Euphoria is one of them. I’ve read it three times, and I think it haunts me more every time. Maybe I wish the words would magically rearrange themselves so the ending would be different. But then I probably wouldn’t be thinking about it long after reading it. Euphoria is loosely based on the life of anthropologist Margaret Mead. The author, Lily King, created a fictional account of what happens with three young anthropologists in Papau, New Guinea in the 1930s, when anthropology was a new discipline. The story involves Nell Stone, already the author of a best-selling book about natives of the Solomon Islands, her husband, Fen, who is jealous of Nell’s success and is desperate for his own, and Andrew Bankson, who has just failed a suicide attempt. Bankson, eager for companionship, convinces the Stones, who are about to leave New Guinea to return to Australia, that they should stay and that he will find them a new tribe to study. The novel is about their relationships, their work, their beliefs about the study of other cultures, and how all