A Critic's Meta Review: 4/5
Samuel Clemons (at least that was the handle his loving parents had for him; he never had much use for it himself. This “Clemons” - he called himself “Mark Twain”) is the greatest American author to have ever lived. I first realized that this was the case when, during my final year of middle school, our English teacher (a mean old wench, but I won’t further defame the poor woman here, as I’m sure her life is already rife with enough misery) had us read one of his short stories - “The Celebrated Jumping Frog Of Calaveras County”. While I was a little befuddled at first - it took me a while to adjust to some of the more antiquated instances of the English language present throughout Twain’s writing - I eventually grew to love and, to a large extent, adopt Twain’s mannerisms and idiosyncrasies as a part of my general ethos. The man was a prophet.
However, his prescience is not on display as fully in The Adventures Of Tom Sawyer as it is in its sequel, The Adventures Of Huckleberry Finn. In my opinion, the latter novel is quite possibly the next example of American literature that has ever been published. My mother would disagree - she prefers Tom Sawyer. Don’t get me wrong, I dig Sawyer as much as the next guy. I mean, who doesn’t love a good adventure story? It’s just that - I don’t know. I require a tad bit more substance from the things I read. If I am going to sit down and devote time towards something, it had better be worth the opportunity cost of not practicing the chord changes to “My Favorite Things” over and over until my dreams are unfurled to the soundtrack of McCoy Tyner. Otherwise, I feel that I have been robbed. Robbed of precious time. And ain’t that the worst feeling?
All that being said, Tom Sawyer is a certified classic, and its protagonist is nothing short of a literary icon. A modern day warrior with mean, mean stride. Though his mind is not for rent, don’t put him down as arrogant - after all, what you say about his company is what you say about society.
Catch the mist, catch the myth, catch the mystery...catch the drift?
Alright, I will stop quoting Geddy Lee. You had to have expected this, though. It was just too hard to pass up. I would have never forgiven myself had I not indulged myself, at least for a little while.
As you were.
