What I'm trying to say is that, unlike Pyle's The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood, which I talk about and insult here, Gilbert's Robin Hood is less of a douchey walk in the park for a questionably principled, unerringly merry, lusty, and stout outlaw, and more of a thoughtful account of my fave hero's life and deeds.
The writing is actually very good, apart from Robin's revolting habit of ALWAYS addressing Marian as "sweetheart" and "darling" and "dear" (vomit), and there are lots of beautiful little moments of character renderings and woodland descriptions.
Incidentally, have you ever noticed that writers who romanticize laudable Mother Nature consistently fail to mention her glaring flaws? Mosquitos, for example. Nasty, festering piles of animal dung. Ticks and chiggers and angry bears. All those other things that go hand in hand with all that poisonous fresh air and overweening greenery. Blech.
Nature is gross. Even if it is Sherwood Forest.
Anyway. The members of Robin's band, though not exactly given distinct personalities, are well-rounded when they come to the forefront. Also, Gilbert adorably writes in the preface that he has expanded upon the manners and customs of the times, to give readers a fuller picture of what people believed (magic! trolls!) and how they lived (villeins! poverty!).
And I saved the best for last: Unbeknownst to Robin, Marian sneaks into the forest to learn how to be a sword-fighting, bow-slinging badass. (What, what, 1912!! Represent for the ladies!)
Lucy Griffiths = heiress to Gilbert's ballsy Marian.
Also, if you luv Robin Hood, and you need something to entertain you at work, you can read Gilbert's version online.
P.S. I just came across an unfortunate "movie" called Virgins of Sherwood Forest when searching Google for images of Sherwood Forest. Heads up: I will NOT be reviewing that for you. Sorry.
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