LAS AVENTURAS DE TOM SAWYER: Biblioteca de Grandes Escritores

Por Mark Twain

Ebook con un sumario dinámico y detallado: Las Aventuras de Tom Sawyer de Mark Twain es un novela de 1876 que relata las ocurrencias de la infancia de Tom Sawyer, un niño que vive a las orillas del río Mississippi en el sur de Estados Unidos. La historia está ambientada en la ficticia ciudad de San Petersburgo, que está inspirada en Hannibal, Missouri, donde vivía el autor de la novela Mark Twain

Tom Sawyer vive con su tía Polly y su medio hermano Sid. En una pelea callejera, Tom ensucia su ropa y es obligado a pintar la valla al día siguiente como castigo. Tom hábilmente convence a sus amigos para canjearle pequeños tesoros por el privilegio de hacer su trabajo. Tom luego negocia los pequeños tesoros para obtener boletos de la Escuela Dominical que se reciben, normalmente, cuando se memorizan versículos de la Biblia. Tom intercambia los boletos por una Biblia, ante la sorpresa y el desconcierto del superintendente que pensó que "era simplemente absurdo que este muchacho podría haber almacenado dos mil gavillas de sabiduría bíblica en su cabeza - mientras que, una simple docena, sin lugar a dudas forzaría en extremo su capacidad". Tom se enamora de Rebecca Thatcher (Becky), una chica nueva en la ciudad, y la convence para "comprometerse" con él, besándolo. Pero su romance se derrumba cuando Becky se entera de que Tom se ha "comprometido" con anterioridad con Amy Lawrence. Poco después de que Becky lo rechaza, Tom acompaña a Huckleberry Finn al cementerio por la noche, donde son testigos del asesinato del Dr. Robinson.

Tom, Huck y Joe Harper se escapan a una isla. Mientras disfrutan de su nueva libertad, los niños se dan cuenta de que la comunidad está dragando el río para encontrar sus cuerpos. Tom se cuela a su casa una noche para observar la conmoción causada por su desaparición. Después de un breve momento de remordimiento, al ver a sus seres queridos sufrir por él, a Tom se le ocurre la genial idea de aparecer en su propio funeral.

• Idioma: Español
• Editorial: IberiaLiteratura
• Fecha de lanzamiento: 7 abr 2015
• ISBN: 9783959280846

Mark Twain

Frederick Anderson, Lin Salamo, and Bernard L. Stein are members of the Mark Twain Project of The Bancroft Library at the University of California, Berkeley.

Vista previa del libro

FIN

Mark Twain

Las aventuras de Tom Sawyer

CAPÍTULO I

¡Tom!

Silencio.

-¡Tom!

Silencio.

-¡Dónde andará metido ese chico!... ¡Tom!

La anciana se bajó los anteojos y miró, por encima, alrededor del cuarto; después se los subió a la frente y miró por debajo. Rara vez o nunca miraba a través de los cristales a cosa de tan poca importancia como un chiquillo: eran aquéllos los lentes de ceremonia, su mayor orgullo, construidos por ornato antes que para servicio, y no hubiera visto mejor mirando a través de un par de mantas. Se quedó un instante perpleja y dijo, no con cólera, pero lo bastante alto para que la oyeran los muebles:

-Bueno; pues te aseguro que si te echo mano te voy a...

No terminó la frase, porque antes se agachó dando estocadas con la escoba por debajo de la cama; así es que necesitaba todo su aliento para puntuar los escobazos con resoplidos. Lo único que consiguió desenterrar fue el gato.

-¡No se ha visto cosa igual que ese muchacho!

Fue hasta la puerta y se detuvo allí, recorriendo con la mirada las plantas de tomate y las hierbas silvestres que constituían el jardín. Ni sombra de Tom. Alzó, pues, la voz a un ángulo de puntería calculado para larga distancia y gritó:

-¡Tú! ¡Toooom!

Oyó tras de ella un ligero ruido y se volvió a punto para atrapar a un muchacho por el borde de la chaqueta y detener su vuelo.

-¡Ya estás! ¡Que no se me haya ocurrido pensar en esa despensa!... ¿Qué estabas haciendo ahí?

-Nada.

-¿Nada? Mírate esas manos, mírate esa boca... ¿Qué es eso pegajoso?

-No lo sé, tía.

-Bueno; pues yo sí lo sé. Es dulce, eso es. Mil veces te he dicho que como no dejes en paz ese dulce te voy a despellejar vivo. Dame esa vara.

La vara se cernió en el aire. Aquello tomaba mal cariz.

-¡Dios mío! ¡Mire lo que tiene detrás, tía!

La anciana giró en redondo, recogiéndose las faldas para esquivar el peligro; y en el mismo instante escapó el chico, se encaramó por la alta valla de tablas y desapareció tras ella. Su tía Polly se quedó un momento sorprendida y después se echó a reír bondadosamente.

-¡Diablo de chico! ¡Cuándo acabaré de aprender sus mañas! ¡Cuántas jugarretas como ésta no me habrá hecho, y aún le hago caso! Pero las viejas bobas somos más bobas que nadie. Perro viejo no aprende gracias nuevas, como suele decirse. Pero, ¡Señor!, si no me la juega del mismo modo dos días seguidos, ¿cómo va una a saber por dónde irá a salir? Parece que adivina hasta dónde puede atormentarme antes de que llegue a montar en cólera, y sabe, el muy pillo, que si logra desconcertarme o hacerme reír ya todo se ha acabado y no soy capaz de pegarle. No; la verdad es que no cumplo mi deber para con este chico: ésa es la pura verdad. Tiene el diablo en el cuerpo; pero, ¡qué le voy a hacer! Es el hijo de mi pobre hermana difunta, y no tengo entrañas para zurrarle. Cada vez que le dejo sin castigo me remuerde la conciencia, y cada vez que le pego se me parte el corazón. ¡Todo sea por Dios! Pocos son los días del hombre nacido de mujer y llenos de tribulación, como dice la Escritura, y así lo creo. Esta tarde se escapará del colegio y no tendré más remedio que hacerle trabajar mañana como castigo. Cosa dura es obligarle a trabajar los sábados, cuando todos los chicos tienen asueto; pero aborrece el trabajo más que ninguna otra cosa, y, o soy un poco rígida con él, o me convertiré en la perdición de ese niño.

