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Quote by J. Maarten Troost

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The Sex Lives of Cannibals: Adrift in the Equatorial Pacific

This book delves into the customs and behaviors of a small Pacific island community, examining their sexual practices and the intricate social structures that govern their lives. The author provides an intimate look at the daily lives of the inhabitants, offering a unique perspective on human sexuality and social organization in a non-Western context. more

Author

J. Maarten Troost
J. Maarten Troost

J. Maarten Troost is a writer known for his humorous and satirical style. Born in 1969, he is the author of 'Last Day on the Island' and 'Coffin Beach'. His works often revolve around travel and foreign cultures, delving into themes of humanity and cultural differences. more

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“It was funny how the old practices always came around again. It was the rhythm of human enterprise to invent and worship some new approach, to fully reject it a generation later, to realize the need for it again a generation or two after that and then hastily reinvent it as new, usually without its original elegance. Scientists hated to look backward for anything.”

“If you ever put a student at this school in danger again-' 'Oh, I thought you Gallagher Girls were immune to danger.' Despite the hundred girls the filled the foyer, no one moved or gasped or tried to defend our honor. We stood silently, waiting for our headmistress to say, 'Oh, we are quite used to being underestimated, Agent Townsend. In fact, we welcome it.”

“There's a grosser irony about Politically Correct English. This is that PCE purports to be the dialect of progressive reform but is in fact - in its Orwellian substitution of the euphemisms of social equality for social equality itself - of vastly more help to conservatives and the US status quo than traditional SNOOT prescriptions ever were.”

“Lyon knew she wasn't aware she was being watched, either. She wouldn't have eaten the leaf otherwise, or reached for another. “Sir, which one is Princess Christina?” Andrew asked Lyon, just as Rhone started in choking on his laughter. Rhone has obviously been watching Christina, too. “Sir?” “The blond-headed one,” Lyon muttered, shaking his head. He watched in growing disbelief as Christina daintily popped another leaf into her mouth. “Which blond-headed one?” Andrew persisted. “The one eating the shrubs.”