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This is the fourth short work of science fiction or fantasy published by H.G. Wells, and although it is superior to the fantasy you have probably never heard of (The Wonderful Visit), it is inferior to the two “scientific romances” which you almost certainly know (The Time Machine and The Island of Dr. Moreau). Still, it shares important characteristics with the others, and together they make up an effective introduction to Well’s work.
The Wonderful Visit (1895) treats—among other things—with the reactions of the inhabitants of an average English village when they encounter a real, honest-to-god corporeal angel. When they try to see him for what he is, they are filled with amazement, suspicion and unease, often reacting in a chaotic fashion, but later, when they see him as a problem to be solved, they can band together to do so. The angel is benign and the Invisible Man malevolent, but the reactions of the villagers to their individual strangeness is much the same. Wells uses the people primarily for comic relief, but treats them with respect.
One of the fine things about The Time Machine is the Time Traveller’s lecture to his dinner companions about the fourth dimension, what it is and how it can be manipulated. Griffin,The Invisible Man, is equally eloquent about the problems of invisibility and the way he overcomes—among other things—the effects of light and problems of pigment. (The fact that Griffin is an albino turns out to be a bonus.) Whenever The Invisible Man (1897) concentrates on invisibility, it is diverting and surprisingly credible.
My favorite of these four books is The Island of Dr. Moreau (1896). It explores the morbid psychology of a “mad” scientist Moreau, but it is even more concerned with his blasphemous and disturbing resemblance to a divine creator, a being who strives to make real men out of the animals he acquires, finding them to be barely educable and—except for his dogman servant—intractable. Although in The Invisible Man Wells concentrates on the morbid psychology of the power-mad sociopath Griffin, consumed by class envy and the lonely lure of invisibility, Dr. Moreau (1895), he can’t resist a divine allusion or two. (I particular like the passage where the invisible Griffin singles out the tramp Thomas Marvel as an accomplice in his thefts. “I have chosen you,” his apparently disembodied voice intones.)
Although it’s no Dr. Moreau, and the comic relief goes on a bit too long at times, it is still a solid piece of entertainment, an interesting psychological study with exciting chase at the end.
Here is a glimpse into the mind of the lonely—and now invisible Griffin, adjunct faculty member of an obscure college, as he speaks to Dr. Kemp, his old school fellow.
n It came suddenly, splendid and complete in my mind. I was alone; the laboratory was still, with the tall lights burning brightly and silently. In all my great moments I have been alone. ‘One could make an animal — a tissue — transparent! One could make it invisible! All except the pigments — I could be invisible!’ I said, suddenly realising what it meant to be an albino with such knowledge. It was overwhelming. I left the filtering I was doing, and went and stared out of the great window at the stars. ‘I could be invisible!’ I repeated.
“To do such a thing would be to transcend magic. And I beheld, unclouded by doubt, a magnificent vision of all that invisibility might mean to a man — the mystery, the power, the freedom. Drawbacks I saw none. You have only to think! And I, a shabby, poverty-struck, hemmed-in demonstrator, teaching fools in a provincial college, might suddenly become — this.n