Started: October 19, 2022
Finished: October 22, 2022
(This review is written using my new format for book reviews.)
Background Information
This book is by H.G. Wells, who is sometimes known as "the father of science fiction" (W). And in fact, this book is one of the books that helped establish that reputation (W). The Invisible Man has also become one of the iconic figures of horror fiction.
This book was first published in 1897. It's a slim little book. According to Wikipedia, it was 149 pages in the original edition. My copy (Arcturus Publishing--pictured on the left) is 207 pages.
My History With This Book
This is a re-read. I read this book once before way back when I was in middle school.
I've already recounted my history with H.G. Wells on this blog a couple times (HERE, HERE and HERE). But for the purposes of making this post stand independently, I'll recount it again here.
I first discovered H.G. Wells through Great Classics Illustrated (W).
When we were children, my sister was given a collection of Great Classics Illustrated one Christmas. Although it was given to my sister, we both devoured it.
There were two books by H.G. Wells in that collection: The Time Machine and The War of the Worlds. I was utterly captivated by both stories.
When I got slightly older (in middle school), I tried to seek out more H.G. Wells. I did not, at that time, feel any need to seek out the original versions of The Time Machine or The War of the Worlds. (Having read the Great Classics Illustrated versions, I considered those books "already read"). But I was interested in tracking down the other H.G. Wells books that had not been included in the Great Classics Illustrated collection. And, the most famous of these was The Invisible Man (*)
I was at this same time becoming obsessed with the classic black-and-white monster movies (as I've written about before HERE, HERE and HERE). And the 1933 horror movie, The Invisible Man (W) was one of the Universal Classic Monster movies (W) (**)
I also saw the 1933 The Invisible Man during these years when it was shown on AMC (W). I don't remember if it was before or after I read the book.
But at any rate, due to my interest in H.G. Wells, and due to my interest in classic monster movies, I bought a copy of The Invisible Man from my local bookstore and read it sometime in middle school. (I don't remember the exact year.)
That was many years ago now, and I'd since largely forgotten almost all the content from that book. I remember reading the book--I remember carrying it along with me on a family vacation on year, and I remember reading it on the airplane. I remember what the cover illustration on my copy looked like. And I remember the feelings I had reading that book. But aside from a few vague recollections, I had forgotten the story.
I do, however, remember the general feeling of reading that book. I remember find H.G. Wells' prose very dry and boring. And I remember finding the book painfully slow moving.
The only other H.G. Wells book that I read in middle school was In the Days of the Comet (W). (This is probably one of Wells' lesser known books, but it happened to be in my local bookstore, so I picked it up.) I found In the Days of the Comet to be much the same as The Invisible Man--very slow moving, and with a prose style I found dull and uninteresting.
I then developed the impression of H.G. Wells as a writer who had a lot of interesting story ideas, but who didn't write in a readable or engaging way.
I didn't read anything else by H.G. Wells until 1996, when I got caught up in the hype surrounding the release of the movie The Island of Dr. Moreau (W), and bought a copy of the book (W). Which I actually enjoyed a lot. (I was in college by this point, and I suppose my reading level had matured to the point where I could read Wells effortlessly.)
But in spite of this, I did not return to Wells until 8 years ago, when I finally got around to reading the original versions of The Time Machine and The War of the Worlds. And absolutely loved them. I decided that, now that I was an adult, I really like Wells' prose style.
Ever since then, I've been meaning to get around to re-reading The Invisible Man.
And here I finally am.
(*) Actually, according to Wikipedia, Great Classics Illustrated did eventually do a version of The Invisible Man in 1995, but by then I was no longer part of their target demographic. I was already in high school by then.
(**) Although the 1933 The Invisible Man is certainly an iconic monster movie, The Invisible Man character was never part of the shared universe of monster team ups with Frankenstein, The Wolf Man and Dracula. Unless you count The Invisible Man's cameo appearance in Abbott And Costello Meet Frankenstein.
There were also several other films in The Invisible Man franchise (see Wikipedia HERE).
