A Critic's Meta Review: 4/5
And now, ladies and gentlemen - now, we must venture to the continent of Africa, where they say that this whole human experiment kind of got started. And how exactly did that happen? To be honest with you, as I am no anthropologist (just an anthropomorphic duck, in my dreams), I have no clue how exactly it all went down (and, frankly, if I told you all that went down it would probably burn off both your little ears) - but I have a pretty strong hunch that it went down like this:
Some form of proto-human was sitting around outside his cave, contemplating which of his neighbors he was going to throw rocks at that day, when all of a sudden, he noticed that, instead of throwing the rocks, he could bang them against each other and produce a somewhat pleasant sound. After a bit of trial and error, he was eventually able to establish a solid groove (real in the pocket, that guy), and the others soon began to take notice. Before too long, he had been joined by several other early Hominids in some sort of makeshift rhythm outfit - the world’s first jam band, specializing primarily in percussion (strings, keys, and horns would all come later).
This is how, I believe, we were able to shake all of our prehistoric, atavistic instincts and evolve into the modern Homo sapiens. Through the identification and cultivation of tasty jams. Speaking of tasty jams, I just remembered that I have a little bit of rhubarb and salmonberry jam in the refrigerator. And I still have a few whole wheat crackers left. Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Aw yeah, baby, let’s - wait...hold up...who ate the jam? Oh...right. I did. Late last night. With my fingers. Damn you, Mr. Hyde!
At any rate, upon our arrival to the divine motherland, we shall be met by our protagonist, a one Allan Quatermain, who will lead us on a quest to find King Solomon’s Mines - not to be confused with “King Solomon’s Marbles”, which is a fantastic Dead jam. Alright, enough jams. Just kidding - in this tricky, sticky, peanut buttery world, there is never enough jam. Keep the jams coming, and keep them tight. But keep them loose. And if you’re a real one, you know how to do both simultaneously.
Fun Fact: Apparently this book was written because the author made a bet with his brother that he could write a book half as good as Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson. What do you think? Did he succeed? Let us know.
Also, be on the lookout, ladies and gents - something real big is on its way...