The Near Midnight Meanderings On A Movie With A Microwave Meal Part 6: Long John Silver (1954)

Hello there. hope you're feeling well today.

So Treasure Island wasn't good enough for filmmakers oh no. There has to be a sequel. Long John Silver. Or as I prefer to call it : Treasure Island 2 : This time It's personal.

Made in Australia ("Treasure Island Studios no less) with a choir going all "Yo ho ho" for the opening titles. I really didn't know what to expect. Regular readers would remember that I was quite underwhelmed reading the original Robert Louis Stevenson novel.

Essentially the plot is this. Long John Silver and his crew have to deal with a kidnap and various opponents in their search for (of course) treasure. Which will of course lead them back to (of course) Treasure Island.

I say "various opponents" the chief one being another pirate( and his crew) called Mendoza. The chief villain of course being both flouncy and foreign.

It's all rubbish of course. But it's the sort of movie that as long as you don't take it seriously is entertaining rubbish. The person to thank for that is Robert Newton in the starring role who overacts good and proper. But in this sort of film that's what's required. The film is on his shoulders for the most part and he takes it on. Without him (for the most part) this would be just rubbish. He makes it watchable rubbish.

Thing is. In a film like this if you see that an actor is having fun it rubs off on the audience. Newton is having fun.

The only other of note to mention here (and I didn't realise he was in the film until afterwards) is Rod Taylor. Won't tell you his part as it would spoil the film, but only he can match Newton for screen presence here.

A quick mention of the main kid in this Jim Hawkins (yes he returns too). Won't go into the plot but what he does is a surprise. Let's just say he enjoys the life of a pirate for the most part.

Of the six movies I've done so far in this occasional series. This actually comes second if I was stranded in a desert island with wi-fi for my tablet to watch on the cloud.

A treasure island hopefully.

Until the next time.

Why Didn't I Like Treasure Island More?

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson, part of the literary bucket list of classics I should read before I die that my Kindle seems to be giving me (does it know something I don't?) can now be crossed off.

More than any of these books I've read recently though when finished I felt unenthused. Won't say neutral, because I did like the novel. Just not as much as I thought.

So there am I on completion thinking to myself "Why Didn't I Like Treasure Island more?" Mentally found myself  making a short list of reasons.

Here's it is:

That I knew too much about the book before reading it: Regular readers to this blog will know that I try to avoid film/TV adaptations of famous novels as much as possible to avoid the probability of the reading experience being spoilt. But the more famous the book the more chances there are of images in the popular consciousness, consequently there are less chances of you being able to be monk like in the isolation of them.

Of the recent classic books I've read Treasure Island was far and away the most famous. Who doesn't know about Long John Silver and that parrot, Jim Hawkins etc. It's also responsible for a lot of popular pirate clichés. Perhaps I just knew too much before I started reading it to have enjoyed it now?

That the book had just one strong character in Long John Silver and was damaged because of it: I've read bad books in my life where what pulled you through as a reader was the strength of one particular character. Soames Forsyth and Francis Urquhart in the novels of John Galsworthy and Michael Dobbs springs to mind. It didn't mean that I enjoyed the book, it just meant there was a reason why I continued to turn the page.

The trouble however was that when the strong character wasn't in a scene the book seemed dull in comparison. Although let me stress I don't think that this is a bad novel to me it was exactly what occurred in Treasure Island.

And linked to this reason comes the following:

That the "good guys" in Treasure Island are just dull/unbelievable: And so they are. Even Jim Hawkins, who is able at thirteen to do things that elders in his group are incapable of.

That people should just know their place: If we leave aside Jim Hawkins for a moment. It's noticeable that the "good guys" in Treasure Island are all in positions of authority (the captain.the squire and the doctor). The subliminal message here is that the lower orders should follow people of a higher strata than them. It's irritating to say the least.

All of the above are genuine reasons why I didn't like Treasure Island as much as I was expecting to. But one reason dominates above all else.

