Robinson Crusoe

Hello, this is Heather! Since my Tuesday postings are usually honest reviews of books that we get sent in (if I keep up with my schedule, which is rare), I’ve decided to spend Thursdays writing about any other piece of writing that sparks my interest. It’s going to be more informal and rambling-styled, because I’m exhausted by this time in the week. Despite taking an A-Level in maths, I keep thinking that sixteen comes after seventeen today, which is a little worrying. It seemed proper to start this with what could possibly have been the first English-written novel (with a lot of debate around the topic, for instance Beware the Cat by Baldwin is a strong contender, funny title given that the protagonist of this one is rather cruel to cats), Robinson Crusoe. 

To say I enjoyed this novel would be perhaps an exaggeration. I actually read the first chapter on holiday and found it so dreary that I put it down and decided not read it again. Like Robinson himself, I went against my word and drudged through it with the aid of an ASMR rainy room to exude the whole stormy atmosphere.

Alright, so it’s crucial to note that Defoe didn’t have all the resources writers do today – on almost every writing tips list, it’s highlighted that reading a variety of novels is vital. 1719? Well, life was somewhat different to 2017; Defoe himself having lived through the Plague, the Great Fire of London and the raid on Medway. His mother sadly did pass away when he was ten, and it’s highly probably that he was familiar with death given that only three houses survived the Great Fire of London in his neighbourhood including his own. England itself prosecuted anyone that involved in a religion outside of the Church of England, so it’s likely that Defoe was familiar with the Bible, which is echoed further in Robinson Crusoe. Obviously, the amazing Shakespeare had been around before Defoe was born, perhaps the Tempest influenced the whole island theme, this is all speculation as no one knows for sure. What we do know is that Daniel Defoe was born with the surname Foe, probably adding the ‘De’ on to sound more aristocratic, he was awful with money, being in enormous debt regularly, and other than writing, he also worked as a spy and pamphleteer. Normally I wouldn’t include so much context, but honestly without all that it’s difficult to appreciate the depth of the novel. 

For a modern audience, it’s pretty difficult to actually like Robinson. As a protagonist, he’s infuriating. Like Victor Frankenstein, he spends a long time loitering in a state of self-pity and commits himself to doing something stupid that everyone and God disapproves of. Everyone warns Robinson not to go to sea, and when he does go, his first voyage is such a fiasco that he initially views it as a sign from God that he should stay away from the sea, but being the stubbornly romantic idiot that he is, he does indeed sail again. His adventures get a little more exciting than a rebellion against the family and feeling awfully sea sick when he gets enslaved for a couple of years, breaking out with Xury, who I saw as a symbol for an angel or at least some rationality. Naturally, Robinson messes up a lot more, I won’t spoil the plot, but I think we all know that he inevitably winds up on an ‘uninhabited island’ that is actually used by cannibals to kill and eat their next meal. If you didn’t know that then frankly it’ll be a kind spoiler, I spent the majority of the book awaiting the cannibals. Eventually, I’m relieved to say that he is low on ink and thence cannot waffle nearly as much, making it all much more bearable. So, Robinson is stubborn, stupid, defiant against anyone that cares about him, kills several people (admittedly sometimes this is, arguably, justified) and pretty treacherous too. Oh, and he also drowns countless numbers of kittens who clearly just want a cuddle. Yup. I know, there are several rude words that I reserve for such kitten-slayers as he. I will never look at Robinson fruit juice without remembering Crusoe.

Naturally, in an older book, there are some ideas and words that are now offensive utilised, given the date of publication this really shouldn’t be penalised. I’d love to show Defoe how different our societies are. Really, what I found the most astonishing thing was the fact that Robinson apparently never really needs to use the loo or shower on this island of his. With that being said, writing usually leaves out such details, note how Harry Potter is basically told by Cedric to take a bath in the fourth book. Some of the topics discussed are actually really interesting – despite being dislikeable, Robinson has some thoughtful moments, then again, I guess we all would if we were on an island alone for so long. My favourite was the debate over cannibalism; is it wrong for someone to kill a fellow human if they think of it as normal and acceptable? Like I said earlier, it’s also important to remember that thanks to Daniel Defoe, novels became far more popular after Robinson Crusoe was publicised. Furthermore, it probably served as inspiration towards several castaway and desert island books. If ever anyone has found themselves on an uninhabited island and is familiar with the novel, this novel could potentially save their life, they’d know to lookout for cannibals. 

However, I feel like if this book could be a masterpiece if only we could scrub it, washing off the irrelevant and dull paragraphs of Robinson complaining or telling us again and again about how he’s building a fence. If the reader takes the time to analyse the novel, it’s pretty clear that Defoe has mastered the fundamentals of being human, letting Robinson fully express regret, sadness, guilt and confusion, and understand how simple our society could be, our needs being purely to eat, drink and retain good health. I’ve read several reviews that state that he has no character development and honestly, I really disagree with this. As the novel progressed, Robinson became less ignorant and more patient, valuing of the companions he had rather than discarding them and realising the futility of money when you only have the basic tools to survive with (perhaps something Defoe did to make his gigantic debt feel less stressful). Another plus point is that this is simply an adventure book. There’s no romance, no fantasy, no mystery, and it’s getting rather rare to find novels that fit snugly in one category. He’s adventuring not only literally but also spiritually; through meeting Friday in particular, he realises what his religion means and wonders why God allows certain actions.

Whilst I cannot say I loved this book, I can definitely appreciate the amount it's done in allowing us to understand humanity, stripping us back to basic needs, and for literature as a whole. If anyone wants to share their view on the novel, please do comment below.