Indeed the Island Wilderness is the very home of romance and dreams and mystery. The loneliness, the solemnity, the beauty, and the deep repose of this wilderness have a charm which is all their own for the bruised spirit of men who have fought and failed in the struggle for life in the great world; and for men who have been hunted out of the great world for crime; and for other men who love an easy and indolent existence; and for other who love a roving free life, and stir and change and adventure; and for yet others who love an easy and comfortable career of trading and money-getting, mixed with plenty of loose matrimony by purchase, divorce without trial or expense, and limitless spreeing thrown in to make life ideally perfect. (Following the Equator, 1897)
Life ideally perfect.
For most of my memorable life, or what I think of as something worth memory, I have always been drawn to the islands. Any islands. Martha's Vineyard, Nantucket, the British West Indies, the Virgin Islands, Barbados, Fiji, the Seychelles. You name it, I want to be there. Unless, of course, you decide to be funny and say Manhattan. I've been there. I'll pass.
The islands are an escapist's dream. They are like castles scattered amongst the ocean. Little hideouts with perpetual moats full of man-eating sharks and razor-sharp reefs. Hindrances against the hordes of life. There, man can withstand any siege until it passes. And sail onwards when it does.
Or not. And stay forever. That's perfectly ok.
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Every author has a purpose when he begins writing. It may be to highlight the foibles of human nature. To portray the dark side of man. To reveal the truths about society, the ones they won't tell you in school. They can be serious in doing so or utterly slap stick. Just depends on how they want you receive it.
Writers may also be a part of a movement, all the great ones were. Twain was a Realist, Hemingway a Modernist, and Pound was an Imagist. They all had specific goals for their literature, they were all focused on presenting certain themes. Some humourous, some dark, and some complex. Quite frankly, all the maniacal dictators could never equal the danger of a writer with a pen in their hand. Because writers could destroy the most crucial element of human existence: Perception.
But that's not me. That isn't my goal with writing. I have never been one to look on the dark side of life. And never one to try to make people believe in this, either. Certainly, darkness can be a very interesting subject matter, and I'm quite fond of dark humor (Twain and Larry David), but I won't let it govern my life. There's so much better out there.
Thus, I discovered my purpose in writing. Not to depict the pain in life--violence, betrayal, chaos. But to create an escape from it all. A literary island. A place where people can go and enjoy the good things in life. This may be love. This may be friends. This may be a cold beer. But all that concerns me is that, you, the reader, for a few moments out of the day--a few moments away from the hardship, the strife, and the drama--find life ideally perfect.
So, I welcome you all--friends, family, and friends to be--to what I like to call,
The Island School of Literature
Enjoy.
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