Book Review: The Shark God by Charles Montgomery

Travel writers, award-winning Canadian travel author Charles Montgomery tells us in The Shark God, work as follows: they contact a country's tourist agency, promise to write glowing stories, and then ask for "free flights, hotels, meals, and booze. Especially booze." They then spend weeks "lounging in crisp linen sheets [and] watching BBC World News."

That certainly wasn't Montgomery's approach to his book. The Shark God tells of Montgomery's attempt to follow the travels of his great-grandfather, a missionary in the islands of Melanesia in 1892. It is a humorous and insightful personal exploration of culture, religion, superstition, and faith that may rank among the year's best non-fiction books.

Montgomery's great-grandfather, an Anglican bishop, set out "to bring the One True God to the heathens" of Melanesia. At age 10, Montgomery found his great-grandfather's account of his journeys. To a young mind, the memoir was the family equivalent of Treasure Island or any other classic adventure story, only this was "an adventure sanctioned by God Himself." When Montgomery rediscovered the writings some 20 years later, they resonated differently. This time, he wanted to not only see those islands, he wanted to explore their legends and myths and how they were affected by the efforts of his great-grandfather and other missionaries.

Montgomery tells his story with a wry and highly observant eye. Although he used his travel writing credentials to arrange free transportation to Port Vila in the Vanuatu Islands (formerly the New Hebrides), Montgomery struck out on his own once in Melanesia. Here is his journey to one of the southernmost islands in the Vanuatu chain:

This I know: The ocean is not romantic. Not when you have left the calm of the harbor and the swell is up and the vomiting has begun. The ocean is not a gentle mother, not a bucking stallion, not an adversary you can grapple with. The ocean is a great rotting blanket that won't be still. It is a pool of rancid milk. A gurgling toilet. Something to be endured. This is what I learned on my first sea passage.

Similarly, when in the Banks Islands several weeks later, Montgomery wants to visit a German anthropologist.

I had a map that showed a perfect red line wandering all the way west across Vanna Lava to Vureas Bay. Everyone in Sola insisted the red line was a road. But when Melanesians say "road," they aren't thinking about a highway or even a cart track. They mean there is a way. They mean that yes, once upon a time, perhaps someone walked in that direction.

Yet Montgomery's travel adventures are essentially a colorful augmentation of his main stories. What Montgomery discovers in his journeys is that although religion pervades the islands, it is a far cry from what the missionaries may have ever envisioned.

Article Author: Tim Gebhart

Tim Gebhart lives in Sioux Falls, SD, where he practices law in order to provide shelter for his family, his dogs, and his books. He is a member of the National Book Critics Circle and his blog de guerre is A Progressive on the Prairie.

Visit Tim Gebhart's author page — Tim Gebhart's Blog