Sometimes that old break-up standby, “it’s not you, it’s me” applies to a book. Things didn’t work out between this book and me, and it was mostly my fault. I went into the relationship with good intentions, but unrealistic expectations. I thought, hey, you’ve liked the other Sarah Vowell books you’ve read, haven’t you? Remember how much fun you had reading Assassination Vacation? Sure, you’ve never been to Hawaii and you don’t have much interest in missionaries, but I’m sure Vowell can bring them alive for you. If not, it’s only 236 pages, how long could that take?
A life lesson I keep learning over and over again is that a book you’re not enjoying is never a fast read. It took me over a week to get through Unfamiliar Fishes, even though it’s brevity and conversational tone match up with Vowell’s other works, which I’ve devoured. The problem here is that the book is a little too narrowly focused for my taste. Vowell explores the history of American involvement in Hawaii from the arrival of the first New England missionaries to the overthrow of the monarchy and American takeover in 1898.
One of the things I admire about Vowell is the depth and breadth of her knowledge of American history. She presents herself as more of a history nerd than a historian, but she clearly does copious research, apparently because she finds it fun. She is also great at making unusual but trenchant connections across eras and cultures. Unfamiliar Fishes is no exception, as she connects the history of U.S.-Hawaiian relations to the Trail of Tears, the invention of the telegraph, and Herman Melville, among others. Unfortunately for me, the central narrative isn’t compelling enough, as a succession of Hawaiian monarchs cede control of the islands gradually to generations of missionaries and their descendants. Though Vowell speaks with many contemporary Hawaiians and quotes from a vast number of historical sources, she never really connects with the story the way she did in Assassination Vacation. By the end, what should be a tragic and resonant ending feels rushed and anti-climactic. It feels like the book is only as short as it is because the author herself ran out of gas.
I may be projecting though, because by the end of the book I was definitely running on fumes. While it’s necessary to try to expand your horizons now and then, sometimes you have to trust your instincts and know that something just isn’t for you.