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A Dream of Armageddon
I woke up, I say, because the girl had stopped fanning me. I was not surprised to find myself there or anything of that sort, you understand. I did not feel I had fallen into it suddenly. I simply took it up at that point. Whatever memory I had of this life, this nineteenth-century life, faded as I woke, vanished like a dream. I knew all about myself, knew that my name was no longer Cooper but Hedon, and all about my position in the world. I've forgotten a lot since I woke--there's a want of connection--but it was all quite clear and matter of fact then. - Alibris
Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1901
About the author
H.G. Wells
5,502 books11.4k followersHerbert 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.
More: http://philosopedia.org/index.php/H._...
http://www.online-literature.com/well...
http://www.hgwellsusa.50megs.com/
http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/t...
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/H._G._Wells
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.
More: http://philosopedia.org/index.php/H._...
http://www.online-literature.com/well...
http://www.hgwellsusa.50megs.com/
http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/t...
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/H._G._Wells
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 78 reviews
August 24, 2015
“A Dream of Armageddon” is a short story by H.G Wells - who is often referred to as “The Father of Science Fiction” – originally published in 1901. Through the intimate dreams of one of the characters in the story, H.G. Wells take the reader to a future world, which is in the brink of an armed conflict and paints some chilling images on what is in store for the mankind.
The story reads like a hazy dream, but the startling fact here is the prophecy like nature with which H.G Wells narrates this story of an imminent apocalyptic conflict. Written 2 years before the first recorded flight of an heavier-than-air aircraft and a decade before the First World War with it’s fighter planes, H.G. Wells predicts a grim future, with armadas of flying bombers and death and destruction raining from them, like an oracle.
We can detect some of the social/ political anxieties and thoughts that the author is oriented towards in this short story. A quick, but absorbing read.
The story reads like a hazy dream, but the startling fact here is the prophecy like nature with which H.G Wells narrates this story of an imminent apocalyptic conflict. Written 2 years before the first recorded flight of an heavier-than-air aircraft and a decade before the First World War with it’s fighter planes, H.G. Wells predicts a grim future, with armadas of flying bombers and death and destruction raining from them, like an oracle.
We can detect some of the social/ political anxieties and thoughts that the author is oriented towards in this short story. A quick, but absorbing read.
December 30, 2025
Brutal
H. G. Wells — ah, what a man you are.
This was a bold idea with near-perfect execution. It takes real courage to speak about war this bluntly, to strip it of the lies polished by history books and expose it as it truly is, not as so-called world leaders want it remembered.
The story is about crushed dreams — the dreams of those shipped off to war to fight for the ego of generals who remain warm, comfortable, and safe in their own beds. Men sent to the front lines as expendable pieces in someone else’s game.
As the protagonist endures life as a soldier, he begins to understand the ugly truth of war. He is stripped of everything: meaning, choice, identity. He finds himself fighting and killing people he has no personal hatred for, people he doesn’t even know, in battles that mean nothing to him.
Then come the dreams — the mind’s desperate attempt to shield itself from unbearable reality. In those dreams, he longs to escape. He wishes to live freely under the sun, to feel its warmth on his skin, to smell the ocean, to simply live and love. The dream becomes his armor, the only place where he can breathe.
But dreams cannot last forever. Eventually, he is forced to wake up to a reality that crushes the soul and murders hope.
This story carries all the unspoken pain of those dragged into war against their will. It speaks for the voiceless, screams for the missing souls, and mourns the dreams that were never allowed to live. It is not about glory or honor — it is about loss, exploitation, and the quiet devastation of human lives sacrificed for power and pride.
H. G. Wells — ah, what a man you are.
This was a bold idea with near-perfect execution. It takes real courage to speak about war this bluntly, to strip it of the lies polished by history books and expose it as it truly is, not as so-called world leaders want it remembered.
The story is about crushed dreams — the dreams of those shipped off to war to fight for the ego of generals who remain warm, comfortable, and safe in their own beds. Men sent to the front lines as expendable pieces in someone else’s game.
As the protagonist endures life as a soldier, he begins to understand the ugly truth of war. He is stripped of everything: meaning, choice, identity. He finds himself fighting and killing people he has no personal hatred for, people he doesn’t even know, in battles that mean nothing to him.
Then come the dreams — the mind’s desperate attempt to shield itself from unbearable reality. In those dreams, he longs to escape. He wishes to live freely under the sun, to feel its warmth on his skin, to smell the ocean, to simply live and love. The dream becomes his armor, the only place where he can breathe.
But dreams cannot last forever. Eventually, he is forced to wake up to a reality that crushes the soul and murders hope.
This story carries all the unspoken pain of those dragged into war against their will. It speaks for the voiceless, screams for the missing souls, and mourns the dreams that were never allowed to live. It is not about glory or honor — it is about loss, exploitation, and the quiet devastation of human lives sacrificed for power and pride.
April 6, 2021
ENGLISH: In this story, published in 1901, Wells predicts the onset of the First World War for two hundred years later (i.e. the beginning of the 22nd century). In his novel The World Set Free, written in 1913 and published in 1914, the same war starts in 1956. In those 12 years Wells had "improved" his prediction a little. Not much, as the War he was predicting actually started in 1914.
The trick used here to predict the future is making one person dream the life of another person who will live 200 years later. Wells used a different trick in his novel The Time Machine.
The story is stupid. The supposed savior of the world ends up being a fool.
ESPAÑOL: En este cuento, publicado en 1901, Wells predice el comienzo de la Primera Guerra Mundial para doscientos años más tarde (es decir, para principios del siglo 22). En su novela The World Set Free, escrita en 1913 y publicada en 1914, esa misma guerra comienza en 1956. En esos 12 años, Wells "mejoró" un poco su predicción. No mucho, ya que la Guerra que predecía comenzó, de hecho, en 1914.
El truco que se utiliza aquí para predecir el futuro es hacer que una persona sueñe la vida de otra que viviría 200 años después. Wells utilizó un truco diferente en su novela The Time Machine.
La historia es estúpida. El supuesto salvador del mundo resulta ser tonto.
The trick used here to predict the future is making one person dream the life of another person who will live 200 years later. Wells used a different trick in his novel The Time Machine.
The story is stupid. The supposed savior of the world ends up being a fool.
ESPAÑOL: En este cuento, publicado en 1901, Wells predice el comienzo de la Primera Guerra Mundial para doscientos años más tarde (es decir, para principios del siglo 22). En su novela The World Set Free, escrita en 1913 y publicada en 1914, esa misma guerra comienza en 1956. En esos 12 años, Wells "mejoró" un poco su predicción. No mucho, ya que la Guerra que predecía comenzó, de hecho, en 1914.
El truco que se utiliza aquí para predecir el futuro es hacer que una persona sueñe la vida de otra que viviría 200 años después. Wells utilizó un truco diferente en su novela The Time Machine.
La historia es estúpida. El supuesto salvador del mundo resulta ser tonto.
October 31, 2015
The edition which I bought had another story in it”The man who could make miracles” and it’s the story I’m gonna talk about.
“With great power comes great responsibility” is the first thing that came to my mind after I finished this
A man with no faith tries to prove that miracles are impossible. In his attempt to prove otherwise he made one himself. One night while he is trying to see what the limits are in his new power, a man sees him. In one panic moment he sends him in San Francisco. Guiltiness does not leave him alone, so he goes to church to find a solution. Not only he didn’t find the answer to his question but under the guide of the chaplain he will make a great mistake. When things go wrong he will realize that the answer was inside him all the time.
