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Into the Heart of Borneo
Armed with equipment and advice from 22 SAS, Hereford, and accompanied by three trackers, Redmond O'Hanlon, the naturalist, and James Fenton, the poet, set out on a long river voyage into the interior of a tropical jungle hoping to reach the Tiban massif. At once funny and knowledgeable, Redmond O'Hanlon's account of how they battled with insects, discomfort and setbacks is a hugely entertaining and informative adventure story in the best tradition of the world's great travel classics.
192 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1984
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About the author
Redmond O'Hanlon
32 books117 followersRedmond O'Hanlon is a British author, born in 1947. Mr. O'Hanlon has become known for his journeys into some of the most remote jungles of the world, in Borneo, the Amazon basin and Congo. He has also written a harrowing account of a trip to the North Atlantic on a trawler.
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November 19, 2023
I have had this (in fact all four of Redmond O'Hanlon's books that I own) on my re-read list for a while now, and it was only the fact of being unable to locate it in my shelves that slowed me down. I originally read it back in the 1990's having picked up my copy (from the look of the writing on the inside cover) in Malaysia at some point.
O'Hanlon, author and naturalist, shows in this book a particular interest in birds, but also stakes his biggest prize as seeing a Borneo rhinoceros. At this time of this expedition, the rhino was suspected as being extinct, today it is considered critically endangered, there being a single female in captivity, and a very small population left in the wild - perhaps only just enough to breed from in captivity. Apparently a sanctuary for this purpose is being established in the Kelian Protected Forest. But I digress.
Joining O'Hanlon on this expedition is James Fenton, poet. As the story rolls out, it is hard to imagine two men less suitable for such a venture, but it is testament to their tenacity that they overcome the difficulties, often with humour at each others expense, and complete their journey up the Rajang River in Sarawak to Kapit, then up the much more remote Baleh River to the Tiban massif, which takes them across the border into Indonesian Kalimantan. To their credit, the humour is never at the expense of their guides, although there is plenty of banter between the men.
They travel in a longboat with Iban (also known as Sea Dyak) guides (a headman, a boatman and a guide) who undertake the route planning, transport, hunting, fishing and food preparation, as well as the interactions with other villages and tribes, and are generally responsible for their safety (and getting them drunk). Anyone who has visited a longhouse in Borneo, no matter how touristy the visit was, will know that drinking the local rocket fuel is part of the visit, whether you want it or not. Drinking until it is finished is also a part of this tradition, resulting in plenty of late starts for the expedition.
While O'Hanlon's telling of the expedition is hilariously funny, it is certainly not without perceptive observation of the Iban, Kayan, Kenyah and Ukit people, this in spite of Redmond often having no idea what is going on around him. Certainly the frequent spotting of birds features heavily, and O'Hanlon freely quotes from historic naturalist works, in particular Bertram Smythies - The Birds of Borneo, but many others also. The communal lifestyle of the tribes gives ample opportunity for interaction and observation, and the two travellers are drawn into the ways their guides follow through the fact of not having a choice. Smoked and salted fish (Sebaru, described as tasteless, but full of bones) and rice make up the bulk of their meals on the river, supplemented with wild pork and occasionally deer. Whiskey and tobacco make up a large proportion of their stores, the later running out far too quickly.
Of the dangers, the river seems the greatest, given the amount of time they spend in travel, but the three Iban men are superbly able, as opposed to Fenton and O’Hanlon, who nevertheless contribute by assisting with dragging and pushing the longboat where required. Leeches feature heavily, while more disgusting than dangerous, produce plenty of anecdotes and discussion. Other than injury, the risk of giving offense to (former) head-hunters is probably the other risk, although once again their guides are there to steer them away from cultural misunderstandings.
The guides themselves probably consider Redmond and James the biggest risk to themselves, Leon constantly reminding them that “Redmon is very fats, Jams is very old”.
One of the more telling sequences was the interaction with the Ukit people. The younger people of the tribe having turned their back on their history, considered the elders ‘stupid’ and old fashioned, and simply wanted to learn a disco dance from O’Hanlon. It was a sad reminder of modernisation of ancient peoples. With that, and the modern issues of deforestation for timber harvesting and palm oil, much has changed in Borneo since this books publication.
A few quotes to finish off.
O'Hanlon, author and naturalist, shows in this book a particular interest in birds, but also stakes his biggest prize as seeing a Borneo rhinoceros. At this time of this expedition, the rhino was suspected as being extinct, today it is considered critically endangered, there being a single female in captivity, and a very small population left in the wild - perhaps only just enough to breed from in captivity. Apparently a sanctuary for this purpose is being established in the Kelian Protected Forest. But I digress.
Joining O'Hanlon on this expedition is James Fenton, poet. As the story rolls out, it is hard to imagine two men less suitable for such a venture, but it is testament to their tenacity that they overcome the difficulties, often with humour at each others expense, and complete their journey up the Rajang River in Sarawak to Kapit, then up the much more remote Baleh River to the Tiban massif, which takes them across the border into Indonesian Kalimantan. To their credit, the humour is never at the expense of their guides, although there is plenty of banter between the men.
They travel in a longboat with Iban (also known as Sea Dyak) guides (a headman, a boatman and a guide) who undertake the route planning, transport, hunting, fishing and food preparation, as well as the interactions with other villages and tribes, and are generally responsible for their safety (and getting them drunk). Anyone who has visited a longhouse in Borneo, no matter how touristy the visit was, will know that drinking the local rocket fuel is part of the visit, whether you want it or not. Drinking until it is finished is also a part of this tradition, resulting in plenty of late starts for the expedition.
While O'Hanlon's telling of the expedition is hilariously funny, it is certainly not without perceptive observation of the Iban, Kayan, Kenyah and Ukit people, this in spite of Redmond often having no idea what is going on around him. Certainly the frequent spotting of birds features heavily, and O'Hanlon freely quotes from historic naturalist works, in particular Bertram Smythies - The Birds of Borneo, but many others also. The communal lifestyle of the tribes gives ample opportunity for interaction and observation, and the two travellers are drawn into the ways their guides follow through the fact of not having a choice. Smoked and salted fish (Sebaru, described as tasteless, but full of bones) and rice make up the bulk of their meals on the river, supplemented with wild pork and occasionally deer. Whiskey and tobacco make up a large proportion of their stores, the later running out far too quickly.
Of the dangers, the river seems the greatest, given the amount of time they spend in travel, but the three Iban men are superbly able, as opposed to Fenton and O’Hanlon, who nevertheless contribute by assisting with dragging and pushing the longboat where required. Leeches feature heavily, while more disgusting than dangerous, produce plenty of anecdotes and discussion. Other than injury, the risk of giving offense to (former) head-hunters is probably the other risk, although once again their guides are there to steer them away from cultural misunderstandings.
