A Review: Barbarian Days: A Surfing Life
Title of Work: Barbarian Days: A Surfing Life
Author: William Finnegan
Format:
Published: 2015
Started:
Finished: 2022-05-16\
Posted: Goodreads
Rating: 5/5
I really should have written this review back in May when I read the damn thing. At the time, I thought I would let the book “soak” a bit before putting thoughts to page. Procrastination got to that idea and I see now that I treated this review not unlike the lasting remnants of a satisfying meal left clinging to the pan after a sloppy but at least marginally successful attempt at some culinary technique just outside my wheelhouse. The meal was divine, my belly was full, the night was getting on, and I probably had a bit to drink. From this warm afterglow it’s easy to rationalize leaving the bits of trout skin or perhaps an overdone paella — now affixed to the non-stick pan with a bond that should be patented by 3M if not already — to “soak” overnight in a slurry of dirty sink water and the kind of dish soap they use to clean crude oil from the feathers and beaks of waterfowl. I think the hope is that I will wake up and the scorched foodstuffs will have slipped away in the night, releasing their grip on my Non-stick Pan and cutting out for the greener pastures of Septic Tank by way of Garbage Disposal. The hope is that they, the anthropomorphized foodstuffs that is, will get the hell out without even leaving a note or trace of their stench for me to find in the morning, just a gleaming Teflon surface. Well, as you may have guessed, they almost never do the mature thing and see themselves out while I sleep and I will inevitably spend 7 minutes scrubbing and cursing while I’m late for whichever morning commitment or errand is destined to fall victim to my Procrastination that day. I know if I had just done the grownup thing — enjoy my meal, relax for a reasonable amount of time, give a sigh and put in maybe 10 minutes of elbow grease to clean the encrusted pan right away — I wouldn’t be grumbling and cursing my misplaced gastronomic ambition while running late on that morning. Except I’m not really a grownup outside legal designation and don’t typically choose to do the grownup thing when given the choice.
So, we find ourselves here with the pan soaking in the sink and the details of an excellent memoir left cloudy and distant in my brain. I do remember that this one is about a world class writer’s lifelong relationship with surfing. I remember his enviable vocabulary and his love of literature’s classics which had me constantly scribbling notes in my journal. Read a selection of her works. Figure out what this word means and how to use it without sounding like an asshole. Write these kinds of letters to my friends while abroad. I remember a pervading sense that this book had found me at the perfect time in my life, a time when my own travels take me to strange and distant places and the people and ideas encountered in those places influence my path and aspirations. Though influenced and added to, like Finnegan, I bring my old fascinations with me. As life breaks over me with varied intensity and direction, they remain present.
Not to mention: Just a few fast months later I find myself learning to surf (poorly) while bumming it around Hawaii. I read Finnegan’s enchanting memoir and I think I’ve caught what he’s got. Some addiction or affliction with surfing and travel and books and writing and funny friends spread across the world.