An amazing story with a lot of messages. At the end I was feeling that I was watching a Christopher Nolan’s movie
“With great power comes great responsibility” is the first thing that came to my mind after I finished this
A man with no faith tries to prove that miracles are impossible. In his attempt to prove otherwise he made one himself. One night while he is trying to see what the limits are in his new power, a man sees him. In one panic moment he sends him in San Francisco. Guiltiness does not leave him alone, so he goes to church to find a solution. Not only he didn’t find the answer to his question but under the guide of the chaplain he will make a great mistake. When things go wrong he will realize that the answer was inside him all the time.
An amazing story with a lot of messages. At the end I was feeling that I was watching a Christopher Nolan’s movie
October 1, 2020
2.5/5 stars, dragged on & on
I know many people say that H.G. Wells is the father of science fiction, and I do believe that The Invisible Man is a wonderful spooky classic. But most of his short stories in this book were, meh?
I felt like I was dragging through this book whenever I read it (hence the 15 days it took me). It felt like a 600+ book but it was short. I think the writing style was a bit weird but it also doesn’t help that I feel a few of the stories were very alike in the book.
Not to mention the fact that there was some racist language, not to expose how bad it is but just a part of a couple of the stories. I understand that these are old stories, but in reality he could have gotten by, by writing them a different way and not saying those things or making them savages.
There were a few good stories in here that I enjoyed, although most of them were dragged out. I do think he’s a nice author but his short stories just didn’t do it for me, and of course the racist language. Happy to have finished this!
I know many people say that H.G. Wells is the father of science fiction, and I do believe that The Invisible Man is a wonderful spooky classic. But most of his short stories in this book were, meh?
I felt like I was dragging through this book whenever I read it (hence the 15 days it took me). It felt like a 600+ book but it was short. I think the writing style was a bit weird but it also doesn’t help that I feel a few of the stories were very alike in the book.
Not to mention the fact that there was some racist language, not to expose how bad it is but just a part of a couple of the stories. I understand that these are old stories, but in reality he could have gotten by, by writing them a different way and not saying those things or making them savages.
There were a few good stories in here that I enjoyed, although most of them were dragged out. I do think he’s a nice author but his short stories just didn’t do it for me, and of course the racist language. Happy to have finished this!
May 29, 2020
Yup the future does hold a heck of a lot fighting in planes and death.
January 13, 2023
أحد القراء وصف القصة بأنها غبية
أعتقد أنه محق في ذلك الوصف
أعتقد أنه محق في ذلك الوصف
June 22, 2018
One of my absolute favorite H.G. Wells stories. It provokes the mind to ponder a false reality, not to different from our own, leaving the reader to wonder: Are my dreams real? Or am I only imagining?
March 3, 2025
This guy predicted the future
June 17, 2026
A romantic story about dreams and how our own dreams die, stifeled by the way the present rules our lives. I am slowly getting used to H.G. Wells prose.
March 10, 2024
Première nouvelle excellente, elle se lit super rapidement et explore bien le monde du rêve et tout ce qui s’en suit
Mais alors la deuxième nouvelle, j’étais en mode wtf?? C’est toujours sur la thématique du rêve, ce qui est un thème super intéressant mais la fin ?? Genre wtf elle se termine comme ça??
Mais alors la deuxième nouvelle, j’étais en mode wtf?? C’est toujours sur la thématique du rêve, ce qui est un thème super intéressant mais la fin ?? Genre wtf elle se termine comme ça??
March 4, 2025
Penguin books, 2007.
A scenic and vivid text.
An interesting topos of "the shape of things to come".
It revolves around a big war conflict in Europe, written before WW1.
Nothing strange about that, the Franco-Prussian war from the begging of the 1870s was probably still present in a narrative and cultural way in the 1890s.
A protosteampunk content here.
Hasta luego mis murciélagos!
A scenic and vivid text.
An interesting topos of "the shape of things to come".
It revolves around a big war conflict in Europe, written before WW1.
Nothing strange about that, the Franco-Prussian war from the begging of the 1870s was probably still present in a narrative and cultural way in the 1890s.
A protosteampunk content here.
Hasta luego mis murciélagos!
February 18, 2020
ძაან კლასნი
April 17, 2023
Eh… it was fun and intriguing at first, but then it became just boring and I was hoping it would be saved with a groundbreaking ending or smth but it wasn’t. It had some nice quotes, though (2.8/5⭐️).
April 23, 2024
Is there any refuge for life and love in a world always hell-bent on war? Would you give up life and love if you knew you could likely stop war by toiling ceaselessly to prevent it? H.G. Wells predicts world-wide war in this story, written in 1901, disquietly catching the nature of what conflict and international politics would be like in the coming decades... though he thought it was hundreds of years in the future, after a long period of peace. It's unfortunate the skies above Europe and elsewhere would be speckled with the flying machines and "terrible new weapons" much sooner, during his lifetime. Not once, but twice.
June 1, 2026
Nice dream i liked how it started, nice depiction of war and death
May 30, 2026
review of
H. G. Wells's A Dream of Armageddon - The complete Supernatural Tales
by tENTATIVELY, a cONVENIENCE - May 25-30, 2026
For the complete review go here: http://idioideo.pleintekst.nl/CriticA...
It seems to me that I start every review of an H. G. Wells bk in pretty much the same way; Reading his The Time Machine was an instantiating experience of reading SF at an early age (12? 13?) of great importance to me; I had a picture of him & his wife sitting naked on the porch of a cabin in a nudist colony - this, too, made quite an impression on me.
I was browsing in my favorite local used bkstore (Caliban) when I saw this on the shelves. I was immediately excited! I didn't know that Wells had written supernatural stories. I'd read some of his SF & some of his straight fiction - here was a new territory to be explored. There's an intro by Brian Stableford, another good sign, Stableford seems to only associate himself w/ the more esoteric end of lit, I like him. From Stabelford's Introduction:
"Wells described the sudden emergence of a new fleet of markets for short fiction in the 1890s, as a result of the founding of a large number of new magazines of various kinds, with the result that 'no short story f the slightest distinction went for long unrecognized'. There was still arelative abundance of popular magazines in 1911—although that number was soon to be severely trimmed by the Great War—but the nature of the marketplace had shifted considerably. Wells observed that he made his own prolific contributions when 'the sixpenny popular magazineshad still to deaden down the conception of what a short story might be to the imaginative limitation of the common reader—and a mazimum length of six thousand words'. He knew how fortunate he was to have made his own debut in a period when the magazines were still in their experimental phase, willing to try anything" - p vii
"This showcase collection of Wells's supernatural fiction will permit its readers to discern the broad extent to which modern philosophical fantasy rests on precedents laid by Wells, and will allow his landmark works in that vein—which all literate people ought to have read at least once—to be set within a more complex web of steadily-evolving work." - p xvi
The stories are from 1888 to 1937, 49 yrs of his life. That's quite a span.
