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The Last Wild Men of Borneo: A True Story of Death and Treasure
Two modern adventurers sought a treasure possessed by the legendary “Wild Men of Borneo.” One found riches. The other vanished forever into an endless jungle. Had he shed civilization—or lost his mind? Global headlines suspected murder. Lured by these mysteries, New York Times bestselling author Carl Hoffman journeyed to find the truth, discovering that nothing is as it seems in the world’s last Eden, where the lines between sinner and saint blur into one.
In 1984, Swiss traveler Bruno Manser joined an expedition to the Mulu caves on Borneo, the planet’s third largest island. There he slipped into the forest interior to make contact with the Penan, an indigenous tribe of peace-loving nomads living among the Dayak people, the fabled “Headhunters of Borneo.” Bruno lived for years with the Penan, gaining acceptance as a member of the tribe. However, when commercial logging began devouring the Penan’s homeland, Bruno led the tribe against these outside forces, earning him status as an enemy of the state, but also worldwide fame as an environmental hero. He escaped captivity under gunfire twice, but the strain took a psychological toll. Then, in 2000, Bruno disappeared without a trace. Had he become a madman, a hermit, or a martyr?
American Michael Palmieri is, in many ways, Bruno’s opposite. Evading the Vietnam War, the Californian wandered the world, finally settling in Bali in the 1970s. From there, he staged expeditions into the Bornean jungle to acquire astonishing art and artifacts from the Dayaks. He would become one of the world’s most successful tribal-art field collectors, supplying sacred works to prestigious museums and wealthy private collectors. And yet suspicion shadowed this self-styled buccaneer who made his living extracting the treasure of the Dayak: Was he preserving or exploiting native culture?
As Carl Hoffman unravels the deepening riddle of Bruno’s disappearance and seeks answers to the questions surrounding both men, it becomes clear saint and sinner are not so easily defined and Michael and Bruno are, in a sense, two parts of one whole: each spent his life in pursuit of the sacred fire of indigenous people. The Last Wild Men of Borneo is the product of Hoffman’s extensive travels to the region, guided by Penan through jungle paths traveled by Bruno and by Palmieri himself up rivers to remote villages. Hoffman also draws on exclusive interviews with Manser’s family and colleagues, and rare access to his letters and journals. Here is a peerless adventure propelled by the entwined lives of two singular, enigmatic men whose stories reveal both the grandeur and the precarious fate of the wildest place on earth.
In 1984, Swiss traveler Bruno Manser joined an expedition to the Mulu caves on Borneo, the planet’s third largest island. There he slipped into the forest interior to make contact with the Penan, an indigenous tribe of peace-loving nomads living among the Dayak people, the fabled “Headhunters of Borneo.” Bruno lived for years with the Penan, gaining acceptance as a member of the tribe. However, when commercial logging began devouring the Penan’s homeland, Bruno led the tribe against these outside forces, earning him status as an enemy of the state, but also worldwide fame as an environmental hero. He escaped captivity under gunfire twice, but the strain took a psychological toll. Then, in 2000, Bruno disappeared without a trace. Had he become a madman, a hermit, or a martyr?
American Michael Palmieri is, in many ways, Bruno’s opposite. Evading the Vietnam War, the Californian wandered the world, finally settling in Bali in the 1970s. From there, he staged expeditions into the Bornean jungle to acquire astonishing art and artifacts from the Dayaks. He would become one of the world’s most successful tribal-art field collectors, supplying sacred works to prestigious museums and wealthy private collectors. And yet suspicion shadowed this self-styled buccaneer who made his living extracting the treasure of the Dayak: Was he preserving or exploiting native culture?
As Carl Hoffman unravels the deepening riddle of Bruno’s disappearance and seeks answers to the questions surrounding both men, it becomes clear saint and sinner are not so easily defined and Michael and Bruno are, in a sense, two parts of one whole: each spent his life in pursuit of the sacred fire of indigenous people. The Last Wild Men of Borneo is the product of Hoffman’s extensive travels to the region, guided by Penan through jungle paths traveled by Bruno and by Palmieri himself up rivers to remote villages. Hoffman also draws on exclusive interviews with Manser’s family and colleagues, and rare access to his letters and journals. Here is a peerless adventure propelled by the entwined lives of two singular, enigmatic men whose stories reveal both the grandeur and the precarious fate of the wildest place on earth.
368 pages, Hardcover
First published March 6, 2018
194 people are currently reading
1769 people want to read
About the author
Carl Hoffman
11 books160 followersCarl Hoffman is the author of five books. The Last Wild Men of Borneo was an Amazon Best Books of 2018, a finalist in the Banff Mountain Book Competition and long listed for an Edgar Prize. Savage Harvest was a New York Times Editor’s Choice, a NY Times best seller, a Washington Post notable book of 2014, was shortlisted for an Edgar Award and has been translated into eight languages. The Lunatic Express, was named one of the ten best books of 2010 by The Wall Street Journal. He is a former contributing editor to National Geographic Traveler and Wired magazines and has traveled on assignment to some eighty countries.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 106 reviews
December 21, 2022
Excellent book, but man - a lot to unpack here.
This is basically a story of the destruction of Borneo - its physical destruction, as its irreplaceable rainforests are cut down and sold off, only to be replaced by monoculture palm oil plantations; but also the cultural and spiritual destruction of its remaining aboriginal peoples, whose heritage is also being collected and sold off to foreign interests.
I'm still not sure if telling this bigger story of the indigenous tribes of Borneo (and similarly, of the indigenous peoples of New Guinea through his earlier book, Savage Harvest: A Tale of Cannibals, Colonialism, and Michael Rockefeller's Tragic Quest for Primitive Art) through the specific tales of several EXTREMELY white interlopers is racially insensitive or a stroke of narrative genius, but for me, this ultimately worked.
For the first three-quarters of the book, Michael Palmieri comes off as a charming, roguish but ultimately morally compromised (or is he?) "tribal art collector" who consistently rips off the Pinan and Dayak peoples (at one point, purchasing one of his greatest finds for a single Swiss Army knife). And yet…if he had not moved so much indigenous art out of Borneo when he did, would it have instead been destroyed during the indiscriminate burning and other razing of so much virgin forest by Malaysia's own rapacious timber and palm oil industries?
(FIRST NOTE: Despite the Malaysian government never looking good in this book - particularly its mercurial and thin-skinned [but apparently indestructible] Prime Minister Mahathir Mohammed - the real, consistent villain of this story is Sarawak's Chief Minister Abdhul Taib Mahmud, who served in that position for an unimaginable 33 years from 1981-2014, and then became Governor of Sarawak, a position he continues to hold today. Taib's personal fortune is estimated at over $15 billion, most of which was accumulated as a direct result of the exploitation and appropriation of Sarawak's natural resources.)
(SECOND NOTE: And yes colonial powers and foreign invaders have always taken advantage of their conquered lands and peoples - just think of Napoleon in Egypt, or Hitler...well, anywhere - but that isn't limited to we Westerners. To this day, Beijing blames Chiang Kai-shek of "stealing" many of China's most valuable treasures, most of which reside today in Taipei's "National Palace Museum." But how many of those would have been otherwise destroyed by China's Red Guards during the Cultural Revolution? And how much of Tibet's cultural heritage could have been saved if someone like Palmieri had been able to remove it prior to the Chinese invasion - and subsequent devastation - of Tibet? And certainly, Sarawak's new Malay Muslim rulers held/hold Borneo's Orang Ulu* in even lower regard than did their former British rulers, as well as the original White Rajahs before them, and as such have showed zero interest in preserving their unique cultural heritage.)
At the other extreme from Palmieri is Bruno Manser, a zealous, idealistic, but ultimately unrealistic supporter of the Pinan's rights to their own land and culture in Borneo. Manser ultimately paid for his efforts with his life, disappearing in the rainforest in 2000…and then suffering the additional posthumous tragedy of being featured on the cover of TIME magazine just one week before Sept 11, 2001** - at which point his well-argued concerns took a distant last place behind…well, basically everything at that point, at least for a long while.
