Robinson Crusoe is a book everyone sort of knows, perhaps more for the man than for his book. The central myth of the shipwrecked Englishman, forced to reconstruct society from the debris of a dashed vessel, appeals to a deep, secret well of childhood within us all. For this reason, the 18th centu...
This book. I don't think I've ever disliked a classic this much. Even when I was reading Kafka, which made me feel terrible, I still had a lot of respect for the book because it blurs the line between fiction and reality to such an extend that you feel debased and uncomfortable. I don't really have ...
This sucker was one of the first-ever novels, and you can totally tell. For the first 130 pages, all that happens is Robinson Crusoe salvages stuff, plants stuff, kills stuff, and domesticates stuff for survival, all while being weirdly paranoid and repetitive. Friday doesn't show up until over half...
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