I love this book. I was expecting a big, dull philosophical slog and, instead, I got a rollicking adventure story. Nearly everyone else in my Brit Lit class kept talking about imperialism and sexism and so-on. I’m just sitting in the corner, cheering while Robinson fights hundreds of wolves.
Robinson is like a Proto-Hannibal Smith, or MacGyver, using his wits to make the best of the worst situations. The world just keeps giving him piles of shit and Robin just shrugs and uses them to build a skyscraper, or something. Seriously, I love Robin and Friday (and their insane dog). I’m considering going out and reading the sequel, just for more of their adventures.