Buccaneers and Pirates: Book Review

Fourth Quarter Outside Reading Book Review

Pirates and Buccaneers by Frank R. Stockton, Dover Publications, 2007.

Genre: Non-fiction

Pirates and Buccaneers is a collection of true stories about some famous and some not so famous pirates and buccaneers.  The pirates and buccaneers in this book range from Captain Morgan, Captain Kidd, and Blackbeard to L’Olonnois, Richard Worley, and Major Stede Bonnet (not to be confused with Anne Bonny one of the few female in the history of pirates).  For each and every one of the spotlighted pirates in the book there is a sort of mini biography which teaches the reader important things about the cutthroats.   In this collection of stories a reader will learn how pirates and buccaneers originated, the difference between a pirate and a buccaneer, and some of the biggest pirate and buccaneer sea battles and pillages ever.

The book jacket reads “Stockton writes of a grim subject in a spirit both comic and romantic.”

The author of this book, Frank R. Stockton, does a great job keeping the stories of these pirates interesting instead of just droning on with facts he injects so of his own opinions throughout.  In the beginning of the book Stockton tells the reader what his view of a pirate of was when he was a kid.  I found it very interesting to find out another person’s feelings and views towards pirates when they were very young. This book is very different from the other books I have read this year because it is not Fantasy.  In the end I was surprised that I would enjoy a non fiction so much.

“Among all the pirates who have figured in history, legend, or song, there is one whose name stands preëminent as the typical hero of the dreaded black flag.  The name of this man will instantly rise in the mind of almost every reader, for when we speak of pirates we always think of Captain Kidd.” (291)

  When I was younger I used to be obsessed with pirates as almost any little boy is.  My obsession with pirates has since ceased to be but my interest in pirates is still present.  I still enjoy learning about pirates and if they had a course that was about pirates in school I would probably take it.  To me there is something about pirates that draws me to them, maybe it’s their heartlessness, ferocity, or their recklessness all I know is that I will always be intrigued by them.

 

The Source Of Magic: Book Review

Third Quarter Outside Reading Book Review

The Source of Magic by Piers Anthony, Del Rey Books, 1979.

 

            The Source of Magic is the second Xanth novel.  In the first book A Spell for Chameleon the character Bink is introduced as the protagonist.  In The Source of Magic he is also the protagonist.  The land of Xanth is a magic place with breadfruit trees for bread picking and Midas fly’s that can turn you to gold.  Everyone in Xanth has a spell they usually eventually discover.  Bink impregnated his wife Chameleon and she was in a foul mood, his friends, Crombine the Soldier and Chester the Centaur were both having women troubles too.  King Trent then conveniently assigns them to a quest, to find the source of Magic in Xanth.  He also turns Crombine into a griffin so he could keep up with Bink who was riding Chester.  They eventually get to the good magician Humphrey’s castle so Chester could possibly ask if he too had magic (centaurs aren’t supposed to have magic).  Bink had to go through a series of challenges to even reach the magician (Humphrey didn’t want to be bothered).  When Bink found him he joined their quest with the golem Grundy so they could translate Crombine’s squawks.  They encounter many bumps in the road that provide clues.  Using Bink’s leadership, Crombine’s directional spell, Humphrey’s knowledge, and Chester’s strength they manage to find where the source of magic lies, however the problem is getting there.

The book jacket reads nothing, perhaps suggesting the author is Modest.  “Anthony’s imagination shines through in this novel.” Nathaniel Laurin.

This book really is the brainchild of Piers Anthony.  He puts new thoughts and pictures into your mind of things like gluebark trees, fruit with wings, and other comical plants and animals.  He describes enough to get a picture into your head of the protagonist surroundings, but he doesn’t overwhelm you with description.  Also you don’t know the real enemy at all until you finish and reflect on it.  Also the author uses dialogue to move the story along and keep it fresh and interesting.

I also read another Xanth novel by Piers Anthony called A Spell for Chameleon.  In both books there is a whimsical aspect along with the serious part.  In both books I have read by Piers Anthony he always makes an ending different then you expect.  I personally enjoy the surprise aspect.