Tom hizo rabona, en efecto, y lo pasó en grande. Volvió a casa con el tiempo justo para ayudar a Jim, el negrito, a aserrar la leña para el día siguiente y hacer astillas antes de la cena; pero, al menos, llegó a tiempo para contar sus aventuras a Jim mientras éste hacía tres cuartas partes de la tarea. Sid, el hermano menor de Tom o mejor dicho, hermanastro, ya había dado fin a la suya de recoger astillas, pues era un muchacho tranquilo, poco dado a aventuras ni calaveradas. Mientras Tom cenaba y escamoteaba terrones de azúcar cuando la ocasión se le ofrecía, su tía le hacía preguntas llenas de malicia y trastienda, con el intento de hacerle picar el anzuelo y sonsacarle reveladoras confesiones. Como otras muchas personas, igualmente sencillas y candorosas, se envanecía de poseer un talento especial para la diplomacia tortuosa y sutil, y se complacía en mirar sus más obvios y transparentes artificios como maravillas de artera astucia. Así, le dijo:

-Hacía bastante calor en la escuela, Tom; ¿no es cierto?

-Sí, señora.

-Muchísimo calor, ¿verdad?

-Sí, señora.

-¿Y no te entraron ganas de irte a nadar?

Tom sintió una vaga escama, un barrunto de alarmante sospecha. Examinó la cara de su tía Polly, pero nada sacó en limpio. Así es que contestó:

-No, tía; vamos..., no muchas.

La anciana alargó la mano y le palpó la camisa.

-Pero ahora no tienes demasiado calor, con todo.

Y se quedó tan satisfecha por haber descubierto que la camisa estaba seca sin dejar traslucir que era aquello lo que tenía en las mientes. Pero bien sabía ya Tom de dónde soplaba el viento. Así es que se apresuró a parar el próximo golpe.

-Algunos chicos nos estuvimos echando agua por la cabeza. Aún la tengo húmeda. ¿Ve usted?

La tía Polly se quedó mohína, pensando que no había advertido aquel detalle acusador, y además le había fallado un tiro. Pero tuvo una nueva inspiración.

-Dime, Tom: para mojarte la cabeza ¿no tuviste que descoserte el cuello de la camisa por donde yo te lo cosí? ¡Desabróchate la chaqueta!

Toda sombra de alarma desapareció de la faz de Tom. Abrió la chaqueta. El cuello estaba cosido, y bien cosido.

-¡Diablo de chico! Estaba segura de que habrías hecho rabona y de que te habrías ido a nadar. Me parece, Tom, que eres como gato escaldado, como suele decirse, y mejor de lo que pareces. Al menos, por esta vez.

Le dolía un poco que su sagacidad le hubiera fallado, y se complacía de que Tom hubiera tropezado y caído en la obediencia por una vez.

Pero Sid dijo:

-Pues mire usted: yo diría que el cuello estaba cosido con hilo blanco y ahora es negro.

-¡Cierto que lo cosí con hilo blanco! ¡Tom!

Pero Tom no esperó el final. Al escapar gritó desde la puerta:

-Siddy, buena zurra te va a costar.

Ya en lugar seguro, sacó dos largas agujas que llevaba clavadas debajo de la solapa. En una había enrollado hilo negro, y en la otra, blanco.

«Si no es por Sid no lo descubre. Unas veces lo cose con blanco y otras con negro. ¡Por qué no se decidirá de una vez por uno a otro! Así no hay quien lleve la cuenta. Pero Sid me las ha de pagar, ¡reconcho!»

No era el niño modelo del lugar. Al niño modelo lo conocía de sobra, y lo detestaba con toda su alma.

Aún no habían pasado dos minutos cuando ya había olvidado sus cuitas y pesadumbres. No porque fueran ni una pizca menos graves y amargas de lo que son para los hombres las de la edad madura, sino porque un nuevo y absorbente interés las redujo a la nada y las apartó por entonces de su pensamiento, del mismo modo como las desgracias de los mayores se olvidan en el anhelo y la excitación de nuevas empresas. Este nuevo interés era cierta inapreciable novedad en el arte de silbar, en la que acababa de adiestrarle un negro, y que ansiaba practicar a solas y tranquilo. Consistía en ciertas variaciones a estilo de trino de pájaro, una especie de líquido gorjeo que resultaba de hacer vibrar la lengua contra el paladar y que se intercalaba en la silbante melodía. Probablemente el lector recuerda cómo se hace, si es que ha sido muchacho alguna vez. La aplicación y la perseverancia pronto le hicieron dar en el quid y echó a andar calle adelante con la boca rebosando armonías y el alma llena de regocijo. Sentía lo mismo que experimenta el astrónomo al descubrir una nueva estrella. No hay duda que en cuanto a lo intenso, hondo y acendrado del placer, la ventaja estaba del lado del muchacho, no del astrónomo.

Los crepúsculos caniculares eran largos. Aún no era de noche. De pronto Tom suspendió el silbido: un forastero estaba ante él; un muchacho que apenas le llevaba un dedo de ventaja en la estatura. Un recién llegado, de cualquier edad o sexo, era una curiosidad emocionante en el pobre lugarejo de San Petersburgo. El chico, además, estaba bien trajeado, y eso en un día no festivo. Esto era simplemente asombroso. El sombrero era coquetón; la chaqueta, de paño azul, nueva, bien cortada y elegante; y a igual altura estaban los pantalones. Tenía puestos los zapatos, aunque no era más que viernes. Hasta llevaba corbata: una cinta de colores vivos. En toda su persona había un aire de ciudad que le dolía a Tom como una injuria. Cuanto más contemplaba aquella esplendorosa maravilla, más alzaba en el aire la nariz con un gesto de desdén por aquellas galas y más rota y desastrada le iba pareciendo su propia vestimenta. Ninguno de los dos hablaba. Si uno se movía, se movía el otro, pero sólo de costado, haciendo rueda. Seguían cara a cara y mirándose a los ojos sin pestañear. Al fin, Tom dijo:

-Yo te puedo.