Hoffman does a good job throughout in laying out "the essential conundrum" of white efforts to save rainforests and indigenous peoples throughout the world: "To Westerners, Bruno (and in his own way, Palmieri - my addition)) was a selfless savior and the Penan the quintessence of noble savages. To the Malaysian government they were a primitive embarrassment who needed to be saved from their own primitiveness (a process that not incidentally meant enormous profits for Malaysia's elites)."
And therein lies the rub. If Borneo's "development" did indeed aid the local peoples, then that may indeed be a good thing. Colorful as their forest life appears to we outsiders, who among them wouldn't appreciate education, medicine, electricity, etc., etc.? But ultimately, those local benefits were few and far between - while the real profits went to an increasingly corrupt Malaysian kleptocracy,*** foreign art collectors, and buyers of tropical hardwoods around the world (but particularly in China and Japan).
Anyway - as I said, a lot to unpack. On a personal level, it made me take an on-going look at my own travels and acquisitions. Certainly I was more than a mere "tourist," but never really surpassed the still-low bar of "expat;" while I lived in Malaysia/Singapore for seven years, and Taiwan for another 18, I never really tried to become a part of either culture, and always assumed I would someday "go home" to the U.S. (with my container full of slowly-acquired antiques, artifacts and souvenirs).
Anyway anyway - enough said. Excellent, eye-opening and thought-provoking book; I only suggest you read it close to both Google and Google Maps, so that you search for exotic places, terms and people like Batu Lawi, hampatongs, Mutang Urud, Lubuk Antu, Pontianak (which I had always confused with Balikpapang - silly me), etc.
* Orang Ulu - "people of the interior." Malaysia is full of "orangs" - Orang Asli ("native or original people," the aborigines of peninsular Malaysia); Orang Laut ("people of the sea"); Orang Kuala ("people of the river"); Orang Putih ("white people" or Caucasians); and - most famous of all - Orang Utan, ("people of the forest," or our beloved - and highly endangered, again due to Borneo's unstoppable loggers - "orangutans").
** PERSONAL NOTE: As mentioned above, I lived in Malaysia from 1998-2002 (and all things considered, loved it there - beautiful country, great people, just generally politically messed-up), when much of "the Bruno affair" was unfolding. However, I was only vaguely aware of it, and then only through the pro-government and deeply one-sided reporting of "New Straits Times" journalist James Ritchie, who also comes off very poorly in this book. And of course, the 03 Sept 2001 issue of TIME magazine was mysteriously absent from Malaysia's magazine racks that week...
*** Ah, kleptocracy. While Taib continues to go not only unpunished, but also greatly rewarded, for his rapaciousness, it's worth noting that Malaysia's former Prime Minister Najib Razak just began serving a 12-year sentence for corruption, and his wife was herself sentenced to 10 years just THREE DAYS AGO (i.e., 01 Sept 2022). However, this shouldn't really be interpretted as an encouraging sign; like much of Malaysian politics (see the 1998 and 2015 convictions of Anwar Ibrahim - Mahathir's deputy PM and main challenger - on sodomy charges), this was as much politically motivated as any true search for justice. (BTW, who do you think succeeded Najib as Prime Minister? A then-92-year-old Mahathir Mohamad. What are the odds??)
(Answer: actually, knowing UMNO pretty good...)
This is basically a story of the destruction of Borneo - its physical destruction, as its irreplaceable rainforests are cut down and sold off, only to be replaced by monoculture palm oil plantations; but also the cultural and spiritual destruction of its remaining aboriginal peoples, whose heritage is also being collected and sold off to foreign interests.
I'm still not sure if telling this bigger story of the indigenous tribes of Borneo (and similarly, of the indigenous peoples of New Guinea through his earlier book, Savage Harvest: A Tale of Cannibals, Colonialism, and Michael Rockefeller's Tragic Quest for Primitive Art) through the specific tales of several EXTREMELY white interlopers is racially insensitive or a stroke of narrative genius, but for me, this ultimately worked.
For the first three-quarters of the book, Michael Palmieri comes off as a charming, roguish but ultimately morally compromised (or is he?) "tribal art collector" who consistently rips off the Pinan and Dayak peoples (at one point, purchasing one of his greatest finds for a single Swiss Army knife). And yet…if he had not moved so much indigenous art out of Borneo when he did, would it have instead been destroyed during the indiscriminate burning and other razing of so much virgin forest by Malaysia's own rapacious timber and palm oil industries?
(FIRST NOTE: Despite the Malaysian government never looking good in this book - particularly its mercurial and thin-skinned [but apparently indestructible] Prime Minister Mahathir Mohammed - the real, consistent villain of this story is Sarawak's Chief Minister Abdhul Taib Mahmud, who served in that position for an unimaginable 33 years from 1981-2014, and then became Governor of Sarawak, a position he continues to hold today. Taib's personal fortune is estimated at over $15 billion, most of which was accumulated as a direct result of the exploitation and appropriation of Sarawak's natural resources.)
(SECOND NOTE: And yes colonial powers and foreign invaders have always taken advantage of their conquered lands and peoples - just think of Napoleon in Egypt, or Hitler...well, anywhere - but that isn't limited to we Westerners. To this day, Beijing blames Chiang Kai-shek of "stealing" many of China's most valuable treasures, most of which reside today in Taipei's "National Palace Museum." But how many of those would have been otherwise destroyed by China's Red Guards during the Cultural Revolution? And how much of Tibet's cultural heritage could have been saved if someone like Palmieri had been able to remove it prior to the Chinese invasion - and subsequent devastation - of Tibet? And certainly, Sarawak's new Malay Muslim rulers held/hold Borneo's Orang Ulu* in even lower regard than did their former British rulers, as well as the original White Rajahs before them, and as such have showed zero interest in preserving their unique cultural heritage.)
At the other extreme from Palmieri is Bruno Manser, a zealous, idealistic, but ultimately unrealistic supporter of the Pinan's rights to their own land and culture in Borneo. Manser ultimately paid for his efforts with his life, disappearing in the rainforest in 2000…and then suffering the additional posthumous tragedy of being featured on the cover of TIME magazine just one week before Sept 11, 2001** - at which point his well-argued concerns took a distant last place behind…well, basically everything at that point, at least for a long while.
Hoffman does a good job throughout in laying out "the essential conundrum" of white efforts to save rainforests and indigenous peoples throughout the world: "To Westerners, Bruno (and in his own way, Palmieri - my addition)) was a selfless savior and the Penan the quintessence of noble savages. To the Malaysian government they were a primitive embarrassment who needed to be saved from their own primitiveness (a process that not incidentally meant enormous profits for Malaysia's elites)."
And therein lies the rub. If Borneo's "development" did indeed aid the local peoples, then that may indeed be a good thing. Colorful as their forest life appears to we outsiders, who among them wouldn't appreciate education, medicine, electricity, etc., etc.? But ultimately, those local benefits were few and far between - while the real profits went to an increasingly corrupt Malaysian kleptocracy,*** foreign art collectors, and buyers of tropical hardwoods around the world (but particularly in China and Japan).
Anyway - as I said, a lot to unpack. On a personal level, it made me take an on-going look at my own travels and acquisitions. Certainly I was more than a mere "tourist," but never really surpassed the still-low bar of "expat;" while I lived in Malaysia/Singapore for seven years, and Taiwan for another 18, I never really tried to become a part of either culture, and always assumed I would someday "go home" to the U.S. (with my container full of slowly-acquired antiques, artifacts and souvenirs).
Anyway anyway - enough said. Excellent, eye-opening and thought-provoking book; I only suggest you read it close to both Google and Google Maps, so that you search for exotic places, terms and people like Batu Lawi, hampatongs, Mutang Urud, Lubuk Antu, Pontianak (which I had always confused with Balikpapang - silly me), etc.
* Orang Ulu - "people of the interior." Malaysia is full of "orangs" - Orang Asli ("native or original people," the aborigines of peninsular Malaysia); Orang Laut ("people of the sea"); Orang Kuala ("people of the river"); Orang Putih ("white people" or Caucasians); and - most famous of all - Orang Utan, ("people of the forest," or our beloved - and highly endangered, again due to Borneo's unstoppable loggers - "orangutans").