“Now the constellation centaur shot his arrow.  The missile blazed as it flew, forming brilliant streaks across the sky, growing brighter and yet brighter as it drew near.  Suddenly it loomed frighteningly close, as if flying right out of the sky-and cracked into a nearby tree.  It was a dogwood; it yelped with pain, then growled and bared its teethlike inner branches in canine fury, seeking its enemy.  In a moment it had torn the arrow to shreds.” (162) [example of Piers Anthony’s comedy with imagination]

I like the Xanth novels because I enjoy fantasy books.  Piers Anthony makes comedy out of some of the most intense scenes in a book.  Something serious and dangerous can happen but Anthony might decide to lighten the mood with a joke or two.  His stories have an important theme in the end despite all of the whimsical and silly aspects.

A Day at the Old Ball Park

A baseball flies off the bat into the blue sky
What a day at the old ball park
Fans cheer, dressed in pinstripes or blue shirts that are dark
But it’s the last time so I sigh

With a crack from a bombers club I wake up from my daydream, It looks to be gone, oh my!

“Get Out!” A fan is sure to bark
A baseball flies off the bat into the blue sky
What a day at the old ball park

The ball in the sky will not die
It will glide over the wall as if it were a lark
It leaves the old ball park
As the sun shines brightly in July
A baseball flies off the bat into the blue sky

The Old Man and the Sea Essay

The ocean, the countryside, the fields, the city, the town, the ghetto, and the underworld, these are all places of interest for an audience and or a creator. Be it the author of a book or a writer of a play, they all use settings to make their works more fascinating for the audience. In the novella The Old Man and the Sea, Ernest Hemmingway creates an environment for the protagonist Santiago. Santiago’s surroundings affect him greatly, he has to sleep, feed himself, and protect his catch, the setting affects all of these things.

Santiago’s body and mind need to rest and he knows that. “He is tiring or he’s resting” (Hemmingway 79) needing rest for his body and mind Santiago finds a moment where he can get some. He realizes the marlin is not pulling as vigorously and he takes advantage of the opportunity. The setting affects Santiago’s ability to sleep. If he was at his hut on Cuba he could easily go to sleep but now that he’s out on the ocean with a marlin tugging on a line he has to find a spot where he can rest. Santiago wisely goes to sleep while he’s holding the line so he can battle the marlin another day.

Bringing along only a bottle of water and a few small sardines for fishing, Santiago was vastly ill-equipped for an ambitious multi day battle with a ½ ton marlin that was longer than his skiff. “The stars were bright now and he saw the dolphin clearly…gutted him with his right hand…There were two flying fish inside. They were fresh and hard and he laid them side by side.” (Hemmingway 78) Santiago got the food he needed, but his harsh surroundings hindered his ability to do so. At home in Cuba Santiago could have easily gotten food from either the boy or the market but out on the unpredictable ocean he has to catch food, he was lucky his bad luck didn’t keep up or he would have starved. He uses his skills and catches not only a dolphin but flying fish that are supposedly very tasty raw.

After Santiago catches the marlin he realizes it will be a huge task to take it back to port. Sharks start to feast on the noble marlin as they get a whiff of it’s blood and Santiago is given the task of fighting them off. “He rammed the harpoon down onto the shark’s head.” (Hemmingway 102) Santiago used his harpoon to stop the Mako shark from getting anymore of the marlin. Sharks are abundant in the Caribbean area of the Atlantic Ocean, Santiago has to deal with the shark because they are a part of his surroundings. If Santiago wasn’t in shark infested waters he might have been able to get the Marlin back safely. Perhaps it was Santiago’s bad luck that attracted the sharks or the fact sharks like blood that ultimately made it impossible to know who or what attracted the sharks.

Santiago’s ability to sleep, eat, and protect his catch are affected by his environment. We are all affected by our surroundings one way or another. For instance when we go to school our education is affected by our facilities whether we go to an informal public school, a pretentious private school, or an easygoing home school. In summary, whatever one does be it homework, watching television, studying, driving, talking, or even fishing they will always be affected by their surroundings.