-Pues anda y haz la prueba.

-Pues sí que te puedo.

-¡A que no!

-¡A que sí!

-¡A que no!

Siguió una pausa embarazosa. Después prosiguió Tom:

-Y tú, ¿cómo te llamas?

-¿Y a ti que te importa?

-Pues si me da la gana vas a ver si me importa.

-¿Pues por qué no te atreves?

-Como hables mucho lo vas a ver.

-¡Mucho..., mucho..., mucho!

-Tú te crees muy gracioso; pero con una mano atada atrás te podría dar una tunda si quisiera.

-¿A que no me la das?...

-¡Vaya un sombrero!

-Pues atrévete a tocármelo.

-Lo que eres tú es un mentiroso.

-Más lo eres tú.

-Como me digas esas cosas agarro una piedra y te la estrello en la cabeza.

-¡A que no!

-Lo que tú tienes es miedo.

-Más tienes tú.

Otra pausa, y más miradas, y más vueltas alrededor. Después empezaron a empujarse hombro con hombro.

-Vete de aquí -dijo Tom.

-Vete tú -contestó el otro.

-No quiero.

-Pues yo tampoco.

Y así siguieron, cada uno apoyado en una pierna como en un puntal, y los dos empujando con toda su alma y lanzándose furibundas miradas. Pero ninguno sacaba ventaja. Después de forcejear hasta que ambos se pusieron encendidos y arrebatados los dos cedieron en el empuje, con desconfiada cautela, y Tom dijo:

-Tú eres un miedoso y un cobarde. Voy a decírselo a mi hermano grande, que te puede deshacer con el dedo meñique.

-¡Pues sí que me importa tu hermano! Tengo yo uno mayor que el tuyo y que si lo coge lo tira por encima de esa cerca. (Ambos hermanos eran imaginarios.)

-Eso es mentira.

-¡Porque tú lo digas!

Tom hizo una raya en el polvo con el dedo gordo del pie y dijo:

-Atrévete a pasar de aquí y soy capaz de pegarte hasta que no te puedas tener. El que se atreva se la gana.

El recién venido traspasó en seguida la raya y dijo:

Ya está: a ver si haces lo que dices.

-No me vengas con ésas; ándate con ojo.

-Bueno, pues ¡a que no lo haces!

-¡A que sí! Por dos centavos lo haría.

El recién venido sacó dos centavos del bolsillo y se los alargó burlonamente.

Tom los tiró contra el suelo.

En el mismo instante rodaron los dos chicos, revolcándose en la tierra, agarrados como dos gatos, y durante un minuto forcejearon asiéndose del pelo y de las ropas, se golpearon y arañaron las narices, y se cubrieron de polvo y de gloria. Cuando la confusión tomó forma, a través de la polvareda de la batalla apareció Tom sentado a horcajadas sobre el forastero y moliéndolo a puñetazos.

-¡Date por vencido!

El forastero no hacía sino luchar para libertarse. Estaba llorando, sobre todo de rabia.

-¡Date por vencido! -y siguió el machacamiento.

Al fin el forastero balbuceó un «me doy», y Tom le dejó levantarse y dijo:

-Eso, para que aprendas. Otra vez ten ojo con quién te metes.

El vencido se marchó sacudiéndose el polvo de la ropa, entre hipos y sollozos, y de cuando en cuando se volvía moviendo la cabeza y amenazando a Tom con lo que le iba a hacer «la primera vez que lo sorprendiera». A lo cual Tom respondió con mofa, y se echó a andar con orgulloso continente. Pero tan pronto como volvió la espalda, su contrario cogió una piedra y se la arrojó, dándole en mitad de la espalda, y en seguida volvió grupas y corrió como un antíope. Tom persiguió al traidor hasta su casa, y supo así dónde vivía. Tomó posiciones por algún tiempo junto a la puerta del jardín y desafió a su enemigo a salir a campo abierto; pero el enemigo se contentó con sacarle la lengua y hacerle muecas detrás de la vidriera. Al fin apareció la madre del forastero, y llamó a Tom malo, tunante v ordinario, ordenándole que se largase de allí. Tom se fue, pero no sin prometer antes que aquel chico se las había de pagar.

Llegó muy tarde a casa aquella noche, y al encaramarse cautelosamente a la ventana cayó en una emboscada preparada por su tía, la cual, al ver el estado en que traía las ropas, se afirmó en la resolución de convertir el asueto del sábado en cautividad y trabajos forzados.

CAPÍTULO II

Llegó la mañana del sábado y el mundo estival apareció luminoso y fresco y rebosante de vida. En cada corazón resonaba un canto; y si el corazón era joven, la música subía hasta los labios. Todas las caras parecían alegres, y los cuerpos, anhelosos de movimiento. Las acacias estaban en flor y su fragancia saturaba el aire.

El monte de Cardiff, al otro lado del pueblo, y alzándose por encima de él, estaba todo cubierto de verde vegetación y lo bastante alejado para parecer una deliciosa tierra prometida que invitaba al reposo y al ensueño.