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| https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Invisible_Man_in_popular_culture#Films_and_TV_series |
I do not now remember if I saw during this period the 1940 The Invisible Man Returns (W). I might have. I don't think I saw any of the rest of The Invisible Man films. Although they look kind of fun. Maybe someday it would be fun to try to track down and review the whole series.
Why I Read This Book
In addition to all I've written above, the impetus for picking this book up now was Halloween and the month of October.
I had been toying with picking up a classic scary story for the month of October. It seemed like a fun thing to do for Halloween, and besides most of the other booktubers were doing it.
On the other hand, I am a very slow reader, and perpetually have a lot of half finished books on my currently reading list. So maybe starting a new reading project wasn't the best idea.
The other factor was that, for various reasons, I wasn't able to make my way to a bookstore at the beginning of October. I only made it to a bookstore near the end of October. (On October 19, the wife and I ended up doing some shopping at SC Vivo City, which has a bookstore with a selection of books in English.) So as I browsed that bookstore, I was looking for something short.
I'm overdue for a re-read of Dracula, but I decided that since October was already halfway over, Dracula looked too long to start now. (Maybe next year). But, The Invisible Man was only about 1/3 as long as Dracula, so it seemed the perfect book to start mid-month.
My Reading Journey / The Reading Experience
I wanted to make sure I finished this book off before October came to an end, so once I bought it, I put it on the top of my reading priority list. I easily finished it off in just 3 days.
Although I wrote above that I had largely forgotten this book, as I began to read it again, a lot of it came back to me. (I trust we've all had this experience --that Proustian experience of re-reading a book that we haven't read for years--or re-watching a movie-- and discovering that much more of it than we realized was actually still in our unconscious memory, just awaiting the right stimulus to come rushing back--so I won't waste time trying to describe that experience here. You all know what I mean.)
The book was on the whole a very easy read. It does have an older Victorian-era type prose style. I can see where it could easily have given middle-school-me some trouble. But from an adult perspective, it's completely readable. And largely enjoyable (although the pacing suffers in some sections.)
Plot Summary and Commentary (***SPOILERS***)
In a sleepy little countryside town in England, a mysterious stranger arrives at the inn. He is wrapped up in a coat and hat and gloves, which he refuses to take off, even when he is inside. And his face is all wrapped up in bandages, and his eyes are covered by dark glasses. He is working on some sort of mysterious experiment in his room. Meanwhile, several mysterious things seem to be happening in the stranger's room. Who could he be?
The mystery is teased out over several chapters, which can seem a bit overkill to the modern reader. Of course it's the invisible man! Everyone modern reader knows that instantly. The disguise of the invisible man is an iconic part of pop culture
[Unless... according to Wikipedia, this novel was original serialized in a magazine before being published as a novel. I wonder under what title it originally appeared under during serialization. Perhaps it originally had a different title which may have preserved the mystery?]
The narration throughout this section is told from the perspective of various villagers. The perspective jumps around from person to person, but never from the perspective of the invisible man the mysterious stranger himself. According to Wikipedia,
While its predecessors, The Time Machine and The Island of Doctor Moreau, were written using first-person narrators, Wells adopts a third-person objective point of view in The Invisible Man.
Then, finally, in chapter 7 (page 53 in my edition), the mystery is cleared up as stranger reveals himself to be invisible. There's a brief struggle, and then the invisible man disappears.
The narrative perspective then switches abruptly to a new character that we've never seen before, a tramp, Mr. Thomas Marvel, who the invisible man recruits as an unwilling accomplice.
There's then a confrontation between the invisible man and the villagers, and the perspective switches back to the villagers.
Thomas Marvel and the invisible man leave and travel to another village. The narrative perspective changes a few more times. (Sometimes from the perspective of Mr. Marvel, sometimes from the perspective of the people he encounters.)
Then, about halfway through the book, we are introduced to Dr. Kemp, who was completely absent from the first half of the book, but who will turn out to be the main protagonist of the second half of the book.
