Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Mexican Jungles Are Scary. Scott Smith Thinks So Too
Mmmm. This is the book I'm reading at the moment. I got through a good 30 or so pages tonight and I can already tell that bad things are in store for the four American tourists on vacation in Mexico. They met a German guy named Mathias while hanging out on the beach, and Mathias tells them about his hothead brother and how he ran off to meet some chick on an archaeological site even though the two of them are scheduled to leave the country in just a couple days. (Regulars to this blog already know what evil can befall a person on an archaeological dig). The leader of our quartet of young white 20-somethings decide they will all go into the jungle to these ruins, help Mathias find his brother, and in so doing have a "real" experience, as opposed to merely a "tourist" experience. A Greek dude who speaks not a lick of English is also along for the ride. (My guess is he dies first -- sorry, Paul.) Anyway, they're on the way to the ruins, they've already seen enough ominous foreshadowing to send a high-school English teacher running for civilization, and at the moment, they've uncovered what should be the final leg of the trail leading to the ruins, and it's been deliberately covered up by palm fronds. I feel compelled to read on, and probably will past my bedtime. Stephen King raved about The Ruins on Amazon.com about a month back and so far he's dead on. I feel dread wondering what lays ahead, and I'm glad about that. It's about time I got into a book that's hard to put down.