Tom apareció en la calle con un cubo de lechada y una brocha atada en la punta de una pértiga. Echó una mirada a la cerca, y la Naturaleza perdió toda alegría y una aplanadora tristeza descendió sobre su espíritu. ¡Treinta varas de valla de nueve pies de altura! Le pareció que la vida era vana y sin objeto y la existencia una pesadumbre. Lanzando un suspiro, mojó la brocha y la pasó a lo largo del tablón más alto; repitió la operación; la volvió a repetir, comparó la insignificante franja enjalbegada con el vasto continente de cerca sin encalar, y se sentó sobre el boj, descorazonado Jim, salió a la puerta haciendo cabriolas, con un balde de cinc y cantando Las muchachas de Búfalo. Acarrear agua desde la fuente del pueblo había sido siempre a los ojos de Tom una cosa aborrecible; pero entonces no le pareció así. Se acordó de que no faltaba allí compañía. Allí había siempre muchachos de ambos sexos, blancos, mulatos y negros, esperando vez; y entretanto, holgazaneaban, hacían cambios, reñían, se pegaban y bromeaban. Y se acordó de que, aunque la fuente sólo distaba ciento cincuenta varas, Jim jamás estaba de vuelta con un balde de agua en menos de una hora; y aun entonces era porque alguno había tenido que ir en su busca. Tom le dijo:

-Oye, Jim: yo iré a traer el agua si tú encalas un pedazo.

Jim sacudió la cabeza y contestó:

-No puedo, amo Tom. El ama vieja me ha dicho que tengo que traer el agua y no entretenerme con nadie. Ha dicho que se figuraba que el amo Tom me pediría que encalase, y que lo que tenía que hacer yo era andar listo y no ocuparme más que de lo mío..., que ella se ocuparía del encalado.

-No te importe lo que haya dicho, Jim. Siempre dice lo mismo. Déjame el balde, y no tardo ni un minuto. Ya verás cómo no se entera.

-No me atrevo, amo Tom... El ama me va a cortar el pescuezo. ¡De veras que sí!

-¿Ella?... Nunca pega a nadie. Da capirotazos con el dedal, y eso ¿a quién le importa? Amenaza mucho, pero aunque hable no hace daño, a menos que se ponga a llorar. Jim, te daré una canica. Te daré una de las blancas.

Jim empezó a vacilar.

-Una blanca, Jim; y es de primera.

-¡Anda! ¡De ésas se ven pocas! Pero tengo un miedo muy grande del ama vieja.

Pero Jim era de débil carne mortal. La tentación era demasiado fuerte. Puso el cubo en el suelo y cogió la canica. Un instante después iba volando calle abajo con el cubo en la mano y un gran escozor en las posaderas. Tom enjalbegaba con furia, y la tía Polly se retiraba del campo de batalla con una zapatilla en la mano y el brillo de la victoria en los ojos.

Pero la energía de Tom duró poco. Empezó a pensar en todas las diversiones que había planeado para aquel día, y sus penas se exacerbaron. Muy pronto los chicos que tenían asueto pasarían retozando, camino de tentadoras excursiones, y se reirían de él porque tenía que trabajar... ; y esta idea le encendía la sangre como un fuego. Sacó todas sus mundanales riquezas y les pasó revista: pedazos de juguetes, tabas y desperdicios heterogéneos; lo bastante quizá para lograr un cambio de tareas, pero no lo suficiente para poderlo trocar por media hora de libertad completa. Se volvió, pues, a guardar en el bolsillo sus escasos recursos, y abandonó la idea de intentar el soborno de los muchachos. En aquel tenebroso y desesperado momento sintió una inspiración. Nada menos que una soberbia magnífica inspiración. Cogió la brocha y se puso tranquilamente a trabajar. Ben Rogers apareció a la vista en aquel instante: de entre todos los chicos, era de aquél precisamente de quien más había temido las burlas. Ben venía dando saltos y cabriolas, señal evidente de que tenía el corazón libre de pesadumbres y grandes esperanzas de divertirse. Estaba comiéndose una manzana, y de cuando en cuando lanzaba un prolongado y melodioso alarido, seguido de un bronco y profundo «tilín, tilín, tilón; tilín, tilón», porque, venía imitando a un vapor del Misisipí. Al acercarse acortó la marcha, enfiló hacia el medio de la calle, se inclinó hacia estribor y tomó la vuelta de la esquina pesadamente y con gran aparato y solemnidad, porque estaba representando al Gran Misuri y se consideraba a sí mismo con nueve pies de calado. Era buque, capitán y campana de las máquinas, todo en una pieza; y así es que tenía que imaginarse de pie en su propio puente, dando órdenes y ejecutándolas.

-¡Para! ¡Tilín, tilín, tilín! (La arrancada iba disminuyendo y el barco se acercaba lentamente a la acera.) ¡Máquina atrás! ¡Tilínlinlin! (Con los brazos rígidos, pegados a los costados.) ¡Atrás la de estribor! ¡Tilínlinlin! ¡Chuchuchu! .... (Entretanto el brazo derecho describía grandes círculos porque representaba una rueda de cuarenta pies de diámetro.) ¡Atrás la de babor! Tilín tilín, tilín!... (El brazo izquierdo empezó a voltear.) ¡Avante la de babor! ¡Alto la de estribor! ¡Despacio a babor! ¡Listo con la amarra! ¡Alto! ¡Tilín, tilín, tilín! ¡Chistsss!... (Imitando las llaves de escape.)

Tom siguió encalando, sin hacer caso del vapor. Ben se le quedó mirando un momento y dijo:

-¡Je, Je! Las estás pagando, ¿eh?

Se quedó sin respuesta. Tom examinó su último toque con mirada de artista; después dio otro ligero brochazo y examinó, como antes, el resultado. Ben atracó a su costado. A Tom se le hacía la boca agua pensando en la manzana; pero no cejó en su trabajo.

-¡Hola, compadre! -le dijo Ben -.Te hacen trabajar, ¿eh?

-¡Ah!, ¿eres tú, Ben? No te había visto.

-Oye, me voy a nadar. ¿No te gustaría venir? Pero, claro, te gustará más trabajar. Claro que te gustará.

Tom se le quedó mirando un instante y dijo:

-¿A qué llamas tú trabajo?

-¡Qué! ¿No es eso trabajo?

Tom reanudó su blanqueo y le contestó, distraídamente:

-Bueno; puede ser que lo sea y puede que no. Lo único que sé es que le gusta a Tom Sawyer.

-¡Vamos! ¿Me vas a hacer creer que a ti te gusta?

La brocha continuó moviéndose.

-¿Gustar? No sé por qué no va a gustarme. ¿Es que le dejan a un chico blanquear una cerca todos los días?

