Robinson Crusoe

I read this book as a school assignment, but thoroughly expected to enjoy it because of its reputation. However, I did not make it far into the storyline before I began to find problems, and by the end of the book, I hated it.

First, what is the point of shooting a lion lounging on the riverbank as you drift safely by in a boat in midstream? This lion was in no way acting aggressively, so there was no reasonable excuse for Crusoe to quell his fear by shooting the animal.

I hated Crusoe's relationship with Friday, which was at all points condescending and racist. Enough said.

Crusoe avows Christianity when faced with isolation on a desert island, which might be a point in favor for him since I was raised as a Christian myself. However, he show more just as easily drops his Christianity when he returns to his comfort zone back with his family in England. This was simply the last straw. show less

The only class I did at University that dealt with a period of time before the 19th century was an entire class on Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales. Other than that, I never touched 16th, 17th, or 18th literature. Not that I didn’t want to, but I could never take up those classes along others I really wanted to do, or compulsory classes I had to take from my major and minor. So I never did read Robinson Crusoe until I went to Germany for a few days.

So everyone’s heard of this book – a guy is the sole survivor of a devastating shipwreck, hundreds of miles away from England, and is on the island for almost three decades and learns how to look after himself in the process. It’s been parodied a number of times, and the most famous show more one is probably Cast Away (with Tom Cruise!). It’s a classic, and I enjoyed reading it…

BUT.

Oh yeah, there’s always a but.

Main critique number 1) WHY the hell is this book not split into chapters? It’s literally blocks of text with no breaks. NO. CHAPTERS. It was very difficult to keep up the concentration with no chapters.

Main critique number 2) Robinson Crusoe feels like such a Mary Sue kind of character. He is So Perfect and So Good at surviving. He always manages to have enough ammunition, or enough food, or always manages to solve the problem in enough time. It’s honestly sickening how he manages to survive for literally thirty years without a hitch. Even his problems turn into minor inconveniences, because he solves them all so quickly. I get being a survivalist, but I’m sure that mentality didn’t exist at the time. And besides, even if he was a survivalist, he wouldn’t have managed all he did on that island in real life at all. Reading this book felt like I was living out Defoe’s epic fantasy where he was asking himself ‘What would I do if I was abandoned on an island?!’. The detail in it is so so so extensive it’s almost boring.

Main critique number 3) I get it, the 17th century was a completely different time. The British were assholes colonizing every corner of the planet. They thought that everything they did was awesome – their language, their religion – and that anywhere they stepped was theirs to claim from the ‘savages’. I get it, I do. But wow I am so glad we’re past that time nowadays. The way Robinson talks about Friday – as if he is lesser than him in every single way because he’s not British – is nauseating. He teaches him English which, fine, I get it, you want someone to communicate with. And I understand the aversion to cannibalism because hey, I’d be freaked out too. But telling him that his God isn’t real, and shitting on his religion like he did is a shit move. This novel exudes the British Colonial Ideal and it seriously made me so glad that we’ve moved past that time now. What really got to me int his regard was the way that Robinson talks about Friday as ‘his man’, and how he makes Friday call him ‘Master’. It just does not go down well with me at all.

Overall, my final rating, because of my bias, is a 3/5. Mostly as well because of how difficult it is to read from a stylistic point of view – what with the no chapters thing and all – this book is a bit of a British Colonialist Wet Dream. And if there’s anything the Maltese hate, it’s the British Colonial mentality. show less

As a child I was introduced to the Ladybird version of the book, so was under the misapprehension that this was a children’s novel. It is not, as it deals with themes such as slavery, cannibalism, piracy and survival. The only other novel by Defoe I had read was Moll Flanders, so I probably should have realised this was not going to be a sanitised novel. In Wilkie Collins novel The Moonstone the old butler whenever he was troubled or needed guidance would seek it in the pages of Robinson Crusoe, rather like a moral oracle. I found this curious, surely for a good victorian the Bible would have been the book to turn to. Finally I now understand why, Crusoe is the story of a man who despite appalling circumstance never gives into despair show more and melancholy, while at the same time remaining resolutely human. Sometimes in novels these great hero’s feel out of reach, like they are set apart, but Crusoe demonstrates that as well as heroism there is also fear and cowardice, humanity and savage violence. While it is certainly a novel about surviving slavery and shipwreck, to leave it at that is to miss its depth, its message of hope that however bad our external circumstances may be we still have the power to make the best of them. show less

I'm actually sorry I read this book. I always had good impressions of it, without ever having read it. Now I have, and there's no going back.