** PERSONAL NOTE: As mentioned above, I lived in Malaysia from 1998-2002 (and all things considered, loved it there - beautiful country, great people, just generally politically messed-up), when much of "the Bruno affair" was unfolding. However, I was only vaguely aware of it, and then only through the pro-government and deeply one-sided reporting of "New Straits Times" journalist James Ritchie, who also comes off very poorly in this book. And of course, the 03 Sept 2001 issue of TIME magazine was mysteriously absent from Malaysia's magazine racks that week...
*** Ah, kleptocracy. While Taib continues to go not only unpunished, but also greatly rewarded, for his rapaciousness, it's worth noting that Malaysia's former Prime Minister Najib Razak just began serving a 12-year sentence for corruption, and his wife was herself sentenced to 10 years just THREE DAYS AGO (i.e., 01 Sept 2022). However, this shouldn't really be interpretted as an encouraging sign; like much of Malaysian politics (see the 1998 and 2015 convictions of Anwar Ibrahim - Mahathir's deputy PM and main challenger - on sodomy charges), this was as much politically motivated as any true search for justice. (BTW, who do you think succeeded Najib as Prime Minister? A then-92-year-old Mahathir Mohamad. What are the odds??)
(Answer: actually, knowing UMNO pretty good...)
March 14, 2018
Read almost exactly half and then DNF except for seeing all the photos and their trailers and skim reading the last few chapters of Bruno.
This just seems all over the place. I could not connect to their hedonism and habits. (Not the Borneo but our 2 principle players.) Nor their heavily slanted propensities to their own wishes and agenda as opposed to the wishes/ purposes of the indigenous people. Non-fiction I find the most excellent when it is focused far more upon a specific subject matter along a factual or scientific or orderly continuum. For me this was lacking here despite the writing flow (prose form) being at least 3 stars. At times the characters seem slippery, slimy. Like con men propensities married to their ecological motives and egos primarily.
I would much more appreciate a ethnological study of those Borneo people straight on from THEIR own "eyes".
This just seems all over the place. I could not connect to their hedonism and habits. (Not the Borneo but our 2 principle players.) Nor their heavily slanted propensities to their own wishes and agenda as opposed to the wishes/ purposes of the indigenous people. Non-fiction I find the most excellent when it is focused far more upon a specific subject matter along a factual or scientific or orderly continuum. For me this was lacking here despite the writing flow (prose form) being at least 3 stars. At times the characters seem slippery, slimy. Like con men propensities married to their ecological motives and egos primarily.
I would much more appreciate a ethnological study of those Borneo people straight on from THEIR own "eyes".
June 27, 2018
This hasn't been a good reading month. This book is not what the title led me to believe. I thought, "Oh good....cultural....indigenous....survival," but no...it isn't that at all. It is about white men who go to Borneo for treasure and end up living there as they loot the treasure and sell it off. And then one of them goes missing. This was a book about them, not the Wild Men of Borneo. There were too many references likening them to Tarzan. I think Tarzan is cool....but this was not that. I really didn't like this one. So 1 star.
January 20, 2021
Great read if you are interested in Borneo and the cultural relationships that go on there. The book talks about 2 different people and how their personalities influenced their decision in going to Borneo and what they did there. One of them Bruno is presented as an adventurous albeit a little selfish person who was never happy living in a structured society and once he makes his way to Borneo he finally finds what he was looking for but at a price. The other character had a different approach and he was more of an ambitious character and while his life is also complex and interesting he also makes it to Borneo but he sees it as more of a business opportunity.
February 1, 2018
Delectable, although it should be a sad book. C onsidering the context which is about the destruction of the Borneo rainforest and its ancient human cultures, It is a true life thriller and semianthropological book, the destruction of the rainforest and part of the drama behind it The story of Bruno Manser I otherwise missed, this ecological disaster is minimally covered in the news I've read,like Russia's ongoing war with the Ukraine,,,Very well written.
August 20, 2018
This book was stone cold brilliant. Beautiful. Sad. Joyful. Incredibly thoughtful. Perfectly constructed. It would take a review as long as this book to cover its many facets. It is a travel book of the first order, a history of Borneo and its indigenous peoples, a study of human nature, a meditation on meaning, culture, the natural world, memory. That just scratches the surface.
February 20, 2019
I could see where people might be dissapointed in this book thinking they were going to get sort of 'true life jungle adventure' story, but what Hoffman gives us is more subtle, and because of that, more powerful. I'm not even sure if he knew this was the book he'd wind up with when he started, but the juxtiposition of these two men, both in love with borneo and its people, both trying to save its cultural history in vastlly different ways, and in telling it makes us question in the end who the hero of this story was if there were any to begin with. It's both cautionary tale about the price of progress, as well as challenging that narritive at the same time.
Civilization is a complex subject with very few black and whites, and the author does an exceptional job of exploring the very gray areas with a fair hand.
Reminds me of the last stanza of the Desiderada :
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.
Civilization is a complex subject with very few black and whites, and the author does an exceptional job of exploring the very gray areas with a fair hand.
Reminds me of the last stanza of the Desiderada :
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.
March 2, 2025
Re-read, phenomenal writing!
The Last Wild Men of Borneo is a wonderful double biography (one of my favorite genres!) It follows in the footsteps of two Western men who went to Borneo around the same time. While they did pass by each other once in Kuching; for the most part they were on parallel paths, which Hoffman describes as being almost mirror images of each other.
The first man is Bruno Manser. You’ve heard the expression “Fact is stranger than fiction?” Well, that term was invented for cases like that of Swiss environmentalist, Bruno Manser’s life story. Arriving in Borneo in the mid-80s, within a year, he was living with one of the most elusive tribes in the highlands, the Penan. The cover of the book has a photograph of Manser that I did not realize was a white man until I was nearly finished reading. Dressed in a loincloth and carrying a poison arrow quiver and blowpipe, his hair has been cut in the Dayak fashion, and he is shown squatting on a rock near the river’s edge. It is a touching photograph of a man who gave his life to fight for the rights of the indigenous peoples of the highlands. Hoffman described the events of his life and then tries to make sense of his disappearance. He does this through a thorough investigation into archives and by conducting countless interviews.
The other subject of Hoffman’s book is tribal art dealer and collector Michael Palmieri. In another story that reads more like a Hollywood movie, we follow Palmieri from his surfing days in LA deep into the rainforest of Borneo; where he has fled after dodging the draft and traveling overland from Paris to Goa, by way of Kabul. In Indonesia, he buys a longboat and—you guessed it—heads upriver to buy artifacts. This is where Hoffman’s book really shines. Because the rainforest is not just being threatened by loggers and palm oil corporations, as it turns out the cultural treasures of the Dayak are being plundered as well. In what seems to be a typical story, we follow Palmieri upriver where he bargains for masterpieces. In one case, he gets his hands on a priceless wood statue, which he somehow manages to trade for a Swiss Army knife. He would then sell this statue for an enormous sum of money to a dealer, who then sold it to the Dallas Museum of Art. In the book, we watch this happen again and again. Priceless work of sacred art is purchased for laughably small amounts of money, sometimes traded for a generator or even stolen right out of graves.
The tribal art market is worth over $100 million dollars today. And now we have a vanishing Borneo—from its animals to its ancient forests, to its peoples and cultural heritage.
Hoffman also explored this in his wonderful Savage Harvest. In both books, he goes into unexpected depth looking into what he calls the "Western hunger for Eastern Solace." In this book, he does this in Bali, where he is living. I wasn't crazy about this since I think he exploits the ladies who do yoga in unfair ways, talking of basically how empty their lives are and how the expats use Balinese ritual and yoga by cherry picking, what works for them and what doesn't. I do think there is something of cultural appropriation but I wish he didn't talk about their plastic surgery and empty chatter since it isn't very nice, is it? I am sure they didn't expect this from agreeing to go on a date with him! He was a lot more likable when he questioned his own "western hunger for eastern solace" in describing his very secular upbringing, where he felt alienated from Judaism and hungered for ritual and transcendence... And he rightly points out in this book that if these Westerners really embraced Balinese culture, they would find it as demanding as the Catholic liturgy. He talks about Dayak who converted to Christianity and gave the main reason for their conversion being that "Christianity is so much easier..." this all is saying that maybe somethings in life are not consumer choices. Or maybe everything is a consumer choice and we can just do whatever the hell we want-? His four test cases are himself, Michael Rockefeller, who was there to consume tribal art and Palmieri--both who were very exploitive in their bargaining with the people they were "buying" (stealing basically) this art from...and then Manser is a tougher case, as he truly was trying to be the voice that this tribe so desperately needed in the face of their entire land being ruined.
