“The idea arrived in the most prosaic of ways … in that summer of 1894 when he was twenty years old …”
THUNDERSTRUCK is a story of two men who, except for what they might have read in news articles, were almost certainly unaware of one another.
The first, Guglielmo Marconi, through a serendipitous combination of persistence, vision, self-confidence and self-promotion, narcissism, an abundance of scientific intuition based on reasonable guesswork (not, to be sure, directed by even the least amount of direct scientific research or knowledge), is now regarded as the erstwhile inventor of wireless telegraphy. He was a self-centered, driven man and, while he might have been considered a decent catch by some ladies owing to his considerable wealth and reasonably prominent social position, he was definitely a poor example of a husband and often might have even forgotten that he was actually married.
The second, Hawley Crippen, was an unlikely murderer. A meek, mild, soft-spoken and unassuming man who apparently allowed himself to be mercilessly browbeaten, henpecked and dominated by a social-climbing woman who, despite being utterly talentless, considered herself qualified for stage and theater, Crippen was, in fact, a brilliant, coldly calculating murderer with nerves of steel, who came within an ace of executing the perfect murder. Despite that, the obvious depth of his love for his second wife, was charming and clearly evoked sympathy even in the mind of the investigating detective who ultimately tracked him down and arrested him.
THUNDERSTRUCK was set in Edwardian London and Cornwall just after the turn of the century and prior to the commencement of World War I hostilities; the weather beaten and Atlantic windswept shores of Newfoundland, Nova Scotia and Cape Cod; in the stuffy, erudite halls of theaters presenting lectures on the latest advances in the scientific understanding of electromagnetism; in (definitely less than erudite) theaters presenting entertainments ranging from opera to bawdy vaudevillian crudités; and on board the latest and the finest trans-Atlantic cruise ships. The description of the geography and the settings in which the story took place were colorful, evocative, and often (in my opinion, at least) quite luscious. Not that it had anything to do in particular with the story in England, I was particularly taken, for example, by this portrayal of Marconi’s childhood home in Italy:
“ … a large stone box of three stories fronted with stucco painted the color of autumn wheat. Twenty windows in three rows punctuated its front wall, each framed heavy green shutters. Tubs planted with lemon trees stood on the terrace before the main door. A loggia was laced with paulownia that bloomed with clusters of mauve blossoms. To the south, at midday, the Apennines blued the horizon. As dusk arrived, the turned pink from the falling sun.”
Despite the interesting backdrop of Edwardian history conveyed with loving attention to detail, I ultimately felt that the connection between Marconi and Crippen was tenuous and forced at best solely for the purpose of shoehorning two interesting characters into a historical tale that ultimately reached no higher than the level of moderately entertaining. While I’m pleased to have read it and am happy to recommend to readers of non-fiction history, I’ll close with my opinion that THUNDERSTRUCK is not in the same league as Larson’s IN THE GARDEN OF BEASTS or THE DEVIL IN THE WHITE CITY.
Paul Weiss