This is a memoir by French adventurer Henry de Monfried detailing the history of one of his more high risk business enterprises. He was a French nobleman in the 1920s who had all sorts of misadventures trying various get rich quick schemes while dragging his poor wife and child around to some of the most disagreeable spots on the planet. Who knew there was money to be made if you could corner the market on top shells from the Indian Ocean? Or how badly they could stink? Then he got the bright idea of dealing in the subject of his title and many trials ensue. He manages to survive, else how would he have written this autobiography? His observations of people and the attitudes of these declining colonial times were entertaining and enlightening. His honesty concerning his own behavior is surprising. He had no shame about his schemes and thoughts and shares them with the reader, such as mentioning how he snuck around his Greek host's house in the middle of the night trying to figure out how to get to the pretty servant girl or how to circumvent customs officials. He's a cad, but a charming one. ( )

For a while I was the only one in LT who said they'd read this book, in this or any of its other titles: "Hashish: A Smuggler's Tale," "Hashish: Autobiography of a Red Sea Smuggler," and merely "Hashish" ... including French readers. Now a few others have fessed up to the pleasure. This is as lucid and well-written a book as anything I've ever read. I only wish that more of the author's stuff (apparently, he wrote prodigiously) had been published, or/and translated from the French. ( )