Aquello puso la cosa bajo una nueva luz. Ben dejó de mordisquear la manzana. Tom, movió la brocha, coquetonamente, atrás y adelante; se retiró dos pasos para ver el efecto; añadió un toque allí y otro allá; juzgó otra vez el resultado. Y en tanto Ben no perdía de vista un solo movimiento, cada vez más y más interesado y absorto. Al fin dijo:

-Oye, Tom: déjame encalar un poco.

Tom reflexionó. Estaba a punto de acceder; pero cambió de propósito:

-No, no; eso no podría ser, Ben. Ya ves..., mi tía Polly es muy exigente

Comentarios para LAS AVENTURAS DE TOM SAWYER

[meersan · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

A young criminal mastermind-in-training gets into mischief with his disreputable neighborhood friends.

[librarycin · Calificación: 3 de 5 estrellas]

This tells the story of a boy, Tom Sawyer, and his best friend, Huck Finn, and some of the adventures they get into. Some of those adventures include ghosts, haunted houses and treasure. I listened to an audio version of this one, narrated by William Dufris. The narrator was very good with amazing expressions, but my mind wandered, anyway. The one mostly couldn't hold my interest. Because of that, I missed a lot, so initially, it almost felt like these were short stories, rather than a novel. A lot of the same characters did return later, and I think storylines were picked up again later, but it was hard to connect everything because I just hadn't focused enough. However, the parts of the book that I did catch, I thought were cute. And, I have to give bonus points for the narrator, so an “o.k.” 3 stars it is.

[infantinanivetha · Calificación: 3 de 5 estrellas]

I read this book in my 6th grade. The story was gripping but not my favorite.

[ecataldi-1 · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

Even though this book is well over a century old it still holds up! It's funny, witty, and remarkably insightful into the head of a mischievous young boy. The games, and clothes, and manners may have changed; but kids would still be easily able to relate to the games that Tom Sawyer and his friend Huckleberry Finn play. From pirates to adventurers, they know how to have fun with practically nothing but their imagination. And the trouble, lord these two boys know how to get in trouble and worry their families half to death. From running away, getting lost in caves, witnessing a murder and more, Tom Sawyer is the king of trouble. A must read classic!

[satyridae · Calificación: 5 de 5 estrellas]

It had been some time since I'd read this, and I'm fixing to read a new novel about Huck Finn's Pap, so I thought it best to repair to the source material first. Being the mother of a boy has certainly changed my reaction to this particular book. What struck me as hilarious fiction once now rings true and is not so mirth-inducing. The nature of the boy as boy seems unchanged though lo, these many years have passed. Twain's not dated in the least, and is still one of the funniest writers ever.

[boundtogetherforgood · Calificación: 3 de 5 estrellas]

I read this in school, probably in 7th grade, because it was assigned. I was not a reader at the time and so really didn't enjoy it very much. I wanted to reread it as an adult. I believe I enjoyed it more this time although I do find Twain wordy, but authors of that time period were. I am not sure the subject of this story is one that would have ever gotten me excited. I even set the book down for many months with only 60 pages to the end. I picked it up and finished it in two quick sittings. I don't think the story is suddenly more interesting to me. I do think I was eager to put the book in my finished pile. I also have to believe that I am better now at reading classics since I have read many more the last few years.

[bnbharper · Calificación: 5 de 5 estrellas]

Summary: A young boy named Tom Sawyer grows up in a small town. He befriends a slave and goes through many adventures with him. Response: A very fun adventurous book to read. The fact that the characters were based off real people makes it even better. Connection: Have this as a read aloud chapter book discussing the plot with the kids as the teacher reads.

[seriousgrace · Calificación: 3 de 5 estrellas]

Tom Sawyer is a typical Southern boy looking for adventure. I don't think there are many young boys that would skin a cat or fake his own death so that he might attend the funeral, but the mischief of such a boy has always been there...and will always be there, too! Tom lives with his auntie and while he is well loved he is always looking for ways to run away. His sidekick, Huck Finn is eager to join him in adventures "down river." Both are "smarties" as my grandfather would say. Showing off for their peers, and besting the adults -there is never a dull moment in Tom Sawyer's world.

[dgadkins88 · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

The Adventures of Tom Sawyer depicts the life of an imaginative, troublesome boy in the American West of the 1840s. The novel is intensely dramatic in its construction, taking the form of a series of comic vignettes based on Tom's exploits. These vignettes are linked together by a darker story that grows in importance throughout the novel, Tom's life-threatening entanglement with the murderer Injun Joe.

[kimmyd76 · Calificación: 5 de 5 estrellas]

Why had I never read this classic before?... who knows! But i'm glad I have now read it and will move right into listening to the Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.

[dougcornelius_1 · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

I think I was supposed to read this in college. But never did. There were more important things to do like... (never mind).It was time to make up for the mistakes of my youth and take in a classic. That the audiobook was narrated by Nick Offerman was a bonus that moved Tom Sawyer to the top of my to-read list.

[grazianoronca_1 · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

The 100th anniversary of Twain's death is April, 21 2010. Tom Sawyer lives with his Aunt Polly and his half-brother, Sid, in the Mississippi River town of St. Petersburg, Missouri. His best friend (buddy) and companion of adventures Huck Finn helps Tom to invent how to avoid school, and get fun night and day. The main themes are: children looking for trouble, adults as adults always do, and humorism tinged with satire. Sometimes Tom disappears in the Huck's shadow, and sometimes Tom and Huck work together: these passages are most successful with Twain's job. For example:Huck: 'When you going to start the gang and turn robbers?'Tom: 'We'll get the boys together and have the initiation tonight, maybe.'Huck: 'Have the which?'Tom: 'Have the initiation.'Huck: 'What's that?'Tom: ' It's to swear ... etc etc The Adventures of Tom Sawyer is a classic book suitable for all ages.