Manser became a real thorn in the side of Mahatir, and even more the Sarawak minister who ran the logging companies and was a billionaire. In a letter that Mahatir unbelievably wrote to Manser, Mahatir asks, "So, you think these people don't have a right to hospitals and education? You think they should live in the stone age to suit your fantasies? And who are you to talk?" It's true as well... and yet, just like in the case of the people who lost their sacred art--cultural patrimony really, as we are talking of very culturally significant art works that were bought for nothing, making enormous profits!
Anyway, I am a big fan of this author. A national geographic contributing editor, he finds riveting stories that should be or could be Hollywood movies and he tells them as such--but then goes into great depth. Great writer. Great detective work. Sensitive handling of issues!
The Last Wild Men of Borneo is a wonderful double biography (one of my favorite genres!) It follows in the footsteps of two Western men who went to Borneo around the same time. While they did pass by each other once in Kuching; for the most part they were on parallel paths, which Hoffman describes as being almost mirror images of each other.
The first man is Bruno Manser. You’ve heard the expression “Fact is stranger than fiction?” Well, that term was invented for cases like that of Swiss environmentalist, Bruno Manser’s life story. Arriving in Borneo in the mid-80s, within a year, he was living with one of the most elusive tribes in the highlands, the Penan. The cover of the book has a photograph of Manser that I did not realize was a white man until I was nearly finished reading. Dressed in a loincloth and carrying a poison arrow quiver and blowpipe, his hair has been cut in the Dayak fashion, and he is shown squatting on a rock near the river’s edge. It is a touching photograph of a man who gave his life to fight for the rights of the indigenous peoples of the highlands. Hoffman described the events of his life and then tries to make sense of his disappearance. He does this through a thorough investigation into archives and by conducting countless interviews.
The other subject of Hoffman’s book is tribal art dealer and collector Michael Palmieri. In another story that reads more like a Hollywood movie, we follow Palmieri from his surfing days in LA deep into the rainforest of Borneo; where he has fled after dodging the draft and traveling overland from Paris to Goa, by way of Kabul. In Indonesia, he buys a longboat and—you guessed it—heads upriver to buy artifacts. This is where Hoffman’s book really shines. Because the rainforest is not just being threatened by loggers and palm oil corporations, as it turns out the cultural treasures of the Dayak are being plundered as well. In what seems to be a typical story, we follow Palmieri upriver where he bargains for masterpieces. In one case, he gets his hands on a priceless wood statue, which he somehow manages to trade for a Swiss Army knife. He would then sell this statue for an enormous sum of money to a dealer, who then sold it to the Dallas Museum of Art. In the book, we watch this happen again and again. Priceless work of sacred art is purchased for laughably small amounts of money, sometimes traded for a generator or even stolen right out of graves.
The tribal art market is worth over $100 million dollars today. And now we have a vanishing Borneo—from its animals to its ancient forests, to its peoples and cultural heritage.
Hoffman also explored this in his wonderful Savage Harvest. In both books, he goes into unexpected depth looking into what he calls the "Western hunger for Eastern Solace." In this book, he does this in Bali, where he is living. I wasn't crazy about this since I think he exploits the ladies who do yoga in unfair ways, talking of basically how empty their lives are and how the expats use Balinese ritual and yoga by cherry picking, what works for them and what doesn't. I do think there is something of cultural appropriation but I wish he didn't talk about their plastic surgery and empty chatter since it isn't very nice, is it? I am sure they didn't expect this from agreeing to go on a date with him! He was a lot more likable when he questioned his own "western hunger for eastern solace" in describing his very secular upbringing, where he felt alienated from Judaism and hungered for ritual and transcendence... And he rightly points out in this book that if these Westerners really embraced Balinese culture, they would find it as demanding as the Catholic liturgy. He talks about Dayak who converted to Christianity and gave the main reason for their conversion being that "Christianity is so much easier..." this all is saying that maybe somethings in life are not consumer choices. Or maybe everything is a consumer choice and we can just do whatever the hell we want-? His four test cases are himself, Michael Rockefeller, who was there to consume tribal art and Palmieri--both who were very exploitive in their bargaining with the people they were "buying" (stealing basically) this art from...and then Manser is a tougher case, as he truly was trying to be the voice that this tribe so desperately needed in the face of their entire land being ruined.
Manser became a real thorn in the side of Mahatir, and even more the Sarawak minister who ran the logging companies and was a billionaire. In a letter that Mahatir unbelievably wrote to Manser, Mahatir asks, "So, you think these people don't have a right to hospitals and education? You think they should live in the stone age to suit your fantasies? And who are you to talk?" It's true as well... and yet, just like in the case of the people who lost their sacred art--cultural patrimony really, as we are talking of very culturally significant art works that were bought for nothing, making enormous profits!
Anyway, I am a big fan of this author. A national geographic contributing editor, he finds riveting stories that should be or could be Hollywood movies and he tells them as such--but then goes into great depth. Great writer. Great detective work. Sensitive handling of issues!
July 27, 2025
Really loved this! Started listening as pre-reading for my trip to Borneo then finished it once I got home. Interwoven stories of two incredibly fascinating westerners with two opposite ethos: one to plunder the indigenous people of their art, one to help save the rainforest. Guess which one led a long and happy life 😂 okay minus the plunder comment, Michael palmeiri seems like a cool guy with a WILD backstory …. Definitely worth the read, a good peek into some lesser known history. Definitely added some context to my visit but I would also recommend to the casual reader.
January 1, 2018
This wonderful book takes you back in time. Two men, unconnected, delve into the world of a jungle tribe called Dayak. One totally submerges into it, the other finds a fortune there. It also tells the tale of civilization encroaching on these nomads of a time not long past. A peoples self sufficient and at one with nature, living without any modern conveniences, happy in this environment, and tough as nails. This story flows, and is educational, and enjoyable.
January 6, 2018
Great book!! Once I started there was no putting it down. Interesting mix of love and devotion and greed and money. Would recommend to everyone.
January 16, 2018
Don't miss this one. Very enjoyable!
February 3, 2021
This book was beautifully written, exciting, informative, and at times, quite profound. It's a real page turner of a non fiction book, and I highly recommend it to those who might want to learn more about a part of the world we rarely read about.
It's really two books, though: one is about Bruno Manser, a young man who is passionate about living in the ancient ways and preserving ways of life of the tribal people of Borneo that are rapidly disappearing as the forests are increasingly logged. Bruno leaves behind his life as a herder in Switzerland and lives his life among the Dayan (a peaceful, nomadic tribe), learning their language, wearing a loincloth and becoming an adept hunter with handmade poison blow darts. Bruno's story is incredible, so harrowing and sad and unbelievable. One of the passages in this book, in which Bruno has a terrible snakebite and must cut off part of his own necrotic leg muscle, was as horrific as any horror novel I've ever read. Bruno's story is an amazing one, but it really brings up the big questions. He devoted his life to protecting the Borneo rainforest, leading the Dayan in mass protests that ultimately held off logging in their area (for a while, ultimately, sadly, the rainforests of Borneo are nearly gone). The Malaysian government saw Bruno as enemy #1 and hunted him for years, arguing that he was holding back progress and the tribes deserve to be brought into modernity. They deserve easier lives (life in the jungles was anything but easy, as the author demonstrates when he visits Bruno's haunts- you constantly had to hunt for food, the weather presented challenges for keeping warm, and all manner of biting creatures awaited, day and night), they deserve education, electricity, housing, etc. The government accused Bruno of forcing the people into remaining in extreme hardship. He didn't see it that way, and I don't think I do either. It's definitely food for thought. This half of the book was so interesting and well written, and I kind of wish it was the whole book.
