Review of The Mosquito Coast by Paul Theroux

While its star has faded in the past decade as the middle class slowly descend into the lower and culture wars have taken center stage, there is still an element of entrepreneurial spirit in the US. The tabula rasa mentality of early American settlers still exists in spots today. Examining this spirit—wait, that’s putting it too lightly. Holding this spirit over a fire until its breaking point is Paul Theroux’s 1981 novel The Mosquito Coast. The Ayn Rand dream? Let’s see.

The Mosquito Coast is told through the eyes of fourteen year-old Charlie Fox. But it’s his father, the wildly eccentric Allie Fox, who is the center of the show. Cantankerous, self-righteous, nominally racist, deeply intelligent, and innovative, Allie rants and raves about the shortcomings of American culture—Chinese-made this, and inflation that—while putting his money where his mouth is by inventing his own gadgets and technology. Keeping Charlie, his three siblings, and their mother off the grid, the children are home-schooled in luddite conditions, raising their own crops for sustenance. One day, after yet another of his gadgets fails on the market, Allie has enough and decides to move the family to Honduras to start again. The mosquito-thick jungles of the Central American country offering Allie what he’s looking for, the family goes on to set up a homestead in the countryside. And much more. Unable to escape his ideological conflicts, Charlie soon finds his father ranting and raving about the local situation as well. Eventually, something has to give.

Given the dozens of novels Theroux has published, I’m sure there are readers who come to him through his fiction. I came to him through his travel writing, however—The Great Railway Bazaar, Riding the Iron Rooster, and others. These types of journeys and encounters with other cultures are something he puts to good use in The Mosquito Coast. Presenting a realistic picture (i.e. no rose-tinted glasses), the Honduras the reader encounters in the novel feels both wild and lived in. Dirt and filth as much a part of the setting as fresh fruit and exotic animals, by default the reader gains a view to the country without stepping foot. The biggest finger Theroux has on pulse of Honduras, however, is the people. From Creoles to Zambus, missionaries to expatriates, Theroux provides appropriate voices to the peoples and societies Charlie and his family come in contact with.

From the perspective of 2021, The Mosquito Coast feels both antiquated and contemporary. The degree of technology, the modes of transportation, the event possibilities—all are distinctly of their time. But the conflict at the heart of the novel is something that anyone paying attention to the culture wars of today will recognize. While some may assume this means Allie Fox would be a Trump voter given his description above, I don’t think it’s that black and white. Ayn Rand would likely be a better analog for Allie Fox. The belief in the individual’s right to reward through hard work and self-expression, and that nobody will steal or take advantage that work, are at his core. It’s the interaction of this idea with the real-world that conflict arises.

And Allie Fox is a fascinating character/nexus for this. On one hand, the reader admires him for his knowledge and ability to turn glue and a piece of string into a working machine. He can be lauded for his hard work and can-do spirit. Many readers will appreciate how he builds a homestead, turning jungle into a livable home. What is more difficult to swallow, however, are how selfish his views are, the justifications he makes to himself and others in the name of theory and desire, and ultimately the reality of his treatment of others—largely as stepping stones to his own success. The reader’s confrontation and rumination upon these aspects of his character are certainly where the novel succeeds.

In the end, The Mosquito Coast is a fascinating juxtaposition of theory and reality—how thing should be versus how things are. At the center of these two points is the unforgettable character of Allie Fox. Love him, hate him, and everything between, he will make you think about individual endeavors in the social sphere, and what the overlap means for both. Theroux’s conclusion seems wrapped up in the climax and denouement of the novel, which I won’t spoil here, but it is fitting—and not as clear cut as ‘no man is an island’.