Robinson Crusoe

Last night I finished reading Robinson Crusoe, Daniel Defoe’s 1719 novel, in which a castaway spends twenty-eight years living on a tropical island off the coast of South America. There he encounters a variety of unfortunates before his rescue.

Defoe was probably inspired by an earlier (true) castaway story, and his tale inspired a Swiss version, known to us as Swiss Family Robinson—not to mention such modern retellings such as “Gilligan’s Island” and “Castaway.”

My family also watched the disappointing 1999 movie by the same title starring Pierce Brosnan. The Hollywood version added both a romantic/sexual interest and the death of two of the protagonist’s friends at his own hand. Further, the script writer twisted the spiritual sub-plot to make it communicate the exact opposite of what Defoe’s creation said.

In the author’s version the castaway has rebelled against his parents and gone to sea seeking excitement. After several years of solitude, he reads a Bible left on the ship and encounters the grace of his Creator. Later he saves a cannibal from being eaten by fellow flesh-eaters, and this cannibal, whom he names Friday, comes to recognize Christ as superior to the alligator-god who demands such abhorrent practices. Not a PC story, but one with which numerous tribal peoples today still identify.

Replacing Defoe’s humble, compassionate character, Brosnan portrays an angry, arrogant man who yells demanding that Friday accept the love of God (words contradicting actions), but later comes to accept Friday’s prayers to the alligator-god as “just another way to the same truth.”

More like, just another case in which the book was better than the movie.