Moored in a wintry Asian harbor at the turn of the twentieth century, Captain Ulysses Vanders experiences a revelation. A Ferryman brings a mysterious gift -- a wine at once rare and familiar that takes the sailor back to a moment in Sumatra thirty years before. I closed my eyes, remembering where I had last tasted this liquor, remembering back across the years, remembering how steady the hand had been that held out the cup to me, and how desperate the circumstances. With a stab, her face rose before me -- beautiful, tantalizing, terrible to behold.
This is Heart of Darkness-lite. Both feature travels down waterways, descent into steamy, wild jungles and to some extent descent into madness. Highland is no Conrad, however, and where Conrad transcends Highland ... entertains. I believed him all the way up to the end, before he finished off the story with a lame, "Tah dah!" instead of a crash.
He writes about Sumatra, and I can say that I have never read a book about Sumatra, even if it's is from a colonial perspective. Props to him for the cultural diversity! It's reason enough to read the book.
I wanted to like the journey of this book's plot and the Sea captain. I didn't. I felt cheated. There were moments when the author gave a brilliant show of his use of prose, then he'd fall flat.