[atreic · Calificación: 3 de 5 estrellas]

Mark Twain's prose is lovely, and walks a fine line between describing the rural South in ways which are sentimental or derogatory. But it is at the end of the day a children's book for boys, about Indians and buried treasure and running away and getting lost in caves, which while it is endearing and lovely is not sock-rocking.

[juliettehendrikx · Calificación: 3 de 5 estrellas]

I have heard about this American classic for so long, and I love other Twain books, I thought it was going to be the end all of end alls, but I was disappointed.

[kayprime · Calificación: 3 de 5 estrellas]

Snakes and snails and puppy dogs' tails, that's what Tom Sawyer, the essence of little boys everywhere, is made of.This book is fun and light and mischievous. Tom finds himself in trouble throughout the book (usually a side effect of his adventures). His zealous nature and active imagination annoys and endears everyone around him- including the reader.This was my first time reading this book and I only wish I had picked it up when I was younger because I would have taken more delight in it. It's an excellent YA read and a sufficiently entertaining and quick read for an adult. It is a classic for a reason and certainly worth the read no matter your age.

[arouse77 · Calificación: 3 de 5 estrellas]

generally a fan of Twain, i didn't really enjoy this one as much as i expected to. i had read selected excerpts of this book as a child in a book of short stories and remembered enjoying them, but as an adult i have a vantage that makes the hyjinx of this child less than amusing.i attribute it somewhat to the cultural divide between myself and the post-civil war south. the behavior seen as customary or appropriate for a pre-adolescent boy at that time and place seems appallingly bad to my mind. what's more, the tolerant attitude displayed toward Tom by his aunt serves to reinforce the behavior she rails against. self-assured and cocky, i fail to sympathize with this child on almost any level. the callous way he regards (or fails to regard) the feelings of others is not charming in the least. and when i cannot identify with my hero, i'm left fairly cold.i also felt certain elements of the plot were not only fantastic, but repetitive. a child can only disappear so many times and muster the panic of the town, yet it seems Tom can go missing again and again and warrant the despair of all around him every time anew. as far as it goes, i enjoyed the casual language and the cadence of the story shows the deftness of Twain in his element, but i simply failed to find anything endearing about his portrayal of a child he meant to paint as a scamp but whom i can only see as a wretched brat.

[manahoh · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

Tom is very brave boy.He likes adventure and he can get food on his own.When he met troble, he solve it by himself.I want to imitate his active behavior.

[brittanybear79 · Calificación: 5 de 5 estrellas]

Tom Sawyer was a little boy who was very mischievous. He went to live with his aunt. He didnt always follow the rules. He was forced to white wash the fence as punishment for some of the bad things he did. He tricked a lot of people into do stuff for him that he didnt want to do. He an Huck Finn went on a lot of adventures. Once Huck fell through the roof of the church and he faked his death. Then Becki found him and she was so mad when she found of that Huck was faking it the whole time. This book is known by a lot of people but most of them dont read it. They just know the main parts. i encourage people to read this. it is a fun read.

[abergsman-1 · Calificación: 3 de 5 estrellas]

Borderline 3.5 stars, but not quite. Mainly because I didn't begin to truly enjoy the story until 2/3 of the way through.

This is the first time I have ever read Mark Twain, and wanted to read this as a precursor to Huck Finn. I respect Mark Twain and his influence on many popular authors. For me, this particular novel does not hold water against some of the other American greats (Steinbeck, Edgar Allen Poe, Hawthorne, Harriet Beecher Stowe, etc).

A lot can be said in regards to the portrayals of African-Americans and Native Americans in the book (particularly the character "Injun Joe"), and Tom Sawyer is often censored or banned due to the language. Without a doubt, parts of the novel were certainly uncomfortable to this modern reader. I actually appreciated this, as it gives a glimpse of what life was like--from the perspective of Mississippi River dwelling, Southern, white children--in the pre-Civil War South. Racism and all. I enjoyed the satirical approach and exaggeration to some of the customs and superstitions of that community during that time period.

Having said that, I concurrently read some of Twain's (Sam Clemens') other writings on American Indians, and it is atrocious. Product of the times or not, it left a bitter aftertaste while reading Sawyer. Hence the 3 stars.

I do feel any use of this text in school should include a discussion on racism, fear, discrimination, freedom, etc.

[booksfordeb · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

This book was one of my favorties as a child. I found Tom to be fun and relational. Twain's mastery at portraying realistic characters from this era is amazing. Great Book! Read and have fun.

[rosenstern · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

Twain's bold themes are wonderfully depicted in this novel where Tom gets into all sorts of mischief. I love Twain's literary style and humor. Worth reading it at least once, if not more.

[supersam_1 · Calificación: 1 de 5 estrellas]

for me it was not a good book. But for someone who likes nature and 1800 lifestyle this would be a good book for you.

[librarybrandy · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

The standard by which all other boys' adventure stories are judged. More episodic than I'd have liked (so that it sometimes was hard to follow which actions were related to which), but still fun to read. I can now say that I've read (more or less) Tom Sawyer, rather than just scrubbing my toe in the dirt and looking abashed when the topic of literary classics comes up.

