Such books as “A Journal of th<
Plague Year” and “Moll Flanders'
have a right to recognition on theii
own account, but they are almos
never read because they are by th<
author of “Robinson Crusoe." The
story of Defoe's sailor has so oc
cupied that attention of the work
! that there seems to be no capacity
: left to read his other works.
This is a common phenomenon ir
literature. Who reads or has reac
the other books by the author o
"Ben hur?” Who reads or has reac
any of the books of Harriet Beechei
Stowe except “Uncle Tom’s Cabin?'
It is a case of the richer green “kill
ing” the more subdued shade, a case
of the one famous book “killing” fell
the other books to which a writer
has devoted his life.
And the widely known book Is not
always the writers best. In Defoes
case it probably is, but some of iJie
other books that stand to his credit
are hardly less worth while and
would have a high rank in English
literature if not overshadowed by
“Robinson Crusoe. And if Defoe’s
other books were “killed” by “Cru
soe” in its genuine form, there
would be comfort in the thought tb?-t
at least Defoe was being read at nis
best, but in reality the undoubted
works of art like “A Journal of the
Plague Year” and “Moll Flanders”
have been crowded out by adaptations
of adaptations of the real “Robinson
•Crusoe.” And so D..niel Defoe does
not exist for thousands who a ye
capable of enjoying him. Which is a
pity.—Arnold Mulder in the Outldok.