The guides themselves probably consider Redmond and James the biggest risk to themselves, Leon constantly reminding them that “Redmon is very fats, Jams is very old”.
One of the more telling sequences was the interaction with the Ukit people. The younger people of the tribe having turned their back on their history, considered the elders ‘stupid’ and old fashioned, and simply wanted to learn a disco dance from O’Hanlon. It was a sad reminder of modernisation of ancient peoples. With that, and the modern issues of deforestation for timber harvesting and palm oil, much has changed in Borneo since this books publication.
A few quotes to finish off.
"Redmon," he said, sotto voce, "I hopes you and Jams not go with hotel girls?"
"I haven't seen any hotel girls."
"They on top floor. Very naughties."
"Do you go with hotel girls?"
"No Redmon," said Leon with great seriousness, "there is new diseases here. Your spear it rots. You go to hospital, they look at your spear, you take medicine. We have a word for this diseases. I not know it in English. We Iban, in our language, we call it syphilis."
-
Inghai huddled over his cauldron, stirring it with a stick…
“Fish soups very specials for we Iban,” said Leon, helpful as always. And then, with a passing twinge at the back of the throat, I remembered the rudiments of my fish biology lessons. The top of the pot was dancing with swim-bladders, the internal balloons of the sebaru.
-
We crept up on the camp in a line, with Dana and Leon slightly forward on the wings. Poor James was peacefully reading, his back to us, in the shade of a large boulder. He just happened to be opposite my position in the assault. I edged forward across the shingle until I crouched behind the rock and then, with what I imagine to be a Ukit-cum-Clouded leopard assassination howl, I lightly touched his neck. The Iban yodelled a particularly horrible battle cry. I can’t say James’s hair stood on end, because the sample is not statistically significant, and he emitted only a smallish scream; but his legs went convulsively stiff and shot up in the air and he threw his arms wildly over his head.
“Jesus Christ!” said James. And then very slowly, “I have allowed myself,” he said mournfully, “ to come to the middle of nowhere, the middle of nowhere, with a bunch of maniacs.”
On second reading, 4.5 stars, so I will stick with my 4 stars originally awarded.
Original Review
October 26, 2012
Humor can be found on the mere incongruity of the person with the place he finds himself in. That is why we enjoy watching those Tarzan-in-the-big-city themed movies: the bewildered savage treating modern civilization as just another type of jungle and behaving just as he was before in his former habitat.
This is a travelogue which did a Tarzan in reverse. Two Englishmen, one a poet (James Fenton) and the other a naturalist (the author, Redmond O'Hanlon) placed themselves in the interior jungles of Borneo and became the objects of hilarity among the native people they met, including their three native guides who distinguish them from each other with a perfect description: one is fat, and the other is old (I don't remember which is which).
One of them (the poet, I think) almost drowned in a river and even that was funny. I thought that even if he actually did die, considering time's capacity to mitigate all sorrows, I believe it would still have been possible to remember him now with fondness and laugh with him for the hilarious adventures he had before the mighty river took him in its bosom and fed his body to the crocodiles.
They had lots of glorious moments, things I know I can only imagine or dream about. Like when wild butterflies enveloped the author's entire body, competing with each other in sucking the moisture in his clothes, and the perspiration on his skin, and even his urine on the ground. Or, the bedtime they had like this:
"Slipping under the mosquito net, I fastened myself into the dark-green camouflage SAS tube. It seemed luxuriously comfortable. You had to sleep straight out like a rifle; but the ants, swarming along the poles, rearing up on their back legs to look for an entry, and the mosquitoes, whining and singing outside the various tunes of their species in black shifting clouds, could not get in.
"'Eeeeeee--ai---yack yack yack yack yack!' Something screamed in my ear, with brain-shredding force. And then everyone joined in.
"'Eeeeeee--ai--yack yack yack yack yack te yoooo!' answered every other giant male cicada, maniacally vibrating the tymbals, drumskin membranes in their cavity amplifiers, the megaphones built into their bodies.
"'Shut up!' I shouted.
"'Wah Wah Wah Wah Wah!' said four thousand frogs.
"'Stop it at once!' yelled James.
"'Clatter clitter clatter' went our mess-tins over the shingle, being nosed clean by three shrews.
"The Iban laughed. The river grew louder in the darkness. Something hooted. Something screamed in earnest further off. Something shuffled and snuffled around the discarded rice and fish bits flung in a bush from our plates. A porcupine? A civet? A ground squirrel? The long-tailed giant rat? Why not a Clouded leopard? Or, the only really dangerous mammal in Borneo, the long-clawed, short-tempered Sun bear?
"I switched off the torch and tried to sleep. But it was no good. The decibel-level was way over the limit allowed in discotheques. And, besides, the fire-flies kept flicking their own torches on and off; and some kind of phosphorescent fungus glowed in the dark like a forty-watt bulb."
What is it that one wouldn't give up to experience a night like that?
This is a travelogue which did a Tarzan in reverse. Two Englishmen, one a poet (James Fenton) and the other a naturalist (the author, Redmond O'Hanlon) placed themselves in the interior jungles of Borneo and became the objects of hilarity among the native people they met, including their three native guides who distinguish them from each other with a perfect description: one is fat, and the other is old (I don't remember which is which).
One of them (the poet, I think) almost drowned in a river and even that was funny. I thought that even if he actually did die, considering time's capacity to mitigate all sorrows, I believe it would still have been possible to remember him now with fondness and laugh with him for the hilarious adventures he had before the mighty river took him in its bosom and fed his body to the crocodiles.
They had lots of glorious moments, things I know I can only imagine or dream about. Like when wild butterflies enveloped the author's entire body, competing with each other in sucking the moisture in his clothes, and the perspiration on his skin, and even his urine on the ground. Or, the bedtime they had like this:
"Slipping under the mosquito net, I fastened myself into the dark-green camouflage SAS tube. It seemed luxuriously comfortable. You had to sleep straight out like a rifle; but the ants, swarming along the poles, rearing up on their back legs to look for an entry, and the mosquitoes, whining and singing outside the various tunes of their species in black shifting clouds, could not get in.
"'Eeeeeee--ai---yack yack yack yack yack!' Something screamed in my ear, with brain-shredding force. And then everyone joined in.
"'Eeeeeee--ai--yack yack yack yack yack te yoooo!' answered every other giant male cicada, maniacally vibrating the tymbals, drumskin membranes in their cavity amplifiers, the megaphones built into their bodies.