The other part of the book is about Michael Palmieri, a man who calls himself a "buccaneer," and comes to Southeast Asia to exploit it- trekking days through the forest and finding extremely rare and precious pieces of tribal art, then selling them to the West for immense amounts of money. He made quite a name and a living for himself over 6 decades of doing this in Bali and Borneo, and as the author notes, is an expert in Bornean tribal art and spotting fakes. While Michael's story is also pretty interesting, especially his early days tramping through Southeast Asia in the late 60s during the height of the hippy movement, I couldn't really get into it because it just felt so grossly exploitative in comparison to Bruno. While there were some harrowing passages in these pages, I didn't feel any affinity for someone who suffers through the forest to steal the rich heritage of people who are already losing everything they have. The tribes of Borneo lost their livelihoods, their homes, their culture, just everything, in a matter of like 15 years. The Venn diagram of these two lives had little overlap; there is one line of the book where they actually meet, and I would've liked more than that, to see what they really thought of each other or how they interacted. Personally, though, I think I would have enjoyed the book more if it were just a story about Bruno and left Michael's story out entirely.
It's really two books, though: one is about Bruno Manser, a young man who is passionate about living in the ancient ways and preserving ways of life of the tribal people of Borneo that are rapidly disappearing as the forests are increasingly logged. Bruno leaves behind his life as a herder in Switzerland and lives his life among the Dayan (a peaceful, nomadic tribe), learning their language, wearing a loincloth and becoming an adept hunter with handmade poison blow darts. Bruno's story is incredible, so harrowing and sad and unbelievable. One of the passages in this book, in which Bruno has a terrible snakebite and must cut off part of his own necrotic leg muscle, was as horrific as any horror novel I've ever read. Bruno's story is an amazing one, but it really brings up the big questions. He devoted his life to protecting the Borneo rainforest, leading the Dayan in mass protests that ultimately held off logging in their area (for a while, ultimately, sadly, the rainforests of Borneo are nearly gone). The Malaysian government saw Bruno as enemy #1 and hunted him for years, arguing that he was holding back progress and the tribes deserve to be brought into modernity. They deserve easier lives (life in the jungles was anything but easy, as the author demonstrates when he visits Bruno's haunts- you constantly had to hunt for food, the weather presented challenges for keeping warm, and all manner of biting creatures awaited, day and night), they deserve education, electricity, housing, etc. The government accused Bruno of forcing the people into remaining in extreme hardship. He didn't see it that way, and I don't think I do either. It's definitely food for thought. This half of the book was so interesting and well written, and I kind of wish it was the whole book.
The other part of the book is about Michael Palmieri, a man who calls himself a "buccaneer," and comes to Southeast Asia to exploit it- trekking days through the forest and finding extremely rare and precious pieces of tribal art, then selling them to the West for immense amounts of money. He made quite a name and a living for himself over 6 decades of doing this in Bali and Borneo, and as the author notes, is an expert in Bornean tribal art and spotting fakes. While Michael's story is also pretty interesting, especially his early days tramping through Southeast Asia in the late 60s during the height of the hippy movement, I couldn't really get into it because it just felt so grossly exploitative in comparison to Bruno. While there were some harrowing passages in these pages, I didn't feel any affinity for someone who suffers through the forest to steal the rich heritage of people who are already losing everything they have. The tribes of Borneo lost their livelihoods, their homes, their culture, just everything, in a matter of like 15 years. The Venn diagram of these two lives had little overlap; there is one line of the book where they actually meet, and I would've liked more than that, to see what they really thought of each other or how they interacted. Personally, though, I think I would have enjoyed the book more if it were just a story about Bruno and left Michael's story out entirely.
May 4, 2018
Listened to the audio (as usual).
The reader had a unique cadence to his voice, that while not unpleasant, I found a bit distracting.
I was expecting a bit more out of this book. There are a number of interesting parts, such as antiquities dealing (something I know little about) and about Bruno Manser's survival adventures. The writing style is also very solid I think. But I didn't quite connect to the book as a whole and found that the dual narratives didn't work for me. I couldn't quite finish it either since I got a bit lost with it. Perhaps it was also the reader and if I had read the print I might have rated it higher. So two stars -- "it was ok."
The reader had a unique cadence to his voice, that while not unpleasant, I found a bit distracting.
I was expecting a bit more out of this book. There are a number of interesting parts, such as antiquities dealing (something I know little about) and about Bruno Manser's survival adventures. The writing style is also very solid I think. But I didn't quite connect to the book as a whole and found that the dual narratives didn't work for me. I couldn't quite finish it either since I got a bit lost with it. Perhaps it was also the reader and if I had read the print I might have rated it higher. So two stars -- "it was ok."
March 18, 2018
I received a free copy of this book through a Goodreads Giveaway.
The Last Wild Men of Borneo: A True Story of Death and Treasure is the dual biography of American art dealer Michael Palmieri and Swiss environmentalist Bruno Manser with the prime focus on their lives in Borneo. The chapters alternate between the two.
Both Palmieri and Manser sought to escape their lives in their homelands, and Borneo is where they eventually arrived to spend large portions of their lives. Palmieri represents the capitalist impulse of the West, in that he starts as a trader and becomes an art dealer buying cheap to sell at a substantial profit. Manser is more fueled by his ego to see what he can survive, searching to find the Penan people the last people to live a traditional rain forest based lifestyle. As Borneo becomes more modernized these lifestyle comes under threat by logging.
The alternating narratives are a little jarring at first, and it quickly becomes apparent the Palmieri sections are largely focused on the present while Manser chapters work chronologically.
The setting is the most detailed character, and suffers the most of the time period covered by the book. As the narrative continues Manser's life becomes less laudable and Palmieri's always embraces the worst aspects of capitalism.
A fairly quick read good for anyone interested in travel, environmentalism, or the white man's burden.
The Last Wild Men of Borneo: A True Story of Death and Treasure is the dual biography of American art dealer Michael Palmieri and Swiss environmentalist Bruno Manser with the prime focus on their lives in Borneo. The chapters alternate between the two.
Both Palmieri and Manser sought to escape their lives in their homelands, and Borneo is where they eventually arrived to spend large portions of their lives. Palmieri represents the capitalist impulse of the West, in that he starts as a trader and becomes an art dealer buying cheap to sell at a substantial profit. Manser is more fueled by his ego to see what he can survive, searching to find the Penan people the last people to live a traditional rain forest based lifestyle. As Borneo becomes more modernized these lifestyle comes under threat by logging.
The alternating narratives are a little jarring at first, and it quickly becomes apparent the Palmieri sections are largely focused on the present while Manser chapters work chronologically.
The setting is the most detailed character, and suffers the most of the time period covered by the book. As the narrative continues Manser's life becomes less laudable and Palmieri's always embraces the worst aspects of capitalism.
A fairly quick read good for anyone interested in travel, environmentalism, or the white man's burden.
July 11, 2021
3.5 I thought this would have a little more of an anthropological/sociological bent, but it was still really interesting. I'm not sure I would put a man who gave up all of his worldly possessions to join an indigenous tribe in the same category as a man who created relationships with indigenous tribes to gain worldly possessions, but I appreciated that the author was willing to address the pros and cons as well as moral issues related to each of these approaches to experiencing Borneo. I just wish he had done more of that.
July 2, 2018
For anyone like me who began to be bored with middle class ennui somewhere along in their twenties and who wanted to escape to a more "truthful" experience; this book is for you. Most of us settled for quitting our jobs and climbing mountains or wandering to exotic locations for further development of our living skills but the two truly courageous men of this book really knew how to get real in the hunter-gatherer backwoods of Borneo with all of its slings, barbs, and snakes.
March 26, 2018
You’ve probably heard of the decimation of the rain forests of South America but have you heard of Borneo? The decimation is not just rain forest but a way of life for people who lived their primitive existence with minor intrusion from outside until the rampant destruction of the rain forest.
Two men, each in their own way attempted to preserve something of the history and traditions of the indigent people of Borneo. Michael Palmieri left the USA with thoughts of travel, pleasure and making his fortune and he traveled through Europe and Asia doing just that but finally ended up in Indonesia. A fortune could be made with primitive carvings, textiles and jewelry but he had to be careful because there were so many fakes. He gradually became an expert but he also came to fall in love with the objects he obtained from the indigenous people, people he made friends with and appreciated on his travels through the rain forest.