I'm not sure just how much the views of Robinson Crusoe reflect those of the general public at the time it was written, but I suspect they match fairly well. And Robinson Crusoe is a arrogant, racist, misogynist idiot.

Think I'm exaggerating? He makes it off the island, but leaves some 'Spaniards' stranded there. On the very last page of the book he sends 'five cows, three of them being big with calf, some sheep, and some hogs' back to the island for the inhabitants, along with 'seven women, being such as I found proper for service, or for wives to such as would take them.'

Early on in the book, he show more is taken by 'Moors' that force him into slavery. When he makes his mistake, he is careful to make sure he takes a fellow captive along to serve as his own slave boy.

The book is rife with stuff like that. When Crusoe rescues a Spanish castaway from cannibals he introduces himself, but when he rescues a native from the same fate, he tells the native his name will be Friday, and Friday is to call him 'Master.' Apparently Friday thinks that's perfect, and goes out of his way to become a perfect slave.

Hell, he ends up on the island as part of a failed attempt to become a Brazillian slave trader!

There's only two beings in the book who have a name - Robinson Crusoe, and Pol, the parrot. His wife and children get a lot less prose than the parrot, and no, you never learn their names either. Everyone else is described and never named, and they all think Crusoe can do no wrong. Apparently only Robinson Crusoe ever saw fit to criticize Robinson Crusoe.

The parts of the book I actually enjoyed were descriptions of how he performed all the tasks required to stay alive, and yet they were always ridiculously easy. Never once does he not find fresh water within minutes of looking for it, and although many things supposedly take months and months to complete, he only ever mentions the first couple of days of his labour at most. He never gets hurt, gets sick only once and shoots all sorts of people without ever getting so much as a scratch.

All of this mess is apparently because he wouldn't listen to his father and ran away. It's appropriate for God to kick him in the teeth repeatedly and kill off everyone around him over and over again until he gets the message. And even then the good Christian's morals wander around like a lifeboat in one of the many storms. About the only decision taken for Christian reasons that stuck was not moving back to Brazil because he wasn't sure about being Roman Catholic!

The best part of this book? The binding fell apart as I read it so it's not worth keeping or selling now I'm done with it.

Maybe I'm missing the point. If it's there, it's not worth digging for. If you haven't read this one, skip it and watch an episode of Gilligan's Island instead. show less

There are so many classics I still haven't read and thankfully my bookish buddy Veronica from The Burgeoning Bookshelf bravely agreed to tackle Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe with me recently. We were both reading the Penguin clothbound edition and when I encountered a sentence 21 lines long within the first six pages - and looking further ahead saw zero chapter breaks - I knew I was in for a challenging read.

Published more than 300 years ago in 1719, this review is going to contain plot developments so if you're precious about having the plot of Robinson Crusoe spoiled you should give this review a miss. This book is about Robinson Crusoe and his adventures after being shipwrecked on an island. We get a surprising amount of backstory show more before the eventual shipwrecking but we're told on the title page that Crusoe spends 28 years alone on an un-inhabited island so how's that for a 300 year old spoiler from the author?

As a character, I wasn't a fan of Crusoe at all and I found him selfish and self-serving. The novel contains much internal reflection and thoughts about God and purpose and you could argue it was a spiritual story of sorts, although lacking a conclusion.

