By James Gilmore

Despite pretense of adventure,
800 Leagues is for all intents and
purposes a family melodrama with only trace amounts of “adventure.” The novel is a dull read and hardly
believable. Sorely lack in conflict, the
text is often insultingly redundant, the author reiterating known facts in such
a fashion that the reader can’t help but feel like he is trying to fill space
in a balloon filled with hot hair. This
effectively reduces the pacing of the novel to that of a dying snail. The linear, predictable story submarines the uneventful
plot with rare exception. Any changes in
the story occur entirely by means of
deus
ex machinae, which leaves the hands of the characters out of events almost
entirely, save one or two instances, scuttling their
raison d'ĂȘtre.
Overshadowing the weak dramatic impact of the book is the fact that it reads
like a pedantic love letter to the
Amazon River, like a wan
excuse to wax poetic about this illustrious body of moving water. Although informative, it reduces the novel’s
literary value to a mere historical survey of Amazonian river tribes who would
cease to exist a century later.
The characters in the novel tend to be shallow in depth and over
dramatic. The antagonist is the most
interesting and compelling of the cast.
Unfortunately, his presence is minimal.
Despite some interesting tangents concerning facts about the
Amazon River and a few florid
descriptions, the novel is thin, flat, artificially contrived and obvious.
Rating: 1.5 / 5