I recently stumbled across an inexpensive ebook copy of Arthur C. Clarke’s Dolphin Island, which is a book I read to destruction when I was a young teenager. (Literally. The paperback eventually fell apart, which is why I no longer had a copy.) Going back to those books is always an iffy proposition, or at least it is for me. Tastes change, styles change, and you never know what unremembered dealbreaker is going to appear in the text. But I still had very fond, if blurry, memories of the book, and it was, as I said, inexpensive, so…
