This is one of those books that really serves to remind a modern audience of why we should kill whitey. Robinson Crusoe is the story of a young man with atrociously bad luck who, unfortunately for any shipmates he ever has, suffers from an extreme case of wanderlust. Every ship he gets onto sinks, but he just keeps getting onto them. Even after he's got a nice, successful plantation of his own, he decides he's just GOT to get on ANOTHER ship to -- get this -- procure himself some slaves. It crashes of course, and he gets stranded alone on an island. Not to worry, though -- he's got a bible, and he successfully becomes a religious zealot while alone with nothing better to do. It's too bad that his only book couldn't have been a copy of Don Quixote or something because maybe then he'd have become a more interesting storyteller. But no, like so many people who have terrible luck, he turns to "god" and starts counting his "blessings," more-or-less out of a lack of anything better to do. Then, after he's been alone for 24 years, he sees a footprint in the sand, and he totally freaks, and he becomes convinced it must belong to the devil. Ummm, ok. So I'm sitting there thinking, "Maybe it's your own footprint." But it takes this genius a whole day of scaring himself before he comes up with that explanation. Anyway, it turns out not to be his footprint at all, it actually belongs to the "savages" (Carribean Indians) who apparently visit the island sometimes in order to cook and eat their prisoners, which, for the record, was not actually a common practice among Indians in the Americas. And here's the part where you really hate white people. He then saves one of the prisoners from being eaten and makes him into his slave, who he renames "Friday," teaches English, and converts to Christianity. Friday, instead of kicking this pompous jerk's posterior from here to next Friday after repaying whatever debt he owed Robinson for saving his life, is a faithful slave in every way for the remainder of the book. Friday speaks in a pidgin English, which is probably realistic enough for a man who learned English late in life from one solitary individual, but Robinson has an offensive habit of translating easy-enough-to-understand things that Friday says to us, the idiot readers ("At which he smiled, and said - 'Yes, yes, we always fight the better;' that is, he meant always get the better in fight"). Also, during Friday's religious education, he asks Robinson why god doesn't just kill the devil and end evil, and because there is actually no good answer to such a question for a religious person, Robinson simply pretends not to hear him and wanders away. What a jack*ss! Luckily, Robinson Crusoe's religious conversion doesn't last forever. As soon as he's back in civilization and making money hand over fist, he pretty much gives it up. Speaking of which, what was with the end of this book? He gets rescued, he goes home, but there's no emotional payoff, and instead he goes on about his European adventures with Friday. We don't care about the wolves and dancing bear! We want to know, did you learn anything from your years away? Do you feel like you missed out? Was anyone happy to see you? Did they have a funeral for you while you were missing? What did your mother do when she saw you again? Robinson Crusoe is a man without any of the human characteristics that make people interesting to read about when they get into difficult situations. He has no regrets, no personal longings, and he never reflects on his life before he was on the island during his decades on the island. I understand that this is just an "adventure novel" but people actually still read this tripe and consider it a classic!
There are reasons that some books are considered classics—even after many years, they still have things to say to us. Robinson Crusoe is one of those stories. I first encountered it as a child, in comic book form (anyone else remember Classics Illustrated?) and I remember reading it numerous times and then day dreaming about how I would survive on a desert island. And of course, it is often asked “If you could take only one book (or five, or whatever number) of books with you to entertain you while so stranded, which one(s) would it be?” Poor old Robinson Crusoe seems to have only had the Bible, which is rather low on entertainment value, although it does have good bits.Now the graphic edition of RC, although fairly true to the original, was very abridged (and rightly so, for the juvenile crowd). As is so often the case, I found it fascinating to read the adult version in comparison. I’ll say right up front, that if archaic spellings and language annoy you, you would be best to stick to the modernized versions. Originally written in the early 1700s, Robinson Crusoe is a peek back in time into the attitudes and values of that day. No one questions that Christianity is the best religion (although there is a tug-of-war between Catholicism and Protestantism). Slavery and class inequality are just facts of life. European culture trumps all other cultures. Members of non-European cultures are barbarians and savages, suspected of all kinds of indecent behavior right from running around unclothed up to and including cannibalism. Dafoe really got into describing the “cannibal feasts” happening on the shores of Crusoe’s island. This kind of thing has been happening since the dawn of time—dehumanize those who are not like you so that you can feel morally superior. After all, we get the word barbarian from the Ancient Greeks, who perceived anyone who didn’t speak Greek as saying “Bar, bar, bar….” Witches and Jews, among many other persecuted groups have been subject to the same accusations. The target moves, but the argument remains the same.I think Dafoe meant Robinson Crusoe to be a way to steer the worldly reader into the fold of Christianity. The young Crusoe is unconcerned with things spiritual and out to experience what the world has to offer him (travel, booze, money—the good stuff). It really isn’t until he has been alone on his island for many years into his 28 year stay that he finally “finds religion.” And he still doesn’t really examine his beliefs until he is trying to teach them to his rescued “savage” Friday. SPOILER ALERT (if such a thing exists for a 300 year old work of fiction) he ends up rescued, returned to “civilization,” and wealthy—well rewarded for his faith. I think if Robinson Crusoe was alive in the 21st century, he would be an avid admirer of books like The Secret, where the power of positive thinking can get you whatever your little heart desires!Part of the story I never knew before: Crusoe’s defying his parents to go see the world, his time in Brazil before his shipwreck, and his trip back to England after his rescue. I was also very struck by the difficulty of shifting money from place to place and having someone to trust with finances. Not that our big banks have proven to be eminently trustworthy, but at least they have made international commerce less of a crap shoot than it used to be.An interesting look at a time and cultural space that no longer exists.