[david.alfred.sarkies · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

Looking over the reviews of this book I noticed that they swing from being 'a classic account of boys on the loose in frontier America' to 'I want to punch Tom Sawyer in the face.' One reviewer has commented on how is mum owned a dog-eared copy of this book from before he was born to after he left home to go to college (and if he doesn't want it, I'll be more than happy to take it off his hands) which made me realise how our parent's taste in literature can and does differ from our own. I grew up knowing about Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, but I have never actually read the books, and to be honest, never even realised that there was a book wholly dedicated to Tom Sawyer until a couple of years ago, and based on my parents collection of books (namely Hard Science-fiction, which is not surprising for a father who is a physicist, and detective fiction dominated by Agatha Christie) the works of Mark Twain never really entered my sphere of influence.However I recently picked up a collection of his works and decided to see what these stories were about, and I must admit that I actually quite enjoyed this tale of mischievous boyhood. Seriously, letting the entire town grieve for your death and then rocking up at your funeral really does take some guts, and I must admit that it would have been something I would have loved to have done when I was a kid. In fact, the impression that I get from this story is that it is simply Samuel Clements (using a psuedonym) recounting a lot of the mischief he and his friends got up to as children but rolling it all into one character so as to protect the guilty.There are two things that really stand out to me about this book and the first is that I found it very readable, which is something that I generally do not expect from 19th Century literature. True Clements does get bogged down into detail, but there is enough action to keep us interested, and the banter among the main characters it really enjoyable to follow, particularly when Sawyer convinces young Becky Thatcher to become engaged to him, explaining to her what engagement is from a conservative, respectful, point of view. The second thing that stood out was that it gives us a very clear view of a time gone by, an age of innocence in the American mid-west. In a way it takes us away from the troubles of today and puts us in a world where things did not seem as bad.Granted, there is a murder, and there are troubles with children getting lost in caves, but even then, we glimpse a more innocent time in the United States, though there are a few interesting quotes, such as Negroes always being liars (which raises the question of whether Samuel Clements was a southern sympathiser, despite the book being written after the Civil War, though the events are flagged as being set prior to the said war). I also see a number of influences on children's literature of today, not to say that people didn't write books for children back then, but he does say at the beginning that while this book is written for boys, he does hope that adults would enjoy this story as well.I must finish off about the story of whitewashing the fence, which is the first event in the book. Poor Tom has got himself into trouble, and has been punished by having to paint the fence, something he does not want to do, but somehow he manages to get others to do it in his stead. He does this trick (I believe) by asking somebody to pay him for the privilege, and Clements then points out afterwards that if we are paid to do something, then it is considered work, and is dull and boring, but if we pay to do something, then it is entertainment and we do it with gusto, so his theory is that if we get people to pay to do the things we don't want to do, then we will get things done a lot better and a lot quicker, than we would otherwise (and there have been movies made about how people pay to become ranchers), but I suspect that this is something that only foolish boys would do, and us adults are (I hope) probably a lot smarter than this, though I do actually wonder about it sometimes (such as celebrities paying to sleep out on the streets, seriously, if you really want to experience poverty, then give up all your riches - don't give it up for a short time, that, to me, is little more than a publicity stunt).

[dasam-5 · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

I had never read the Adventures of Tom Sawyer except in a childhood version in Golden Books or something like that. I skipped right over to read Huck Finn. While this is definitely a children's book in many ways, Twain writes in such a way that adults still enjoy Tom and his picaresque adventures, both as nostalgia for our own childhoods and because the adult voice of Twain cannot help inserting his snide commentaries on humanity.

[billyhill21 · Calificación: 5 de 5 estrellas]

illustrations by notman rockwell are tipped in. boards have tan, burlap covers

[nx74defiant · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

I'd forgotten what a little trouble maker Tom was. It was a nice enjoyable read.

[quaintlittlehead · Calificación: 5 de 5 estrellas]

The trouble with "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer" is, and always has been, its audience. Nobody knows for sure whether it was meant as a children's (more likely t(w)eenager's) book or an adult's view of a child's world. While on the mature side for the former, it lacks the depth of its successor, "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn." Yet while the sheer delight of the book makes it a treat for any audience, there are a couple of compelling reasons that everyone, at some point in their lives, should read it.First of all, the youthly viewpoint is a marvel of characterisation. Just as it seems a rare and precious wonder when a male author successfully captures the viewpoint of a female character, or vice versa, it is a notable thing when an author crafts a young character who truly lives and breathes the way someone that age would. Yes, certainly, they are many wonderful young characters in literature who are fabulous because adults and children alike see an amusing caricature of recognisable elements of childhood--think Christopher Robin and his plush menagerie, for example--but there are few so vivid that they live eternally. Mark Twain knows the young male mind, and even in an age of video games and plastic-enclosed fast-food playlands, when I read his detailed inventories of the contents of young Tom's pockets and the importance of trading such pitiful treasures as marbles and beetles to acquire more and better junk, I think, "I KNOW that kid. I teach that kid in my third grade class." Modern boys may have substituted Pokemon cards and plastic Halo figurines, but the mindset about the junk in the pockets is still the same; and, I imagine, if modern parents were far less guarded about things like letting their children roam about town after sunset and explore uncharted caves than the adults of fictional St. Petersburg were, I suspect that just as many of the young boys I know would be running away from home in the summer to play pirate.Second, the book has a very subtle hint of predestination about the whole plot, with so many Dickensian coincidences that just happen to work out for Tom and Huck, yet this is surely due not just to the influence of Twain's great literary contemporary but also, and perhaps in larger part, to the Presbyterian upbringing that Twain at times seems to admire, and at other times seems to satirise. This sense of the possibility of an overarching plan for the world (whether Heavenly or merely authorial) reaches its peak in one of the most chilling scenes near the end of the novel:"The captive had broken off the stalagmite, and upon the stump had placed a stone, wherein he had scooped a shallow hollow to catch the precious drop that fell once every three minutes with the dreary regularity of a clock tick--a dessert spoonful once in four and twenty hours. That drop was falling when the Pyramids were new; when Troy fell; when the foundations of Rome were laid; when Christ was crucified; when the Conqueror created the British empire; when Columbus sailed; when the massacre at Lexington was 'news.' It is falling now; it will still be falling when all these things shall have sunk down the afternoon of history, and the twilight of tradition, and been swallowed up in the thick night of oblivion. Has everything a purpose and a mission? Did this drop fall patiently during five thousand years to be ready for this flitting human insect's need? and has it another important object to accomplish ten thousand years to come? No matter."I'll avoid continuing the citation any further to avoid spoilers for any readers who might not yet know to which captive this passage refers or what the outcome of his fate might be; suffice it to say, what continues suggests that though we may not be certain of a purpose, we look longest at the things that might have one. This helps to explain the enduring popularity of "Tom Sawyer." While many critics cite its importance as "the book that paved the way for 'Huckleberry Finn,'" there are signs throughout of a masterful author saying, "I know what I'm doing." Leave it to Mark Twain to sum up the very significance of his writing, and of religion's role in society, by saying "no matter."If the book should be read, then, the question still remains as to who should read it. Young people are definitely capable of enjoying it, but as with its more famous sequel, the racial overtones (not only with regards to slaves, but also the portrayal of the book's "half-breed" Native American antagonist) prove troubling for many readers. I would thus recommend that it be placed into a young person's hands, not with abandon and trust as Aunt Polly does in giving Tom the "Painkiller," but with careful guidance about the historical setting and thought about the parallels in today's society. Beyond that, the vocabulary may also prove tricky for elementary readers. Middle schoolers or early high schoolers (ages 11-14) may be able to get a handle on it with a well-noted edition or a dictionary at hand, however.The Barnes and Noble edition of this book contains a biographical sketch and timeline of the author's life; an introduction by H. Daniel Peck of Vassar College; both footnotes and endnotes glossing difficult vocabulary (a bit irritatingly over-thorough for the well-read adult, though) and noting real-life places or people in Hannibal, Missouri to which the book seems to be making reference; a description of other artistic works inspired by the book; a series of citations from both contemporary and later reviews of the book, alongside a series of questions for the reader's consideration; and a bibliography for further reference on Twain.