During this same time period another man left Switzerland for adventure and he too ended up in Indonesia but rather than looking for his fortune he searched for knowledge of how the local people survived in the forests. One people, the Penan, he became obsessed with and devoted his life to trying to protect them and the rain forest. Sadly, this was not to be but Bruno Manser himself became a hero, a legend and a man of mystery who finally disappeared in his beloved rain forest.
The contrast between these two men is great but each in their own way tried to preserve the traditions of the people of Borneo. I enjoyed reading this book which is filled with information about the people of Borneo and their struggle to survive in modern times.
This book was supplied to me by William Morrow/HarperCollins in exchange for an honest review.
Two men, each in their own way attempted to preserve something of the history and traditions of the indigent people of Borneo. Michael Palmieri left the USA with thoughts of travel, pleasure and making his fortune and he traveled through Europe and Asia doing just that but finally ended up in Indonesia. A fortune could be made with primitive carvings, textiles and jewelry but he had to be careful because there were so many fakes. He gradually became an expert but he also came to fall in love with the objects he obtained from the indigenous people, people he made friends with and appreciated on his travels through the rain forest.
During this same time period another man left Switzerland for adventure and he too ended up in Indonesia but rather than looking for his fortune he searched for knowledge of how the local people survived in the forests. One people, the Penan, he became obsessed with and devoted his life to trying to protect them and the rain forest. Sadly, this was not to be but Bruno Manser himself became a hero, a legend and a man of mystery who finally disappeared in his beloved rain forest.
The contrast between these two men is great but each in their own way tried to preserve the traditions of the people of Borneo. I enjoyed reading this book which is filled with information about the people of Borneo and their struggle to survive in modern times.
This book was supplied to me by William Morrow/HarperCollins in exchange for an honest review.
September 11, 2019
I found this book to be somewhat boring. I also had trouble going back and forth between the two main characters.
October 27, 2025
4.5 stars rounded up to 5. Holy cow, what a story. Look at the man in the photo on the cover of this book. That is a white man from Switzerland. If that doesn’t pique your interest in this story, then this book is not for you. The story of Bruno Manser (the man on the cover of the book) and, to a lesser degree the story of Michael Palmieri, is the kind of incredible tale of individual exploration and adventure that I personally have to give 5 stars. I love these kind of nonfiction stories. Yes, “The Last Wild Men of Borneo” of the title turn out to be two white guys from the “West” (Switzerland and the U.S.). But the book, by documenting the exploits and passions of Manser and Palmieri, also obliquely tells the story of the deforestation and westernization of Borneo that ultimately leaves you with a glimpse of some of the “last wild” nomadic Penan of the Borneo rainforest. So there are many layers unfolding throughout the book.
As one GR reviewer said, there’s a lot to unpack in this book. Very well researched by the author. I didn’t count the pages that focused on Manser vs. Palmieri, but the book is basically about 60% biography of Manser, about 30% biography of Palmieri, and about 10% the author’s own personal journey in writing this book and trekking through Borneo. Within those broad categories you also learn much about the history and politics of Borneo, and about two of the indigenous peoples of Borneo, the Penan and the Dayak. Manser’s story dominates the book, as it should — an amazing, frustrating, and tragic individual who succeeded at going “native” with one of the most “primitive” tribes in one of the most isolated tropical places on the planet. A real life “Tarzan” in many ways. Ultimately his quest did him in, and the author ably documents how the Borneo that Manser and Palmieri first encountered in the 1980s has all but disappeared.
My quibbles with the book primarily focus on the writing. The author’s writing style was at times a little too loose or casual in the way he structured his descriptions of what he, or his subjects, were experiencing, sometimes using almost run-on sentences that sounded a bit like how someone would talk to you, using short bursts of multiple different adjectives or adverbs in one sentence. This came across to me as not a very disciplined, structured writing style, although at times it did manage to convey a sort of breathless wonder at what Manser and Palmieri (or another person in the book, including the author) were experiencing, which I would imagine is what the wilds of Borneo could evoke. I was also frustrated at times with the author’s infrequent mention of dates of events in the book or, after mentioning a specific date, then moving through following events without any info about dates or the passage of time — it was sometimes unclear to me if subsequent events were occurring days, weeks, or even months after the initial events of a chapter. Given that the book alternates between the lives of Manser and Palmieri it could be very unclear when certain events occurred. Even now I have no idea what year the author made his own lengthy hike through the Borneo rainforest with a Penan guide in the same general area where Manser roamed — all I know is that it must have been before the book was published in 2018 and presumably after 2014, which is the year referenced in either the Notes or a passage in a chapter that said when the author came across the idea for the book — that’s too much work to require of a reader to have to hunt for and guess at information in a work of nonfiction, and the author could have easily included the month and year in the book’s chapter about his journey. Finally, there was only one map in the book, and it was only useful for a very high level understanding of the relative locations mentioned in the book. A couple of more detailed maps of different regions of Borneo would have been very helpful and would have easily elevated the quality of book.
It’s difficult to write a great nonfiction book that has lots of details but doesn’t get bogged down in them, a nonfiction book that brings interesting people to life, and that entertains as well as informs. Assuming you’re not looking for a story that is primarily and very specifically about the Penan and the Dayak, and about the culture and history of Borneo, then this book will not disappoint you with its incredible personal story of two men who fell in love with the “real” Borneo and tried in their own perhaps misguided ways to preserve it.
As one GR reviewer said, there’s a lot to unpack in this book. Very well researched by the author. I didn’t count the pages that focused on Manser vs. Palmieri, but the book is basically about 60% biography of Manser, about 30% biography of Palmieri, and about 10% the author’s own personal journey in writing this book and trekking through Borneo. Within those broad categories you also learn much about the history and politics of Borneo, and about two of the indigenous peoples of Borneo, the Penan and the Dayak. Manser’s story dominates the book, as it should — an amazing, frustrating, and tragic individual who succeeded at going “native” with one of the most “primitive” tribes in one of the most isolated tropical places on the planet. A real life “Tarzan” in many ways. Ultimately his quest did him in, and the author ably documents how the Borneo that Manser and Palmieri first encountered in the 1980s has all but disappeared.
My quibbles with the book primarily focus on the writing. The author’s writing style was at times a little too loose or casual in the way he structured his descriptions of what he, or his subjects, were experiencing, sometimes using almost run-on sentences that sounded a bit like how someone would talk to you, using short bursts of multiple different adjectives or adverbs in one sentence. This came across to me as not a very disciplined, structured writing style, although at times it did manage to convey a sort of breathless wonder at what Manser and Palmieri (or another person in the book, including the author) were experiencing, which I would imagine is what the wilds of Borneo could evoke. I was also frustrated at times with the author’s infrequent mention of dates of events in the book or, after mentioning a specific date, then moving through following events without any info about dates or the passage of time — it was sometimes unclear to me if subsequent events were occurring days, weeks, or even months after the initial events of a chapter. Given that the book alternates between the lives of Manser and Palmieri it could be very unclear when certain events occurred. Even now I have no idea what year the author made his own lengthy hike through the Borneo rainforest with a Penan guide in the same general area where Manser roamed — all I know is that it must have been before the book was published in 2018 and presumably after 2014, which is the year referenced in either the Notes or a passage in a chapter that said when the author came across the idea for the book — that’s too much work to require of a reader to have to hunt for and guess at information in a work of nonfiction, and the author could have easily included the month and year in the book’s chapter about his journey. Finally, there was only one map in the book, and it was only useful for a very high level understanding of the relative locations mentioned in the book. A couple of more detailed maps of different regions of Borneo would have been very helpful and would have easily elevated the quality of book.
It’s difficult to write a great nonfiction book that has lots of details but doesn’t get bogged down in them, a nonfiction book that brings interesting people to life, and that entertains as well as informs. Assuming you’re not looking for a story that is primarily and very specifically about the Penan and the Dayak, and about the culture and history of Borneo, then this book will not disappoint you with its incredible personal story of two men who fell in love with the “real” Borneo and tried in their own perhaps misguided ways to preserve it.
January 21, 2018
I won this book as a first reads giveaway.
I wasn’t sure what I would think of this book but I really liked it. I will admit though, I found Bruno’s story to be the more interesting of the two. I would have liked to know more about the searches that were done to find Bruno. Michael’s story was good but for me, I found it much more engaging to learn about someone who lived with the Penan, became one of them, than someone who just made contact to find their relics and make money off of them. Overall though, a very interesting read!