"'Shut up!' I shouted.
"'Wah Wah Wah Wah Wah!' said four thousand frogs.
"'Stop it at once!' yelled James.
"'Clatter clitter clatter' went our mess-tins over the shingle, being nosed clean by three shrews.
"The Iban laughed. The river grew louder in the darkness. Something hooted. Something screamed in earnest further off. Something shuffled and snuffled around the discarded rice and fish bits flung in a bush from our plates. A porcupine? A civet? A ground squirrel? The long-tailed giant rat? Why not a Clouded leopard? Or, the only really dangerous mammal in Borneo, the long-clawed, short-tempered Sun bear?
"I switched off the torch and tried to sleep. But it was no good. The decibel-level was way over the limit allowed in discotheques. And, besides, the fire-flies kept flicking their own torches on and off; and some kind of phosphorescent fungus glowed in the dark like a forty-watt bulb."
What is it that one wouldn't give up to experience a night like that?
March 13, 2020
Wow, can't believe this is the first time I'm rereading this in...good Lord, over 35 years!
I'd forgotten pretty much everything about this book except how good it is - that was spot on. When I last read it, I was still a neophyte in Asia; had already lived in Taiwan for a few years, but taken just one trip each to Singapore and Kuala Lumpur. So it was really fun rereading now, retired back in Virginia but in the meantime having lived a combined 7+ years in Malaysia/Singapore with half a dozen side trips to Kuching and KK - although I never got further upriver than visiting the strictly-for-tourists "Sarawak Culture Village" and taking the "Semenggoh Orangutan Tour."
I'd also forgotten that the justification for O'Hanlon's expedition was a pretty half-assed "search" for the Borneo rhinoceros, which never gets much more than lip service here, (he undertakes a slightly more convincing - three-quarter-assed? - expedition to discover the mythical "mokele-mbembe" in 1997's No Mercy: A Journey to the Heart of the Congo). But in both cases, his semi-scientific purpose is just smoke-screen for having a grand (and frequently drunken) jungle adventure. O'Hanlon is like a more intrepid Bill Bryson - Borneo is no mere Appalachian Trail - as well as a worthy successor to Eric Newby and his Short Walk in the Hindu Kush.
AS to Borneo itself, I have to hope that at least parts of the island still exist as O'Hanlon experienced it - but I'm not particularly optimistic. Slash-and-burn farming combined with unregulated logging and the proliferation of palm oil plantations has taken a heavy toll, and is largely responsible for the near-annual "haze" which blankets a good portion of insular Southeast Asia. And now with Indonesia looking to relocate its capital to the southeast corner of the island (since Jakarta is inexorably sinking into the sea), the situation is only going to get worse. So much like the Amazon basin, visit it while you still can - because it's a depressingly literal example of "here today, gone tomorrow..."
(NOTE: While reading this, I frequently referred to Volumes 2 ("Plants") and 3 ("Animals") of the excellent, DK-like Encyclopedia of Malaysia, to see just what O'Hanlon was talking about - since his scant photos are not very helpful. At the very least, I'd recommend keeping Google Images open as you go.)
I'd forgotten pretty much everything about this book except how good it is - that was spot on. When I last read it, I was still a neophyte in Asia; had already lived in Taiwan for a few years, but taken just one trip each to Singapore and Kuala Lumpur. So it was really fun rereading now, retired back in Virginia but in the meantime having lived a combined 7+ years in Malaysia/Singapore with half a dozen side trips to Kuching and KK - although I never got further upriver than visiting the strictly-for-tourists "Sarawak Culture Village" and taking the "Semenggoh Orangutan Tour."
I'd also forgotten that the justification for O'Hanlon's expedition was a pretty half-assed "search" for the Borneo rhinoceros, which never gets much more than lip service here, (he undertakes a slightly more convincing - three-quarter-assed? - expedition to discover the mythical "mokele-mbembe" in 1997's No Mercy: A Journey to the Heart of the Congo). But in both cases, his semi-scientific purpose is just smoke-screen for having a grand (and frequently drunken) jungle adventure. O'Hanlon is like a more intrepid Bill Bryson - Borneo is no mere Appalachian Trail - as well as a worthy successor to Eric Newby and his Short Walk in the Hindu Kush.
AS to Borneo itself, I have to hope that at least parts of the island still exist as O'Hanlon experienced it - but I'm not particularly optimistic. Slash-and-burn farming combined with unregulated logging and the proliferation of palm oil plantations has taken a heavy toll, and is largely responsible for the near-annual "haze" which blankets a good portion of insular Southeast Asia. And now with Indonesia looking to relocate its capital to the southeast corner of the island (since Jakarta is inexorably sinking into the sea), the situation is only going to get worse. So much like the Amazon basin, visit it while you still can - because it's a depressingly literal example of "here today, gone tomorrow..."
(NOTE: While reading this, I frequently referred to Volumes 2 ("Plants") and 3 ("Animals") of the excellent, DK-like Encyclopedia of Malaysia, to see just what O'Hanlon was talking about - since his scant photos are not very helpful. At the very least, I'd recommend keeping Google Images open as you go.)
April 25, 2020
Appreciated O'Hanlon descriptions ... enjoyed the book.
Also was amused by a library of congress mistake. In the USA's agency for cataloging books, someone had made a typo which led the book to be assigned to the geography of Washington State, and in checking many libraries then, I found that most of them had in fact shelved the book among other travel books in the Pacific Northwest.
https://www.loc.gov/publish/cip/
Also was amused by a library of congress mistake. In the USA's agency for cataloging books, someone had made a typo which led the book to be assigned to the geography of Washington State, and in checking many libraries then, I found that most of them had in fact shelved the book among other travel books in the Pacific Northwest.
https://www.loc.gov/publish/cip/
December 9, 2021
British poet James Fenton suggested in 1981 that Redmond O’Hanlon come on a jungle walking trip with him in Borneo in hopes of rediscovering the Borneo rhinoceros. Redmond was the natural history editor of the Times Literary Supplement and seemed the perfect traveling companion to help him appreciate the natural beauty of the island. So—these two aging British intellectuals hire three local Iban guides and set out on their dangerous odyssey into the Borneo rain forests traveling from Kuching on the South China sea to Mt. Batu Tiban.
O’Hanlon writes with a keen sense of humor much like that of Bill Bryson. It is a self-deprecating style that endures the three guides laughing uproariously at their ineptitude and ill-preparedness. Fenton is saved from drowning at one point by the guides when he was caught in a strong whirlpool. The author is fascinated by the plethora of unusual birds which he describes in detail. He also recounts their battles with leeches and encounters with weird insects. Oh yes, and he has to remark that Borneo is home to 166 species of snakes. Yikes!
