Barbarian Days: A Surfing Life delivers exactly what its title would have you expect: a pulsing, gritty account of a young man’s obsession and his relentless pursuit of the perfect wave. Most often it is a bumping, bruising ride that weathers the ebb and flow of relationships, unkind living conditions, and even less kind waves. Yet Finnegan’s writing remains so glassy smooth, and his descriptions of waves and water so fluid, that the reader emerges from the proverbial tube gliding and mostly dry. The book begins with William Finnegan’s childhood, growing up between California and Hawaii in the 1960’s, where he found his surf footing on a long board. He recounts these formative years with a journalist’s investigative eye, recalling fistfights with schoolmates, adolescent race relations at his Honolulu public school, and most significantly, his friendships with local Hawaiian surfers that shape his experience. He also delves into his family life (or rather his removal from it to surf), family history, and the history and culture of surfing. Through this lens, the reader gains access to a passion, a lifestyle, surfing, not readily observed in its deepest modes; not only that, readers are presented with the context, whether it’s personal anecdotes or commentary on the social upheavals of the 1960’s, that helps to explain what inspired and molded the man who wrote the book. Finnegan remembers his first encounter with surfers: “. . .I could see surfers out at a spot known as California Street. They were silhouettes backlit by low sun, and they danced silently through the glare, their boards like big, dark blades slashing and gliding, swift beneath their feet… I wanted to be out there, learning to dance on water.” The prose reads remarkably easy; Finnegan’s language stays straightforward and compelling, even when he employs the necessary surfer’s jargon to detail characteristics of different breaks and different surfers. He’s got a million ways for describing waves and water, each more convincing and distinctive than the last. Fellow NYC surfer and writer Thad Ziolkowski wrote in the New York Times Sunday Book Review that, “there are too many breathtaking, original things in Barbarian Days…observations about surfing that have simply never been made before, or certainly never so well.” Despite the high praise and focus dedicated to Finnegan’s descriptions of surf, it’s a mistake to believe that oceanographic characterizations and surfing alone make up the heart and soul of his memoir. Rather, the sea and surfing acts as a sinuous kind of connective tissue, readily traceable throughout the whole book, but not the primary method of propulsion. That comes from a separate, albeit related source: an unnerving desire to seek and to find something, though that something might be as ephemeral as a breaking wave. When awarding the Pulitzer prize to Barbarian Days, the Pulitzer board had this to say of the book: “Barbarian Days is an old-school adventure story, an intellectual autobiography, a social history, a literary road movie, and an extraordinary exploration of the gradual mastering of an exacting, little understood art.” That “old-school adventure… literary road movie” aspect of the book hits on the underlying urges that send Finnegan into the uncharted parts of the South Pacific, Asia, Australia, and eventually South Africa. Endless Summer meets Into the Wild. It’s a journey that explores whole stretches of continents, as well as the high and low tides of relationships: the balance between the need to surf and the need to maintain a relationship with a woman; the rough solidarity of close male friendships forged on the road and in the water; and the immutable family bonds that stretch beyond space and time. The combination of contemplation and raw adventure keeps the adrenaline coursing at the same time the reader thinks on the absurdity of some situations. But it’s Finnegan’s modesty and self-deprecating tendencies that lend so much credibility to his work. He writes: “There was the self-disgust, which we each wrestled with differently. Being rich white Americans in dirt poor places where many people, especially the young, yearned openly for the life, the comforts, the very opportunities that we, at least for a seemingly endless moment, had turned our backs on, well, it would simply never be okay. In an inescapable way, we sucked, and we knew it, and humility was called for.” That’s the confession of a conscientious rambler. Many would-be travelers could benefit from that kind of introspection. Mid-twenties Finnegan preoccupies himself with the people, customs, and social politics that he encounters in a way that prefigures his journalistic career; the situations and people provide the kindling, and his questioning of his place and purpose among them provides the spark. As he travels with friend and fellow writer, Bryan Di Salvatore, the writer in Finnegan emerges as he journals and considers the lifestyles and culture of Samoan fisherman, elements of the Indonesian black market, and the realities of apartheid.
Barbarian Days opens itself up to any reader interested in getting sucked into a smooth bit of prose and riding it quickly to the end. It doesn’t limit itself to surf enthusiasts; it almost invites the uninitiated to look inside and catch a faceful of spray. For a taste of Finnegan’s writing, check out Playing Doc’s Games, the New Yorker article he wrote that essentially sparked the rest of the book. http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/1992/08/24/playing-docs-games-part-one
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Collier ConnellA traveler gone to teach English in Thailand who is far less interested in himself than the fascinating people, places, and things I'm ready to encounter. Archives
December 2016
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