Book Review: Treasure Island" by Robert Louis Stevenson

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Alright, let’s set the scene. You and I are sitting in a quiet corner of a café, a little rain tapping against the window, the air smelling faintly of coffee and old books. I’ve just put down Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson, and I’m still feeling that warm, restless buzz you get after you’ve been on a grand adventure without even leaving your chair. I’m grinning because it’s the kind of book that reminds you what made you fall in love with stories in the first place.

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First thing you should know, Treasure Island isn’t just some dusty “classic” that teachers make you read. Sure, it’s more than a century old, but once you start, it’s like finding an old pirate map stuffed in a bottle, the paper crinkled and smelling of saltwater, and suddenly, you’re in. It’s not pretending to be gritty or modern or clever — it just takes your hand, says “Come on, we’ve got a ship to catch,” and before you can think, you’re in the thick of it.

Jim Hawkins is the central figure of the story- this boy who begins his life by assisting his parents in the management of an inn and is now involved in the middle of a ruthless treasure hunt. I was not only impressed by the action itself: the taverns, the stormy seas, the clashing cutlasses, but by how Stevenson makes you experience the journey of Jim. You can almost smell the wet timber of the Hispaniola, hear the creak of the masts and feel the transformation in Jim himself. He begins frightened, a little scared but curious, and gradually evolves into the one who is bolder than he can imagine.

And then--there is Long John Silver. Oh man. And since you have never read the book, you might think you know him. The pop culture has reduced him to this one-dimensional caricature of an arrr matey but the actual Silver is more deadly and charismatic. You meet him first when he is quite delightful, almost paternal-looking, with a sparkle in his eye. Then the next minute you see that little flash of wickedness and you know: this man will gut you and smile as he does it. I was unsure as to whether I wanted to trust him or not and Stevenson wants you to feel that. He writes in that ideal gray of moral that makes him memorable.

Treasure Island has a rhythm, like waves it seems, at one point you are holding your breath in the middle of a knife fight, and then you are looking along the horizon, you are feeling the pain of the wait. Stevenson does not merely provide you with a reeling succession of action; he provides you with the calm between tempests, the breathless silence before mutiny, the hum of the wind in the rigging before someone shouts, Land ho! Such pacing is what accentuates the shock of the violence that erupts so violently.

I still have some scenes in my head even after I closed the book. As in the scene where Jim hears pirates talking, that creepy feeling up and down your back because you know you are hearing something you are not supposed to. Or when the map changes hands, and it is like that destiny has been changed. Or the instant when the first shot is fired on the island--impetuous, violent, and cruel. It is not a cleaned up kid adventure, death is fast, and sometimes even unceremonial.

And talking about the island, it is not all a backdrop. Stevenson breathes life into it. The snarled trees, the mucky marshes, the feeling that somebody is watching you… it is not a paradise… it is a trap. Here you get a good wet, humid hunting ground, yet danger hangs on every bough. I was still thinking of that stink of decaying vegetation combined with the salt of the sea.

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On an emotional level, what surprised me is how personal it was. You would have expected the adventure of a pirate to be all about gold and glory but in my case it was about trust. When everybody smiles and has a knife behind him, who do you trust? So how do you hold onto your moral compass when greed causes people to turn on each other? Seeing Jim go through that, occasionally screwing up, occasionally taking big risks, was like seeing a young person growing up in real-time.

There’s also something oddly timeless about it. Even though it’s a “boy’s adventure” from the 19th century, it still taps into that same hunger we all have: to leave the familiar behind, to chase something dangerous and beautiful, and to test yourself against the unknown. And maybe that’s why Treasure Island works so well — it’s not about the gold. It’s about what happens to you on the way there..

When I finally came to the end I got that slightly sweet and slightly sad feeling you get when you have been on vacation with someone and then you have to say goodbye and start heading in different directions. Jim is back home and the treasure hunt is finished, but you know it is not the same boy who went away. And neither are you, in a small measure.

It feels a bit rebellious to read Treasure Island in 2025 when the cell phones are buzzing and the internet is screaming to be heard. It makes you slow down, makes you sit on the creaking of a wooden deck beneath your feet, makes you smell gunpowder and the sea, makes you remember what adventure tastes like when it is not told with irony. And it brought me back back to the fact that adventure is not over. It is only a matter of waiting in the correct narrative.

So yeah, if you and I were sitting here over coffee and you asked if you should read it, I’d lean forward, grin, and say:
“Get the book. Trust me. There’s a ship leaving at dawn, and you don’t want to miss it.”

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The last three images was gotten from web:

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