Although the vocabulary can be unnecessarily dense at times, I think Laguerre captures the tropical landscape with such exquisite detail that I almost felt like I was there in the green hills and lush vegetations. It is a pity that this book is not appreciated, and more so because the island it depicts has somehow lost its soul (as most countries have, to be fair) in that it has concreted over its rich landscape, and I think that that the enchantment of the novel lays not so much in what doesn't happen, but in the surroundings and the conversations, which still touch upon relevant points today—everything from the simple minded clinginess of religion to the affection of socialist ideals, which to be fair, Laguerre half heartedly criticises through various characters whilst still professing some idealistic endearment. Yes, the book is worth reading, but I confess, it took me two readings to discover this: the first in my youth, where I was like many readers here flat out bored, and now with some appreciation as I am a bit older and with an entirely different worldview. Perhaps, this is the type of book that needs to be read at a certain point in your life, and not before.