O’Hanlon writes with a keen sense of humor much like that of Bill Bryson. It is a self-deprecating style that endures the three guides laughing uproariously at their ineptitude and ill-preparedness. Fenton is saved from drowning at one point by the guides when he was caught in a strong whirlpool. The author is fascinated by the plethora of unusual birds which he describes in detail. He also recounts their battles with leeches and encounters with weird insects. Oh yes, and he has to remark that Borneo is home to 166 species of snakes. Yikes!
September 5, 2007
I read this book on my first trip to South East Asia. This book (his first) I consider to be OHanlon's masterpiece. An absurd, aging, overweight British naturalist with an enthusiasm for nature that border's on the manic, travels with the perfect straight-man, the poet James Fenton, up river deep into the wilds of Borneo, in order to catch a glimpse of the Borneo rhinocerous. The local Dayak guides, masters of the forest, never tire of ridiculing and abusing OHanlon and Fenton - "Redmond you're so fats!" - they constantly exclaim, and the grey-bearded Fenton is declared as the wise elder. But the book is more than just the journey - it is full of "fun facts", history, particularly of the naturalist Alfred Wallace, and beautiful descriptions of the rainforest flora and fauna. As travel-writing goes this book is a gem - every bit as funny as Bill Bryson or Mark Twain.
April 3, 2008
Fun! Two British guys who had no business mucking about in a tropical jungle decide to go into the center of Malaysia where no European or American had been in fifty years. Armed with cigarettes, alcohol, antibiotics and books, they embark on a nutty, sweaty and very funny trip with three native men as guides. There's lots of singing, drinking, dancing and humor, and a bit of sex. Certainly not an educational book but very entertaining. The writer, a middle-aged academic with a belly is mercilessly teased for being "fats." His friend is prematurely bald but the natives are convinced that he must be ancient because he has no hair. That doesn't stop them from asking the dynamic duo to teach them the 7-step disco, though --- and it goes on from there.
November 19, 2019
This book never gets old! This was my fifth re-reading, and it is as funny and eye-opening now as the first time I read it... Ah, the good old 80s. This was at during the early days of heavy-duty logging but well before the plague of palm oil. A naturalist and a poet head up river. A lot of white guys were going to Borneo in those days--Eric hansen, the Blair brothers, Bruno Manser, Michael Palmieri, and my annoying college boyfriend, as a few examples).... And what do all these people have in common? Well, they all had on Tom Harrisson on the mind (I highly recommend Heimann's The Most Offending Soul Alive: Tom Harrisson and His Remarkable Life. Harrisson really was offending and remarkable!)
So, Redmond O'Hanlon decides to go upriver and invites a well-known poet (who happens to be his buddy) James Fenton along for the ride. Highly educated and extremely self-deprecating, this is NOT a journey inward (thank God) two guys but rather is an old-fashioned travel/adventure book. O'Hanlon is the idea-man. He plots a route upriver and into the great mystery that is the middle of the map of Borneo (with many parts still marked, "parts unknown" back in those days). he wants to follow in the footsteps of a 1926 British expedition. We don't know why he wants to do this except, well, he is a naturalist.
So, off they go.
The last time I read this was twenty years ago.... What I recalled was fabulous humor and amazing bird stories. Re-reading, what I found was hilarity from page one and a lot of insect stories... the insect stories had much in common with Lawrence Blair's account of absolutely relentless insects, possibly explaining why so few people had traveled in Borneo. Leeches too. Snakes! Deadly rapids, where we almost lose our poet.
There is something so civilized about two guys who can make fun of themselves and pain themselves as the clowns of Borneo, can go in search of beauty and adventure without a clear plan and have the ability to be attentive to the sounds and colors of the natural world, to be able to make people in the forests and longhouses laugh... sometimes, they would be clowning around to such an extent that their guides would quickly lie down on the forest floor and wait for the laughter to overtake them... laughing for ten or twenty minutes. I haven't laughed like that since Japan.
This is a classic. One of my favorite travel books of all time!
So, Redmond O'Hanlon decides to go upriver and invites a well-known poet (who happens to be his buddy) James Fenton along for the ride. Highly educated and extremely self-deprecating, this is NOT a journey inward (thank God) two guys but rather is an old-fashioned travel/adventure book. O'Hanlon is the idea-man. He plots a route upriver and into the great mystery that is the middle of the map of Borneo (with many parts still marked, "parts unknown" back in those days). he wants to follow in the footsteps of a 1926 British expedition. We don't know why he wants to do this except, well, he is a naturalist.
So, off they go.
The last time I read this was twenty years ago.... What I recalled was fabulous humor and amazing bird stories. Re-reading, what I found was hilarity from page one and a lot of insect stories... the insect stories had much in common with Lawrence Blair's account of absolutely relentless insects, possibly explaining why so few people had traveled in Borneo. Leeches too. Snakes! Deadly rapids, where we almost lose our poet.
There is something so civilized about two guys who can make fun of themselves and pain themselves as the clowns of Borneo, can go in search of beauty and adventure without a clear plan and have the ability to be attentive to the sounds and colors of the natural world, to be able to make people in the forests and longhouses laugh... sometimes, they would be clowning around to such an extent that their guides would quickly lie down on the forest floor and wait for the laughter to overtake them... laughing for ten or twenty minutes. I haven't laughed like that since Japan.
This is a classic. One of my favorite travel books of all time!
June 11, 2012
My good friends Natalie and Dave gave me this book just before I left to live in Penninsular Malaysia, and it has really served to pique my interest in the country I now live in. I found this to be an informative and well-written book, and the author definitely knew his way around Borneo and its customs.
My quibbles with the book did slightly detract from my overall enjoyment of the narrative. O'Hanlon had the tendency to go on and on about different birds he encountered along the way, as well as describing - at length - the birds he wanted to encounter but didn't. This book was not meant to be about birds, and so when he did go on tangents about them, I found myself losing interest. My other issue was that O'Hanlon, when he ran out of narrative and character, would often fall back on long passages from other authors' works. This could really add to the ideas O'Hanlon was trying to get across, but it did not speak much for his ability to tell a riveting tale on his own.
With that said, the information about the different ethnic groups like Sea Dyaks and Kayan peoples was fascinating, and the journey itself was riveting. I just wish there was more of it, and perhaps Dana, Leon, Ingy Pingy, and O'Hanlon could have killed and beheaded the poet James Fenton so as to rid themselves (and readers) of his pretentiousness. I'd have left Fenton in the jungle.
