I am, for at least the fifth time, reading Edgar Rice Burrough's "Tarzan Of The Apes". We are all familiar with the character from the countless movies made about him, but the Tarzan in the book(s) is nothing whatever like the popular cinema image of him. I can not emphasize how incredibly different he is.
The book is a complex and moving tale of loss, abandonment, redemption, love, and despair in the wilds of turn of the century Africa. And, surprisingly, in the streets of London, Paris, and the forests of Wisconsin. The style is late nineteenth century formalist, but that doesn't at all get in the way of an utterly fascinating story.
Many parts of the story would be considered very un-woke by today's standards, which might bother some, but not me. Consider it a literary cultural artifact from a century and a quarter in the past. Let us hope it does not fall prey to woke mob censorship.
Do yourself a big favor and read it. I promise you won't be sorry. And if you do, you will wonder just where the devil Hollywood got the idea that Tarzan was a semi-literate brute. It certainly wasn't from the books. All twenty of which I intend to re-read as they contain a tasty slice of post fin de siecle Europe, America, and of course colonial Africa.