I wasn’t sure what I would think of this book but I really liked it. I will admit though, I found Bruno’s story to be the more interesting of the two. I would have liked to know more about the searches that were done to find Bruno. Michael’s story was good but for me, I found it much more engaging to learn about someone who lived with the Penan, became one of them, than someone who just made contact to find their relics and make money off of them. Overall though, a very interesting read!
April 13, 2018
Carl Hoffman was doing research for his book, Savage Harvest, which was about the disappearance of Michael Rockefeller, in New Guinea, in 1961. He made two trips to New Guinea and spent several months there living with former headhunters in a small village that could only be reached by boat.
It was on these trips that the story of Bruno Manser became known to him. In 1984 Bruno had left his life as a sheepherder, to avoid Switzerland’s mandatory draft, and had gone to Borneo where he wanted to meet the indigenous Penan nomads. He learned their language, hunted with them using a blowpipe, and lived with them.
Money was not a motivator for Bruno because he was looking for something to make a difference in his life. He found something that mattered to him, when he found the Penan, and saw the threat that the logging industry efforts to clear-cut and destroy their lands was, to their culture and lives.
He taught the Penan to resist the loggers, but what fascinated the author most was how their efforts to do so were seen and embraced around the world. Unfortunately, the forests are now mostly gone, and Bruno eventually just walked into the forests and disappeared.
Hoffman was just learning about Bruno during a visit to Bali, when he met an American named Michael Palmieri. Michael was older than Bruno, had left America also to avoid the draft, and he too had migrated to the rain-forests of Borneo. Both were stories that Hoffman felt he should follow. Both were looks at Borneo, and how two people had seen it as a destination where the primitive culture of an unconquered people could help them fulfill their own dreams and escape their own past cultures.
Michael’s story makes up the other half of this book. Michael learned quickly and understood what had value in the art and scared items. He was willing to go deep into the country, and if needed go alone. He knew the language and gained trust among the people.
Other traders had not sought out the old wooden carvings, but he was one of the first to understand their value. Even though art was part of the peoples lives, he was patient and built relationships, which lead to much success.
Beginning in 1974 he made over 150 trips in and out of the country, loading up each time with art and native crafts, and then selling all that he had. He had bought from the source, knew his art, and much of it made it into the world’s greatest museums. Michael told Hoffman that he had met Bruno once in 1999 in Borneo.
Bruno cared deeply about the people he found and devoted his life to helping them. Michael spent his life trading in the Dayak’s art, he loved the art, and made a fortune. Perhaps they were two halves of the same whole. Both obsessed with Borneo’s people and their cultures.
It was on these trips that the story of Bruno Manser became known to him. In 1984 Bruno had left his life as a sheepherder, to avoid Switzerland’s mandatory draft, and had gone to Borneo where he wanted to meet the indigenous Penan nomads. He learned their language, hunted with them using a blowpipe, and lived with them.
Money was not a motivator for Bruno because he was looking for something to make a difference in his life. He found something that mattered to him, when he found the Penan, and saw the threat that the logging industry efforts to clear-cut and destroy their lands was, to their culture and lives.
He taught the Penan to resist the loggers, but what fascinated the author most was how their efforts to do so were seen and embraced around the world. Unfortunately, the forests are now mostly gone, and Bruno eventually just walked into the forests and disappeared.
Hoffman was just learning about Bruno during a visit to Bali, when he met an American named Michael Palmieri. Michael was older than Bruno, had left America also to avoid the draft, and he too had migrated to the rain-forests of Borneo. Both were stories that Hoffman felt he should follow. Both were looks at Borneo, and how two people had seen it as a destination where the primitive culture of an unconquered people could help them fulfill their own dreams and escape their own past cultures.
Michael’s story makes up the other half of this book. Michael learned quickly and understood what had value in the art and scared items. He was willing to go deep into the country, and if needed go alone. He knew the language and gained trust among the people.
Other traders had not sought out the old wooden carvings, but he was one of the first to understand their value. Even though art was part of the peoples lives, he was patient and built relationships, which lead to much success.
Beginning in 1974 he made over 150 trips in and out of the country, loading up each time with art and native crafts, and then selling all that he had. He had bought from the source, knew his art, and much of it made it into the world’s greatest museums. Michael told Hoffman that he had met Bruno once in 1999 in Borneo.
Bruno cared deeply about the people he found and devoted his life to helping them. Michael spent his life trading in the Dayak’s art, he loved the art, and made a fortune. Perhaps they were two halves of the same whole. Both obsessed with Borneo’s people and their cultures.
October 15, 2021
“‘What’s life if you’re not close to death? Life means to find out where the borders are.’” Two men left western culture to embrace the exotic east. They both had incredible charisma, were risk-takers, and passionate about what they were doing. However, their motivations were very different. Bruno Manser, a Swiss, rejected consumerism and wanted to live in the natural world; to join an indigenous tribe in Borneo and inspire them to fight against the logging companies that were destroying their environment. Michael Palmieri, an American, was initially just avoiding the Viet Nam draft, but he found a rich living bringing native art out of Borneo and selling it to western collectors.
Manser was amazing in what he could tolerate. “He had lived off of the brains of deer and week-old, blackened carcasses of wild boar or rats…He had caught twenty-foot-long pythons and poisonous snakes with his bare hands and had been bitten by them and lived, had nursed himself back to life through searing pain without antibiotics or modern medicine, had even performed surgery on himself.” “’Cockroaches and ants invaded and crawled through the hut minutes after we ate. Biting sand flies attacked me all night long as I shivered under every piece of clothing I had. In the heat of the afternoons, sweat bees by the thousands swarmed and buzzed and covered my arms and legs and neck; I was stung daily.’”
Palmieri’s trading adventures were not the walk in the park they sound like. “You had to be comfortable with intense physical hardship, with heat and rain and cold and cockroaches and biting no-see-ums and the threat of disease and hard floors and strange people and ceremonies, not for a night, but for weeks or months. You had to stomach eating whatever was in front of you, even if it was monkey, and you had to be okay with drinking potent homemade rice wine until you could barely walk…You had to have a high appetite for risk—risk of drowning in rapids; risk of breaking a leg, which could be disastrous in a dozen ways; risk of arrest or death from a thousand sources.
You could easily see the two sides of the arguments for and against their lifestyles. Palmieri was saving fragile native art from vanishing, but also spiriting a nation’s patrimony out of the country. Manser was trying to protect the Penan people, but was also making the decision for them that they should remain without medicine, sanitation, sufficient food, electricity, and education.
Really excellent reading.
Manser was amazing in what he could tolerate. “He had lived off of the brains of deer and week-old, blackened carcasses of wild boar or rats…He had caught twenty-foot-long pythons and poisonous snakes with his bare hands and had been bitten by them and lived, had nursed himself back to life through searing pain without antibiotics or modern medicine, had even performed surgery on himself.” “’Cockroaches and ants invaded and crawled through the hut minutes after we ate. Biting sand flies attacked me all night long as I shivered under every piece of clothing I had. In the heat of the afternoons, sweat bees by the thousands swarmed and buzzed and covered my arms and legs and neck; I was stung daily.’”
Palmieri’s trading adventures were not the walk in the park they sound like. “You had to be comfortable with intense physical hardship, with heat and rain and cold and cockroaches and biting no-see-ums and the threat of disease and hard floors and strange people and ceremonies, not for a night, but for weeks or months. You had to stomach eating whatever was in front of you, even if it was monkey, and you had to be okay with drinking potent homemade rice wine until you could barely walk…You had to have a high appetite for risk—risk of drowning in rapids; risk of breaking a leg, which could be disastrous in a dozen ways; risk of arrest or death from a thousand sources.
You could easily see the two sides of the arguments for and against their lifestyles. Palmieri was saving fragile native art from vanishing, but also spiriting a nation’s patrimony out of the country. Manser was trying to protect the Penan people, but was also making the decision for them that they should remain without medicine, sanitation, sufficient food, electricity, and education.
Really excellent reading.
