Book Review of Theodore Taylor’s, The Cay

It has been may years considering that I Phillip Enright was stranded on the tiny island, Devil’s Mouth with my beloved friend Timothy, and our one particular comfort, Stew Cat. Its been 50 years to be exact and in all 61 years of my life, absolutely nothing has impacted me a lot more than that time spent on the cay. As I sit hear in the comfort of my lovely house, relaxing in my straightforward chair feeling the warmth of the glowing fire I am remembering. Happy yet sad, but I’ll speak about that later. It’s not each and every day that I afford myself the luxury of really pondering the time spent with timothy years ago, but since my wife Jule is going to our son, Timothy, his wife and our firts grandbaby (one more Timothy! we call him Tim) I can sit back and reflect upon those days that impacted my life so tremendously. I was a fairly spoiled kid, I realiz now. Loosing my sight and haveing to rely on Timothy was probaly the ideal issue that ever happend to me. I know that my wish to turn into an artist and my passion for capturing every thing on canvas nevertheless comes from that time. I now recognize how prejudice I was about black folks before all this. Being with Timothy as an eleven-year-old boy that went from wealth, safety, and sight, to total dependence on a man of diverse race and culture.

I discovered my-self loving the big comforting man due to the fact he cared so much for me. I quit considering of him as black or whit, but as an individual that loved and cared for me. Then, I had an opportunity to feel of a person other than my self when he go tsick, and have had that compassion for other folks ever considering that. Timothy taught me to really feel with my hands feet, sences, and everthing except my eyes. He taught me to appreciatethe subtke factors of nature that we take for granted when we can see. I belive that is why I have located such acclaim in renowned galleries across the planet. The storm caught us off guard even even though we had ready so meticulously. I belive I have been “old beyond my years” given that that storm. If only we didn’t listen to those small voices that inform us, we can’t do something. We can do Something if we have to. The “huricans” I’ve skilled in my life as I’ve grown to be a man, have often been small copared to that hurrican at eleven years of age. Losing Old Timothy of Charlotte Amalie, and becoming alone on a forgotten cay were about as considerably as I could go via. Thank the very good Lord, Stew Cat identified me, and we mad it through to gether. Now, back to the fire of yesteryear. Timothy had taught me to create a fire and the on I constructed right after the hurrican was my “rescue fire”. It was when I heard the plane above me that I discovered my hope once more. Even though that fire did not actually rescue me, ( that came by water a day or so later) the fire gave me the hope I had lost. that hope kept meovercome the sadness of losing Timothy. That hope helped me by way of the months in the hospital recovering. It has given me hope to continue living life, facing each “hurricane” as it comes. Oh, I enjoy to gaze at the flames and feel of the “rescue fire” of life.