From the very beginning of his 1st story here I was astounded by Wells as a 'Master Story Teller':
"ALEC had heard his wife playing, and had thrown down his brushes and come to the chair beside the old-fashioned square piano. It was a wide, velvet-covered arm-chair, in which he had perforce to clasp his hands behind his head and lounge luxuriously if he meant to sit in it at all—a chair not easily to be sat in without perfect easiness, a chair with the embrace of Morpheus and the inspiration of the herb Papaver." - p 1
Rereading that 1st paragraph now I don't have such a strong reaction to it. Still, I have to try to analyze why I was so moved originally. Wells's writing seems somehow solidly 19th century, as does that of William Dean Howells, another writer I like. I'm also in the midst of reading Helen Hooven Santmyer's 1,344pp novel ...And Ladies of the Club wch I'm loving in a similar way. What is it about the writing?! In some ways it's very conventional but there's a depth to it tat pushes it beyong convention. When I read it I feel like I'm in a world where people had vocabularies, that's certainly not the case in my life now. Recently, I was rereading an older bk of mine & realizing how vvvvaaaasssssttttt my vocabulary of the time was. Never more. I remember reading about Agatha Christie's later novels & reading that you cd tell she was in declining health b/c her vocabulary was so obviously shrunken. Wells's descriptions luxuriate in themselves. The arm-chair that one sinks into is important for setting the scene, the mood. But it's not just tyhe descriptions. Wells plays w/ the reader, like a mystery writer, he reveals bits & pieces, obviously holding back, the story isn't just told from A to B. That's normal craft, I suppose, but he's so damned good at it.
"In a flash of passion he struck the brush full of bright red athwart the picture; and then a very curious thing, a very strange thing indeed, occurred—if it did occur.
"The diabolified Italian before him shut both his eyes, pursed his mouth, and wiped the colour off his face with his hand!
"Then the red eye opened again and the face smiled. 'That was rather hasty hasty of you,' it said.
"Curiously enough, Alec did not feel frightened or very much astonished. Perhaps he was too much exasperated." - p 4
On to another story, "Walcott", it begins:
"IT WAS Christmas Eve at Walcott. Most of the long salloon was in deep shadow, only here and there faint glimmers of reflected light showed where tables and vases and chairs and lounges were placed. A low screen stood before the wide fireplace. Ever and again the ruddy flicker from the spitting logs would leap and beckon over this, calling into visible existence a spectral faint room, the tall white caryatides of the great entrance, the bronze Satan that stood by the grand piano. As the unsteady shadows moved it seemed as if this latter figure stirred, waving its upraised arms, and as if the satyr caryatides smiled." - p 12
He's really setting us up w/ this one, eh?! Christmas Eve & Satan?! IS someone's soul in danger?
"'Do, in heaven's name, stop that,' cried Edwin, nervous now to savageness. 'You know how his disappearance has weighed on my mind; how I would give my soul to have Sir Harry, or Sir Harry's body, discovered—
"'Oh, Edwin!'
"Edwin became livid. 'What was that? Did you speak, Vitzelley? Di you hear anything?'" - p 16
On to "The Flowering of the Strange Orchid":
"THE buying of orchids always has in it a certain speculative flavour. You have before you the brown shrivelled lump of tissue, and for the rest you must trust your judgment, or the auctioneer, or your good luck, as your taste may incline. The plant may be moribund or dead, or it may be just a respectable purchase, fair value for your money, or perhaps—for the thing has happened again and again—there slowly unfolds before the delighted purchaser, day after day, some new variety, some novel richness, a strange twist of the labellum, or some subtler colouration or unexpected mimicry." - p 19
I'm not sure I've ever read a story w/ orchids in it in wch they're described as anything other than super-exotic & usually dependent on special hothouse conditions. I worked for museums, museums often earn their bread & butter w/ special events. After one of these I was gifted 2 plants that'd been a part of the event & left behind: a cactus & an orchid. I was prepared for the cactus to not take much maintenance & for the orchid to die quickly under my brown thumb. I put them both on top of a bkshelf next to a window w/ southern exposure. Not only did they both start calling me "Colonel" but they flourished. The orchid epiphytes grew like motherfuckers. They were like dreadlocks. I'd gently touch the aerial roots, if they minded they didn't show it in any way I was sensitive to.
"'Men must work though women may weep,' said Wedderburn with profound gravity.
"'Fancy dying away from every comfort in a nasty swamp! Fancy being ill of fever with nothng to take but chlorodyne and quinine—if men were left to themselves they would live on chlorodyne and quinine—and no one round you but horrible natives! They say the Andaman Islanders are most disgusting wretches—and, anyhow, they can scarely make good nurses, not having the necessary training. And just for people in England to have orchids!'" - p 22
So goes the conversation between the orchid purchaser & his disapproving housekeeper. Whether such a conversation wd've happened anywhere but in a fictional context even in late 19th century England is beyond me. Nonetheless, I find the opening saying & the ensuing somewhat demented worldview to be entertaining.
Skipping over "The Lord of the Dynamos" I gp to "The Temptation of Harringay" wch is a later version of the opening story "The Devotee of Art":
"The head in question was that of an Italian organ-grinder, and Harringay thought—but was not quite sure—that the title would be the 'Vigil'." - p 36
Remember the 1st short story (sortof) reviewed herein in wch there were no spoilers & you basically didn't learn jackshit about what the painter was painting & what the results thereof were? Well now, at least, you get the "Italian organ-grinder" tidbit, postponed, using a technique much like what Wells often uses in these stories. BUT, that's all you get - & I move on to "The Moth":
"Then they heard slippered feet going to and fro in Hapley's room. A chair was overturned and there was a violent dab at the wall. Then a china mantel ornament smashed upon the fender. Suddenly the door of the room opened, and they heard him upon the landing. They clung to one another, listening. He seemed to be dancing upon the staircase. Now he would go down three or four steps quickly, then up again, then hurry down into the hall. They heard the umbrella-stand go over, and the fanlight break. Then the bolt shot and the chain rattled. He was opening the door." - p 48
Servants listening as the 'Master' apparently goes mad? I'm glad the age of 'masters' & servants has somewhat diminished. It's funny/odd to read stories where such contextualizations of relationships is commonplace. British colonialism & smugness is still commonplace too. Wells seems to explore this in a somewhat parodying way in "Pollock and the Porroh Man":
"At any rate, the Porroh man stabbed the woman in the heart as though he had been a a mere low-class Italiam, and very narrowly missed Pollock. But Pollock, using his revolver to parry the lightning stab which was aimed at his deltoid muscle, sent the iron dagger flying, and, firing. hit the man in the hand." - p 51
Ah.. Pollock's struggle w/ the Porroh is a losing one, one w/ an ongoing hallucination that makes his life hell:
"'A pretty fern,' said te manager, following his eyes. 'But it makes the fender rusty.'
"'Very,' said Pollock; 'a very pretty fern. And that reminds me. Can you recommend me a physician for mind troubles? I've got a little—what is it?—hallucination.'
"The head laughed savagely, wildly. Pollock was surprised the manager did not notice it. But the manager only stared at his face." - p 62
Alas, Poor Pollick [sic], nears the end:
"At last, after an age of hesitation, his fingers came down on the patterned cheek of the head. He withdrew them spasmodically. The last stage was reached. His sense of touch had betrayed him." - p 64
"Under the Knife": Indeed, Who will grieve? For any of us.
