The Castaway in TREASURE ISLAND

Do you know that when self reads a book, she mines it for every possible use? Like, in her own writing?

Right now, she’s 316 pages into writing a very dense novel that she hopes will allow readers to see what the Philippines was like in its natural, unspoiled state, before the friars turned the islands into dioceses. (Her manuscript used to be 319 pages, just an hour ago. But — really, the plot is just there so she can say something important. Hopefully. She also realizes she’s probably shooting herself in the foot by admitting this on her blog, but anyhoo! It’s not like the world is beating a path to her door!)

After castaway and the narrator get past the introductions, they first talk about cheese, and then:

“Well, now, Jim, I’ve lived that rough as you’d be ashamed to hear of.”

(Self wishes he would just say, she’s sure it can’t be that scandalous because there is literally NO ONE ELSE on that island. In other words, we are not talking Lord of the Flies here)

“Now, for instance, you wouldn’t think I had had a pious mother — to look at me?” he asked.

“Why, no, not in particular,” I answered.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

 

TREASURE ISLAND, Chapter XII: “Council of War”

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This past week has been a great, angst-y week. Not only did self definitively decide that she couldn’t bear to read further than p. 253 of The Amber Spyglass — it would break her — but she saw Avengers: Infinity War, and — she just can’t seem to escape the bloody angst. Because the movie — just ask anyone who’s seen it — has angst to the nth power.

As soon as she got home, she resumed reading Treasure Island, by Robert Louis Stevenson. (For such a slim novel, it is taking FOREVER for her to read through, maybe because she keeps having to blog about pirate tropes, practically every page)

Today’s reading had mild angst. For one thing, a mutiny has just been discovered by the captain of the Hispaniola, a rather decent man named Mr. Smollett (The name alone does not encourage confidence regarding his eventual fate).

So, what are we to do? asks someone of the captain (He means: what are we to do about the mutiny?)

“First point,” began Mr. Smollett. “We must go on, because we can’t turn back.”

The captain and his mates then begin to try and figure out which members of the crew are loyal and can be counted on. They consider a crewman named ‘Hands.’ (Self loves the names in this novel. First there was Barbecue, the ship’s cook. Now there is a seaman named ‘Hands.’)

“Hands was one of mine,” says the squire.

“I did think I could have trusted Hands,” added the captain.

“And to think that they’re all Englishmen!” broke out the squire.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

 

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