The Bloody Dawn

I lounged under a thick maple toying with a clover, as I watched the sun set over the hills. I sometimes wished I could go on an adventure and see the world past the hills. After I watched the last orange glow I hurried back to my home which was just outside the castle in a hamlet. My mother had the table set. The food looked splendid. Part of the deer my father had caught, lie steaming upon the table. I sat down across from my father. He was a stalwart middle aged man who was very fit and able to take down anything twice his size. On my right was my mother who was also middle aged like my father, she had a pretty face and worked hard to keep every crevice of our house tidy. My little sister sat at my left she was about two, she was still a baby, she just ate, slept, played and prattled endlessly.

After we had finished supper my father thanked my mother and he pulled me aside. He had a grave look on his face as he said, “Son, your 15 now and that’s old enough to become a squire. The king wants you to come join him at the castle, but you have to prove yourself worthy because the king won’t just take a little peasant boy.”

I said nothing, the castle meant feasts, stories, and carnivals. I thought the king must be urgent to find men because he usually doesn’t just allow 15 year old peasants into his domain to breathe his air.

I could barely sleep that night, I don’t know if it was excitement or horror that caused my deprivation of sleep. The next morning I awoke weary. I stumbled out of bed and saw my father waiting for me. I looked at him in dismay, he was wearing chainmail under his shirt and possessed a sword which I had never seen before. “Father what are you doing?” My voice was timid.

“Son, I too have to go to the castle.” He responded.

“Why?”

“Last night the king’s messenger came and said I would have to meet with 150 others in the castle courtyard and prepare for battle. He also said the other army we will face is much larger than ours.”

I was a bit relieved my father was going to be there, at the castle with me. When we arrived at the castle I saw about fifty other boys who I assumed were going to train to become squires. I said goodbye to my dad and headed over to them. I saw a few of my friends and chatted for a while until the superfluous king came out onto his balcony and the trumpeters played. The king bellowed in an authoritarian manner, “I have a battle tactic. Ahem, I am planning on sending all of you, even the young men into battle along with my soldiers. We will march today and fight just past the hills to prevent damage to this land. Prepare for battle!”

Almost all of the boys around me started to panic, some hyperventilated others just stood in shock. I was separated from my father and the other boys and I were taken and put in chain mail. All of us were handed short swords, iron shields, and helmets. Soon we headed out.

I hurried ahead and caught up to my dad, “Father do you think we have a chance?” I said.

“We have a chance, as all things do, but I am afraid for both of our lives, I love you son, and your sister and mother, if I don’t make it tell them,” answered my father gravely.

“No, dad we will make it, neither of us can die, you and I will make it through and be heroes,” I said in denial.

At this point a tear had come to my eye at the thought of my dad being stricken down and killed by an opposing soldier. That night we camped on the hill top. As I settled down there was a feeling of uneasiness around me. I eventually was able to drift off to sleep.

“EVERYONE UP, EVERYONE UP!” The watchman shouted.

I opened my eyes and saw men scrambling around for their weapons as flaming arrows landed about us. I picked up my sword and shield and stood with my squad ready to fight. The dawn was just breaking and the sun was starting to rise in the valley behind me. A man on horseback ordered us to charge the opposition so we did like obedient dogs, running down the hill into peril.

At the bottom of the hill we clashed with the other army. I ducked as five men around me were pierced by pikes. I discreetly ran under a few pikes and I stabbed a spearman in the leg, unnoticed, I hurried through their ranks taking out a few men’s legs here or there. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins. I was soon discovered and surrounded, I was done for, but then, incredibly, the cavalry rammed in, annihilating half the opposing men. Disorientated I scrambled back to the bulk of my army.

After I got reoriented I started to run to my father, who was now muddy and covered in scarlet blood that dripped from his blade. He swung his blade hacking, slicing, and stabbing, fighting off man after man, I tried to go and help him but I was knocked into a crimson colored puddle by a runaway horse. I lifted my head and saw my father fighting deftly against an opposing soldier, the clang of metal rang through my ears. I wanted so badly to get out of my blood bath and help fight at his side but a fear inside me held me back. Then, all too suddenly, my father was stabbed in the stomach, he fell and lie prostrate in the mud. I got up and tried to run to my father but I was quickly knocked down again by an attacking soldier’s shield. I lie there watching my father as the mud on my face was washed away by a steady flow of tears.
I had to watch my own father die. Ever since that bloody dawn I have rued my wish for adventure and to see the land past the hills.