Paradise Lost Easy in the Islands

By Paul Gray

It happens every winter. When the winds howl and the snow drifts, TV screens across the U.S. bloom with images of swaying palms, emerald waters and undulating swimsuits. The islands beckon; come to the Caribbean. Not everyone has the time or money to heed the call, but stay-at-homes this year may console themselves with this collection of nine stories. In his first book, Author Bob Shacochis not only offers some beguiling tropical tours, he also shows how living in Eden can be considerably harder than jetting into and out of it.

The hero of the title story, for example, has nothing but problems. As the reluctant inheritor of a deteriorating resort hotel, Tillman quickly learns that he should have left most of his expectations back home in the States: "The terms of life in the islands were that nothing ever made sense, unless you were a mystic or a politician, or studied both with ambition." When Tillman's mother dies, of no visible cause, in her hotel room, petty annoyances assume the dimensions of conspiracy. The black authorities seem determined to find evidence of foul play. The hotel bartender, who hates whites in general and Tillman especially, feels free to slander the dead woman: "Daht ol boney-bag he call his muddah grabbin aht every blahck boy on de beach." As bad feelings spread and red tape unreels, the proprietor must store his mother's body in the kitchen freezer, prompting a walkout by the staff.

Such impasses are common in these stories, the residue of cross purposes and overstrained racial tolerances. In Dead Reckoning, a woman sets out on a sailboat with a new boyfriend. When they reach Nevis, she thrills to "my first true touch of paradise." Before long, her companion is locked in a battle of wills with a black beggar boy, who redoubles his efforts every time he is rebuffed. Soon the visitors are made to feel unwelcome, the woman especially so; she decides to abandon both the island and her partner. Her decision reminds her of an earlier tale: "I saw, like Eve, that paradise had become just another place to leave behind."

Proprieties tend to wilt in the pervasive heat. In Lord Short Shoe Wants the Monkey, a rising calypso singer strikes a deal at a Barbados nightclub with a white man who owns a trained monkey; the performer gets the onstage use of the animal, and the owner gets a night with a stunning black woman in the singer's entourage. Overhearing this transaction, an American visitor solemnly interrupts: "Gentlemen, forgive me. You cannot trade a woman for a monkey."

Nothing is that clear-cut in the world of these stories. Shacochis shows a keen awareness of lush disparities. He evokes the allure of a village marketplace, "the air luscious with the smells of spices, of frying coconut oil and garlic and cumin, the scents of frangipani and lime." The counterimage appears in a neighborhood of ghetto shanties, where everything "smelled like rotting fruit and kerosene, urine and garlic." In Hunger, a lone white works alongside a team of black fishermen; near the end of their labors, they all retire to a deserted beach for an extended evening feast. The outsider marvels at the smells that begin simmering from the cooking pots. He also recoils when he sees a comrade slice the neck of a live hawksbill turtle and use the dying creature's blood to flavor the stew.

Three of these stories first appeared in Playboy and two others ran in Esquire; the remainder made their debuts in quarterlies or little magazines. That parlay of the slick and scholarly is unusual, particularly for a beginning writer. Odder still, only a peek at the copyright page can confirm just which stories reached the mass or middling audiences; Easy in the Islands is a whole unified by consistent parts. Shacochis, 33, grew up in Virginia and earned a B.A. in journalism and an M.A. in English at the University of Missouri, where he now serves as a visiting writer in residence. He also received an M.F.A. from the University of Iowa's writing program. He buttressed these academic credentials with extended periods of playing hooky, surfing and roaming about the Caribbean. This time seems well spent. Shacochis has had the commercial prudence to learn and write about an uncommonly fascinating part of the hemisphere. Better still, his talent seems more than a match for the subjects at his hand.