quoththegirl 's review for:

Moll Flanders by Daniel Defoe

2.0

---

Last Sunday I marveled at the lack of traffic while driving to the library. “Wow, Easter Sunday is a great time to do errands!” Except, of course, that the library was closed when I got there. To stave off the book withdrawal, I borrowed Moll Flanders from my roommate, who hadn’t read it yet. It’s a classic, so it’s been on my to-read list for a long time. This book is CRAZY, and as much of a salacious trainwreck as a book published in 1722 can be. Defoe uses the titular character as a mouthpiece for more than a bit of social criticism, but Moll herself is the real point of interest. I alternate between horrified fascination and wonderment that Defoe got away with this at all. Moll speaks like your typical 18th century heroine…if your typical 18th century heroine had more husbands and fewer morals than your average Hollywood actress. Spoilers: this woman was married five times—once to her own brother, though in her defense she didn’t know he was her brother at the time—and had so many children by so many men that I’m honestly not sure where the tally stands right now. Might be around a dozen kids, counting the ones who died. She hasn’t bothered to take care of any of them so far, so it’s hard to tell.