Ok hello again readers and welcome to the review of Treasure Island!
First off, Treasure Island is one of those classic “young-kid-turns-dashing-hero’ novels which were pretty prolific during the late 1800s. Its well written, if a little dry, but lacks nothing in the interest department. Every action is thought out and meticulously catalogued, to the point where some basic levels of seafaring knowledge are almost required to get the full enjoyment out of the book. Besides that, for a seafaring nerd like me it’s a good read and a grand tale of adventure to boot.
My only qualm with this book was how much the characters rambled. Then again, that was a common feature of writing styles of the time period and in some ways it did give the book its own kind of flavour, one which isn’t often seen these days. I’d liken it to the way Moby Dick was written, with complete attention to detail. Sometimes a little too much, perhaps. I did find, though, that the more I read of the book the easier it was to overlook these niggling details and enjoy the plot for what it was. I became so absorbed in it that I nearly missed my bus stop.
By far, the most colourful characters in Treasure Island were the pirates themselves. Each action was a drama-filled festivity, a stroke of a paintbrush of a million colours. One might even think that Stevenson had spent time with the pirates he wrote about. To some degree this has given me more inspiration for working on Pirates of Time, which I haven’t touched in a while thanks to work commitments.
That said, I think Treasure Island is a keeper for me. Its a novel you want to reread, one that gives you a warm sense of home whenever you crack it open. For me, that’s the most important thing.
That’s it from me for now, but please stay tuned for my next review of Rebecca Makkai’s The Borrower.