The invisible man, it turns out, is an old college classmate of Dr. Kemp's, and seeks refuge at Dr. Kemp's house. It is at this point that the invisible man also relates his whole backstory to Dr. Kemp.
This section is technically from the perspective of Dr. Kemp, who is listening to the invisible man monologuing, but the monologue itself is in the voice of the invisible man. So in this section we do get to hear the story of the invisible man in his own words.
The backstory is from chapter 19 to chapter 23 (pages 125 to 169 in my edition).
Parts of this backstory are interesting. H.G. Wells was of the school of science fiction writers that tried to incorporate actual scientific principles into his science fiction. So we get some discussion here about how visibility is created by light reflecting off of objects, and what the properties of a transparent object are. It's interesting as far as it goes, although I'm not sure I entirely understood all of it, and regardless I'm certainly not the person to evaluate it. (I'm certainly no scientist!) But at any rate, the science part is kept mercifully brief--only about 5 pages.
The rest of the invisible man's backstory is the story of how he struggled to find warmth, food, and shelter while being invisible. I thought this section went on for just a little bit too long. I started to get impatient with the backstory here, and wanted to get back to the main narrative. But this section is important for the main theme of the book--the invisible man wants invisibility because he wants to become more powerful than his fellow man. But he discovers that humans are reliant on each other for the basic necessities of life. Once he elects to separate himself out from society, he actually makes himself weaker, not stronger.
Here it is interesting to note that the whole plot of The Invisible Man is based on the fact that England has very cold and miserable weather. (The Invisible Man is a very British book in that regard. If H.G. Wells had been born in Vietnam instead of England, this book might have turned out very differently!) As soon as the invisible man puts on any clothes, then he's no longer invisible. (Only his actual body is invisible, not his clothing.) So he only has his invisibility powers as long as he is completely naked. But of course he can't go around walking naked for long in the English winter. So it turns out, being invisible in England is a very limited power.
The book eventually ends in a showdown between Dr. Kemp and the invisible man. And, to give credit where credit is due, the climax is suitably tense and exciting.
Evaluation / Extended Quotations
When I was a youngster, and I was first getting into all this stuff for the first time, I was extremely disappointed to find out that the old horror classics just weren't all that scary.
But I trust I'm not telling you anything that you didn't already know, right? We all know by now that the old classics just aren't scary anymore.
The question I do sometimes wonder is: how scary were they meant to be in the first place?
I mean, take The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, for example. I know it eventually went on to inspire a lot of monster movies, but I can't believe the original book was ever meant to be scary.
Or take Frankenstein. Again, I know that because of Universal Monster Movies, we associate Frankenstein with horror. But the original book seems to be going for the emotion of tragedy, not horror.
And then there's The Invisible Man. Like Frankenstein's monster and Mr Hyde, the character itself later went on to become synonymous with Universal Monster Movies, but what tone is the original book going for?
Much of the book doesn't seem to be trying to be scary at all.
The first half of the book actually has a lot more humorous scenes than scary scenes.
It's perhaps worth remembering that, back in his day, H.G. Wells was a noted comic writer as well as a science fiction writer. Nowadays, H.G. Wells is only remembered for his science fiction, but back in his day he was much praised for comic novels such as The History of Mr. Polly (W) (***).
