Alex James's Blog: AlexJamesNovels Blog - Posts Tagged "hg-wells"

It seems awkward to write a frank review of a book by a deceased author, but that is what I shall attempt to do. Before reading War of the Worlds, my only experience of the story was the Tom Cruise film. I was quite astonished when I started reading to see that the setting is not the modern world. (How could it be, when the author wrote War of the Worlds at the end of the 19th century?). Instead it was Victorian London, a world without computers and flying machines.

When a shooting star is seen by telescope, wonder was the only possible emotion for the narrator/main protagonist. Wonder of what is, and would could be? It’s satisfying to know there were keen minds that thought further than the town and society they lived; indeed much criticism was made of the common people who could not even conceptualise or imagine what an alien was. An alien, as in a being from a different planet, would appear as man does, would it not?

From this setting, HG Wells uses his flair for description to give us a vivid and at first terrifying glimpse of London under siege by Martian terror machines. It was not simply an attack of superior weaponry against humanity, but one of psychology, for the human race was ill-prepared to foresee such brutal and uncompromising attacks. An intelligent race that would ignore all attempts at communication and prioritise the destruction of humanity was outside the realms of reason. From apathy to mindless terror we are reduced to, and I could not help but see the irony of it all. The narrator’s biggest fear was that the Martians would be carnivores, i.e like man. Many comparisons are made between how a man sees and treats harmless insects or bees, and how the Martians, in their massive killing machines, may well perceive humanity. Yet, the main protagonist had to scour the countryside for animals to kill and eat in his desperate escape.

Another point of criticism was that, though the description and use of language was superb, I felt it lacked certain immediacy. When other characters are introduced, it is also through the narrator/main protagonist’s thoughts and there are large gaps between current events and these digressions. The reaction to dead bodies reads numbly throughout, but I’m not sure if this was intentional. Some modern readers may well be put off by the London setting, which may not have a lot of relevance to the present.

What I liked most about War of the Worlds was, strangely, the horror of it all. In the first six or seven chapters, I was there, witnessing something so terrible and abhorrent mainly because it was mysterious and unfathomable. In the great machinations of the universe, humankind seemed miniscule, irrelevant even. Overall the human response to such an overwhelming event was educational, and I would read more of HG Wells’ books because there was a stroke of originality in it, set apart as it is from the present. And no mention of computers!

My third HG Well’s novel read and I’ve started to notice that he often has a main character on the run from something: mustering violence to protect against innumerable or unfathomable enemies, facing starvation through the quaint English countryside, and then having to make use of reason to to make sense of the extremely improbable. Humorously, most of the sub-characters aren’t on the run as such, but are so highly panicked and foolish that it makes the heroic main characters look calm and collected by comparison. The sub-characters engage in gossip, wild speculation, and this drives their collective fury to such a level as to make all hell break loose on the roads. It doesn’t require a close examination to deduce that when reading HG Well’s novels, we are reading about a fragile society that is faced with what to them is an impossible occurrence: an invisible man!

Did this make me sympathise with the glut of people? Not really, for their (at first) baseless rumours convinced me that they did not need an invisible man to “appear” to startle them and provoke them into collective insanity. When the invisible man is “revealed” to them, the level of panic and outrage is turned up a notch, perhaps understandably, but it was difficult for most to see reason or think how there could be an invisible man; most were not enquiring minds. Kemp, introduced quite late in the novel, has an enquiring mind and scientific background. An educated man, if you will. Kemp sees those running away from an “invisible man” down the hill outside his window as classic fools, in the absence of evidence.

As for the invisible man himself, during the early few chapters I sympathised with him greatly, wrapped up as he was in bandages to conceal his affliction. He only wanted privacy from questions, but his odd garments and need to seclude himself naturally led to idle gossip and then break in’s and direct questions. It was easy to forgive the invisible man’s cruelty at this stage. The reader soon sees how infuriating it really is to be invisible in the 19th century: good for the element of surprise and disappearing but not ideal for survival in human towns and villages.

The Invisible Man is an intriguing tale, wound well with originality stemming from its main concept. Everywhere he went, he caused trouble and alarm. Though there was a touch too much background into how the invisible man arrived where he did, we got to learn how he made himself invisible and of his tribulations before the commencement of the novel. It was as much about how flawed Griffin (the invisible man) was; how his strengths made him a terror and how his weaknesses escalated the hunt against him; as about the novelty of being invisible. This is a stunning novel, with writing that flows so well it seems to swim pleasantly in the mind. Highly recommended!

‘There it must be, I think, in the vast and eternal laws of matter, and not in the daily cares and sins and troubles of men that whatever is more than animal within us must find its solace and its hope.’

First impressions
I wasn’t sure on opening the book what sort of story I was letting myself in for – I didn’t even know what vivisection was and I supposed I imagined some island with strange monsters akin to Planet of the Apes. The fact it was written by HG Wells was enough for me, and there were times as in his other works, when his flair for description really increased the pace of the story and got across the character of things: ‘over the taffrail leaned a silent black figure, staring at the waves …’

What’s the story about?
I thought it was about cruelty, foremost, and I wasn’t sure I agreed with the author: the thought that a human could be ‘vivisected’ is seen as abhorrent in the book, but less tragic if it were an animal, which was a presumption I did not feel I agreed with. There were other instances displaying the superiority of man, with a whip or weapon, next to lowly beasts. Until after the end of the story, when I felt I’d missed the point. Perhaps author HG Wells was challenging these assumptions about the superiority of ‘man’, showing us we’re no less fallible than those creatures we seek to control. What are our primitive instincts when seen from another?

‘That another’ in the story is main character Prendick, who on arriving on the island observes the bizarre creations of notorious Doctor Moreau, often fearing for his life or succumbing to rapid pacing or fitful rages; a characteristic I see as typical of HG Wells’ main characters.

Criticism
Some of the initial descriptions of the monsters and Prendick’s response to them could have been more snappy and impactful. I think the reason was that the general descriptions were meant to provide an air of mystery and the unknown, which the author did elaborate on afterward.

Conclusion
The end was the reason for the entire book, covered in less than four pages, and proved, in case you had any doubt, you were not simply reading wild fascinating adventures on an island with beasts, but a classic story with a powerful end. It contained a quote I found to be meaningful and special: ‘There it must be, I think, in the vast and eternal laws of matter, and not in the daily cares and sins and troubles of men that whatever is more than animal within us must find its solace and its hope.’