My quibbles with the book did slightly detract from my overall enjoyment of the narrative. O'Hanlon had the tendency to go on and on about different birds he encountered along the way, as well as describing - at length - the birds he wanted to encounter but didn't. This book was not meant to be about birds, and so when he did go on tangents about them, I found myself losing interest. My other issue was that O'Hanlon, when he ran out of narrative and character, would often fall back on long passages from other authors' works. This could really add to the ideas O'Hanlon was trying to get across, but it did not speak much for his ability to tell a riveting tale on his own.
With that said, the information about the different ethnic groups like Sea Dyaks and Kayan peoples was fascinating, and the journey itself was riveting. I just wish there was more of it, and perhaps Dana, Leon, Ingy Pingy, and O'Hanlon could have killed and beheaded the poet James Fenton so as to rid themselves (and readers) of his pretentiousness. I'd have left Fenton in the jungle.
December 8, 2021
Without a doubt the funniest book I've ever read. Redmond has the most delicious, self-deprecating sense of humor. It's also the 2nd best travel book (Stranger in the Forest by Eric Hansen being the 1st) I've ever read and I've read a LOT of travel books. I've always been fascinated by Borneo, both these books were written before the deforestation (timber industry then Chinese palm oil farms).
Irish decent Redmond and a "pasty, pale-skinned" British writer is his traveling companion in a large canoe, along with native Micronesian guides.
Blast furnace heat, horrid sun burns (prior to the discovery of modern day 50 SPF sunblock), incomprehensible humidity combined with rapids and leeches that are able to swim up their urine stream (as they piss in the river), all the while Redmond makes fun of his constantly whining, poet pal and himself. This duo are the classic white travelers NOT built for the climate. It's a wonderful view of what Borneo was like before it was destroyed by the loss of its rain forest.
This is one of those great reads that many Goodreads members have reread, numerous times. I'm one of them.
Irish decent Redmond and a "pasty, pale-skinned" British writer is his traveling companion in a large canoe, along with native Micronesian guides.
Blast furnace heat, horrid sun burns (prior to the discovery of modern day 50 SPF sunblock), incomprehensible humidity combined with rapids and leeches that are able to swim up their urine stream (as they piss in the river), all the while Redmond makes fun of his constantly whining, poet pal and himself. This duo are the classic white travelers NOT built for the climate. It's a wonderful view of what Borneo was like before it was destroyed by the loss of its rain forest.
This is one of those great reads that many Goodreads members have reread, numerous times. I'm one of them.
January 13, 2023
4.5 stars
Excellent adventure book
Excellent adventure book
March 8, 2022
What happens when two guys want to see a Borneo Rhinoceros in the wild? Redmond's account reveals such an expedition. This travelogue presents an interesting somewhat scientific journey through Borneo undertaken by a journalist and a poet. They take letters of introduction from England and obtain guides, then journey up the Rajang River to the heart of Borneo and the huge massif in the middle. They have lots of adventures, but manage to use a bit of common sense throughout, providing an interesting account in the writing of the journey in the end. This account is filled with details of the plant and animal life, as well as the human experience in the jungle. If you enjoy travel adventures, you're sure to enjoy this rare glimpse into a society that was 'a couple of tech-levels behind' as they say, when discovered by Europeans.
"They're cannibals! Blowpipes! Phut. Phut. You die. No Noise. Very better than a gun."
Redmond's account of the journey he and his friend made was very similar to the account Eric Hansen made of his trip in Stranger in the Forest. Hansen's trip was made in 1982 and predated Redmond's by a year, but Redmond beat him to publication apparently. I'm not sure that either met the other or even knew about the other. But the major differences would be that Hansen's trip was undertaken without much planning, and alone without the benefit of much needed caution, almost like a tramp through the wilderness alone, even at night. Redmond's was better organized and prepared, and he was traveling for Science and Journalistic purposes. Hansen's account showed better writing style, and revealed quite a bit of character development from his experience, and his photos were of a much higher quality; revealing candid moments with human subjects who seemed almost one with his camera lens. Redmond wrote in more of a journal style, with typical log entries each day.
"The politicians get rich, one or two men get rich granting licenses to the Chinese to tear out our forests and take it all downriver; and now they're going to build a dam and lay a cable to Japan and sell electricity and get even richer."
Thanks to Philip, a friend who recommended this very informative book to me after I read Hansen's on my Book-Journeys Around the World. It's taken me 15 months to get to it off my To-Be-Read pile, and it was well worth the wait. I found a rather nice used hardback copy from third party sellers on Amazon. It is in great condition. I like to point these things out, because I think it is great to have so many resources available to find the books we actually want to read, unlike my pre-Amazon decades. I certainly wouldn't have discovered many of the best books without some of the gifts of modern day visionaries who bring us connected regional libraries, library apps, and book sites like Amazon and Goodreads. As much as I love going into actual bookstores, like the far-flung Barnes & Nobles, they only have a limited few books that are not in current print runs. And, friends like Philip assure there are always so many books still to be read.
September 6, 2008
An enjoyable travelogue in the manner of Eric Newby, Bill Bryson, and other self-admittedly cack-handed travelers. The wonderfully ill-prepared O'Hanlon and his companion, the even more ill-prepared James Fenton (a poet), trek through Borneo, where countless dangers could befall them (but happily don't, thanks to the deft assistance of three native guides). True, there are leeches and dreadful food, not to mention some close calls, but O'Hanlon describes these misadventures with high humor.
Even more humorous are accounts of the epic feasts and drunken parties at native villages along the way. O'Hanlon excels when describing the tribal people he and Fenton meet. And while it's clear that he really doesn't know what the hell is going on half the time, his three faithful guides - Leon, Inghai, and Dana - certainly do, and it's the portraits of these three in particular that stay with the reader. The guides are often amused, and more than occasionally irritated by O'Hanlon and Fenton's incompetence, and a sort of odd humor results from O'Hanlon's recounting of their solicitousness for their inexperienced charges. Here's Leon, for example, looking after 'Redmon':
"Redmon," he said, sotto voce, "I hopes you and Jams not go with hotel girls?"
"I haven't seen any hotel girls."
"They on top floor. Very naughties."
"Do you go with hotel girls?"
"No Redmon," said Leon with great seriousness, "there is new diseases here. Your spear it rots. You go to hospital, they look at your spear, you take medicine. We have a word for this diseases. I not know it in English. We Iban, in our language, we call it syphilis."
