Writing the Internal World in Robinson Crusoe

Like Andie discussed on her blog, I find it hard to enjoy Robinson Crusoe when its strong colonialist overtones are slapping me in the face. I don't think this is unusual for British travel narratives of the time to be steeped in colonial symbolism, but the conventions have been so popularized that they become so easily recognizable. After our discussion today, I was reminded of the last travel narrative I read, Ephraim G. Squier's Waikna; or, Adventures on the Mosquito Shore. Waikna was published in 1855, over 100 years later than Robinson Crusoe, and was written by an American archeologist. It is set up as a travel narrative penned by Samuel Bard, a New York artist who decides to make his fortune and meet adventure in Central America.

Like Crusoe, Waikna is obsessed with the minute details of surviving in "uncivilized" lands, which results in journaling, categorizing, classifying, and mapping. Bard also has a native companion, Antonio, as Crusoe has Friday. Both men view civilizing the land as bringing modern machinery to their aid to manipulate the landscape. However, despite these similarities, the world of Crusoe is much more internal and egotistical than that presented in Waikna. While the classifying and journaling in Waikna is presented as an integral process to map out a new territory of America, the journaling in Robinson Crusoe is intended for Crusoe’s own internal use.

Before Crusoe secures paper and writing utensils, he experiences a want for pen and ink, a want that seems rather superfluous. He writes, “After I had been there about Ten or Twelve Days, it came into my Thoughts, that I should lose my Reckoning of Time for want of Books and Pen and Ink, and should even forget the Sabbath Days from the working Days” (48). He does not want to record what he has found on the island or to even use the journal as a form of diversion. Rather, he wants to have writing utensils for the purpose of measuring time for his own use. This measuring of time is for his own use, for him to situate time for his new personal kingdom.

Thankfully, Crusoe does find ink, pens, and paper. I think it is useful to quote the following passage at length:

I now began to consider seriously my Condition, and the Circumstance I was reduc’d to, and I drew up the State of my Affairs in Writing, not so much to leave them to any that were to come after me, for I was like to have but few Heirs, as to deliver my Thoughts from daily poring upon them, and afflicting my Mind; and as my Reason began now to master my Despondency, I began to comfort my self as well as I could, and to set the good against the Evil, that I might have something to distinguish my Case from worse, and I stated it very impartially, like Debtor and Creditor, the Comforts I enjoy’d, against the Miseries I suffer’d. (49)

It is only once Crusoe procures writing utensils that he is able to reflect on his “condition,” and to take into account what has befallen him since the shipwreck. The act of writing is not employed to leave behind a mark of his existence, but rather is to analyze his self and relieve the stress of his situation. Without writing, Crusoe believes he would be unable to rationalize and accordingly set his mind in order with a plan for his new, deserted island life. Thus, writing becomes an organizing principle, a way for Crusoe to come face to face with his situation.

This is perhaps a hint as to why I wasn’t enthralled with Robinson Crusoe. We discussed in class how Crusoe’s ego is so large in that the entire narrative is centered around him as he is only interested in how events relate to him. Now, that seems likely—he is the only man on this island. However, every activity has to relate back to Crusoe, from writing to teaching his parrot to talk, and this internal world of Crusoe then becomes stifling and suffocating to the outside reader.