"[']WHAT if I die under it?' The thought recurred again and again as I walked home from Haddon's. It was a purely personal question. I was spared the deep anxieties of a married man, and I knew there were, few of my intimate friends but would find my death troublesome chiefly on account of their duty of regret. I was surprised indeed and perhaps a little humiliated, as I turned the matter over, to think how few could possibly exceed the conventional requirement. Things came before me stripped of glamour, in a clear and dry light, during that walk from Haddon's house over Primrose Hill." - p 66
Indeed, Who will grieve? As a 72 yr old who's led a very active life & who feels death to be impending I ask myself questions along those lines. It's my opinion that very few, if any, people will grieve. Perhaps I'm just being negative but it seems to me that many will rejoice - not b/c an impediment to their own personal happiness will be removed but b/c they don't like me precisely for the reasons that make me potentially praiseworthy. Maybe it's this that keeps me alive, I want to live long enuf to witness that mindset change - but I don't expect to. Does Wells's character die?:
"So with a, stately swiftness, in the profoundest silence, the solar system fell from me, as it had been a garment, until the sun was a mere star amid the multitude of stars, with its eddy of planet-specks, lost in the confused glittering of the remoter light. I was no longer a denizen of the solar system: I had come to the Outer Universe" - p 75
I find Wells's description to be spectacularly 'cosmic', quite impressive.
"The Plattner Story" has an imaginative premise:
"What is still more singular, unless Gottfried is a consummate actor we must believe that his right hand has recently become his left. Since the occurences we are about to consider (as impartially as possible), he has found the utmost difficulty in writing except from right to left across the paper with his left hand." - p 80
In summary:
"It may be taken as proved that he did disappear for nine days as the consequence of an explosion; that he returned almost as violently, under circumstances in their nature annoying to Mr Lidgett, whatever the details of those circumstances may be; and that he returned inverted, just as a reflection returns from a mirror." - p 86
You don't see that everyday, I suppose that alone makes it supernatural. But, wait, we're no done yet - What about the BUBBLES you ask?
"They were not walking, they were indeed limbless: and they had the appearance of human heads beneath which a tadpole-like body swung. He was too astonished at their strangeness, too full indeed of strangeness, to be seriously alarmed by them. They drove towards him, in front of the chill wind that was blowing uphill, much as soap-bubbles drive before a draught. And as he looked at the nearest of those approaching, he saw it was indeed a human head, albeit with singularly large eyes, and wearing such an expression of distress and anguish as he had never seen before upon mortal counternance." - pp 90-91
Wells, ever-presicent, is merely pointing out that C. V. Boys's 1889 experiments were meant to prove that bubbles shd never be allowed to get driving licenses. If only we had listened to him. But, forget that, Wells wd've never used such a writerly trick - but he's not the one reviewing this bk, I am.. so FUCK 'IM! & did Mr Elvesham really have to die?!
"He shook his head and smiled, as I thought with half-sad appreciation of my flattering admiration. 'That future,' he said; 'would you in truth change it?' The waiter came with liqueurs. 'You will not perhaps mind taking my name, taking my position, but would you mind—willingly—take my years?'" - p 110
Yes, "The Story of the Late Mr Elvesham" is an excellent mind-fuck. Before I knew it I jumped over 3 intervening stories & 42pp as if they were nothing. &, then, "The Man who could work Miracles".. or is it 'THE MAN WHO COULD WORK MIRACLES":
"His name was George McWhirter Fotheringay—not the sort of name by any means to lead to any expectation of miracles—and he was cleark at Gomshott's. He was greatly addicted to assertive argument. It was while he was asserting the impossibility of miracles that he had his first intimation of his extraordinary powers." - p 152
This was made into a movie in 1936, Wells didn't die until 1946. That's not exactly a miracle but it's still pretty great - wch has nothing to do w/ "The Stolen Body".
"He extended his shadowy hand and thrust his vague black fingers, as it seemed, through the heedless brain.
"Then, suddenly, Mr Vincey started like a man who recalls his attention from wandering thoughts, and it seemed to Mr Bessel that a little dark-red body situated in the middle of Mr Vincey's brainswelled and glowed as he did so. Since that experience he has been shown anatomical figures of the brain, and he knows now that this is that useless structure, as doctors call it, the pineal eye." - p 178
The moral being to never snort Pineal Eyedrops or you will meet Judgment Day, ready or not.
"He was ducking and craning his head above to see over and under and between the souls that crowded round us. 'Everybody's here,' he said. 'Everybody. And now we shall know—
"'There's Darwin,' he said, going off at a tangent. 'He'll catch it! And there—you see?—that tall important-looking man trying to catch the eye of the Lord God, that's the Duke. But there's a lot of people one doesn't know.[']" - p 184
What a perfect opportunity for a dance party! I've always wanted to dance w/ Darwin.
"A Dream of Armageddon":
"[']There were all sorts of these things that people were routing out and furbishing up; infernal things, silly things; things that had never been tried; big engines, terrible explosives, great guns. You know the silly way of the ingenious sort of men who make these things; they turn 'em out as beavers build dams, and with no more sense of the rivers they're going to divert and the lands they're going to flood![']" - p 202
This was an intrigueingly complex tale: putting aside the narrator (whose personal tale is the most complex of the lot), imagine a world that'd been at peace for a very long time, back to war again & breaking out the ancient weaponry that no-one knew how to use anymore.
"The New Accelerator":
"[']One wakes up the heart and the viscera and leaves the brain stupefied, one gets at the brain champagne fashion and does nothing good for the solar plexus, and what I want—and what, if it's an earthly possibility, I mean to have—is a stimulant that stimulates all round, that wakes you up for a time from the crown of your head to the tip of your great toe, and makes you go two—or even three to everybody else's one. Eh? That's the thing I'm after.'" - p 214
What I wondered w/ many of these stories was: Was Wells the 1st to capture & present such ideas? In this case, this idea of a universal stimulant, a drug that wd greatly improve one's brilliance & awareness & speed? That seems like a common fantasy now but was it over 100 yrs ago? Personally, I think this is the harbinger of the era of fast food enlightenment, a pill for every problem. It's tantalizing but, outside of fiction, the path to delusion.
"The marvel of drugs has always been great to my mind; you can madden a man, calm a man, make him incredibly strong and alert or a helpless log, quicken this passion and allay that, all by means of drugs, and here was a new miracle to be added to the strange armoury of phials the doctors use! But Gibberne was far too eager upon his technical points to enter very keenly into any aspect of the question." - p 216
H. G. Wells's A Dream of Armageddon - The complete Supernatural Tales
by tENTATIVELY, a cONVENIENCE - May 25-30, 2026
For the complete review go here: http://idioideo.pleintekst.nl/CriticA...
It seems to me that I start every review of an H. G. Wells bk in pretty much the same way; Reading his The Time Machine was an instantiating experience of reading SF at an early age (12? 13?) of great importance to me; I had a picture of him & his wife sitting naked on the porch of a cabin in a nudist colony - this, too, made quite an impression on me.
I was browsing in my favorite local used bkstore (Caliban) when I saw this on the shelves. I was immediately excited! I didn't know that Wells had written supernatural stories. I'd read some of his SF & some of his straight fiction - here was a new territory to be explored. There's an intro by Brian Stableford, another good sign, Stableford seems to only associate himself w/ the more esoteric end of lit, I like him. From Stabelford's Introduction:
"Wells described the sudden emergence of a new fleet of markets for short fiction in the 1890s, as a result of the founding of a large number of new magazines of various kinds, with the result that 'no short story f the slightest distinction went for long unrecognized'. There was still arelative abundance of popular magazines in 1911—although that number was soon to be severely trimmed by the Great War—but the nature of the marketplace had shifted considerably. Wells observed that he made his own prolific contributions when 'the sixpenny popular magazineshad still to deaden down the conception of what a short story might be to the imaginative limitation of the common reader—and a mazimum length of six thousand words'. He knew how fortunate he was to have made his own debut in a period when the magazines were still in their experimental phase, willing to try anything" - p vii
"This showcase collection of Wells's supernatural fiction will permit its readers to discern the broad extent to which modern philosophical fantasy rests on precedents laid by Wells, and will allow his landmark works in that vein—which all literate people ought to have read at least once—to be set within a more complex web of steadily-evolving work." - p xvi
The stories are from 1888 to 1937, 49 yrs of his life. That's quite a span.