I read it too late: When starting to read this book I didn't know whether it was purely for children or "for all the family". Having read it I now know that it's the former. More specifically a book for boys between about ten and thirteen before girls come into the picture. It's on reflection noticeable that there's just one female character in the entire novel, Jim Hawkins' mother. And she's gone after a few chapters.

What more could a boy of that age want than adventure in the high seas and foreign climes without bothersome whiny women to stop you? Not only that but you prove yourself just as invaluable as the adults around you. It's very Boy's Own.

However I'm a very old man with very grey hair. I no longer have the enthusiasm of thirteen, just the fatigue of fifty three.

So the fault as to why I didn't like Treasure Island as much is not Stevenson's but mine. I was too old to truly enjoy it (a sentence I'll be saying a lot of as these years go on).

The next book from the great unread is The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists by Robert Tressell. Arguably the most important work of socialist fiction in English.

So definitely a book a fifty three year old man can read.

Until the next time.

Sniffling With Sir Walter Scott

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

It's about 10pm yesterday. Wife and daughter are in bed but I've stayed up to do a bit of reading in the living room. My Kindle (other e readers are available) tells me that there's 16 minutes left of Sir Walter Scott's The Talisman to finish. Smooth Classics from Classic FM is in the background. I've a cup of tea and some dark chocolate digestive biscuits. Half hour wind down with a book. What you might ask could possibly go wrong?

As it happens everything. It starts with a few sniffles that I can't seem to shake off, then sneezing and then moving to full blown eye watering. I know the wife had cooked onions but that was hours before. And let me tell you it definitely wasn't the book.

Struggled for a few more minutes but it was no use. Sir Walter would have to wait for another day as I went to sleep instead. There are few things worse for a reader than getting everything prepared for a quiet reading session and in the last moments being unable to do it.

That other day when the book was finally finished was this morning. 5am . BBC Radio 3 is on this time. A cup of tea but no digestives...... you can't spoil breakfast ......and thankfully no sniffles.

The Talisman is the second book in a series set in the Crusades. Something I didn't know when I started (my fault). It's best approached as a historical potboiler. As the disclaimer goes any similarity to real events is purely coincidental.

I didn't bargain for the lack of action in this novel. If in my late teens/early twenties this might just have been a gamechanger given my preconceptions when starting. At fifty three however it was unexpected and nothing else.

If you approach this book as a potboiler then you will be pleasantly surprised. For although it's clear where the author's sympathies lay with regard to the Crusades and indeed in supporting the British Christian way of life  in general (which includes the monarchy...he's not Sir Walter Scott for nothing) he showed a surprising amount of respect for the Muslim religion and the Muslim characters in this novel, which does him credit. It has a sense of nuance.

So as an entertainment for a fifty three year old man, baring in mind the time it was written then I would recommend it. If you're much younger....well you've been warned.

I've mentioned before that my Kindle (other e readers are available) does seem to have a sense of humour. For in the random way I pick ebooks the next one to read turns out to be Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson. I wonder if I'm the first man to have read an autobiography of Stevenson's wife before reading one of his classic works.

Definitely a book for the bucket list of literature before you die in that whether you like it or not you need to say that you've read it. That time for me has come at fifty three....yes I know.

Until the next time.

A Touch Of The Bios

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I've said it before, and I'll probably bore everyone again until we actually move, but this twilight zone period of packing everything but essentials until it has taken place has meant an increase in my reading.

In a period of twenty four hours since my previous post I've finished two books, (though as I'll explain later there is a particular reason re one of them) both biographies.

The Life of Mrs Robert Louis Stevenson by Nellie Van De Grift Sanchez was a pleasant enough read. The author was the sister of the subject (and let's as we should name her Frances Matilda Van De Grift) so we were unlikely from the start to get anything resembling "Whilst Robert was writing famous novels Frances would amuse herself by flower arranging and shooting arrows at stray dogs".

What you get is an author who seemed to genuinely care for her sister and a life that was not without its problems but had a genuine love affair in its core. It's not going to be the best biography that you'll ever read but I don't think you'll regret having done so.

