This sits in that strange, half-forgotten lineage of mid-20th century colonial memoir-fiction hybrids—written by European administrators/doctors who moved through North and East Africa and then retrofitted those experiences into story collections that blur anecdote, myth, and performance.

Pirajno wrote in a way that is much closer to curated oral storytelling—almost Arabian Nights by way of an Italian duke with a medical degree and too much access. Animals talk, men degrade, morality slips around depending on who’s telling it. It’s episodic, slightly surreal, occasionally uncomfortable in ways that feel historically embedded rather than stylistically intentional.

That A Cure for Serpents comparison on the back isn’t marketing fluff—it’s basically the companion piece, and together they form a kind of loose myth-archive of colonial encounter, filtered through charm and control.

A fun fact that many like to associate with this text is that David Bowie had this in his library and often spoke of it as an inspiration for his music. It’s exactly the kind of book he gravitated toward: obscure, structurally odd, culturally displaced, sitting somewhere between folklore and document. 

First edition hardback, 1965. Dust jacket present with noticeable edge wear and rubbing, most evident at corners and spine ends; some surface dulling from handling, but no tears. Boards clean and structurally sound, with no warping or major staining. Spine intact and square, without lean. Interior clean overall, with an ex libris plate (G.G. Sámuel) affixed. Pages show typical light toning, with no significant foxing or damage.