Barbarian Days by William Finnegan **** (of 4)

You need not have ever surfed nor even cared about the ocean to be swept away by the glorious writing of Barbarian Days. I'm guessing that William Finnegan describes more than five hundred waves in this book without using the same terms twice. Every wave is distinct and therein lies Finnegan's definition of a life well-lived.

Here is one example from page 356 about waves in Madeira, an island off the coast of Portugal.  "Heavy, long-interval lines marched out of the west, bending around the headland into a breathtaking curve. They feathered and bowled and broke at the outermost point of the horseshoe, and then reeled down a rocky shore...As we got closer to the lineup, the power and beauty of the waves got more drenching. A set rolled through, shining and roaring in the low winter afternoon sun, and my throat clogged with emotion -- some nameless mess of joy, fear, love, lust, gratitude."

Finnegan is a lifelong reporter for The New Yorker and could have written this autobiography about war zones and the global injustices he has investigated: his decision to use surfing as the unifying theme is such an interesting choice. In addition to being a visit to some of the best waves on the planet, Barbarian Days is also a travel book about growing up, growing old, ambition and compromise, independence and relationships, a man, his friends, the countries he visits as he circumnavigates the globes, and the sea. To surf, argues Finnegan, requires attention to minute variances in current, wind, and depth, practice, experience, planning, spontaneity, a willingness to take risks, patience, perseverance, humility in the face of forces larger than yourself, and the lurking knowledge that sometimes you will land on your face.