It's these exchanges and the relationship that develops between O'Hanlon, Fenton, and the three Iban guides that provides the richest material in the book, but to O'Hanlon's credit his humor is never the expense of the guides, though the two younger Iban clearly have something of the scamp about them. O'Hanlon even seems in awe of the older non-English speaking guide, Dana, an Iban of some stature who agrees to accompany them.
Of course, there's plenty of room for cross-cultural misunderstanding along the way, but O'Hanlon, to his credit, never slips into condescension. On the contrary, if anything his self-deprecation seems almost ingrained. Still, O'Hanlon's sharp eye for detail, whether it's flora or fauna or the customs of the people he encounters, give lie to his buffoonery, making this a fascinating as well as amusing travel tale.
Even more humorous are accounts of the epic feasts and drunken parties at native villages along the way. O'Hanlon excels when describing the tribal people he and Fenton meet. And while it's clear that he really doesn't know what the hell is going on half the time, his three faithful guides - Leon, Inghai, and Dana - certainly do, and it's the portraits of these three in particular that stay with the reader. The guides are often amused, and more than occasionally irritated by O'Hanlon and Fenton's incompetence, and a sort of odd humor results from O'Hanlon's recounting of their solicitousness for their inexperienced charges. Here's Leon, for example, looking after 'Redmon':
"Redmon," he said, sotto voce, "I hopes you and Jams not go with hotel girls?"
"I haven't seen any hotel girls."
"They on top floor. Very naughties."
"Do you go with hotel girls?"
"No Redmon," said Leon with great seriousness, "there is new diseases here. Your spear it rots. You go to hospital, they look at your spear, you take medicine. We have a word for this diseases. I not know it in English. We Iban, in our language, we call it syphilis."
It's these exchanges and the relationship that develops between O'Hanlon, Fenton, and the three Iban guides that provides the richest material in the book, but to O'Hanlon's credit his humor is never the expense of the guides, though the two younger Iban clearly have something of the scamp about them. O'Hanlon even seems in awe of the older non-English speaking guide, Dana, an Iban of some stature who agrees to accompany them.
Of course, there's plenty of room for cross-cultural misunderstanding along the way, but O'Hanlon, to his credit, never slips into condescension. On the contrary, if anything his self-deprecation seems almost ingrained. Still, O'Hanlon's sharp eye for detail, whether it's flora or fauna or the customs of the people he encounters, give lie to his buffoonery, making this a fascinating as well as amusing travel tale.
September 25, 2009
This classic travel adventure recounts a 1983 trip into, well, the heart of Borneo by the author, Redmond O’Hanlon, his friend the poet James Fenton, and three local Iban guides. The purpose of the trip is, ostensibly, to try to rediscover the Borneo Rhinoceros that is believed to be extinct. The story evolves around the unlikely party’s boat trip upriver from Kuching on South China Sea to Mt. Batu Tiban. The trip is at times dangerous, as they traverse rapids and face other natural challenges en route. Along the way the troupe comes across other ethnic groups—some of whom bear generations old grudges against the Iban—and engage in riotous celebrations with them. The book includes much interesting information about the people who live in inland Borneo. Redmond O’Hanlon is a naturalist by training (Oxford) and was for years the natural history editor for the Times Literary Supplement, so inevitably the book contains frequent passages describing the nature—especially bird life—that they encounter. The sympathetic Iban will have many a good laugh on account of the two clumsy Britons. In the end they confess that they never believed they’d be able to complete the trip, O’Hanlon being too fat and Fenton immensely old. O’Hanlon observes the world around him with a keen eye for detail and writes it all down in fabulously engaging prose. His sense of humour and self-depreciating style, as well as openness and empathy guarantee that this travel memoir is a definite winner.
September 20, 2022
Fascinating in parts, a detailed account of travel by foot and by boat into the jungle of Borneo. Part Bill Bryson, part David Attenborough and wholly last century English, this is entertaining and interesting.
June 26, 2021
Decidedly more cheerful in tone than In Trouble Again but perhaps less immersive. I’m a sucker for good travel storytelling, and this was for the most part a pleasure to read and quite informative, but something was missing from the narrative. Can’t put my finger on it though.
Read
May 2, 2018Read this for a book club.
May 26, 2025
Like John McPhee with knob gags.
June 23, 2020
Het eerste reisverslag van Redmond O'Hanlon was een bestseller. Niet verwonderlijk want dit was een heel ander soort ontdekkingsreis dan men gewend was. Je kunt bij O'Hanlon rustig stellen dat de reis belangrijker is dan het doel, want voor een groot deel van het verhaal ben je vergeten waar hij eigenlijk naar op zoek ging, hijzelf schijnbaar ook. Het gezelschap bestaat ook niet uit de typische gedreven en doelgerichte ontdekkingsreizigers, maar uit twee schrijvers die gewapend met een halve dag SAS training, goedgevulde medicijndoos en bundels literatuur de Jungle gaan bedwingen.
Dat kan niet anders dan leiden tot rare taferelen en die weet O'Hanlon als geen ander uit te nutten voor hun komisch effect. Zo peddelen de dappere avonturiers geholpen door drie dappere inlanders de rivier op, terwijl ze de fauna opzoeken in historische platenboeken of poëzie lezen van obscure dichters. Ze rollen van de ene penibele situatie in de andere sociaal cultureel ongemakkelijke happening. Gelukkig zijn de hoofdpersonen zelf ook niet van allerlei gebreken vrij, wat de pret nog aanmerkelijk verhoogt en dat is dan ook een beetje de makke van dit boek. Het is allemaal zo kolderiek dat het verhaal enigszins ondersneeuwt in humor en dat terwijl er voldoende inhoud onderligt en het verhaal niet gespeend is van scherpe observaties en genadeloze zelfkritiek. Maar na een tot nadenken stemmende observatie volgt bijna altijd onmiddellijk weer scherts en ik vond dat zelf nogal vermoeiend.
Het verhaal zelf gaat ook uit als een nachtkaars. Dit alles ongetwijfeld dicht tegen de waarheid aanleunend, maar ik bleef met een soort onbevredigd gevoel achter. Wat gepresenteerd was als een ontdekkingsreis, bleek bij nader inzien een soort aventoerisme van twee engelse snobs avant la lettre. Dit had verfilmd kunnen worden met Fry en Laurie in de hoofdrollen.
Desondanks een zeer leesbaar boek dat zorgt voor een glimlach en de behoefte aan constante raadpleging van een zoekmachine om na te gaan wat O'Hanlon gezien heeft, waar hij gepeddeld heeft en wie hij allemaal aanhaalt tijdens zijn reis over de junglerivier.
