gomez books

When Gomez saw an orgasmic NY Times review of the new book The Lost City of Z: A Tale of Deadly Obsession in the Amazon, by New Yorker writer David Grann, we wanted to wrap ourselves in fine mesh and avoid it like we might avoid a malarial mosquito. We were tired of the buzz already.

After all, it was the gee-whiz memoir of a squishy, bald white guy from NYC who decided to abandon his family so that he could march off to Brazil to follow in the wet, green, disease-infested footsteps of a long-dead imperialist and Inca-hater, Col. Percy Harrison Fawcett. And Hollywood, being Hollywood and loving a good old tale of cowboys and Indians, had scooped up the manuscript for a movie starring Brad Pitt long before the book even hit shelves.

To Gomez, the whole endeavor sounded exhausting and misguided. After all, it has been Gomez's experience that the only people who actively seek to "survive" in jungles (or use suffocating baby slings instead of comfy padded strollers) are middle- or upper-class white people from the US or Canada who admire the earthy nature of the Other. Them, and Robi Rosa, who does it because he thinks he's a vampire.

But then Gomez saw this review of The Lost City of Z, by former Washington Post Book World editor and current standout novelist Marie Arana. If Arana liked it, Gomez will probably like it too. Even if Arana's a Republican. Even if Brad Pitt is bringing sexy to genocide.

Gomez will now bow our head(s) in humble realization that we exist in a fog of anger and hypocrisy most days. Gomez understands the risk inherent in bitching at others not to prejudge, whilst prejudging with verve and might.

Gomez thinks we will read The Lost City of Z after all, but we will probably get it from the library.