Grading Papers vs. Hunting for Gold
I was sitting at my dining room table at 11:30 PM on a Tuesday, staring at a stack of 10th-grade essays on Lord of the Flies. (If I have to read one more sentence about the conch shell representing order, I might actually weep.) I needed an escape. Not a "let's analyze the socioeconomic implications of 19th-century whaling" escape—I get enough of that in my day job—but a genuine, swashbuckling, check-your-brain-at-the-door escape.
Enter Treasure Island.
Now, my students think this book is ancient history. And yeah, Stevenson wrote it in the 1880s. But listening to it again? It's basically the blueprint for every action movie they pay $20 to see in IMAX. I put my red pen down, poured a second glass of Pinot, and let Adrian Praetzellis take me away from the conch shells.
The Cool Uncle of Audiobook Narrators
Here's the thing about narrators for classics: usually, you get one of two types. Type A is the "Very Serious British Actor" who treats every sentence like it's a funeral dirge. Type B is the "Over-Enthusiastic Theater Kid" who does voices that make your ears bleed.
Adrian Praetzellis is neither. And thank god for that. I've heard him narrate Siddhartha too, and he brings that same grounded warmth to completely different material.
He sounds... human. Warm. Lively. Honestly, he sounds like that one cool uncle who actually knows how to tell a story at Thanksgiving dinner without putting everyone to sleep. There's a genuine delight in his voice, especially when the pirates—Long John Silver and his motley crew—start chewing the scenery. You can tell he's having fun. And when the narrator is having fun, I'm having fun.
(My wife Denise caught me grinning like an idiot while listening on our Sunday lakefront walk. She asked what I was listening to. I told her it was a lecture on Victorian syntax. She didn't buy it.)
Praetzellis makes the dialogue pop without turning it into a cartoon. The pacing is spot on—brisk enough to keep the tension high during the mutiny scenes, but he slows down just enough when Stevenson gets descriptive about the island. It's a balance that a lot of "professional" productions miss completely.
Those Jarring CD Announcements (A Fair Warning)
Okay, we have to talk about the elephant in the room. Or the parrot on the shoulder.
This recording has a quirk. A pretty annoying one, actually. Every so often, you get hit with a very jarring: "This is the end of the CD. The program continues on the next CD."
It's a relic. A ghost from the physical media past. The first time it happened, I was in the middle of a tense standoff involving Jim Hawkins, and it totally snapped me out of the moment. It's repetitive, and yeah, it gets tiresome.
But—and hear me out—the narration is good enough that I stopped caring after the third time. It became like a weird commercial break. I'd just roll my eyes, take a sip of coffee (or wine), and dive back in. If you're super picky about immersion, this might drive you up the wall. For me? Small price to pay for a performance this engaging.
Why Stevenson Still Holds Up
I preach this to my students until I'm blue in the face: Classics aren't classics because they're old. They're classics because they work.
Stevenson doesn't waste time. The language is sharp. The violence is surprisingly gritty (lots of "boozing" and stabbing—maybe don't play this one for the toddlers). But it's the atmosphere that gets you. The dread of the Black Spot. The claustrophobia of the stockade.
Listening to this reminded me why I fell in love with reading before I made it my job. Stevenson's other work, Strange Case of Jekyll and Hyde, has that same relentless momentum—different vibe, same genius. It's pure narrative drive. No pretension. Just a boy, a map, and a whole lot of moral ambiguity disguised as a pirate story.
The Verdict
Is it perfect? No. The audio quality has a few rough patches at the start, and those CD transitions are a pain. But Adrian Praetzellis brings a warmth to the text that makes you feel like you're sitting by a fire in the Admiral Benbow Inn.
Who should listen: Anyone craving pure adventure without literary pretension—teachers needing an escape, parents wanting to share a classic with older kids, or anyone who's forgotten how fun a good pirate story can be. Who should skip: If those CD transition announcements sound like dealbreakers, or you need pristine audio quality, look elsewhere.
I'd take this over grading essays any day. (Just don't tell Principal Martinez I said that.)
