Lost in the Jungle

“Let's play in the jungle,” the city boys said, “it'll be an adventure.” (ominous voiceover: it was.) “It'll be fun.” (It wasn't).

Later: “What could make this more fun?” “I know: let's split up.”

There's something so touchingly idiotic about quasipostadolescent males. Pretty astonishing that any of us lived to grow old, and that goes infinitely more so for Ghinsberg: there were times when I was convinced he wouldn't make it out. (The book is written in first person — a bit of a giveaway as to the ending — but still.)

Surprisingly enjoyable. The writing is clumsy, possibly an effect of translation, but forgiveably so. Ghinsberg comes off as honest and very human, no hero, just very very lucky. His descriptions are fascinating from armchair level.