Today is Robert Louis Stevenson's birthday. Like Jorge Luis Borges I am an admirer of Stevenson, and have written about him. Treasure Island is one of the few perfect books I know of, not a sentence in it wrong, the effects of motion, light, aliveness so strong and delicate. N.C. Wyeth's illustrations can almost (nto quite) do it justice: that aquamarine sky, that sea-light that pales colors.
But read if you haven't The Suicide Club for an exquisitely constructed story, The Pavilion on the Links for a model thriller, all polished to gemlike gloss. Wiothout for a moment being precious in the other wrong sense.
Tomorrow: Why We must all abandon LiveJournal, alas.
Published on November 14, 2010 01:50