September 10, 2021
Often my five-star reviews are of books I happen to see on a library non-fiction display shelf and think “that’s a book for me.” And this was one. I understand it may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but when I read some reviewers say they disliked the book because it focuses “only” on two Westerners and not on the indigenous cultures of Borneo, I wonder how carefully they read the book, and how willing they were to follow where Hoffman takes us. Because The Last Wild Men of Borneo IS about both groups of "wild men" — (1) the indigenous and endangered native peoples of Borneo, especially the Penan and Dayak, who are becoming westernized at the book’s end, and (2) the two Western “wild men” whose vastly different motives for transplanting their lives, and themselves, in Borneo share such similar features, as Hoffman reveals to us in an excellent mode that lets the two narratives blend into each other. (Think Ingmar Bergman’s Persona.) In the last chapter, where Hoffman recounts his harrowing (for him) three-week 30-mile trek through the jungle with Penan men, women, and children, we realize he had wished himself to become a “wild man” in his own way, perhaps not as Manser or Palmieri in Borneo, but to have extricated himself from full immersion in Western life. It’s a powerful and poignant book in this way, and I recommend it to all who think from these reviews that it might grab them. For us, this book is a page-turner adventure as well as a philosophical dive into what gives life meaning, as well as a tough course in the obstacles to environmental salvation (even more desperate now, in 2021).
March 30, 2018
A powerful book. I am somewhat ashamed at being utterly clueless about the destruction of the Borneo rainforest and ignorant of Bruno Manser. Hoffman delivered the lesson in a very engaging fashion, despite there being no way to dodge the sadness. For a while I was puzzled by the import of the shared biography of Michael Palmieri, but the end of the book tied everything together for me.
Beyond telling a true story, there is a moral here. My sense is that Hoffman’s saga cautions how the “tragedy of the commons” has been amplified because in the modern world everywhere is ‘common’. At the end of the day, Manser and Palmieri are individuals to admire for various reasons, but both are driven by personal motivations which may or may not make a net contribution to global goodwill. What is right and what is wrong? Hoffman underscores the difficulty by inserting a letter from the Prime Minister of Malaysia to Bruno which illustrates a valuable lesson: most all of us believe ourselves to be virtuous. Often mystified by actions of world leaders, I used to wonder how they could not see the pure absurdity of their actions, but time has taught me to appreciate they have a different perspective and caused me to frequently question my own motivations. The PM’s letter reinforced how we can all believe ourselves to be bettering the world.
The closing chapter where Hoffman struggles over what drives his own actions was something of a touchstone for me. There is a potent bottom line here and much more than a pair of biographies around two adventurers in Borneo.
Beyond telling a true story, there is a moral here. My sense is that Hoffman’s saga cautions how the “tragedy of the commons” has been amplified because in the modern world everywhere is ‘common’. At the end of the day, Manser and Palmieri are individuals to admire for various reasons, but both are driven by personal motivations which may or may not make a net contribution to global goodwill. What is right and what is wrong? Hoffman underscores the difficulty by inserting a letter from the Prime Minister of Malaysia to Bruno which illustrates a valuable lesson: most all of us believe ourselves to be virtuous. Often mystified by actions of world leaders, I used to wonder how they could not see the pure absurdity of their actions, but time has taught me to appreciate they have a different perspective and caused me to frequently question my own motivations. The PM’s letter reinforced how we can all believe ourselves to be bettering the world.
The closing chapter where Hoffman struggles over what drives his own actions was something of a touchstone for me. There is a potent bottom line here and much more than a pair of biographies around two adventurers in Borneo.
July 3, 2019
I have a lot of thoughts about this one. My feelings about this book are anything but straightforward. It's faced-paced, absorbing, well-written. More than that, it made me think a lot.
There are a lot of tangled themes explored in this book: neo-colonialism, the ethics of the trade of primitive art, environmentalism and conservation, the classic Victorian Gentleman Explorer trope as lived by white men in the late 20th century, orientalism/the Western obsession with the "exotic," the very idea of what kinds of ways of living have meaning. I came out with so many conflicted emotions.
On the one hand, Hoffman directly addresses the grossness of the Western/white/Global North's obsession with indigenous/untouched cultures and Eastern spirituality and all the many, many ways that is destructive, especially in a consumer culture. And yet he also falls into exactly that trap himself. Which I can't actually fault him for, because I have a weakness in that area myself. I appreciate his honesty about it, and yet I wanted him to come to some better conclusions about it. That's probably not fair of me.
This is a book that raises a lot of questions, but gives few firm conclusions. I wanted more conclusions than it gave, but I don't think anyone would be able to supply them. Instead of forcing conclusions onto the text, he leaves the questions on their own, which was really the only honest way to write the book.
There are a lot of tangled themes explored in this book: neo-colonialism, the ethics of the trade of primitive art, environmentalism and conservation, the classic Victorian Gentleman Explorer trope as lived by white men in the late 20th century, orientalism/the Western obsession with the "exotic," the very idea of what kinds of ways of living have meaning. I came out with so many conflicted emotions.
On the one hand, Hoffman directly addresses the grossness of the Western/white/Global North's obsession with indigenous/untouched cultures and Eastern spirituality and all the many, many ways that is destructive, especially in a consumer culture. And yet he also falls into exactly that trap himself. Which I can't actually fault him for, because I have a weakness in that area myself. I appreciate his honesty about it, and yet I wanted him to come to some better conclusions about it. That's probably not fair of me.
This is a book that raises a lot of questions, but gives few firm conclusions. I wanted more conclusions than it gave, but I don't think anyone would be able to supply them. Instead of forcing conclusions onto the text, he leaves the questions on their own, which was really the only honest way to write the book.
October 28, 2021
An astonishing book, nuanced and beautifully written. I stumbled across a mention somewhere and found the audiobook at our library's web site. I didn't expect much more than an adventure/travel/history story a la "Turn Right at Machu Picchu," which is a very good book itself, but not at the philosophical level of this one.
The two adventurers in the book are very different people who arrive in Borneo for very different reasons, and lead very different lives that only intersect in the smallest way. However, they both arrived and fell in love with the country when it was on the cusp of change, and change it did, rapidly. They were swept up in the tide of history, trying to make sense of it, and perhaps that's ultimately the story of all our lives, though for most of us the revelation is much less dramatic.
Both are fascinating people.
It would be easy to go on and on, but I have a strong feeling that if anyone sees this and their interest is peaked, they would do better to discover this remarkable story for themselves.
The two adventurers in the book are very different people who arrive in Borneo for very different reasons, and lead very different lives that only intersect in the smallest way. However, they both arrived and fell in love with the country when it was on the cusp of change, and change it did, rapidly. They were swept up in the tide of history, trying to make sense of it, and perhaps that's ultimately the story of all our lives, though for most of us the revelation is much less dramatic.
Both are fascinating people.
It would be easy to go on and on, but I have a strong feeling that if anyone sees this and their interest is peaked, they would do better to discover this remarkable story for themselves.
February 26, 2023
I agree with the reviews that say this book tries to cover too much and therefore the story narrative suffers. however, this is the first book in a long time i couldn’t put down. i read it while in borneo and was equally fascinated by the characters, the history, the politics. all the “side information” were things i already wanted to know more about, like deforestation, the art market, how globalization and industrialization affect tribal and nomadic people who live different than the majority of the industrialized world.
this book pairs well with Goodbye, My Kampung, about neighboring Singapore and the way deforestation and industrialization played out during the same timeframe. It leaves me comparing the two, and the 2 groups of people ended up very differently in modern day, one enjoying wealth but loss of culture, and one poor, and still loss of culture.
this book pairs well with Goodbye, My Kampung, about neighboring Singapore and the way deforestation and industrialization played out during the same timeframe. It leaves me comparing the two, and the 2 groups of people ended up very differently in modern day, one enjoying wealth but loss of culture, and one poor, and still loss of culture.
June 7, 2019
If you’re into male adventure stories and/or Indonesian native art, you might enjoy this book. The story of Bruno is interesting and Michael’s parallel story sheds a light on art collecting but it just isn’t my cup of tea. Toward the end I couldn’t wait for it to be done. (Book club assignment and so felt compelled to finish)
September 5, 2018
"Very interesting way to delve into the Penan tribe by seeking out the mystery of two former adventurers."--patron
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