The other book turned out to be the autobiography of Benjamin Franklin. Probably the oldest autobiography I've ever read. It was also not that big a read.

As I was swiping the pages I was thinking, his early life is all very well but where are the juicy bits? Where is the "MY BATTLE WITH THE BRITS" or "CARNAGE IN DRAWING THE CONSTITUTION - I told Jefferson gun control checks were important?" It wasn't until very late in the book was there any mention of his experiments with electricity.

The real shock though came at the end. As I was wondering what was going on the last page revealed....that it was unfinished. I'm assuming because he died.

This was a free book, that said I did feel a bit short changed. What I read was not that interesting and didn't really explain what lead him to fight a war of independence. In a parallel universe there is I suspect a more complete and fascinating book, just not this one.

The next book on the list is a collection of short stories by Henry James. I must admit that this will be the first book I've ever read by him. He's the sort of author I've always been meaning to read but life interfered....until now.

Until the next time.

In Which I Chat About Jane Austen,Rugby, RLS' Wife, Houses And The Disappearance Of Barry Town FC

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I woke up on Saturday, unwillingly you understand, at quarter to four in the morning. And after making a cup of tea did what I tend to do often now. Read. so Emma by Jane Austen was finished.

Speaking as I can now do,with the vast experience of having reading one of her novels, is that Jane Austen moves in with F Scott Fitzgerald and Anton Chekhov as a writer with whom I'm in literary Switzerland about. She is certainly readable. But I don't understand how she can be considered "great".

As I explained previously being neutral on a writer is a difficult position to be in. If only because not disliking one means that you can't shake off the feeling that you might be missing something. What I especially don't understand is why she's stood the test of time especially when compared to writers like the Brontes or George Eliot. But then again what do I know being a man?

The next book on the great ebook unread was Rugby Union Basics For Dummies in a day by Nick Cain and Greg Growden. It was free and to be honest after reading it was probably the best thing about it. I learnt very little about a sport whose rules I've only gleaned through osmosis. Anyway it was finished. Two books done in a day.

Did you know that Robert Louis Stevenson's wife was American? I didn't. But it's the first thing I've learnt in the latest book I'm reading The Life of Mrs Robert Louis Stevenson by his wife's sister Nellie Van De Grift Sanchez. So far so good.

On the house searching front went to see two today. Both seem genuine contenders. Wife and I are going to spend the weekend thinking this one through. We might offer on Monday. More then.

After that was done we went to see a friend who lives in Barry. She and the wife I knew would spend the afternoon chatting about the houses we've seen and the general moving situation. Knew I'd be bored.What to do?

But then a solution occurred to me. Our friend lived near Jenner Park, home of the Welsh league side Barry Town FC. As there were no more houses to watch I'd get daughter to go online, check and if they were playing at home and go off to the game.

This was done. The internet was clear. Barry Town FC would be playing Goytre United FC at two thirty. I'd be a little late, but I'd not been able to watch football for a while so it would give me a little break from everything that's swirling my beleaguered brain with regard to moving house and finding one to live in.

It wouldn't have been the first time I've been to Jenner Park. When I was courting my wife and I did crosscountry courting with my wife between South Wales and Essex (A real Gavin Stacey moment) her uncle (even more Gavin/Stacey like), a good man now sadly passed away took me to a match there between Barry Town and Flint Town FC.

I'd learnt two things from that game. One that Welsh football went far beyond Cardiff,Swansea Wrexham and Newport and the other was that Flint Town taught me that dependent on exactly where you are the North Walian accent could have a trace of Scouse on it.

As I was closer to the ground heard no sounds of a match or saw supporters moving in. Noticed ticket offices being boarded up, Eventually from a small gap I'd noticed....no football...indeed not even passing birds on the pitch. As I said on my return to our friends' house wherever Barry Town were playing it was not Jenner Park.

Further investigations by daughter revealed the phrase "venue to be decided" on the internet. I found out later that they'd played Goytre United at Goytre's ground. The opposite fixture will be next Saturday, useless to me as I'll be working.

Ah well...

Until the next time,