Day 690, Quasi-Quarantine: Manic "Mosquito Coast" A Powerful Testament To The Lure Of Disillusionment

"'That's business,' the captain said.

'That's ruins,' Father said. 'We eat when we're not hungry, drink when we're not thirsty, buy what we don't need, and throw away everything that's useful. Don't sell a man what he wants -- sell him what he doesn't want. Pretend he's got eight feet and two stomachs and money to burn. That's not illogical -- it's evil.'"

Featuring one of the more memorable and unintentionally hilarious characters in literature, "The Mosquito Coast" follows the travails of Allie Fox and his family as they seek to start anew in the Honduran jungles.

Paul Theroux's 40-year-old novel still resonates today, with Fox echoing many of the current state-of-the-world complaints. 

Tethered to the world by a mentally imbalanced and abusive father, the 14-year-old narrator documents what happens when an American family tries to eke out an existence where no human life was intended.

"I was rehearsing an excuse for giving up when, in the sallow late-afternoon light, I saw Father's silhouette, the sun beneath his shoulder. He was dark, I did not know him, and he watched me like a stranger, with curiosity rather than affection. And I felt like a stranger to him. We were two people pausing -- one on a rock, the other on the sand, child and adult. I did not know him, he did not know me. I had to wait to discover who we were."

"When America is devastated and laid to waste, these are the skills that will save these kids. Not writing poetry, or fingerpainting, or what's the capital of Texas -- but survival, rebuilding a civilization from the smoking ruins."

Blending elements of Jack Kerouac's Dean Moriarty and Joseph Conrad's "The Heart of Darkness," "The Mosquito Coast" is a staggeringly vivid work, full of surprisingly emotional moments and an apt conclusion.

"Once I had believed in Father, and the world had seemed very small and old. He was gone, and now I hardly believed in myself, and the world was limitless. A part of us had died with him, but the part of me that remained feared him more than ever, and still expected him, still heard his voice crying, 'They'll get me first -- I'm the last man!' It was the wind, the waves, every bird, every cry from the shore. Like him, they thought out loud."