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Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe is the father of all castaway fiction.  If Crusoe hadn’t been written, there would be no Swiss Family Robinson, Castaway, or *gasp* Lost.  (No, I haven’t seen Lost, so do not tell me anything about it.  I already found out some spoilers.)  It is an adventure story about a guy, Robinson Crusoe, stuck on an island for 28 years, basically by himself until the last three (when Friday, who I love, comes along).  I read parts of it in high school in my British literature course, but I wanted to read all of it. 

It is just a bit depressing.  No need to kill ones self from despair from this book.  It can be quite hopeful at times because of one thing: Providence.  Crusoe is eventually able to see why God would put him on this forbidding piece of land.  Why?  You’ll have to read to find out. 

Just so you know, God’s Providence is hard for me.  I want things to go my way so often, I do not want to let God have control, so he has to repeatedly hit me over the head until I get it.  It has a tendency to hurt…a lot.

Until Our Next Meeting.

The Lost Writer of Rohan

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