From the very beginning of his 1st story here I was astounded by Wells as a 'Master Story Teller':
"ALEC had heard his wife playing, and had thrown down his brushes and come to the chair beside the old-fashioned square piano. It was a wide, velvet-covered arm-chair, in which he had perforce to clasp his hands behind his head and lounge luxuriously if he meant to sit in it at all—a chair not easily to be sat in without perfect easiness, a chair with the embrace of Morpheus and the inspiration of the herb Papaver." - p 1
Rereading that 1st paragraph now I don't have such a strong reaction to it. Still, I have to try to analyze why I was so moved originally. Wells's writing seems somehow solidly 19th century, as does that of William Dean Howells, another writer I like. I'm also in the midst of reading Helen Hooven Santmyer's 1,344pp novel ...And Ladies of the Club wch I'm loving in a similar way. What is it about the writing?! In some ways it's very conventional but there's a depth to it tat pushes it beyong convention. When I read it I feel like I'm in a world where people had vocabularies, that's certainly not the case in my life now. Recently, I was rereading an older bk of mine & realizing how vvvvaaaasssssttttt my vocabulary of the time was. Never more. I remember reading about Agatha Christie's later novels & reading that you cd tell she was in declining health b/c her vocabulary was so obviously shrunken. Wells's descriptions luxuriate in themselves. The arm-chair that one sinks into is important for setting the scene, the mood. But it's not just tyhe descriptions. Wells plays w/ the reader, like a mystery writer, he reveals bits & pieces, obviously holding back, the story isn't just told from A to B. That's normal craft, I suppose, but he's so damned good at it.
"In a flash of passion he struck the brush full of bright red athwart the picture; and then a very curious thing, a very strange thing indeed, occurred—if it did occur.
"The diabolified Italian before him shut both his eyes, pursed his mouth, and wiped the colour off his face with his hand!
"Then the red eye opened again and the face smiled. 'That was rather hasty hasty of you,' it said.
"Curiously enough, Alec did not feel frightened or very much astonished. Perhaps he was too much exasperated." - p 4
On to another story, "Walcott", it begins:
"IT WAS Christmas Eve at Walcott. Most of the long salloon was in deep shadow, only here and there faint glimmers of reflected light showed where tables and vases and chairs and lounges were placed. A low screen stood before the wide fireplace. Ever and again the ruddy flicker from the spitting logs would leap and beckon over this, calling into visible existence a spectral faint room, the tall white caryatides of the great entrance, the bronze Satan that stood by the grand piano. As the unsteady shadows moved it seemed as if this latter figure stirred, waving its upraised arms, and as if the satyr caryatides smiled." - p 12
He's really setting us up w/ this one, eh?! Christmas Eve & Satan?! IS someone's soul in danger?
"'Do, in heaven's name, stop that,' cried Edwin, nervous now to savageness. 'You know how his disappearance has weighed on my mind; how I would give my soul to have Sir Harry, or Sir Harry's body, discovered—
"'Oh, Edwin!'
"Edwin became livid. 'What was that? Did you speak, Vitzelley? Di you hear anything?'" - p 16
On to "The Flowering of the Strange Orchid":
"THE buying of orchids always has in it a certain speculative flavour. You have before you the brown shrivelled lump of tissue, and for the rest you must trust your judgment, or the auctioneer, or your good luck, as your taste may incline. The plant may be moribund or dead, or it may be just a respectable purchase, fair value for your money, or perhaps—for the thing has happened again and again—there slowly unfolds before the delighted purchaser, day after day, some new variety, some novel richness, a strange twist of the labellum, or some subtler colouration or unexpected mimicry." - p 19
I'm not sure I've ever read a story w/ orchids in it in wch they're described as anything other than super-exotic & usually dependent on special hothouse conditions. I worked for museums, museums often earn their bread & butter w/ special events. After one of these I was gifted 2 plants that'd been a part of the event & left behind: a cactus & an orchid. I was prepared for the cactus to not take much maintenance & for the orchid to die quickly under my brown thumb. I put them both on top of a bkshelf next to a window w/ southern exposure. Not only did they both start calling me "Colonel" but they flourished. The orchid epiphytes grew like motherfuckers. They were like dreadlocks. I'd gently touch the aerial roots, if they minded they didn't show it in any way I was sensitive to.
"'Men must work though women may weep,' said Wedderburn with profound gravity.
"'Fancy dying away from every comfort in a nasty swamp! Fancy being ill of fever with nothng to take but chlorodyne and quinine—if men were left to themselves they would live on chlorodyne and quinine—and no one round you but horrible natives! They say the Andaman Islanders are most disgusting wretches—and, anyhow, they can scarely make good nurses, not having the necessary training. And just for people in England to have orchids!'" - p 22
So goes the conversation between the orchid purchaser & his disapproving housekeeper. Whether such a conversation wd've happened anywhere but in a fictional context even in late 19th century England is beyond me. Nonetheless, I find the opening saying & the ensuing somewhat demented worldview to be entertaining.
Skipping over "The Lord of the Dynamos" I gp to "The Temptation of Harringay" wch is a later version of the opening story "The Devotee of Art":
"The head in question was that of an Italian organ-grinder, and Harringay thought—but was not quite sure—that the title would be the 'Vigil'." - p 36
Remember the 1st short story (sortof) reviewed herein in wch there were no spoilers & you basically didn't learn jackshit about what the painter was painting & what the results thereof were? Well now, at least, you get the "Italian organ-grinder" tidbit, postponed, using a technique much like what Wells often uses in these stories. BUT, that's all you get - & I move on to "The Moth":
"Then they heard slippered feet going to and fro in Hapley's room. A chair was overturned and there was a violent dab at the wall. Then a china mantel ornament smashed upon the fender. Suddenly the door of the room opened, and they heard him upon the landing. They clung to one another, listening. He seemed to be dancing upon the staircase. Now he would go down three or four steps quickly, then up again, then hurry down into the hall. They heard the umbrella-stand go over, and the fanlight break. Then the bolt shot and the chain rattled. He was opening the door." - p 48
Servants listening as the 'Master' apparently goes mad? I'm glad the age of 'masters' & servants has somewhat diminished. It's funny/odd to read stories where such contextualizations of relationships is commonplace. British colonialism & smugness is still commonplace too. Wells seems to explore this in a somewhat parodying way in "Pollock and the Porroh Man":
"At any rate, the Porroh man stabbed the woman in the heart as though he had been a a mere low-class Italiam, and very narrowly missed Pollock. But Pollock, using his revolver to parry the lightning stab which was aimed at his deltoid muscle, sent the iron dagger flying, and, firing. hit the man in the hand." - p 51
Ah.. Pollock's struggle w/ the Porroh is a losing one, one w/ an ongoing hallucination that makes his life hell:
"'A pretty fern,' said te manager, following his eyes. 'But it makes the fender rusty.'