"Upon the whole, here was an undoubted testimony, that there was scarce any condition in the world so miserable, but there was something negative or something positive to be thankful for in it; and let this stand as a direction from the experience of the most miserable of all conditions in this world, that we may always find in it something to comfort our selves from, and to set in the description of good and evil, on the credit side of the accompt." Page 54

Crusoe has a good attitude in this regard and the ability to see the silver lining is an important life lesson still being learned today. There's also a heavy focus on gratitude, as this quote attests:

"It put me upon reflecting, how little repining there would be among mankind, at any condition of life, if people would rather compare their condition with those that are worse, in order to be thankful, than be always comparing them with those which are better, to assist their murmurings and complainings." Page 132

Naturally we have many sayings to this effect (the grass is always greener, there's always someone worse off than you, a bird in the hand etc.) but 300 years ago, I wonder if this sentiment was as well known as it is today.

However, I was most entertained when Crusoe was being industrious on the island. Scavenging everything he could from the shipwreck, he sets up a camp with defences, plans out his rations, ingeniously cultivates food sources and builds and makes almost anything. In the time he was alone, he dries grapes for raisins each season, builds pens for wild goats, sows corn and barley, weaves baskets and makes clothes, furniture and more.

The scariest part of the book by far was when Crusoe saw a footprint in the sand that wasn't his own. He was terrified and for the next two years worked to increase his defences while continuing to monitor his surroundings in fear.

Eventually we learn the footprint belongs to visiting 'savages' as Crusoe calls them - and again the reader needs to remember this was written 300 years ago - and he witnesses them killing and eating human prisoners. Embarking on a plan to rescue a prisoner was a grand idea, until Crusoe shares his ultimate purpose is not for a companion but to make one his slave.

"Besides, I fancied myself able to manage one, nay, two or three savages, if I had them so as to make them entirely slaves to me, to do whatever I should direct them, and to prevent their being able at any time to do me any hurt." Page 158

I found this abhorrent and was grinding my teeth in anger when Crusoe succeeds. He calls his freed captive Friday - for the day he was rescued - which I found terribly insulting. With all of that religious reflection, why didn't he choose to call the man Providence, Faith or Adam? He teaches Friday english and tells him his name is Master (eye roll). Friday is grateful to Crusoe for saving his life and swears fealty - in effect - for life.

Other similar rescues occur after this point, including Friday's father. Their reunion was an emotional moment, but he and a Spaniard return to the mainland in a canoe to rescue fellow Spaniards and plan to return to Crusoe's island and share in the plentiful provisions. In that time, a mutinied ship arrives, a battle of weapons and wits takes place, and Crusoe becomes the captain of sorts.

Without any hesitation, Crusoe decides to leave the island for good, completely setting aside his previous plan with Friday's father. I was infuriated that Crusoe has no qualms abandoning his previous agreement, instead believing a letter will suffice. He also doesn't acknowledge any reluctance by Friday to leave the island before his father has returned, knowing they may never see each other again.

When Crusoe reaches society, there was plenty about his business dealings but I was interested to hear how Friday was adjusting to the culture shock. Crusoe goes on to have a family, but did Friday want to return home or have a family of his own?

Alas we never find out because the protagonist is too selfish to care, taking pains to provide for a loyal old woman from his earlier life as a young man yet completely dismissive of his year's long companion. There's also no reflecting on God after his 'salvation' either. He just goes back to business and his affairs, ugh!

Having finished it, I'm shocked Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe has been recommended reading for children and students over the years. The internal reflections are dull and the cannibalism and murders make it way too violent for young readers. If the book started with his shipwreck and focussed purely on his labours, then it would be one hell of an adventure. Alas, we have this story instead and I didn't enjoy it.

Thanks to Veronica for the buddy read and the encouragement to get through this. It's now off my list, woohoo! (I'm publishing this review on a Friday in tribute to an exploited and overlooked character). show less

I think this is worth reading as a cultural artifact. Crusoe careened around the Atlantic enslaving people, and was then terrified of how he might be treated if he fell into their hands; his profound religious awakening and intimate relationship with an indigenous person (whose name he never asks) did not lead to any change in his views; his highest achievement as a person once enslaved himself was to become the feudal lord of a colony half-populated by more kidnapped and enslaved people. Crusoe is just face-meltingly abhorrent, and by the end I'd convinced myself that it was a satire of the English mindset of the time... Maybe it wasn't then, but it is now.

