He was a tough man who had led a tough life: lifted as a dissident in the London of the Great Plague and the Great Fire; continuing Newgate penitentiary and the ridicule in ruined middle age; working as a top secret agent and an outrageous journalist until locked up again for debt and disloyalty. Defoe died old, and so might be accounted as a survivor, but he had beared a good distribution of authenticity, and his novels mirror that fortitude.
Bloom studies for (1998, Pg 5-6), Defoe appears to be the slightest ironic of writers, and up till now Crusoe's tale is well versed by an irresistible irony. A fidgety vagrant, driven to travel and escapade by forces that he (and the person who reads) cannot understand, Crusoe is restricted to a loneliness that should to infuriate him by rotating him toward an intolerable inwardness. Nevertheless his wisdom succeeds, in spite of his obvious captivity.
Defoe takes the contradictory path from the psychologist's path as he explains the consequences of sentiments on the body, not on the mind. Nowhere is this sturdy than in Crusoe's anguish as he visions a shipwreck:
"After we had rowed, or rather driven about a league and a half, as we reckoned it, a raging wave, mountain-like, came rolling astern of us, and plainly bade us expect the coup de grace. It took us with such a fury, that it overset the boat at once; and separating us as well from the boat as from one another, gave us no time to say, "O God!" for we were all swallowed up in a moment." (Chapter 3, Wrecked On A Desert Island)
Robinson Crusoe As A Fully Secular And Deeply Religious Book
According to Ritchie (1997, Pg 98-99), Robinson Crusoe, it might be, is a story in focus. It is a masterwork, and it is a stunning success mainly because Defoe has all through kept constantly to his own intelligence of viewpoint. It is, we know, the tale of a man who is terrified, after many dangers and escapades, unaided upon a desert island. The meager proposal threat and loneliness and a desert island is sufficient to rouse in us the hope of some far land on the confines of the world; of the sun rising and the sun setting; of man, remote from his kind, threatening alone upon the nature of culture and the weird ways of men.
"But in reality there are no sunsets and no sunrises; there is no solitude and no soul. There is, on the contrary, staring us full in the face nothing but a large earthenware pot. It was the first of September 1651; that the hero's name is Robinson Crusoe; and that his father has the gout." (Chapter 1, Start In Life)
Robinson Crusoe thinks of God:
"Sometimes I would expostulate with myself, why providence should thus completely ruin its creatures.... But something always return'd swift upon me to check these thoughts." (Chapter 1, Start In Life)
'God does not live". Crusoe believes of Nature, the fields "adorn'd with flowers and grass, and full of very fine woods," (Chapter 1, Star