"'Very,' said Pollock; 'a very pretty fern. And that reminds me. Can you recommend me a physician for mind troubles? I've got a little—what is it?—hallucination.'
"The head laughed savagely, wildly. Pollock was surprised the manager did not notice it. But the manager only stared at his face." - p 62
Alas, Poor Pollick [sic], nears the end:
"At last, after an age of hesitation, his fingers came down on the patterned cheek of the head. He withdrew them spasmodically. The last stage was reached. His sense of touch had betrayed him." - p 64
"Under the Knife": Indeed, Who will grieve? For any of us.
"[']WHAT if I die under it?' The thought recurred again and again as I walked home from Haddon's. It was a purely personal question. I was spared the deep anxieties of a married man, and I knew there were, few of my intimate friends but would find my death troublesome chiefly on account of their duty of regret. I was surprised indeed and perhaps a little humiliated, as I turned the matter over, to think how few could possibly exceed the conventional requirement. Things came before me stripped of glamour, in a clear and dry light, during that walk from Haddon's house over Primrose Hill." - p 66
Indeed, Who will grieve? As a 72 yr old who's led a very active life & who feels death to be impending I ask myself questions along those lines. It's my opinion that very few, if any, people will grieve. Perhaps I'm just being negative but it seems to me that many will rejoice - not b/c an impediment to their own personal happiness will be removed but b/c they don't like me precisely for the reasons that make me potentially praiseworthy. Maybe it's this that keeps me alive, I want to live long enuf to witness that mindset change - but I don't expect to. Does Wells's character die?:
"So with a, stately swiftness, in the profoundest silence, the solar system fell from me, as it had been a garment, until the sun was a mere star amid the multitude of stars, with its eddy of planet-specks, lost in the confused glittering of the remoter light. I was no longer a denizen of the solar system: I had come to the Outer Universe" - p 75
I find Wells's description to be spectacularly 'cosmic', quite impressive.
"The Plattner Story" has an imaginative premise:
"What is still more singular, unless Gottfried is a consummate actor we must believe that his right hand has recently become his left. Since the occurences we are about to consider (as impartially as possible), he has found the utmost difficulty in writing except from right to left across the paper with his left hand." - p 80
In summary:
"It may be taken as proved that he did disappear for nine days as the consequence of an explosion; that he returned almost as violently, under circumstances in their nature annoying to Mr Lidgett, whatever the details of those circumstances may be; and that he returned inverted, just as a reflection returns from a mirror." - p 86
You don't see that everyday, I suppose that alone makes it supernatural. But, wait, we're no done yet - What about the BUBBLES you ask?
"They were not walking, they were indeed limbless: and they had the appearance of human heads beneath which a tadpole-like body swung. He was too astonished at their strangeness, too full indeed of strangeness, to be seriously alarmed by them. They drove towards him, in front of the chill wind that was blowing uphill, much as soap-bubbles drive before a draught. And as he looked at the nearest of those approaching, he saw it was indeed a human head, albeit with singularly large eyes, and wearing such an expression of distress and anguish as he had never seen before upon mortal counternance." - pp 90-91
Wells, ever-presicent, is merely pointing out that C. V. Boys's 1889 experiments were meant to prove that bubbles shd never be allowed to get driving licenses. If only we had listened to him. But, forget that, Wells wd've never used such a writerly trick - but he's not the one reviewing this bk, I am.. so FUCK 'IM! & did Mr Elvesham really have to die?!
"He shook his head and smiled, as I thought with half-sad appreciation of my flattering admiration. 'That future,' he said; 'would you in truth change it?' The waiter came with liqueurs. 'You will not perhaps mind taking my name, taking my position, but would you mind—willingly—take my years?'" - p 110
Yes, "The Story of the Late Mr Elvesham" is an excellent mind-fuck. Before I knew it I jumped over 3 intervening stories & 42pp as if they were nothing. &, then, "The Man who could work Miracles".. or is it 'THE MAN WHO COULD WORK MIRACLES":
"His name was George McWhirter Fotheringay—not the sort of name by any means to lead to any expectation of miracles—and he was cleark at Gomshott's. He was greatly addicted to assertive argument. It was while he was asserting the impossibility of miracles that he had his first intimation of his extraordinary powers." - p 152
This was made into a movie in 1936, Wells didn't die until 1946. That's not exactly a miracle but it's still pretty great - wch has nothing to do w/ "The Stolen Body".
"He extended his shadowy hand and thrust his vague black fingers, as it seemed, through the heedless brain.
"Then, suddenly, Mr Vincey started like a man who recalls his attention from wandering thoughts, and it seemed to Mr Bessel that a little dark-red body situated in the middle of Mr Vincey's brainswelled and glowed as he did so. Since that experience he has been shown anatomical figures of the brain, and he knows now that this is that useless structure, as doctors call it, the pineal eye." - p 178
The moral being to never snort Pineal Eyedrops or you will meet Judgment Day, ready or not.
"He was ducking and craning his head above to see over and under and between the souls that crowded round us. 'Everybody's here,' he said. 'Everybody. And now we shall know—
"'There's Darwin,' he said, going off at a tangent. 'He'll catch it! And there—you see?—that tall important-looking man trying to catch the eye of the Lord God, that's the Duke. But there's a lot of people one doesn't know.[']" - p 184
What a perfect opportunity for a dance party! I've always wanted to dance w/ Darwin.
"A Dream of Armageddon":
"[']There were all sorts of these things that people were routing out and furbishing up; infernal things, silly things; things that had never been tried; big engines, terrible explosives, great guns. You know the silly way of the ingenious sort of men who make these things; they turn 'em out as beavers build dams, and with no more sense of the rivers they're going to divert and the lands they're going to flood![']" - p 202
This was an intrigueingly complex tale: putting aside the narrator (whose personal tale is the most complex of the lot), imagine a world that'd been at peace for a very long time, back to war again & breaking out the ancient weaponry that no-one knew how to use anymore.
"The New Accelerator":
"[']One wakes up the heart and the viscera and leaves the brain stupefied, one gets at the brain champagne fashion and does nothing good for the solar plexus, and what I want—and what, if it's an earthly possibility, I mean to have—is a stimulant that stimulates all round, that wakes you up for a time from the crown of your head to the tip of your great toe, and makes you go two—or even three to everybody else's one. Eh? That's the thing I'm after.'" - p 214
What I wondered w/ many of these stories was: Was Wells the 1st to capture & present such ideas? In this case, this idea of a universal stimulant, a drug that wd greatly improve one's brilliance & awareness & speed? That seems like a common fantasy now but was it over 100 yrs ago? Personally, I think this is the harbinger of the era of fast food enlightenment, a pill for every problem. It's tantalizing but, outside of fiction, the path to delusion.
"The marvel of drugs has always been great to my mind; you can madden a man, calm a man, make him incredibly strong and alert or a helpless log, quicken this passion and allay that, all by means of drugs, and here was a new miracle to be added to the strange armoury of phials the doctors use! But Gibberne was far too eager upon his technical points to enter very keenly into any aspect of the question." - p 216
September 13, 2010
I happened on this short story while I was at the library looking for something decent to read. From the beginning to the end my eyes were glued to the pages and my mind racing to grab every word. I have read this short story a dozen times and am still intrigued by it. It is my favorite piece by Wells. The intimacy the dreamer has with his dreams is striking to read. It can be imagined and seen how the poor man suffers when his dreams decease and the most clever thing Wells does is getting his audience to have genuine sympathy for the dreamer. This story is an example of pure genius fictional writing.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 21, 2017
I enjoyed this little volume of two creepy stories by H.G. wells. The door in the wall is a sweetly sad story of lost dreams and hopes, and A Dream of Armageddon is a vision of the apocalyptic violence that was about to sweep over Europe. I like these little 2 Euro Folio editions. At 100 pages or so they are nice bite size chunks for people who want to keep up on their French but don't want to commit to 500 page masterpieces.
