Robinson Crusoe

Daniel Defoe's Robinson Crusoe is one of the earliest English novels, and in some ways it shows its age, particularly in the too-long denouement.  But overall, I found it pretty enthralling, and it often surprised me.

For example, in a bit of what we'd now call multi-culturalism, Crusoe decides that he shouldn't interfere in how the savages conduct themselves, since they have their own norms, which are not the same as his.  Of course, this is all over-laid with a dose of 17th century imperialism; the savages have their own norms, but the British norms are still better, and Crusoe knows that eventually they'll come over to Christianity.  But he feels that it's not his place to presume to correct them (except in the case of Friday, of course).

The novel is as much a story of Crusoe's spiritual odyssey as it is a story of his physical struggle to survive.  Crusoe attributes his success to Divine Providence, which constantly allows him little favors, like the survival of some amount of corn so that he can raise corn on his island.  It seems a little churlish to point out that, in order to teach Crusoe a lesson, God kills his 20-odd crewmates, but that thought kept running through my head.