Robert Crews
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- $2.99
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- $2.99
Publisher Description
From the author of Little Big Man comes a modern retelling of Robinson Crusoe that is an introspective look at the human condition only Thomas Berger could deliver.
“Both a survival tale and a story of the redemptive power of love and nature, the novel exudes an optimism rare in contemporary fiction.” —Library Journal
On a fishing expedition with one friend he can barely tolerate and two other men he barely knows, Robert Crews is content to spend the entirety of the flight in the alcoholic haze he’s all too familiar with. But when the turbulence becomes something more, it’s clear that something is wrong.
Crash landing in unfamiliar territory, Crews is the sole survivor to emerge from the wreckage. Alone, and without a drop of alcohol for the first time in his life, he must face the wild and, worse—himself.
Crews salvages what’s left of his companion’s survival gear from the plane, learns to build his first fire, and fashions a makeshift shelter from the elements. Alone with his memories, Crews begins to lament the years he spent wandering aimlessly through life, unable to attach himself to a single thing, or a single person.
His new lessons in self-care and human understanding pick up the pace when he suddenly encounters a woman on the run from her violent husband. Sparking new feelings of compassion, protectiveness, and genuine love in Crews, he allows Friday to join him on the search for civilization—all while avoiding the husband that seems bent on getting Friday back into his abusive grasp. Even in their return to civilization, Berger crafts a conclusion that sets this surprisingly tender retelling apart from every other tribute to Crusoe.
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
The eponymous hero of Berger's 19th novel (after Meeting Evil ) is a postmodern Robinson Crusoe--more dysfunctional and doubting than his 18th-century forebear. And he sets a greener example: whereas Crusoe established an enlightened despotism over nature, Crews must learn to survive with rather than in spite of his environment. Berger also owes a clear debt to Golding's Pincher Martin --to survive, Crews must purge himself, settle his debts with his past. In the novel's first half, when Crews is alone with his environment and his thoughts, the inherent pleasures of the genre--the battle of wits between nature and man where the stakes are survival--are as gripping as ever. Once Crews meets his Friday, however--in this case, a lissome young wife on the run from her husband--the narrative loses much if not most of its momentum. Berger's ear for language, so keen in his descriptions of nature and in Crews's internal monologues, becomes clogged in reams of inert dialogue. A latent strand of Iron-Johnishness also rears its shaggy head, as man and woman liberate their inner selves in the forest's primal twilight. The climax only confirms the novel's schematic and rather smug affirmation of nature over culture--the clear, powerful lines of the opening chapters are only a blurred memory.