May 17, 2017
The story itself was really not that remarkable. What is remarkable is H.G. Wells' ability to describe a world war before there ever was such a thing. That reason alone makes this story worth reading.
October 21, 2017
A Dream of Armageddon is actually a 5-star story. I took off a star because it's hitting waaaaay too close to home for comfort right now, given that the alleged "leader" of my country seems determined to emulate Evesham in every respect possible.
July 16, 2015
I think this is my favorite short story.
September 12, 2019
50 გვერდი ისეთი კარგი იყო, რო წავიკითხო უელსის სხვა, მგონია რო არ მომეწონება.
February 18, 2021
https://archive.org/details/WeirdTale...
http://www.gutenberg.org/files/1743/1...
Weird Tales reprint of a short story, first published in 1901 in the British weekly magazine Black and White. It retells the visions of a dream, but, is it really just a dream, or could it be visions of the future? And that's not just a question in the story, you might as well ask it about the story itself. It was written before the Great War (WWI) and foretells of flying war machines, two years before the first successful flight of a heavier-than-air powered aircraft.
Besides foreseeing some of the horrors of the Great War, and playing around with the concept of dreams as visions of the future, it also puts some focus on unavoidable fate.
http://www.gutenberg.org/files/1743/1...
Weird Tales reprint of a short story, first published in 1901 in the British weekly magazine Black and White. It retells the visions of a dream, but, is it really just a dream, or could it be visions of the future? And that's not just a question in the story, you might as well ask it about the story itself. It was written before the Great War (WWI) and foretells of flying war machines, two years before the first successful flight of a heavier-than-air powered aircraft.
Little guns, firing high explosive shells. They fired the guns backwards, out of the base of the leaf, so to speak, and rammed with the beak. That was the theory, you know, but they had never been fought. No one could tell exactly what was going to happen. And meanwhile I suppose it was very fine to go whirling through the air like a flight of young swallows, swift and easy. I guess the captains tried not to think too clearly what the real thing would be like. And these flying war machines, you know, were only one sort of the endless war contrivances that had been invented and had fallen into abeyance during the long peace. There were all sorts of these things that people were routing out and furbishing up; infernal things, silly things; things that had never been tried; big engines, terrible explosives, great guns. You know the silly way of these ingenious sort of men who make these things; they turn 'em out as beavers build dams, and with no more sense of the rivers they're going to divert and the lands they're going to flood!
Besides foreseeing some of the horrors of the Great War, and playing around with the concept of dreams as visions of the future, it also puts some focus on unavoidable fate.
'We must get out of this place,' I said over and over. 'I have made my choice, and I will have no hand in these troubles. I will have nothing of this war. We have taken our lives out of all these things. This is no refuge for us. Let us go.' [...] And all the rest was Flight—all the rest was Flight.
October 25, 2021
Considering this was written in 1901, about a train passenger explaining his recurring dream/nightmare from the distant future which involves orderly squadrons of flying war machines over Southern Italy, coming from the Rhine-mouth, it's not so very far off the mark of real events that were to happen 40yrs later. The writing style frequently reminds me of War of the Worlds and although there are two characters in this story, and perhaps a further few shadows of characters within the dream, this is essentially a monologue describing Wells' visions or premonitions of the future. I didn't find this story wildly exciting, and it would probably benefit from a little more input from the train passenger listener somewhere therein, but it was intelligent, rather credible and must've been quite brilliantly visionary at the time of writing, a few years before the Wright Brothers had even got their string and cloth planes to glide a few yards, let alone fly in armed squadrons, leading an invasion force. 3.75/5
August 25, 2012
These short stories for the most part are boring and uninteresting, though there are a few good ones. He tends to write the stories in an indirect fashion that lacks the engagement needed to fully enjoy them. Below are reviews of each individual Story.
The Devotee of Art:
I didn't enjoy this, I don't remember exactly why. Skimming through it I realize it had a good concept. I assume like the next story it was over the top and had poor execution.
Walcote:
This was the worst Poeesque work I've ever read. H.P. Lovecraft's poeesque works are at least funny in their attempt to be poe. This just fails miserably.
The Flowering of the Strange Orchid:
I enjoyed this one. Not that it is particularly well executed. We know from the title that there is going to be a danger from the orchid. We also know what it's going to do from the reading, but I find the concept interesting, though it is far from uncommon, and it is slightly humorous in its way.
The Lord of the Dynamos:
This story was largely uninteresting. The concept may have potential, but I certainly wouldn't know what to do with it. With the modern view of racism and equality the story could not become popular today. Of course I'm not sure it could become popular even ignoring that.
The Temptation of Harringay:
This is a later version of the first story in the book. It is different, but not much improved.
The Moth:
I enjoyed this one. It's a bit boring at first but length is good, he has not had enough length in order to build up his suspense until this one.
Pollock and the Porroh Man:
This is the first one that is actually slightly chilling. I don't actually care for the story much though. The beginning is near incomprehensible.
Under the Knife:
Traveling out into the cosmos should be much more interesting than this.
The Plattner Story:
This has a good concept, in fact it may be a good story. It has great potential, but it is told so uninterestingly.
The Red Room:
A good ghost story, not particularly scary, but gripping and interesting. The ending is a bit lame, and the final comment seems to have more meaning than the story makes you aware of.
The Story of the Late Mr Elvesham:
This was good, some flaws of course, but the best by far so far.
The Apple:
The stories have hit an area of improvement. This is a short story following an interesting concept. Some might wish for a more exciting ending, but the ability to ponder and wonder instead of having a conclusion presented to the reader is well suited here.
The Crystal Egg:
Another good story, well executed and well written.
The Presence by the Fire:
This story is the least interesting in this good string, but is still decent.
The Man Who Could Work Miracles:
I quite enjoyed this story, though the ending was slightly weird and rushed.
The Stolen Body:
This story is well executed, and the idea is good, but still I hesitate to call it good. I'm not sure why.
A Vision of Judgement:
This story is a religious musing. I did not find it to be very interesting. It starts very unappetizingly as well.
A Dream of Armageddon:
This was a good story, but not really suited to my taste. It was chilling, sad, and dark. Yet I did not enjoy the tale.
The New Accelerator:
I didn't care for this one. It is a chemical experiment piece, with musings on what would happen to a man moving many times faster than normal. The musings are basic and easily reached (at least in this day.) Therefore, the story is largely uninteresting.
The Inexperienced Ghost:
A rather boring, story about the consequences of being an idiot.
Mr Skelmersdale in Fairyland:
This is a rather uninteresting story, about a trip to fairyland. It is interesting that Wells decided to tell it from the viewpoint of a person who was interested in the story, instead of the person who actually experienced it.
The Truth About Pyecraft:
This story follows an interesting concept, but the execution renders it uninteresting.
