70s and 80s. Early on you realize O'Hanlon is obsessed with dicks - other people's and even animal dicks are a continual source of humor; but this ceases after his own is attacked by ticks he contracted from the corpse of a dead wild pig. The trickster tricked (and ticked). It is an example of stomach curdling material typical in the book, yet oddly it all seems to work - jungles are both riotous of and to life. I give him credit for going into dangerous places and partaking in powerful drugs with barely contacted tribes. The book has a sense of place, one can follow along with maps and birding books and anthropology. It's somehow comforting to know where he visited in the remotest corners of Venezuela 30 years ago are largely still intact. The ticks and other things keeping most people away perhaps. ( )

Surtout ne pas présenter O'Hanlon... Crâner en disant qu'un lit un livre d'anthropologie alors qu'en vérité on se fend la poire! ( )

In de traditie van de grote ontdekkingsreizigers van de 19e eeuw wil Redmond O'Hanlon nog een echte ontdekkingsreiziger zijn.
Zijn avonturen zijn al meer dan 20 jaar oud maar nog steeds prima te lezen. Vol (Engelse) humor en onwaarschijnlijke gebeurtenissen. Er valt nog steeds een heleboel te genieten en beleven. Zeker zo goed als mijn all time favorite Eric Newby ( )

I have a colleague who was an explorer in the 1970s, back when you couldn't buy batteries or camera film in the African bush. I LOVE exploration/adventure stories from the 1960s to 1980s, when there were still lost lands, and the earth hasn't shriveled up from all the stressors so elequently described by [Thomas Friedman].

This book describes a 4-month exploration of Amazonia and although it ends rather abruptly, is a classic example of one of my all-time favorite genres.

O'Hanlon tells us that, when you shoot a Howler Monkey out of tree, and run over to kill it, IT COVERS ITS HEAD WITH ITS HANDS. I don't miss too many meals, but that kind of fellow-primate cannibalism would stop me cold. I'll stick with 12 hours of shuttling around Central American habitats in the beautiful eco-tour buses. When the sun sets, its off to a delicious meal, cold local beers and luxury ecolodge beds, free of black fly swarms, ticks, tarantulas, mosquitoes, bullet ants, chiggers, etc.

I'll skip the yoppo pipe that causes your head to explode in projectile brown snot and puke. I'll skip the fear of 6-foot long silent curare arrows. And I'll definitely skip dining on any primate body parts.

But, I'll continue to read about them. ( )

Quite exiting, for a travel book: Will they ever get out of the jungle? Will they be eaten/killed by the terrible Yanomami, a people that live deep in the jungle?

[I read the Dutch edition: Tussen Orinoco en Amazone. Best wel spannend eigenlijk, voor een reisboek: zullen ze ooit weer terugkomen uit het oerwoud? Worden ze opgegeten/gedood door de verschrikkelijke Yanomami, een volk dat ver in het oerwoud woont?] ( )