[unlikelyaristotle · Calificación: 3 de 5 estrellas]

The title is pretty self-explanatory - although I read this book at least 5 years ago, I still remember loving it. The dialogue was slightly difficult for me to get through at the time, but it was everything a book should have: great characters, coherent storyline, and good narrative.

[birdbrian-1 · Calificación: 3 de 5 estrellas]

To borrow a phrase from Ceridwen, I'd like to punch this book in the nose. Don't get me wrong; Mark Twain's novel is engagingly written and probably a timeless classic for its rich depictions of rural life in the antebellum South; it's just that the "lovable rascal" schtick doesn't work for me. It isn't really the book I have an issue with; it's Tom Sawyer himself I'd like to punch. He's been an icon of carefree boyhood antics for nealy 150 years, and as such he's been a stone in my shoe for as long as I've known him. My mother's dogeared copy from her own childhood has been floating around our household for decades, both predating my own appearance, and remaining after I departed for college. When somebody keeps a book around that long, and it's as lovingly worn as Mom's Tom Sawyer you just know it made an impression at some point. As my mother's only son, I can assure you that to some significant degree, Tom imprinted himself in her imagination as a sort of rough guideline of what a growing boy should be: a spirited imp who passes lazy summers fishin' with his buddies, getting into rough-and-tumble adventures in the great outdoors, swimmin' at the swimmin' hole, and layin' on the hillside chewin' a long stem of grass while lookin' at clouds, &c. That's fine, if that's what you're into. The problem was, that's not what I was into. Twelve year old Brian of 1980 was absolutely nothing like twelve year old Tom Sawyer of 1876. Brian didn't give a fuck about fishing or getting into brawls with the neighborhood boys (just for spirited fun of it) or any of that other damn stuff. If left to my own devices, I would have spent my summers reading in my room, building models, listening to music on my cool cassette player and probably watching more tv than I should have. Introversion isn't a crime, you know... but Tom made his unwelcome influence known more times than I can recall, when I'd be contentedly engaged in one of the above sedentary activities, and Mom would come by and say something like "What are you doing in here on such a beautiful day? You should go outside and play!"To which I responded (although not usually aloud) "Play? What do you think I'm doing here?" But my play didn't really count as "play" in Mom's book. It was Tom's play I was supposed to be engaging in. I had a general sense that "go out and play" probably involved some sort of team sports, which I was not much a fan of, or some vague kind of frolicking in the sunshine, the specifics of which eluded me. Once I went outside though, I never knew exactly what I was supposed to do. More often than not, when shoo'd out of the house, I'd just bring my book with me, and read in the yard. Occasionally Mom would get more aggressive in her efforts and send me away on my bicycle, not to return for a specified time interval. Mostly I'd ride around then, or occasionally drop in on friends to play board games, or some other decidedly non-Sawyeresque activity. Those were the days I knew Tom was conspiring with Mom, whispering like a ghost in her ear to disrupt my favorite pasttimes, and replace them with boyhood romps more alligned with the ideals propegated by Mark Twain and Walt Disney (another of my childhood enemies).My dislike for Tom only grew when I got around to reading his book. I could hardly believe it! Sneaking out of the house late at night? Lying? Not doing chores? Crawling around in prohibited caves? Stealing? Getting into fights?? What the hell?!?!? This is all stuff I would have gotten in trouble for, had I actually done it! Tom Sawyer was like an infuriating sibling who never got held to account; a Bart Simpson, if Bart Simpson wasn't remotely funny. And this was the boy I was supposed to be like?? It was a bitter mixed message; a situation where you just couldn't win. When I look back on the book now, I only recall a few specifics. One of them is the famous fence painting scene. Tom tricks his friends into helping him paint a fence by convincing them how much fun it is. He stands there, whistling and painting away, telling his buddies what a great time he's having, until pretty soon they are begging to be allowed to participate. He refuses at first- wanting to keep the "fun" for himself, but eventually reluctantly remits. I think he even charges them money for the pleasure. What a manipulative bastard. If he were alive today, he'd probably be running a sweatshop somewhere, inducing seven year olds to make Nike sneakers for 30 cents an hour (without bathroom breaks). Or maybe he'd be working as a Director for the Federal Reserve. I can picture him in a press conference, the skinny blonde freckled kid of yesteryear now grown into a doughy, pale late middle aged fat man with bloodshot eyes, jowls, excessive nose and ear hair, and male pattern baldness. He'd stand there with his script, sweating under the camera lights in his ill-fitting suit, and tell the American public how lucky we all are that the Fed is going to "save" us from economic collapse with quantitative easing and a big "liquidity" injection of worthless paper money which will destroy the value of our hard-earned savings. Then he and his Goldman Sachs buddies would duck into a back room to do some lines of blow with Becky Thatcher, laughing all the while at what a bunch of suckers we all are.Fuck you, Tom Sawyer.