What do You think about Robinson Crusoe (2001)?
Hoo-boy!I'm surprised and amazed and dismayed by the ex post facto muy-contempo correct-nosity readings below...shouldn't be, I guess, but am.Gee whillikers, kids, uhm, here's one of the great social and, perhaps even more, spiritual documents of Western Civ, and it's a ripping read that declared ongoing archetypes, and it's getting dissed for...for being a bit blind to its own time. Which of us won't end up wishing for at least that when our tombstone gets knocked over?'sides which, how many first novelists can say they wrote the actual first novel? Hmmm?
—Monsieurboule
Alright, well I am going to respond to those who think that the only way you could not enjoy this book is if you are looking back from a privileged 21st century point of view and judging the actions of our less socially conscious ancestors. I read this book as a part of my 18th century literature class, so I have been reading a lot of novels written around the same time and with a number of the same themes. I have been able to enjoy many of them despite some uncomfortable and shocking moments of racism and superior Christian colonialist sentiment, though the religious rhetoric in Robinson Crusoe was admittedly far beyond that of any of the other books I've read in this course and very difficult to swallow as a result. The reason I did not enjoy Robinson Crusoe is that nothing in this novel made me care for or invest in any element of it. The main character is psychologically flat and completely lacking in complexity, seeming to suffer absolutely no ill effects from being completely alone for 25 years or so. The drama is contrived and not suspenseful. As I don't really care for the main character, I don't really care if he were to be eaten by pagan cannibals. The over detail, while perhaps a comment on the plodding, relentlessly boring life of an isolated islander, could be eliminated entirely. I do not need to know how much bread someone ate on a particular day or how to make clay pots. The plot left absolute GAPING holes in it's wake, which I do realize is a symptom of lack of editing and the cost of paper at the time, but it still made it difficult to enjoy parts of the novel.Those are some of the reasons that I personally did not enjoy this novel. I do not disagree with it's status as a classic because it was an important novel in it's time and obviously provides an excellent commentary on British attitudes of the 18th century. I simply did not enjoy it, but that does not diminish it's importance. I think that to accuse people of not enjoying the novel because of a lack of understanding of the time in which this was written is an oversimplification and I will remind you that many people writing these reviews, such as myself, enjoy other novels written in the same period despite their cringeworthy racist or zealous moments.
—Sarah
tThere is something inherently absurd about any sort of qualitative evaluation (a la "how many stars do I give this on goodreads?") by a twenty-first century reader of a book like Robinson Crusoe. Published in 1719, it embodies a rather paradoxical identity crisis of being a novel that was written before novels really existed. It doesn't play by the rules -- simply because there were no rules when it was written. There are a lot of unfamiliar things that will put off, or even disgust, the modern reader. No, there really isn't anything along the lines of what we'd call "character development." Yes, Robinson is going to kill a bunch of "savages" and try to impart the word of God those he chooses not to kill. For readers who have trouble suspending their twenty-first century sensibilities, these are dangerous waters indeed.tBut if you can get past all the imperialist hoo-ha and the passages that are just flat-out dull (I mean, there are quite a few), there's something about this book that is truly amazing -- and still would be, even if you attempted to scrub off the Important-with-a-capital-I stamp that the crusty old keepers of the literary canon have branded upon it. Robinson Crusoe is, at its core, a simple and affecting story about what it means to be human. Had I read that sentence I just wrote three weeks ago, I would have thought it a hollow cliche, but maybe because it is such a cliche, there are really so few books that invite us to consider our humanity in its most basic and elemental form. You can't read this book without putting yourself in Crusoe's shoes; would I be going to all this work just to harvest some corn, or would I have completely given up the will to survive by now? At what point is a single, isolated human life not worth living anymore? You ask yourself a lot of humbling questions while reading this book. Maybe Robinson's lack of character enables us to see ourselves in him more readily; plenty of people must have felt compelled to do this, or else we'd have the sad, sad fate of living in a world without Gilligan's Island (among a number of other TV shows.) The story of Robinson Crusoe ripples through our culture immeasurably.tDoes this make up for the fact that sometimes it's insanely boring? For me, kind of. For everybody? Probably not. Maybe for you, if you are one of those awful people who think pirates jokes are indiscriminately funny, in which case, God help you. Regardless, I enjoyed this book quite a bit.
—Lindsay