And there seems to be a lot of comic scenes inserted into The Invisible Man as well. Take, for example, this scene where Teddy Henfrey, the clock-jobber, runs into Mr. Hall, the husband of the innkeeper Mrs. Hall:
At Gleeson’s corner he saw Hall, who had recently married the stranger’s hostess at the “Coach and Horses,” and who now drove the Iping conveyance, when occasional people required it, to Sidderbridge Junction, coming towards him on his return from that place. Hall had evidently been “stopping a bit” at Sidderbridge, to judge by his driving. “’Ow do, Teddy?” he said, passing.“You got a rum un up home!” said Teddy.Hall very sociably pulled up. “What’s that?” he asked.“Rum-looking customer stopping at the ‘Coach and Horses,’” said Teddy. “My sakes!”And he proceeded to give Hall a vivid description of his grotesque guest. “Looks a bit like a disguise, don’t it? I’d like to see a man’s face if I had him stopping in my place,” said Henfrey. “But women are that trustful—where strangers are concerned. He’s took your rooms and he ain’t even given a name, Hall.”“You don’t say so!” said Hall, who was a man of sluggish apprehension.“Yes,” said Teddy. “By the week. Whatever he is, you can’t get rid of him under the week. And he’s got a lot of luggage coming to-morrow, so he says. Let’s hope it won’t be stones in boxes, Hall.”He told Hall how his aunt at Hastings had been swindled by a stranger with empty portmanteaux. Altogether he left Hall vaguely suspicious. “Get up, old girl,” said Hall. “I s’pose I must see ’bout this.”Teddy trudged on his way with his mind considerably relieved.Instead of “seeing ’bout it,” however, Hall on his return was severely rated by his wife on the length of time he had spent in Sidderbridge, and his mild inquiries were answered snappishly and in a manner not to the point. But the seed of suspicion Teddy had sown germinated in the mind of Mr. Hall in spite of these discouragements. “You wim’ don’t know everything,” said Mr. Hall, resolved to ascertain more about the personality of his guest at the earliest possible opportunity. (Chapter 2 p.21-23)
(Sidenote: I think Wells' humorous touch went entirely over my head when I was in middle school grade. Yet another reason why I appreciate this book more as an adult.)
I also got a chuckle out of the exasperated tone the invisible man took when he finally had to explain his condition to the villagers in chapter 7:
“Why!” said Huxter, suddenly, “that’s not a man at all. It’s just empty clothes. Look! You can see down his collar and the linings of his clothes. I could put my arm—”He extended his hand; it seemed to meet something in mid-air, and he drew it back with a sharp exclamation. “I wish you’d keep your fingers out of my eye,” said the aerial voice, in a tone of savage expostulation. “The fact is, I’m all here—head, hands, legs, and all the rest of it, but it happens I’m invisible. It’s a confounded nuisance, but I am. That’s no reason why I should be poked to pieces by every stupid bumpkin in Iping, is it?”The suit of clothes, now all unbuttoned and hanging loosely upon its unseen supports, stood up, arms akimbo.Several other of the men folks had now entered the room, so that it was closely crowded. “Invisible, eh?” said Huxter, ignoring the stranger’s abuse. “Who ever heard the likes of that?”“It’s strange, perhaps, but it’s not a crime. Why am I assaulted by a policeman in this fashion?” (chapter 7 pages 56-57)
But it's not all humorous. The invisible man himself actually has a lot of malice to him. And the tone of the story can switch quite suddenly from humorous to malicious. There's a part in chapter 11 where I thought this sudden tone shift was particularly well, so I'll quote part of it:
“Diary!” said Cuss, putting the three books on the table. “Now, at any rate, we shall learn something.” The Vicar stood with his hands on the table.“Diary,” repeated Cuss, sitting down, putting two volumes to support the third, and opening it. “H’m—no name on the fly-leaf. Bother!—cypher. And figures.”The vicar came round to look over his shoulder.Cuss turned the pages over with a face suddenly disappointed. “I’m—dear me! It’s all cypher, Bunting.”“There are no diagrams?” asked Mr. Bunting. “No illustrations throwing light—”“See for yourself,” said Mr. Cuss. “Some of it’s mathematical and some of it’s Russian or some such language (to judge by the letters), and some of it’s Greek. Now the Greek I thought you—”“Of course,” said Mr. Bunting, taking out and wiping his spectacles and feeling suddenly very uncomfortable—for he had no Greek left in his mind worth talking about; “yes—the Greek, of course, may furnish a clue.”