Jiawei Hu

The house gecko, identified as Hemidactylus frenatus, embodies two scales of the novel’s attention to animal life: it is an introduced species in Fiji, part of a wider history of ecological disruption, and a watchful individual sharing a room with Frank Andersen on Taveuni. Frank names the gecko Gordon and faces it across a bottle of gin; what begins as a nuisance becomes a small contest between human need and an animal’s presence, exposing the uneasy intimacy between people and the species they have moved around the world.

Identity and Island Context

The house gecko is presented as a relatively recent arrival in Fiji. The novel’s ecological account places its arrival in the 1970s, about thirty years before Frank’s visit, and identifies it as the most conspicuous reptile on Taveuni. Its presence differs from that of the island’s original terrestrial vertebrates: before imported cane toads arrived from Hawaii in 1936, frogs were the most numerous amphibians; the original reptiles included iguanas, several gecko species, and snakes. Bats were the island’s only native mammals. The newer house gecko belongs to a later history of human movement and ecological change rather than to that original assemblage.

The animal’s arrival is one instance of a larger pattern described by Frank. Introduced species may be accidental stowaways, such as rats, mice, and insects, or deliberate arrivals brought in to control agricultural pests. On Pacific islands, one introduction has repeatedly prompted another: predators brought to control a troublesome species can themselves become pests, threaten birds and native reptiles, and lead to still further introductions. The resulting chain is difficult to reverse, unlike the rapid destruction of ecological balances formed over millions of years. The house gecko is not singled out as the cause of this cascade, but its recent spread makes it a tangible inhabitant of the changed island environment.

The Encounter in Frank’s Room

Frank first sees the gecko sitting on a gin bottle in his bure, or cabin, after switching on the light. It is nearly thirty centimetres long and appears well fed on mosquitoes. Frank and the gecko startle one another; when Frank steps closer, the animal circles the bottle, threatening to send it off the bedside table. The immediate stakes are modest but sharply defined: Frank wants his drink, while the gecko occupies the bottle on which he depends.

Frank knows that geckos are ordinary fixtures of bedrooms in this part of the world and that expecting to keep them out is unrealistic. Even so, he dislikes the prospect of them leaping around the room, running across the bedspread, or sleeping on the bedposts. His response combines professional fascination with personal aversion. Reptiles interest him because they evoke paleontology, but he does not want to touch one or have it in his hair as he goes to bed. He also regards the gecko differently from an insect: a fly has no face or individual expression, whereas a reptile seems to look back as a distinct personality. The animal on the bottle therefore unsettles the boundary Frank tries to maintain around his paid-for room and private space.

He sits carefully on the edge of the bed, close enough to reach the bottle, and watches the gecko. He imagines that startling it might make it flee—but could also cause it to knock over the bottle before he could catch it. The gecko remains still, its head and tail visible around the bottle, while Frank attributes to it keen observation and almost preternatural reaction. His comic speculation about the animal’s possible escape routes turns a simple encounter into a prolonged stalemate: neither moves, and each seems to be assessing the other.

Gordon and the Question of Coexistence

Frank names the male gecko Gordon, taking the name from the label on the bottle. He estimates that the animal is old by comparison with a human life, perhaps a couple of decades older than Frank, and imagines it may already have descendants and even great-grandchildren. Since house geckos had reached Fiji only around thirty years earlier, he also entertains the possibility that Gordon’s grandfather was among the immigrants. These conjectures connect the gecko’s present stillness to the species’ recent arrival and subsequent establishment on the islands.

Frank considers why Gordon stays on the bottle. Perhaps long experience has taught it that clothed, hairy primates pose no real threat; perhaps it is simply curious, or even seeking company. Frank’s reluctance to treat it as an interchangeable pest is central to the scene. He imagines a possible mutual benefit: the gecko could remain on the bottle and eat mosquitoes, allowing him to sleep without waking covered in bites. This would be a small domestic symbiosis, except that Frank wants the gin and cannot reach it without disturbing Gordon.

The novel places that possible partnership against a historical anecdote about Fiji’s former mosquito-men: chiefs once had naked attendants sit beside them at night and absorb mosquito bites on their behalf. Frank speculates that this role became an unemployed profession when the efficient house gecko spread through the islands. The gecko, now treated as part of the inventory of a house, has taken over a practical service once performed by a human attendant. The comparison makes the animal more than an intruder in Frank’s room: it is also a participant in changing relations among people, pests, and domestic space.

An Improvised Truce

Frank’s difficulty is not simply that he fears the gecko. He is thirsty and wants a drink before he can settle down, but the bottle cannot be picked up without taking Gordon along with it. Tired after walking to the International Date Line, with sore feet and no wish to sleep beside the animal before taking his customary medicine, he sees no easy way out. He imagines Gordon’s body might even be strong enough to send the bottle crashing to the floor. Their shared room becomes a comic standoff shaped by Frank’s fatigue, his thirst, and the gecko’s refusal to move.

Eventually Frank’s interest in geckos becomes useful. He says he has a particular preference for the thirty-five species of Hemidactylus gecko, then uses a straw to drink from the bottle without lifting it or touching it with his hands. Gordon stays put while Frank drinks about a decilitre. The improvised solution leaves the gecko undisturbed and gets Frank his drink: a temporary accommodation rather than a victory over the animal.

The episode gives a domestic scale to the novel’s ecological concerns. Frank can think of introduced species as elements in a broad chain of human interventions, but in the room he must reckon with one animal’s habits, gaze, and claim on a shared space. Gordon is at once a recent immigrant in the island’s ecological history, a mosquito catcher with a practical role, and a stubborn individual whose presence frustrates Frank’s plans. The comedy depends on that shift in scale: the argument about ecological balance becomes a silent negotiation over a gin bottle, resolved not by removing the gecko but by finding a way to coexist for the moment.