Euphoria by Lily King
Bronislaw Malinowski, the esteemed godfather of modern anthropology, claimed that ethnology is in the sadly ludicrous, if not tragic, position that at the very moment when it puts its house in order, the material melts away with sudden rapidity. Thus, there’s little difficulty in imagining the joy, if not euphoria when the patterns of culture seem to have logical order or reason. Lily King has caught some of that rapture and turned one of the most famous anthropological dramas into fiction.
It’s the early 1930s in colonial New Guinea and Nell Stone is leaving the field with her husband Fen, bound for Australia. Following their experience with the Mumbanyo, a difficult and bloodthirsty tribe, Nell is left ill and broken. Her reputation as a revolutionary, successful young American anthropologist is already established, but her husband is frustrated they left the warlike Mumbanyo. Enter Andrew Bankson, a lonely, well-known English anthropologist who offers them a tribe to study on the Sepik River. The couple thrive amongst the Tam, and Bankson is giddy with Nell and Fen’s intellect and friendship. Just as the euphoria hits, complex emotions between friends and lovers are revealed.
It is possible to read Euphoria without knowing the history that inspired the writing, but a little knowledge makes for a richer reading. Margaret Mead (Nell) has provided a wealth of controversy since her book Coming of Age in Samoa was published and it’s little wonder she continues to fascinate. Euphoria is loosely based on Mead leaving her husband, Reo Fortune (Fen), for Gregory Bateson (Bankson), and each of these characters are easily recognisable. This will raise hackles amongst anthropologists, but the fiction works in its own right, leaving us transfixed by the aftermath of what seems like bliss.
Luke May is a freelance reviewer.