“I’ll find you a place.”“I’d rather glance through the volumes first,” said Mr. Bunting, still wiping. “A general impression first, Cuss, and then, you know, we can go looking for clues.”He coughed, put on his glasses, arranged them fastidiously, coughed again, and wished something would happen to avert the seemingly inevitable exposure. Then he took the volume Cuss handed him in a leisurely manner. And then something did happen.The door opened suddenly.Both gentlemen started violently, looked round, and were relieved to see a sporadically rosy face beneath a furry silk hat. “Tap?” asked the face, and stood staring.“No,” said both gentlemen at once.“Over the other side, my man,” said Mr. Bunting. And “Please shut that door,” said Mr. Cuss, irritably.“All right,” said the intruder, as it seemed in a low voice curiously different from the huskiness of its first inquiry. “Right you are,” said the intruder in the former voice. “Stand clear!” and he vanished and closed the door.“A sailor, I should judge,” said Mr. Bunting. “Amusing fellows, they are. Stand clear! indeed. A nautical term, referring to his getting back out of the room, I suppose.”“I daresay so,” said Cuss. “My nerves are all loose to-day. It quite made me jump—the door opening like that.”Mr. Bunting smiled as if he had not jumped. “And now,” he said with a sigh, “these books.”Someone sniffed as he did so.“One thing is indisputable,” said Bunting, drawing up a chair next to that of Cuss. “There certainly have been very strange things happen in Iping during the last few days—very strange. I cannot of course believe in this absurd invisibility story—”“It’s incredible,” said Cuss—“incredible. But the fact remains that I saw—I certainly saw right down his sleeve—”“But did you—are you sure? Suppose a mirror, for instance— hallucinations are so easily produced. I don’t know if you have ever seen a really good conjuror—”“I won’t argue again,” said Cuss. “We’ve thrashed that out, Bunting. And just now there’s these books—Ah! here’s some of what I take to be Greek! Greek letters certainly.”He pointed to the middle of the page. Mr. Bunting flushed slightly and brought his face nearer, apparently finding some difficulty with his glasses. Suddenly he became aware of a strange feeling at the nape of his neck. He tried to raise his head, and encountered an immovable resistance. The feeling was a curious pressure, the grip of a heavy, firm hand, and it bore his chin irresistibly to the table. “Don’t move, little men,” whispered a voice, “or I’ll brain you both!” He looked into the face of Cuss, close to his own, and each saw a horrified reflection of his own sickly astonishment. (From Chapter 11, p. 73-76)
I thought that section was quite good when I first read it--the way it suddenly changes from the innocent humor of the Vicar and Mr. Cuss to the cold scary malice of the invisible man.
As you keep reading through that section, the tone changes again several more times between humor and scary in a way that I thought was very skillful.
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When it comes to classic monsters, the invisible man is in many ways the least impressive of the bunch. After all, he doesn't have any superhuman strength or special powers. He's just invisible. That's not really that deadly.
Especially in today's America, when any mentally ill teenager can get access to automatic weapons that can kill 30 school children in a matter or seconds, how much are we supposed to worry about one unarmed man who just happens to be invisible?
And yet, horror fiction has never been about what how potentially deadly the monster can be. Successful horror fiction is about how well the monster taps into our brain's primordial fear centers (****).
The idea that an adversary can be hidden somewhere in the room, unseen and unseeable, and can jump out to attack us at any moment is something that definitely triggers our primitive panic impulses. (I suppose their must be an evolutionary fear trigger here--the fear of unseen predators lurking in the bushes.)
There are a couple scenes in this book where H.G. Wells expertly plays on the panic of knowing the invisible man is out to get you, but not knowing where he is.
