Onward With the Reading List: TREASURE ISLAND

Big, fat tears are rolling down self’s cheeks right now. Damn you, Philip Pullman, why?

Why?

Why?

Treasure Island, save self!

Luckily, self was able to see through her fog of tears and read all the way through to p. 7 of Chapter 1 (The Old Sea-Dog at the Admiral Benbow). And on that page she reads about ‘the dead man’s chest’ and a ‘one-legged seafaring man.”

Self almost wants to laugh: the dead man’s chest? A one-legged seafaring man? Could you be any less clichéd, R. L. Stevenson?

Then she realizes these are pirate tropes. (Look at the title of the chapter, for heaven’s sake!)

And they probably weren’t around YET when Robert Louis Stevenson used them. Because he started them. DUH!

This edition of Treasure Island (a book self has never read, because come on, even to read it would have been such a cliché! She’s only trying it now because no one cares anymore, what self reads!) has the following information about Robert Louis Stevenson:

  • Born, 8 Howard Place, Edinburgh, 13 November 1850
  • Died, Vallima, Samoa, 3 December 1894
  • Treasure Island was first published in 1883.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

The Amber Spyglass (Pause for Now)

NO SPOILERS FOR THE AMBER SPYLGASS, PROMISE!

p. 248, just halfway. But self was immersed in a wonderful piece of Amber Spyglass fan fiction (and there are very few of those. At least, when compared to Hunger Games. There are six times as many Hunger Games fan fics than there are Amber Spyglass fan fics — of any ship.) Anyhoo, self was enjoying the fan fic hugely until she landed on a chapter where the writer quotes the end of The Amber Spyglass. And — self knows the end already because Twitter is an undisciplined space. But she didn’t expect it to go down like that. It was so awful. Seeing as how she found the ending of The Subtle Knife excruciating, she knew she wasn’t strong enough for the end of The Amber Spyglass. Exhibit A: She put off reading the last 50 pages of The Hunger Games for two years, until the movies started coming out, because she was so sure Peeta would die. But then a niece looked self straight in the eyes and said, “Peeta makes it.”

Oh. He DOES?

Screech!

Self returned home, read the last 50 pages of The Hunger Games, went to the local bookstore, bought Catching Fire and Mockingjay, and binge-read.

So, alas, farewell for now, His Dark Materials, and on to . . .  Robert Louis Stevenson’s Treasure Island, which has zero angst.

The edition self checked out of the Redwood City Library has a neat little intro — Stevenson’s essay, “My First Book.” She’s actually been dipping into it off and on, the past few days. Here’s an excerpt:

I am told there are people who do not care for maps, and find it hard to believe. The names, the shapes of the woodlands, the courses of the roads and rivers, the prehistoric footsteps of man, still distinctly traceable up hill and down dale, the mills and the ruins, the ponds and the ferries, perhaps the Standing Stone or the Druidic Circle on the heath; here is an inexhaustible fund of interest for any man with eyes to see or twopence worth of imagination to understand with!

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

 

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