The Magic Shop:
This story had a very interesting concept and elements, but it was not told in a very engaging manner. It reminds me of reading R.L. Stine. There are many good ideas, a good story, but is told in a fashion that it is not exciting. It doesn't engage you. It doesn't make you feel involved. While you are reading it you know it's a story. This is a problem with a large portion of the stories in this collection.
The Country of the Blind:
This story was good, yet it was not really very enjoyable. It is a tale about a world where the perceptions are vastly different from our own, and the finding of a love which causes a difficult choice.
The Door in the Wall:
Another story told to the author by another person. It's just not a very exciting way to tell a tale.
The Beautiful Suit:
This started out as a promising fairy-tale, but ended as a tale of rebellious abandon. The ending was sudden and strange.
The Wild Asses of the Devil:
This story has one of the worst endings in the book. It starts out okay, and then just when it begins to get good the author bangs out an ending. This story is only part of a story. It is not finished. The story begins and then is stopped before it gets going. If you wish to get people to complain the way it ended is a good method, otherwise it is not.
The Story of the Last Trump:
This one was quite bad. It's interesting. He started out bad wrote some good ones, then they got okay and now we're back to bad. This story is about Heaven and Children and an old Lady drinking tea.
The Pearl of Love:
This is a short story relating a Persian tale. It is okay.
The Queer Story of Brownlow's Newspaper:
This story was okay. Sometimes it is hard to look past people's misguesses about the future, but still he mostly avoids this except for the clothing.
Answer to Prayer:
This is a short story, with a slightly humorous twist at the end. Still It's only okay.
The Devotee of Art:
I didn't enjoy this, I don't remember exactly why. Skimming through it I realize it had a good concept. I assume like the next story it was over the top and had poor execution.
Walcote:
This was the worst Poeesque work I've ever read. H.P. Lovecraft's poeesque works are at least funny in their attempt to be poe. This just fails miserably.
The Flowering of the Strange Orchid:
I enjoyed this one. Not that it is particularly well executed. We know from the title that there is going to be a danger from the orchid. We also know what it's going to do from the reading, but I find the concept interesting, though it is far from uncommon, and it is slightly humorous in its way.
The Lord of the Dynamos:
This story was largely uninteresting. The concept may have potential, but I certainly wouldn't know what to do with it. With the modern view of racism and equality the story could not become popular today. Of course I'm not sure it could become popular even ignoring that.
The Temptation of Harringay:
This is a later version of the first story in the book. It is different, but not much improved.
The Moth:
I enjoyed this one. It's a bit boring at first but length is good, he has not had enough length in order to build up his suspense until this one.
Pollock and the Porroh Man:
This is the first one that is actually slightly chilling. I don't actually care for the story much though. The beginning is near incomprehensible.
Under the Knife:
Traveling out into the cosmos should be much more interesting than this.
The Plattner Story:
This has a good concept, in fact it may be a good story. It has great potential, but it is told so uninterestingly.
The Red Room:
A good ghost story, not particularly scary, but gripping and interesting. The ending is a bit lame, and the final comment seems to have more meaning than the story makes you aware of.
The Story of the Late Mr Elvesham:
This was good, some flaws of course, but the best by far so far.
The Apple:
The stories have hit an area of improvement. This is a short story following an interesting concept. Some might wish for a more exciting ending, but the ability to ponder and wonder instead of having a conclusion presented to the reader is well suited here.
The Crystal Egg:
Another good story, well executed and well written.
The Presence by the Fire:
This story is the least interesting in this good string, but is still decent.
The Man Who Could Work Miracles:
I quite enjoyed this story, though the ending was slightly weird and rushed.
The Stolen Body:
This story is well executed, and the idea is good, but still I hesitate to call it good. I'm not sure why.
A Vision of Judgement:
This story is a religious musing. I did not find it to be very interesting. It starts very unappetizingly as well.
A Dream of Armageddon:
This was a good story, but not really suited to my taste. It was chilling, sad, and dark. Yet I did not enjoy the tale.
The New Accelerator:
I didn't care for this one. It is a chemical experiment piece, with musings on what would happen to a man moving many times faster than normal. The musings are basic and easily reached (at least in this day.) Therefore, the story is largely uninteresting.
The Inexperienced Ghost:
A rather boring, story about the consequences of being an idiot.
Mr Skelmersdale in Fairyland:
This is a rather uninteresting story, about a trip to fairyland. It is interesting that Wells decided to tell it from the viewpoint of a person who was interested in the story, instead of the person who actually experienced it.
The Truth About Pyecraft:
This story follows an interesting concept, but the execution renders it uninteresting.
The Magic Shop:
This story had a very interesting concept and elements, but it was not told in a very engaging manner. It reminds me of reading R.L. Stine. There are many good ideas, a good story, but is told in a fashion that it is not exciting. It doesn't engage you. It doesn't make you feel involved. While you are reading it you know it's a story. This is a problem with a large portion of the stories in this collection.
The Country of the Blind:
This story was good, yet it was not really very enjoyable. It is a tale about a world where the perceptions are vastly different from our own, and the finding of a love which causes a difficult choice.
The Door in the Wall:
Another story told to the author by another person. It's just not a very exciting way to tell a tale.
The Beautiful Suit:
This started out as a promising fairy-tale, but ended as a tale of rebellious abandon. The ending was sudden and strange.
The Wild Asses of the Devil:
This story has one of the worst endings in the book. It starts out okay, and then just when it begins to get good the author bangs out an ending. This story is only part of a story. It is not finished. The story begins and then is stopped before it gets going. If you wish to get people to complain the way it ended is a good method, otherwise it is not.
The Story of the Last Trump:
This one was quite bad. It's interesting. He started out bad wrote some good ones, then they got okay and now we're back to bad. This story is about Heaven and Children and an old Lady drinking tea.
The Pearl of Love:
This is a short story relating a Persian tale. It is okay.
The Queer Story of Brownlow's Newspaper:
This story was okay. Sometimes it is hard to look past people's misguesses about the future, but still he mostly avoids this except for the clothing.
Answer to Prayer:
This is a short story, with a slightly humorous twist at the end. Still It's only okay.
December 25, 2019
An uneven collection of short tales from a master storyteller. Some of which seem to end almost abruptly, as if Wells would have preferred to continue these tales. So much attention is given to setting, leaving me with the impression that Wells had more of a story to share, more development of characters to relate, more details to impart. And it was a shame in such cases that he didn’t. Or couldn’t. As with The New Accelerator, which I think could well have been expanded into something more substantial. But when he was on, Wells was fantastic, as with “The Country of the Blind” and “The Story of the Late Mr. Elvesham.” Some stories are even very touching, such as “The Door in the Wall” and “The Beautiful Suit.” Wells had a tremendous imagination, of course, and a vibrant skill when putting pen to paper.
July 15, 2020
After reading comments I see people either love this story or hate it. It’s very typical Wells including deep descriptions, magnificent imagination, futuristic sci-fi, a beautiful lady, and a story told within a conversation between two people. As always, Wells showed this story instead of telling it and then left the ending open for us to kick in our own imaginations. He will never explain his writings. I think he had more faith in us than that.
November 7, 2022
interesante relato sobre un hombre que no sabe muy bien distinguir entre sueños y realidad y nos cuenta la guerra que se avecina que visualizo en sus sueños, como se enamora y al final mueren los dos, pero no hay mas para reflexionar y ahí esta su problema, una buena moraleja hizo falta, lo increíble de la guerra es que este cuento fue escrito en 1901 antes de la gran guerra con barcos y aviones como lo planteo aquí.
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