The “Jolly Cricketers” is just at the bottom of the hill, where the tram-lines begin. The barman leant his fat red arms on the counter and talked of horses with an anaemic cabman, while a black-bearded man in grey snapped up biscuit and cheese, drank Burton, and conversed in American with a policeman off duty.“What’s the shouting about!” said the anaemic cabman, going off at a tangent, trying to see up the hill over the dirty yellow blind in the low window of the inn. Somebody ran by outside. “Fire, perhaps,” said the barman.Footsteps approached, running heavily, the door was pushed open violently, and Marvel, weeping and dishevelled, his hat gone, the neck of his coat torn open, rushed in, made a convulsive turn, and attempted to shut the door. It was held half open by a strap.“Coming!” he bawled, his voice shrieking with terror. “He’s coming. The ’Visible Man! After me! For Gawd’s sake! ’Elp! ’Elp! ’Elp!”“Shut the doors,” said the policeman. “Who’s coming? What’s the row?” He went to the door, released the strap, and it slammed. The American closed the other door.“Lemme go inside,” said Marvel, staggering and weeping, but still clutching the books. “Lemme go inside. Lock me in—somewhere. I tell you he’s after me. I give him the slip. He said he’d kill me and he will.”“You’re safe,” said the man with the black beard. “The door’s shut. What’s it all about?”“Lemme go inside,” said Marvel, and shrieked aloud as a blow suddenly made the fastened door shiver and was followed by a hurried rapping and a shouting outside. “Hullo,” cried the policeman, “who’s there?” Mr. Marvel began to make frantic dives at panels that looked like doors. “He’ll kill me—he’s got a knife or something. For Gawd’s sake—!”“Here you are,” said the barman. “Come in here.” And he held up the flap of the bar.Mr. Marvel rushed behind the bar as the summons outside was repeated. “Don’t open the door,” he screamed. “Please don’t open the door. Where shall I hide?”“This, this Invisible Man, then?” asked the man with the black beard, with one hand behind him. “I guess it’s about time we saw him.”The window of the inn was suddenly smashed in, and there was a screaming and running to and fro in the street. The policeman had been standing on the settee staring out, craning to see who was at the door. He got down with raised eyebrows. “It’s that,” he said. The barman stood in front of the bar-parlour door which was now locked on Mr. Marvel, stared at the smashed window, and came round to the two other men. (from Chapter 16, page 100-102)
The scene goes on, but you get the idea. There's also an extended confrontation at the end of the book which is also well done, and also plays on that creepy feeling of knowing the invisible man is there somewhere, but not knowing exactly where he is.
*** Thanks to the audiobook One Thousand Years of Laughter: An Anthology of Classic Comic Prose for teaching me about H.G. Wells' career as a comic writer. I've never read any of Wells' comic novels myself, but it's on my list of books to read someday.
**** Actually while I'm on the topic, I can resist mentioning a different book which I think played very well on the contradiction between what is actually deadly, and what our primitive brains find scary: The Werewolf of Paris. The whole book the reader is focused on the werewolf attacks, and then, at the very end of the book, the narrator suddenly pulls back to ask: Why are we so focused on this werewolf, which has only killed a handful of people, when the government of Paris is killing 20,000 people by firing squads?
Links
* An interesting Youtube video on H.G. Wells: The History of Sci Fi - H.G. Wells - Extra Sci Fi - #2 by Extra Credits. They briefly mention The Invisible Man, and call it Wells' anti-libertarian novel because the invisible man's rejection of society for personal gain leaves him weaker than the weakest of us.
* The Intellectuals and the Masses by John Carey devotes 2 whole chapters to the works of H.G. Wells, but, unfortunately, mentions The invisible Man only very briefly. John Carey claims that some of Wells' other books appear to endorse the Nietzschean idea of the superior individual, but...
But in other stories--The Invisible Man, The Island of Dr Moreau, The Country of the Blind--the superiority of the singular individual is by no means apparent. The murderous, invisible Griffin and the crazed vivisectionist Moreau are prodigies that seem to endorse the ordinary man's suspicion of ruthless scientific genius (p.138)
8 out of 10 stars. Granted it's just a silly science fiction story, but you have to judge these things against what the author set out to do, and for what he was trying to do, Wells succeeded wonderfully. It's borderline 9 stars, but I'm taking one point off for the pacing issues.
October 23, 2022 p.1-207
Video Review (playlist HERE)
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