Book Review: “Treasure Island”
Treasure Island
The minute I knew I was giving birth to a girl I instantly knew what books I would introduce her to and when. However, when Max came along I realized I had no idea. Boy books? What do boys read? I didn’t think Max would really be interested in “Anne of Green Gables” or “Jane Erye” and so I started asking men, “What was your favorite book as a kid?” The list that I’ve gathered is fascinating and the first one on the list was “Treasure Island” by Robert Louis Stevenson.
This book was AMAZING. For those of you who have read it, I know you are shaking your head and laughing at me right now. This book is the ultimate pirate story and the origin of every pirate cliche that we know. If you currently have a ten year old boy living in your house I recommend you run to your nearest book store and buy this book. Young Jim Hawkins and his escapades fighting off pirates and the two-faced, one-legged, Captain Silver is picturesque. The nautical language, the blatant swash-buckling make this book a page-turner. I can’t imagine any young boy not falling in love with this book. I would also recommend that you read it together as a family since the nautical terms can be challenging at times. This is a book that I cannot wait to share with Max. Next up is “The Three Musketeers”.
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This is a “Kid’s Pick” for 5 Minutes For Books
Mysteries Of The Universe
1.) Am I the only mother who has realized that since having kids going to the dentist has seemed like an optional doctor’s visit? I haven’t been to the dentist in six years which I find disgusting and horrifying.
2.) Jane, at What About Mom (whom I talk about so much here people probably think I’m stalking her, which I am, just don’t tell her) has been talking about how hard it is to make girl-friends. You know, friends that are girls, when you become a Mom. The last time I made a new friend I was 21 and alcohol was involved. Okay, not exactly, but you get the idea – it’s hard. All my friends are either from college or high school. I have very few “grown-up” friends. Why is that?
3.) I was talking to Lucy about how God gives us special talents and I said “Mommy’s special talent is that she cooks so well” and Lucy said “You have another talent Mommy; cleaning the house”. I died a little when she said that.
4.) I don’t understand lawn ornaments. I never have. Why do people put statues of things in their yards? Do they really think I believe that a small family of gnomes are living in their yard? I have enough clutter in my house, why would I voluntarily choose to let it spill out onto my yard?
5.) You know what I’m tired of? Awards shows. I’m glad that the entertainment industry can no longer pawn off their self-congratulatory, gala extravaganzas as entertainment. Where is the televised ceremony recognizing doctor’s who save lives? Or scientists busy curing cancer? In other words, why isn’t the Nobel Peace Prize ceremonies televised? Or are they?
The Wall
Sometime around my senior year in college I realized I wasn’t a very good writer. I was preparing to graduate with a degree in creative writing and I wasn’t truly all that good at it. Perhaps it was the old axiom “I knew what I didn’t know” and that was that I didn’t know how to be a good writer. I never actually pursued a career in creative writing. I went into radio. I’ve spent my entire life fairly comfortable in the fact that I’m an “okay” writer — better than the average Joe.
Earlier this evening during a heated debate about some Kindergarten school applications David and I had the following exchange;
David: This reads like you wrote this in a hurry and didn’t go back to re-read it.
Me: I spent several days writing it and I’ve probably read it a dozen times
David: Well, it definitely doesn’t sound like an English teacher wrote it
Me: Why? because the style is different from yours?
David: This is a losing battle with you because you have two English degrees. I’ll never win this
Me: Are you criticizing the technical aspects of the writing or the style? Because I think our styles of writing are fundamentally different
David: True, but even then your writing is rushed and isn’t well thought out
Me: (rather defensive at this point) Really? It’s not well thought out?
David: (rather angry now) See, this is why I don’t read your blog. You say you want feedback but you don’t. The truth is your writing is fundamentally, stylistically flawed. It is rushed, it is filled with basic errors and it is as if you don’t consider your audience.
And there it is. He said it. He’s right of course, I can’t take criticism, which is probably why I never pursued that career in creative writing. However, that is the nice thing about blogging, right? Those who hate your writing don’t read. I have no editor, no sponsors to please, and I barely have an audience to worry about. And yet his words hit the softest part of my ego. He struck the “King of all truths” that lies at the heart of every writer – I’m not any good.
I suspect I have just launched the Titanic of writer’s block. The very essence of writing is being honest and vulnerable. When somebody, whom you respect, says that your honest and vulnerable writing is actually “rushed and flawed” than you don’t trust yourself. You no longer trust your ability to say or write anything. You question everything; “Am I being authentic? Will my audience relate to this? Does this only make sense to me?” Sigh. This might very well be my last post for a very long time. Well, at least until I remember that I don’t really listen to David half the time.
