Papa contrived a boat of cut apart barrels--this illustration is close to how I imagined it.
Sometimes a book combines with what is going in my life to double its impact. Such was the case with Swiss Family Robinson, by Johann Wyss. The Robinsons’ unceasing earnest industry in surviving the shipwreck that left them stranded on an island matched the serious frenzy going on in my own life as my co-workers and I struggled to establish a new jobs program in three different communities. We (and the Robinsons) could rest, but only for a short time…the work goes on…the work goes on.
My colleagues and I are working toward a specific goal and we expect things to slow down in a few weeks. What’s striking about narrator Papa Robinson, however, is that he keeps working because work itself is a virtue, a human duty. The island is a challenge to be explored, harnessed, controlled, changed, mastered, conquered—and relentlessly. Every animal was seen as a food source to exploit or make use of. Every plant was seen in terms of its uses—beauty was a secondary benefit to the provision of shade, fruit, grain, or fiber. With the energy of the true Christian Soldier, Papa sets forth to bring order and productivity to the chaos of nature. It is a truly 19th century zeitgeist. Man is at the top and he will rule.
Mama Robinson, referred to as “the wife” or “the mother,” supplied endless pots of food from the most exotic of ingredients as if by magic. She never grimaced when Papa and the boys (four of them) brought back something new to cook—like kangaroo meat, shark steaks, penguin, frog, monkey, bison, and bear. She too was inexhaustible in her energy, grinding manioc root into flour, making cloth (and food) from scratch, planting, reaping, and sowing (as well as sewing). Mama and Papa have a cooperative relationship—in a few sweet scenes, they wake each other up before the boys to…no, not that…talk over their plans for the day, so as to show a united front. In another obscure item, Papa seems to reveal that he sleeps in his own room. Perhaps the Robinsons concluded that adding to their shipwrecked brood would cause hardship, although they took in baby animals of all sorts (to tame for use).
We only see Mama through Papa’s eyes—we see his view of her and of everything. Is Papa a reliable narrator? Has he glossed over the truly gruesome predicament that has befallen his family? Is everyone’s incessant good cheer and enthusiasm more what he wants to present to the world than what he actually experiences from his family?
I am going to default on this question, because it simply does not matter. This book is not serious. It is a somewhat sober tall tale, like Paul Bunyan if he had been brought up properly. The stories are preposterous and implausible, but terrific fun. I kept reading to see what wrongly situated animal or plant they would come across next, what invention would come from Papa’s fertile mind, what new landscape might appear on their infinite island. And, what animal would they tame next? (The ostrich trained for the saddle was a bit too much for me.) The book rollicked all over the place—all with hearty enthusiasm.
I guess training an ostrich is more plausible than I thought--this was not the only photo of domestication.
The introduction to the book, in fact, points out that Wyss told these stories in endless variations to entertain his children. One of the children gathered up the stories into a collection, which was then translated and re-translated until this semi-seminal English version was published and became the standard for the English-speaking world. (Note how favorably the English are presented at any mention of them in the book.) So, a narrative structure was actually imposed on the story, like chaining together the Paul Bunyan stories with an artificial narrative. So, please don’t take this book too seriously and try to have it make sense. It just won’t.
I also came to view this story as a fantasy. I thought of it in terms of the fantasy a desperate person might spin if faced with loss and death—as in a shipwreck. I imagine Papa, hungry, having lost everything, spinning out this one last fantasy in which all his sons survived and thrived; food was infinitely available; Mama was by his side; imagination had no constraints. I liked this perspective, but it’s just something I made up myself.
Papa’s philosophy (added, perhaps, some years after Wyss told the tales) is summed up in a paragraph in the final part of the book: “...my great wish is that young people who read this record of our lives and adventures should learn from it how admirably suited is the peaceful, industrious, and pious life of a cheerful, united family to the formation of strong, pure, and manly character.” What Victorian could argue with that?
I recommend this book highly—not as a moral tale of sober survival, but as a series of romps in a fantastical landscape. There are lessons to be learned, but please keep them subsidiary to the fun!
Go to www.tcm.com and enter "Swiss Family Robinson" in the search line for an interesting and funny article about the Disney's filming of this story.
Old Yeller, by Fred Gipson, is the source of the classic tear-jerker movie of the same name. And it’s a good book, even though I was guarding myself all the way through so I wouldn’t have a breakdown at the end. I liked the authentic portrayal of pioneer life in Texas—dangers and delights. The lead character, Travis, is left with his mom and little brother while his dad goes off on a cattle drive. His jobs on the farm at the edge of the frontier are fraught with danger and drama—and rightly so. He had to round up the hogs for cutting (marking) and castration without getting attacked by the deadly adult pigs. He has to hunt for food for the family. And he needs a dog. Along comes rascally Old Yeller (Old Marigold?). Travis and Old Yeller have a hate/love relationship until Yeller proves his great value.
