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The Beach was the 1996 debut novel by Alex Garland, a British writer who's gone on to pen the screenplays for an impressive bunch of UK-produced science fiction films. Garland authored 28 Days Later (2003) and Sunshine (2007), adapted Kazuo Ishiguro's novel Never Let Me Go (2010), as well as the comic book Dredd (2012), the version that was actually good. His name first materialized on screen in 2000 with The Beach and despite the dismal reception of that film -- the script for which Garland did not write -- I was very eager to read his source material.

The novel begins with a British backpacker named Richard arriving alone in Bangkok. Richard -- who we later learn is mending a broken heart with as much exotic travel and dope as he can fit in -- narrates the story with the self-awareness of a twenty-something who's consumed every Vietnam War movie ever made, beginning with Apocalypse Now. He checks into one of the many guest houses on the Ko Sanh Road which cater to young French, German, Swedish or American backpackers looking to escape whatever future awaits them back home.

Adjusting his circadian rhythms to Thailand, Richard finds the thin walls of the guesthouse afford him no peace from the French teenagers having sex next door and worse, the guest across the hall, a Scot who repeats the word "bitch" so many times that Richard realizes he's saying "beach". The Scot peers over the wall to bedevil Richard with lunatic ramblings that make even less sense through his jet lag. The next day, Richard discovers an envelope has been left on his door. Inside is a map to a beach. Entering the Scot's room, Richard finds the man has slashed open his wrists and bled to death.

After submitting to police questions about the dead Scot, who registered under the name Mister Daffy Duck, Richard introduces himself to one half of the French couple, a handsome teenager named Étienne. Having kept it a secret from the police, unsure of what sort of trouble it could lead to, Richard shows the map to Étienne, who recognizes the beach as part of the Marine Park declared off-limits to tourists. He theorizes that perhaps an intrepid few have braved the route and set up their own private resort there, a paradise untapped by commercial tourism. Étienne wants to try for the beach and when he shares the map with his lovely girlfriend Françoise, she's equally game.

Richard, Étienne and Françoise set off from Bangkok by night train to Surat Thani, where they catch a bus to Donsak and a ferry to the island of Koh Samui. Étienne secures a fishing charter to transport them into the Marine Park while Richard attempts to keep his desire for Françoise in check. Their plan is to be dropped off at Koh Angthong, where it's legal to camp for two nights, and make the swim to the next island, the site of Mister Duck's mysterious beach. The night before, Richard meets two Americans, Zeph and Sammy, Ivy League stoners who regale them with a legend they've heard:

Think about a lagoon, hidden from the sea and passing boats by a high curving wall of rock. Then imagine white sands and coral gardens never damaged by dynamite fishing or trawling nets. Freshwater falls scatter the island, surrounded by jungle--not the forests of inland Thailand, but jungle. Canopies three levels deep, plants untouched for a thousand years, strangely colored birds and monkeys in the trees. On the white sands, fishing in the coral gardens, a select community of travelers pass the months. They leave if they want to, they return, the beach never changes.

Before shoving off into the unknown, Richard makes a fatal decision to copy Mister Duck's map and leave it for Zeph and Sammy, insurance in case Richard and his companions disappear. The travelers encounter several obstacles on the road to paradise. There's a swim through open sea which forces them to abandon their backpacks. Once on the island, their hike inland brings them to the largest marijuana field they've ever seen, where they realize their presence is definitely not welcome. They then find a waterfall between them and the beach, a final test that Richard takes and passes.

The beach is everything that Richard, Étienne and Françoise hoped it might be. Fifty or more travelers their ages have spent years building a self-sufficient community (almost) immune to the outside world. They've constructed a longhouse and huts. They've redirected a running stream for sanitary purposes. Work details (Fishing, Gardening, Cooking, Carpentry) are assigned. Marijuana, as much as Jed can steal from the Thai farmers they share the island with, is imbibed liberally. Their leader is Sal (alias SAL-vester), who founded the beach with her boyfriend "Bugs" and one other, the late Mister Daffy Duck.

Garland uses the work details to not only build an alternative society, but to expose a rift between Richard and one of the other characters. I love reading novels about people at work and part of that always comes back to how co-workers get along, or in some cases, don't get along. The story stays on the move, a neat trick considering how content most of the characters would be to sit in one spot, get stoned and discuss video games. Garland keeps stirring the pot, introducing potential friends and enemies, materializing threats and alluding to secrets, the meat and potatoes for a good page turner.

The Beach exists in a temperate climate that I loved, right between literary fiction and genre fiction, between what could have been remarkable tedium or sexed up intrigue. There is a prologue that promises an obnoxious, pop culture infused trip into the author's favorite movies or books, but once the story gets going, Garland tempers much of that (a directive from his editor, maybe).

As a narrator, Richard does settle on the bland side. I was never convinced he was British, that he'd come from anywhere or was in any way unique to anyone else in the book. Garland maintains that his travelers have come to the beach to escape who they were and where they came from. That would explain the absence of character histories, but not character passions. The female characters in particular -- Francoise and Sal -- are devoid of life. They seem like either a 5th grader's perception of women, or the imaginings of male author writing his first novel. Flat.

The Beach is a novel of imperfections, but imperfections I was able to cast off, submitting myself to the journey the author wanted to take me on. This is a deeply layered, imaginative and thrilling book that in some way seems keyed in to the moment it was written. In the mid-1990s, the Internet was beginning to connect the planet and some of us were ready to get off already. I wouldn't call this a Generation X manifesto, but can't argue with those who do. Tackling big ideas make the novel feel bigger than its parts.

Among those who heard the piper's call of The Beach was filmmaker Danny Boyle, hot off Shallow Grave and Trainspotting. Boyle's go-to screenwriter John Hodge adapted a screenplay and Ewan McGregor was promised the lead role. This changed when Leonardo DiCaprio was looking for his follow-up to Titanic and expressed interest in working with Boyle. Twentieth Century Fox ponied up a $50 million production budget and in return, concessions were given to make Garland's vision palatable to a mass audience. It didn't work out well, though Tilda Swinton's performance as Sal and the photography by Darius Khondji are worth the watch.