Whether or not you've read Robert Louis Stevenson's "Treasure Island," there is a certainty that you're somewhat familiar with it. So much of media based on pirate culture has some basis in this story that finds a boy named Jim Hawkins going on an adventure with a bunch of questionable men on a search for gold. It's the most enjoyable scavenger hunt in literary history, and in the process presents some of the most entertaining plot twists and characters rich with unique vernaculars. This is one of those stories that capture the potential for fantasy in storytelling, to transport us to a different world, and imagine for once that our lives are more exciting. "Treasure Island" deserves its place among the greatest novellas ever written, and it doesn't take more than a few pages to understand why.
Stevenson has a gifted approach to making the audience able to buy into this world for one reason: we don't know anything about Jim Hawkins. We know that his mother works at an inn that is often inhabited by pirates and unruly men, constantly breaking out into fights. To look closer is to see that there is no actual background about Jim that would tell you why his father is missing or even what clothes he wears. So much of Jim is ambiguous, and the audience never questions this. In a world full of vivid detail, where people are missing legs and ancient parrots yell "Pieces of eight!," the ability to not be distracted by the protagonist's personal working is for once a benefit.
It subliminally makes everything feel grander, making the reader feel like we're Jim witnessing this world for the first time. We're dropped onto the boat and travel towards Treasure Island, discovering the various details that make this crew devious. It would be one thing to interact with these shady characters, but Stevenson has an emotional complexity, making figures like Long John Silver into a problematic father figure in order to create an emotional conflict in the third act. Similarly, figures who seem initially secondary end up becoming of great value. The mystery is as much about finding where the treasure is buried as understanding whom you can trust in a mob of unruly men.
The world that Stevenson has created has become the template for pirate stories, and it's telling that none have managed to be as iconic. With endless film, stage, and TV adaptations, the story brings out this sense of adventure in the reader, making us wonder what it's like to stand on the deck of a ship and see this journey unfold before our eyes. Even in this strange world, it manages to both feel dangerous but also welcoming, where the pirates treat everyone like some perverted family. It's full of folklore that has only grown richer in the century since. Whether or not Stevenson originated the role, he made it accessible, making about more than a hangout novel with unpleasant people.
What he's created is something that finds empathy in a world that most readers will never personally get to experience, but it seems like a lot of fun. Who wouldn't want to swing from ropes, sail a boat to that random island that has an untold treasure? Regardless as to whether there's a bigger point to the journey, it's impossible to resist the whimsy and awe that comes with this world, creating a scavenger hunt that requires a whole lot of luck and tolerating people likely to chop your head off. With the space of the page to keep us from that sword, it's enough of a thrill to feel like you're there. It's timeless, capturing the thrill of being young and having a wild imagination. No matter how many times the pirates do a sea chanty, it's fresh and new each time. This is the start of something great, and the reader can't help but be drawn into all of it.
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