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dune1984's review against another edition
adventurous
emotional
hopeful
inspiring
sad
tense
slow-paced
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
Abel's Island is one of the best children's books I've ever read. You might be thrown off by the genre of children's book, but that is simply because any person of any age can read this book and thoroughly enjoy it. The plot is classic, a person stranded on a remote island alone. Abel, a mouse from a society much like our own, is alone with his thoughts, apart from his fiancée, and the rich, upper class life he's always known. Stieg goes in depth with how he survives, how he copes, how he uses the items around him to not only live, but enrich his life. He creates art, he reads, he talks to the stars. He discovers remnants of people who were on the island before him, suffers through an impossible winter, and still finds art and love and hope. An owls hunts him every night as he treks home through the snow after reading for hours. Every day he risks his life to find art and connection while stranded. All other stories about isolation, loneliness, and hopelessness focus on the schematics, the technicalities, the protagonists mental state, and William Stieg does the same, but he does more. He allows Abel to still be relatable, still be as human as a mouse can be. He misses his fiancée, but he misses his family too. He talks to his mother as if she were there. He never stops trying to communicate, never stop creating and living.
The book move slowly, the dangers of Abel's life episodic and fleeting, or debilitating and realistic. He is not accustomed to work, and he fails repeatedly, pulling from the same vague knowledge of survival we all might know. We are not all Mark Watney, stranded on Mars with a lifetime of astronaut training, or William of New Switzerland who knew the name of every plant and animal. Abel struggles, fails, and improvises. He vaguely remembers that mice used to use their teeth to shape wood, and dismisses it early on as barbaric. By the end, he almost exclusively uses his teeth. He tried to make boats that are torn to pieces, clothes that fall apart, food that runs out in winter, and messages in clay bowls that are swept away, never to be read. The book plods along with Abel through the seasons, as he struggles with the real pain of being alone, yes, but also being clueless. Feeling guilty. Angry at himself for being frivolous, angry at his family for not finding him yet. Abel, who might not even be relatable to you, is unmistakably, painfully realistic. He is no dashing hero. In fact, trying to be a dashing hero is what got him stranded, chasing after his fiancée's scarf in a hurricane. And throughout the book, he learns that dashing heroes are not those who survive. To thrive, to make it home, to stay true to yourself, is not grand dramatic acts of bravery. It is your ability to stay true, keep trying, learn from your mistakes. It is to lay shivering in a log for days, wrapped in blankets you painstaking wove yourself, unseen enemies surrounding you, both of you starving. It is plodding, debilitating. Day after day of scavenging, scraping, barely making any progress.
Abel does make it home, eventually. Of course he does. But it's different from all his other attempts. It's not sailing a patchwork boat, or sending an SOS via message in a bottle. No. He waits for low tide, for the rushing river to slow enough to look approachable. He takes his rope, which he wove over weeks and months, braiding until he couldn't feel his fingers in the warmth of the fire he learned to make himself. He tosses the rope far, farther than any posh socialite could, and wades into the still dangerous water. He pulls himself, millimeter by millimeter, until he can't move from exhaustion. He hangs on as he gathers his strength, and he continues. He makes it to the other side. He doesn't take any of the art he made, the statues he built, the home he wrought of wood with his teeth. His grass-woven clothes are pulled apart, and he emerges on the other side.
Abel's Island is subtlety profound and beautiful. In truth, I don't truly know why I enjoy it so much. It's a quick read, with beautiful illustrations, and William Stieg, as always, puts his unique and wonderful voice to excellent use. The spoiler sections I blocked out will not ruin the story if you read them, but I do recommend going in blind as I did. I doubt anyone will read this review, but if you do, thank you, and happy reading.
The book move slowly, the dangers of Abel's life episodic and fleeting, or debilitating and realistic. He is not accustomed to work, and he fails repeatedly, pulling from the same vague knowledge of survival we all might know. We are not all Mark Watney, stranded on Mars with a lifetime of astronaut training, or William of New Switzerland who knew the name of every plant and animal. Abel struggles, fails, and improvises.
Abel's Island is subtlety profound and beautiful. In truth, I don't truly know why I enjoy it so much. It's a quick read, with beautiful illustrations, and William Stieg, as always, puts his unique and wonderful voice to excellent use. The spoiler sections I blocked out will not ruin the story if you read them, but I do recommend going in blind as I did. I doubt anyone will read this review, but if you do, thank you, and happy reading.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Confinement
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