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A review by paul_cornelius
Rascals in Paradise by A. Grove Day, James A. Michener
4.0
These portraits of pirates, con men, adventurers, and ne'er-do-wells operating in the Pacific from the China coast to Hawaii offer a look at just what often made the South Seas genre appealing to its readership in the 19th and 20th centuries. Yes, these are histories but with just the right emphases, mythologizing, and superb storytelling to engage a general audience. James A. Michener needs no introduction as a creator of strong narratives mixed with history and adventure. But his co-author, A. Grove Day, is not as well known. Day was a figure of enormous importance in the genre. A professor at the University of Hawaii, he edited a large number of volumes on the literature and history of the Pacific. His efforts in the 1980s, in fact, may have preserved the readership for authors such as James Norman Hall, whose books remain available as used paperbacks largely because of Day.
Rascals in Paradise, then, blends the talents of two prolific writers. And it doesn't disappoint. These are the sort of historical sketches that will lead those with even a glancing interest in their subjects to find out more. And there is much more to be told. Written in 1957, not only does the collection omit and bend history to its authors' particular points of interest, but I'm sure much more is now known about the people described in the book's ten chapters. I'm certainly not an expert in the area, but just briefly looking up a few of the people about whom Michener and Day claim "nothing else is known," I discovered that indeed there is a great deal more known.
But as I say, Michener and Day had a bit of a different agenda at work, here. Foremost, they were interested in producing a work of literature more than a work of history. And they were feeding into a mystique of the Pacific and the South Seas just then, in the late 1950s, becoming intensely popular. Veterans of World War II in the Pacific had become financially and career successful enough in the postwar years to begin making pilgrimages to the South Seas, especially Hawaii. And Hawaii itself was about to become America's 50th state. Tiki culture was booming in popular film and, now, in the late 1950s and 1960s, television. Rascals in Paradise was largely reflective of that. As, of course, was Michener's subsequent magnum opus, Hawaii, which was to be published two years later before itself being made into two different feature films in 1966 and 1970.
The best story in this bunch? Hard to say, because they are all good, even the last chapter and the sketch of Edgar Leetag, the so-called "father of American velvet painting," God curse him.
Rascals in Paradise, then, blends the talents of two prolific writers. And it doesn't disappoint. These are the sort of historical sketches that will lead those with even a glancing interest in their subjects to find out more. And there is much more to be told. Written in 1957, not only does the collection omit and bend history to its authors' particular points of interest, but I'm sure much more is now known about the people described in the book's ten chapters. I'm certainly not an expert in the area, but just briefly looking up a few of the people about whom Michener and Day claim "nothing else is known," I discovered that indeed there is a great deal more known.
But as I say, Michener and Day had a bit of a different agenda at work, here. Foremost, they were interested in producing a work of literature more than a work of history. And they were feeding into a mystique of the Pacific and the South Seas just then, in the late 1950s, becoming intensely popular. Veterans of World War II in the Pacific had become financially and career successful enough in the postwar years to begin making pilgrimages to the South Seas, especially Hawaii. And Hawaii itself was about to become America's 50th state. Tiki culture was booming in popular film and, now, in the late 1950s and 1960s, television. Rascals in Paradise was largely reflective of that. As, of course, was Michener's subsequent magnum opus, Hawaii, which was to be published two years later before itself being made into two different feature films in 1966 and 1970.
The best story in this bunch? Hard to say, because they are all good, even the last chapter and the sketch of Edgar Leetag, the so-called "father of American velvet painting," God curse him.