Dat kan niet anders dan leiden tot rare taferelen en die weet O'Hanlon als geen ander uit te nutten voor hun komisch effect. Zo peddelen de dappere avonturiers geholpen door drie dappere inlanders de rivier op, terwijl ze de fauna opzoeken in historische platenboeken of poëzie lezen van obscure dichters. Ze rollen van de ene penibele situatie in de andere sociaal cultureel ongemakkelijke happening. Gelukkig zijn de hoofdpersonen zelf ook niet van allerlei gebreken vrij, wat de pret nog aanmerkelijk verhoogt en dat is dan ook een beetje de makke van dit boek. Het is allemaal zo kolderiek dat het verhaal enigszins ondersneeuwt in humor en dat terwijl er voldoende inhoud onderligt en het verhaal niet gespeend is van scherpe observaties en genadeloze zelfkritiek. Maar na een tot nadenken stemmende observatie volgt bijna altijd onmiddellijk weer scherts en ik vond dat zelf nogal vermoeiend.
Het verhaal zelf gaat ook uit als een nachtkaars. Dit alles ongetwijfeld dicht tegen de waarheid aanleunend, maar ik bleef met een soort onbevredigd gevoel achter. Wat gepresenteerd was als een ontdekkingsreis, bleek bij nader inzien een soort aventoerisme van twee engelse snobs avant la lettre. Dit had verfilmd kunnen worden met Fry en Laurie in de hoofdrollen.
Desondanks een zeer leesbaar boek dat zorgt voor een glimlach en de behoefte aan constante raadpleging van een zoekmachine om na te gaan wat O'Hanlon gezien heeft, waar hij gepeddeld heeft en wie hij allemaal aanhaalt tijdens zijn reis over de junglerivier.
July 10, 2018
Uma equipa de exploradores inesperada, constituída por um poeta laureado (James Fenton) e um especialista em literatura inglesa do século XIX (Redmond O'Hanlon, o autor), partem para os confins da selva inexplorada à procura do elusivo rinoceronte do Bornéu. Vão numa canoa, guiada por três homens das tribos iban, através de rápidos cada vez mais difíceis de ultrapassar. Mas são dois "sportmen" ingleses, que encaram fleumaticamente todas as contrariedades com bom-humor e sem lamentações. Apesar dos desafios que têm pela frente, serpentes venenosas, picadas dolorosas de formigas, possibilidade de inundações rápidas ou mesmo de se depararem com alguma tribo perdida dos temíveis canibais que habitavam a zona, James segue tranquilamente na canoa lendo poesia clássica e Redmond tem sempre capacidade de se rir das encrencas em que se vê metido.
Mas o seu deslumbramento pelas maravilhas que encontram na floresta virgem é contagioso, as nuvens de borboletas que os cobrem em busca de se alimentarem delicadamente da sua transpiração, o voo dos casais de calaus por entre as copas das árvores, os ruídos e as cores do despertar da vida a cada manhã. É com o coração apertado que lemos a descrição do último olhar apressado do autor ao reduto mais longinguo e virgem onde chegou e de onde tem de fugir apressadamente devido à subida rápida das águas do rio. É como a lágrima que o rei mouro deixou escorrer pela face quando, do alto da estrada que o levará a África, olha pela última vez para a sua amada Alhambra, que deixa para trás, depois de derrotado pelos reis católicos.
E esse mundo selvagem e belo que O'Hanlon visitou em 1983 já desapareceu. Nas fotos de satélite das aplicações de mapas da Google e da Microsoft vêm-se hoje estradas que penetram até às zonas mais isoladas e zonas de exploração madeireira e clareiras de árvores cortadas na floresta e barragens. Os delicados ecossistemas que tanto maravilharam o autor e nos maravilharam a nós desapareceram, talvez para sempre.
Nota: se puder, leia na versão original, em inglês; esta edição tem erros, sobretudo muitos erros de pontuação, que prejudicam desagradavelmente a leitura.
Mas o seu deslumbramento pelas maravilhas que encontram na floresta virgem é contagioso, as nuvens de borboletas que os cobrem em busca de se alimentarem delicadamente da sua transpiração, o voo dos casais de calaus por entre as copas das árvores, os ruídos e as cores do despertar da vida a cada manhã. É com o coração apertado que lemos a descrição do último olhar apressado do autor ao reduto mais longinguo e virgem onde chegou e de onde tem de fugir apressadamente devido à subida rápida das águas do rio. É como a lágrima que o rei mouro deixou escorrer pela face quando, do alto da estrada que o levará a África, olha pela última vez para a sua amada Alhambra, que deixa para trás, depois de derrotado pelos reis católicos.
E esse mundo selvagem e belo que O'Hanlon visitou em 1983 já desapareceu. Nas fotos de satélite das aplicações de mapas da Google e da Microsoft vêm-se hoje estradas que penetram até às zonas mais isoladas e zonas de exploração madeireira e clareiras de árvores cortadas na floresta e barragens. Os delicados ecossistemas que tanto maravilharam o autor e nos maravilharam a nós desapareceram, talvez para sempre.
Nota: se puder, leia na versão original, em inglês; esta edição tem erros, sobretudo muitos erros de pontuação, que prejudicam desagradavelmente a leitura.
December 20, 2024
I loved this one for its vivid descriptions, humor, adventure and engaging writing. I found myself frequently Googling the names (and for images) of the wildlife, locations and indigenous groups O'Hanlon mentions. It's both staggering and sad to see how much has changed in Borneo, the world’s third-largest island, since the 1980s when this book was published—largely due to deforestation, which has also impacted the way of life of native groups. Despite the changes, reading this book has only further inspired me to visit Borneo one day and experience it firsthand.
August 13, 2014
Reading this book inspired me to book a 22-day trekking tour of Malaysian Borneo, the fabled land of Iban headhunters and the magnificent hornbill. O'Hanlon -- an Englishman, literary scholar and amateur naturalist -- undertook an 1800s-style expedition into the jungle in 1983 with three local Iban guides and one English friend, a poet. About their adventure he wrote this thoroughly enjoyable book, filled with laugh-out-loud humor and wondrous descriptions of birds, rivers, forests, the incredible equatorial heat, and all the squeamish details that those 19th-century reports politely left out.
Part of the delight in reading this account comes from O'Hanlon's quirky personality and his deep enthusiasm for nature, and a large part comes from his portrayal of his guides as intelligent men who find in their two English charges an unending source of amusement. O'Hanlon exaggerated nothing. I thought of him often while I walked on muddy paths and rode in narrow longboats in Sarawak, sweat streaming from every pore, drinking in the sounds and smells of the jungle.
