I read voraciously as a young'un.  When girls started growing boobies, my attention obviously drifted, yet the intensity remained intact.  Ahhh ... During the college years, my library increased exponentially, I actually liked to read text books and my numerous degrees warranted as such.  Lately, I probably run through about 5-8 books a year, and that's not counting Lonely Planets, so the level has diminished.  Never one to read adventure lit, because I live it biatch, I did pick up David Grann's Lost City of Z.  Harkening back to the golden age of exploration, no, not the 1500s, during the turn of the century, which was a period of many major exploratory expeditions, Grann details the expeditions of Lt. Colonel Percy H. Fawcett in the Amazon region.  Roosevelt in the Amazon, Peary, Amundsen, Shackleton, Rice all around the world, rich white men found purpose and cocktail fodder awaiting in an unexplored corner.  TNF's 'Never Stop Exploring' is a punchline, but these guys truly lived it.  Lost City of Z brings out the inner Ahab in all of us.  The megalomania that consumed Percy Fawcett is palpable, even the New York living author gets into it for a bit.  Yet the strength of the book lies in the exhaustive work done on the personal letters sent from the explorers to loved ones.  The storyline is inherent as Grann shifts between his research and Fawcett planning his next expedition, Fawcett being ignorant of the impending poverty of his family.  Consistently British, the account is shocking in its candor - examples are passages detailing the descriptions of their bodies punished by the maggots and insects that manage to infest their skin, only to be regarded as content for constant expeditionary note taking.  Bleh.  Pick it up, a good read, death, spies, bugs, Amazonian boobies, you can sit down and finish it, light reading.  Moreover, perhaps most importantly, the book is being made into a movie starring ... Brad Pitt.