I liked the parts about danger and setting up systems of food production, though.

As a young man who would be ‘satisfied with nothing but going to sea’, Robinson Crusoe receives this advice from his father:

'…it was for men of desperate fortunes on one hand, or of aspiring, superior fortunes on the other, who went abroad upon adventures, to rise by enterprize, and make themselves famous in undertakings of a nature out of the common road; that these things were all either too far above me, or too far below me; that mine was the middle state, or what might be called the upper station of low life, which he had found by long experience was the best state in the world…'(Robinson Crusoe, p.6).

Crusoe, however, wisely or recklessly, pays the advice no heed and sets out to become a sea-farer. But as fate would have it, show more a storm troubles his first voyage, and Crusoe, hardly having the time to find his sea-legs, frightened for his life, prays for God to spare him in return for his repentance for discounting his father’s advice. Whether God or no, his ship finds safe harbor, the storm passes over, and after a brief talk with a more sea-experienced friend—it was, after all, but a small storm he discovers—Crusoe gives up his vows and heads back out to sea.

Thus the pattern that governs much of Crusoe’s sea adventures, amounting to a remarkably curt thirty-two pages, is set: a sea voyage, a danger, and a call for providence that fails to result in any true understanding of or respect for that providence. It is this pattern that leads Crusoe on his way to Africa as a Guinea trader only to end up as a slave to a Moor. And once he manages to escape his enslavement, it is this same pattern that takes him to Brazil where he manages to stave his inclination for the sea and after a few years has set himself up as a promising tobacco farmer. Sure enough, however, ‘the upper station of low life’ is not for Crusoe, and he becomes involved in an expedition to bring Africans as slaves to Brazil. Once again his voyage is unsuccessful, his ship runs into storm, is led astray amid a violent sea, and shipwrecked off the coast of a small island. Crusoe, the sole human survivor, washes ashore and ‘began to look up and thank God that my life was sav’d’, but moments later he is questions whether he really is saved and thinks ‘that in a word I had a dreadful deliverance’ (pp.38-39).

But what is the meaning of deliverance? And what too, for that matter, is the meaning of repentance? These are two questions that Crusoe will consider a great deal as his solitude on the island slowly forces him into self-reliance, into a new relationship with nature, and into creating a personal meaning out of his survival and deliverance on the island. In other words, Crusoe must learn to think for himself about the existential and material questions which surround his life. In today’s psychological jargon this could be thought of as individualization. And perhaps one of the ways Defoe highlights the need to create one’s own meaning out of one’s own life, is by allowing Crusoe to salvage, among other things from the shipwreck,—a bible. With nothing else to read, Crusoe turns to the Bible and has no other choice but to make his own interpretations out of what he reads. And with this Crusoe’s true relationship with himself and with God begins. He finds he is truly happy; Providence provides him with all; he could wish for nothing more but conversation; and then one day he discovers a footprint on the beach.

Written at the beginning of the 18th century, it is no surprise that Crusoe assumes from the start that there is a God, moreover a Christian God. But his emphasis on self-reliance, not merely in providing for his food and security, but as well for the well-being of his soul transcends any specific belief. And, as John Richetti notes in his introduction, Defoe’s stress on providing realistic detail forces Crusoe into some modern conclusions about God:

'Providence, Crusoe concludes, cooperates with accidents, works God’s will by means of the flux and flow of everyday experience, and what appear to be merely casual incidents and everyday happenings such as Crusoe records, if properly and intensely studied, yield evidence of providential purpose. God can be found in the accidental details such as realistic fiction deliver…' (p.xxi)

And in English literature Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe is the forerunner to what will develop into the realist novel. Obviously there is much more that can be said about this book, about the cannibals, about Friday, about the Spaniards and the mutineers he encounters. With all the adventure it is no wonder to see why children versions of the book are a perennial favorite among young readers, and though at times Defoe is repetitive and long-winded, there is certainly something there for the older readers as well. show less