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My Samoan Chief is a sprightly, scenic exploration of an East-West romance, a sort of Egg and I dipped in exotic surroundings, decorated with a sunny wit and a few snappy anti-anthropological sentiments. When a tall, copper-colored, black-eyed, undeniably handsome Samoan called Vai sits down near authoress Fay Calkins' desk in the Library of Congress, things happen. He asks her out for a coke, tells her he fought with the U.S. Marines, went to a small Kansas college on the GI Bill, did graduate work in public administration and every now and then picks up stray loot doing a sword dance. The combinations and the chemistry proving irresistible, they married, and soon Fay-of-the-South-Sea is all mixed up with lavalavas, bare feet, breadfruit and giant repasts. She acquires 7 stalwart young men (Vai's brothers) as "sons"; lives in a house composed almost entirely a verandah; starts a Craft Co-op producing mats; meets a loony lady beachcomber and 2 comic curios out of Old Colonialism; learns that property in Samoa belongs to the entire tribe (no one "steals", they just "borrow") and that to any emissary of progress Samoans smile, say "Thanks", and never change. In between Fay bears 4 kids while Vai scales the totem pole coming out chief of the village. Will Fay return to the States? Not on your life. A refreshing, ribald descent into a vaudeville Eden- its temptations, troubles, delights. (Kirkus Reviews)
