I just finished reading The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain while on my daily lunchtime walk and had to restrain myself from immediately jumping into another one of Mark Twain’s novels. After all, there are only so many, and I want to save them to read after I finish books that might not be as enjoyable. I think that more than anything else should be the real mark of a great writer, being so good that your work is held in a kind of strategic reserve to wash away the ills of other, less enjoyable books.
Tom Sawyer is about the mischievous adventures of a boy and his friends get up to while growing up in a small Missouri river town. But along with pulling pranks and playing pirates Tom manages to do the right thing on occasion. The book does a good job of showing Tom’s character and craftiness all through out.
I’m pretty sure that my little reviews do a disservice to the books I read, and I think this one is the most disserviced out of the books I’ve read so far because I’m not an English major or a real book critic. I can’t wax poetically about the merits of a piece of literature the way someone who’s studied these sorts of things can. All I can really provide here is my stamp of approval, and approval I shall grant.
The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain is a great read and I cannot recommend it enough.
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W.D.R.