Part of the delight in reading this account comes from O'Hanlon's quirky personality and his deep enthusiasm for nature, and a large part comes from his portrayal of his guides as intelligent men who find in their two English charges an unending source of amusement. O'Hanlon exaggerated nothing. I thought of him often while I walked on muddy paths and rode in narrow longboats in Sarawak, sweat streaming from every pore, drinking in the sounds and smells of the jungle.
December 2, 2011
Bruce Chatwin, Paul Theroux and Redmond O'Hanlon - for me, this is the 'Rat Pack' of British travel writing. The first novel of O'Hanlon I read was 'Congo Journey' and I really loved it. 'Into the Heart of Borneo' was the first book he wrote about one of his travels, so I was very curious for it. After completing the book, I felt a little bit dissapointed, because I expected more. The trip he and his companion are taking is quite short: they travel up a river, ascend a hill, hope to find the asian rhino, and that's it. On their way, the meet with locals, learn about their culture, do some bird watching and fight all kinds of bugs the jungle has to offer. That's more or less the same as in 'Congo Journey', but far less exciting. Maybe it's because I travelled to Africa myself, but I think the main point is that O'Hanlon manages to build a plot in 'Congo Journey' which is somehow 'more complete' and more intense than 'Into the Heart of Borneo'. It's not a bad book and it's good to see that O'Hanlon was able to boost his writing skills in his later works.
July 18, 2010
Totally hilarious. Surprisingly, the celebrated British poet James Fenton, whom you'd think would be the albatross on this junket, comes across as rather better equipped to handle Borneo's rigors than does designated adventurer Redmond O'Hanlon. But really, neither "fats Redmon" nor "old Jams"(NB, whippersnappers: he was 34 at the time) had any business traipsing through the jungle, and the fact that both emerged from the experience in reasonably good shape is nearly a miracle. The many throw-up-making elements here--giant leeches rearing up like cobras and and swiveling around in search of their next meal; the horror of roasted monitor lizard (and who couldn't have guessed that?); a festive bag of heads dangling casually from the ceiling of one of the long houses--not only don't hamper the book's appeal but enhance it. I'd never dream of going within a million miles of Borneo myself, but I'm awfully glad Redmond O'Hanlon and James Fenton did, and lived to tell the tale.
November 20, 2015
Such a treat! On the surface, it is a trip to Borneo, but just as distinctly, the British way of life & culture permeate through. I feel this book took me both to Malaysia and to the UK.
The man put himself through such an ordeal for our reading pleasure, he told his tale in such a delightful and engaging manner and I laughed so many times that a 5-star rating is richly deserved.
I wasn't surprised to find this quote in a wonderful Guardian profile of O'Hanlon (http://www.theguardian.com/culture/20... "If I could choose a century to live in," he reflects, "I would certainly choose the 19th, the best of all times, when there was still a whole world to discover."
Actually, I found there was something old-fashioned to his writing (I flipped to the inside cover once to reconfirm the publication year).
It's a book I started missing soon after I finished it.
The man put himself through such an ordeal for our reading pleasure, he told his tale in such a delightful and engaging manner and I laughed so many times that a 5-star rating is richly deserved.
I wasn't surprised to find this quote in a wonderful Guardian profile of O'Hanlon (http://www.theguardian.com/culture/20... "If I could choose a century to live in," he reflects, "I would certainly choose the 19th, the best of all times, when there was still a whole world to discover."
Actually, I found there was something old-fashioned to his writing (I flipped to the inside cover once to reconfirm the publication year).
It's a book I started missing soon after I finished it.
February 3, 2013
This is one of two books I always keep nearby so I can read a few pages when I'm in between activities.
It is absolutely hysterical, droll, meaty, and a dazzling window on a life almost none of us will ever experience. If I tell you that a poet in Borneo adopts as a mascot a parasite that has invaded his body, you'll think I'm nuts. I'm afraid you'll just have to read this amazing book to disprove me.
Actually, my copy has gone missing and I've torn up bookshelves, random stacks of books and hiding places trying to find it. My copy, which I found at a yard sale (where I seem to pick up a lot of reading material), is about as dog-eared as it can get, so I may have to order a new book even if I do find it.
In the meantime, hope you'll want to share this unique reading experience. Your only regret will be that you haven't encountered it sooner.
It is absolutely hysterical, droll, meaty, and a dazzling window on a life almost none of us will ever experience. If I tell you that a poet in Borneo adopts as a mascot a parasite that has invaded his body, you'll think I'm nuts. I'm afraid you'll just have to read this amazing book to disprove me.
Actually, my copy has gone missing and I've torn up bookshelves, random stacks of books and hiding places trying to find it. My copy, which I found at a yard sale (where I seem to pick up a lot of reading material), is about as dog-eared as it can get, so I may have to order a new book even if I do find it.
In the meantime, hope you'll want to share this unique reading experience. Your only regret will be that you haven't encountered it sooner.
October 16, 2020
This is a very strange tale of a naturalist and a poet, who somehow get roped into a trip through the wilds of Borneo. The actual purpose of their trip remains obscure. Their journey exposes them to much of the nature of Borneo, which includes leeches, snakes, and a wonderful variety of birds. Along the way the 2 Englishmen and their guides go through some amusing misadventures. The humor throughout the book is strong and does not spare anyone, including the author himself.
While the book was generally humorful, the story structure is such that we don't know the goals of the trip, we only get to follow along as they go on their adventure. This makes the reading feel incoherent at times.
While the book was generally humorful, the story structure is such that we don't know the goals of the trip, we only get to follow along as they go on their adventure. This makes the reading feel incoherent at times.
January 12, 2022
"Into the Heart of Borneo" is one of those classic travel books - and therein lies the trouble. While it will introduce you to a unique part of the world few of us will ever enter, it will also not encourage you to make the same journey. It's a "There and Back again" tale with little humour (despite what the cover promises) and a lot of sweating and bad-tasting fish. The botanist and the poet are off in search of a mythical rhinoceros. Will they see one? That's the central premise. It's also forgotten the moment they packed their bags... only to be re-introduced in the book's final page.
April 30, 2018
This is one of the funniest, and best travel books I've read. It accompanied me on my own, far tamer travels in Borneo - not everyone can go searching for the rare Sumatran rhino with three Iban tribesmen and an English poet in a dugout canoe, but anyone can enjoy reading about it. And I did, immensely.
December 17, 2007
a bit snarky but hilarious. O'Hanlon's depiction of James Fenton is really rather appealingly odd...a collection of inside jokes and quasi-macho derring-do, drily told. I don't know why I find this so funny, but I do.
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