Herbert George Wells was born to a working class family in Kent, England. Young Wells received a spotty education, interrupted by several illnesses and family difficulties, and became a draper's apprentice as a teenager. The headmaster of Midhurst Grammar School, where he had spent a year, arranged for him to return as an "usher," or student teacher. Wells earned a government scholarship in 1884, to study biology under Thomas Henry Huxley at the Normal School of Science. Wells earned his bachelor of science and doctor of science degrees at the University of London. After marrying his cousin, Isabel, Wells began to supplement his teaching salary with short stories and freelance articles, then books, including The Time Machine (1895), The Island of Dr. Moreau (1896), The Invisible Man (1897), and The War of the Worlds (1898).
Wells created a mild scandal when he divorced his cousin to marry one of his best students, Amy Catherine Robbins. Although his second marriage was lasting and produced two sons, Wells was an unabashed advocate of free (as opposed to "indiscriminate") love. He continued to openly have extra-marital liaisons, most famously with Margaret Sanger, and a ten-year relationship with the author Rebecca West, who had one of his two out-of-wedlock children. A one-time member of the Fabian Society, Wells sought active change. His 100 books included many novels, as well as nonfiction, such as A Modern Utopia (1905), The Outline of History (1920), A Short History of the World (1922), The Shape of Things to Come (1933), and The Work, Wealth and Happiness of Mankind (1932). One of his booklets was Crux Ansata, An Indictment of the Roman Catholic Church. Although Wells toyed briefly with the idea of a "divine will" in his book, God the Invisible King (1917), it was a temporary aberration. Wells used his international fame to promote his favorite causes, including the prevention of war, and was received by government officials around the world. He is best-remembered as an early writer of science fiction and futurism.
He was also an outspoken socialist. Wells and Jules Verne are each sometimes referred to as "The Fathers of Science Fiction". D. 1946.
“It’s this accursed science,” I cried. “It’s the very Devil. The medieval priests and their precursors were right, and the moderns are all wrong. You tamper with it and it offers you gifts. And directly you take them it knocks you to pieces in some unexpected way. Old passions and new weapons-now it upsets your religion, now it upsets your social ideas, now it whirls you off to desolations and misery!”
And with The First Men in the Moon (⭐️⭐️), the snappily named Three More Novels of the Future earns its own full 3 ⭐️s! Mainly because it starts so strong but then promptly starts to peter out as the novels continue.
Not to say they are bad! A Story of Days to Come genuinely surprised me. As did this collection’s sort of…inherent goofiness? Like my experience with Wells kinda starts and stops at War of the Worlds and my attitude since then (middle school) has been like he’s this austere, high-minded sort of guy.
And then he’s like…vivisecting dudes into animals and vice versa and he’s writing about the shittiness of businessmen and all these genuinely funny exchanges with just working stiffs from alternate figures and pasts. Pretty fun! Obviously I wish his entries in this list had a more horror bent but I was happy (enough) to spend a weekend on two (of three) of these.
So far I’ve read 2/3 of the stories in this omnibus. My rating reflects my overall feelings of what I’ve read so far and I will update it if necessary when I read the last. Individual ratings inline:
The First Men in the Moon (5/5):
I was smiling basically the whole time I read this. I’ve read three Wells’ novels now (WW, TM) and this one easily takes the cake. I suppose it’s more in line with my type of literature (space!) but it is also hilarious. I don’t remember the other two being so funny. This book has two main characters (I think its safe to say the other have one each) and while neither I would say was a dedicated comic relief, their interactions make for some truly hilarious reading.
Wells was a master of his trade evidenced by his ability to write a comedic, adventurous, philosophical, and romantic (as in flowery AF language) account all wrapped up in one short novel.
I am shocked at some of the narrative choices he makes as the author in the later stages of the book. But I like how it turns out. The last few chapters feel a little unnecessary however don’t hurt the story in any way - just make a perfectly paced novella a tad longer than it needed to be.
The Island of Doctor Moreau (3/5):
This must have been a wild idea in its day. In modern times, I’m not so impressed. The idea seems a tad silly and Moreau’s justification has some substance (what is pain?) but not sufficient to not think of him as a demented lunatic, which may well be what Wells was going for, but which failed to impress me.
There wasn’t much of a twist and none of the characters were particularly lovable or very interesting. But it was a Wells novella, so it was written adroitly and some parts, particularly descriptions of survivalism and human emotion (even if they are just semblances in the Beast Folk) captivated me.
Favorite word which I learned (relearned?) from this book: vulpine. And here’s a related line to go with it that I love: “An animal may be ferocious and cunning enough, but it takes a real man to tell a lie.” Oh, Wells.
I started reading H.G. Wells when overseas in Norway at the age of ten, his books being available there in English. It was at my Uncle Einar's summer home overlooking the Oslofjord that I first read Moreau, a reading punctuated by occasional glances through a spyglass of the flagging of the ships slowly passing below.
The Shape of Things to Come I may have first seen with Dad on public television as the old black and white movie with Raymond Massie. The movie, despite its extreme old age, is excellent. I took a bunch of my supposed psychotic gang-bangers from Mercy Mission to a public library showing and they loved it. In the age of Blade Runner, I hadn't expected that from them. The special effects--mostly miniatures--are impressive.
First Men on the Moon I saw at the Pickwick Theatre in Park Ridge, Illinois when it came out at the age of twelve, a few years before we landed there. Immersed as I was in the space program, the film was thrilling. I may have purchased this collection because I hadn't read it before.