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The African Queen is one of those few ass-kicking novels that comes along and reminds me that there is the occasional sparkling gem of classic genius buried beneath the massive dung heap of contemporary fiction.

Don't read this book to find the movie in written form. The book and the movie are two different things. The film features Katharine Hepburn in varying states of gorgeous as she travels wild-eyed down a river with the inimitable Humphrey Bogart in an opposites-attract love story. The novel is much, much more, and it's way better.

From the first sentence of the book, we know that Rose Sayer isn't exactly the docile and unwaveringly virtuous missionary woman she's supposed to be. "Had she been weak minded enough to give up" and give in to a bout of malaria, she'd be in bed; instead, she stubbornly resists her illness, praying with her brother and quietly pondering "the absence of her corset" and thinking about the fact that she's "wearing no under clothing at all beneath her white drill frock." (Obviously, this is a chick who's going to go wild the second she's no longer under male supervision. Thank God).

Enter Charlie Allnut, a machinist and a boat captain in Central Africa who should be, by rights, courageous and practical. From the second Charlie appears on the page, we learn that he's "philosophical," "passive," and "content to follow orders."

As soon as Charlie and Rose are alone together, they begin to transform. That is, when order collapses and they're forced to abandon the institutions they've been born into -- rigid Christianity for her and banal practicality for him -- Charlie and Rose become who they really are at their core, and they discover what it really means to live.

After thirty years of "passive misery" in deferring to men, Rose finally makes decisions. Allnut, who has spent his life trying to avoid trouble, learns to face danger, follow a passion, and develop a sense of higher purpose. Even the smaller changes they undergo are charming: Allnut turns to prayer going down the rapids, while Rose's mind "work[s] like a machine" as she navigates; Rose gets buff from all of the manual labor on the African Queen, and Charlie, for once in his life not slacking, almost works his small frame to death; and both, when faced with "the wild beauty of the Ulanga," develop a sense of accomplishment and "seethe with life."

Well.

Throw in a pulse-racing adventure down an African river, plus one of the hottest sex scenes I've ever read (precisely for what it doesn't say), and you've got one hell of a novel on your hands.

As for the writing? Worthy of a smirk, an eyebrow raise, and admiration:

"A woman sewing has a powerful weapon at her disposition when engaged in a duel with a man. Her bent head enables her to conceal her expression without apparently trying; it is the easiest matter in the world for her to simulate complete absorption in the work in hand when actually she is listening attentively; and if she feels disconcerted or needs a moment to think, she can always play for time by reaching for her scissors. And some men--Allnutt was an example--are irritated effectively by the attention paid to trifles of sewing instead of to their fascinating selves."

(Just more proof that British writers are ever superior to their American counterparts).

And let's not forget what I can only call "river porn," or, the most suggestive piece of nature writing I've ever seen:

"There was sheer joy in crashing through those waves. Rose, with never a thought that the frail fabric of the African Queen might be severely tired by those jolts and jars, found it exhilarating to head the launch into the stiff rigid waves which marked the junction of two currents, and to feel her buck and lurch under her, and to see the spray come flying back from the bows."

(Whoa. Is it any wonder that, just 3 pages later, she sleeps with a guy without knowing his first name?)

Obviously, there's a reason I read this book in one sitting on a Friday night, only to begin it again on Monday morning. I adore the writing, I find the adventure thrilling, and I think the love story is touching.

Most of all, I enjoy the fact that two people, when forced to abandon their societal roles, discover the beauty of the natural world, and of life itself. We learn that they're fundamentally good people, and by living as who they really are, they become better people.

It's rare to find this much going on in a novel, and that's precisely why The African Queen is one of the few great works of fiction that truly stands out among the garbage.

KICKED ASS so much that I'll probably read it a third time. And a fourth.