First as a primatologist, and then as a practitioner of literary non-fiction, Andrew Westoll has spent considerable time in Suriname, on the Atlantic coast of South America. He calls it one of “those economically poor, mostly tropical and subtropical countries … collectively referred to as the Third World,” a term that is “an insult levelled by the rich nations of the world that has influenced the economic policy and underlying psychologies of Western governments since it was coined in 1952.”

The Riverbones is the kind of travel book in which the author juggles the stories of local individuals with material on the anthropology, geography, politics, and history of the place. As relatively few of us know much about Suriname, the book must constantly commute between research and experience. An example of the former is Westoll’s statement that the Saramaka people among whom he lived “are still rooted in the motherland, as if their ancestors had never been violently ripped from their homes in the Gold Coast or Kongo and shipped across the sea.” Theirs is a matrilineal culture, yet one in which a woman’s role is “both defined and limited by her ability to reproduce.”

In contrast, here’s a representative sentence about the author’s personal experience: “We’re listening to Otis Redding on the eight-track and soon the paved road is nothing more than a muddy trail through thick jungle.” 

A romantic backstory is never quite fleshed out, but there’s much else to admire in this example of what is, after all, the most rewarding type of travel narrative, and likewise the most difficult to carry off.