#217 Winter King (2011)

Author: William Penn
Title: Winter King – The Dawn of Tudor England
Genre: History
Year: 2011
Pages: 380
Origin: bought from Waterstones
Nod Rating: 4 nods out of 5

Television is currently in the thralls of a Tudors love-fest. There are repeats of the gratuitous drama The Tudors, documentaries on the discovery of the body of Richard III, whilst the BBC is currently showing the series The Winter Queen charting the life of Elizabeth Woodville. Perhaps of more worthy interest than the rest of these programmes was William Penn’s documentary focusing on the reign of the very first Tudor, Henry VII.

Now, regular readers of this blog will have come across a fair few reviews on the Tudor period over the past year. Of notable interest was S.B. Chrimes forensic detail on the administrative functions of Henry VII’s reign, whilst Starkey put in his usual flamboyant shift in an attempt to breathe life into the early life of Henry VIII. William Penn’s own look at Henry VII is a combination of both of these writing personalities: substance of detail, as well as style of entertaining the reader.

Henry VII is a monarch usually in the shadows, jealously looking at the posterity accorded to his son (Henry VIII) and granddaughter (Elizabeth I) – both being known as the “bigger” Tudors. Henry is painted as the Winter King in connection to the end days of his kingship in which popular legend has colour leaving the court and country, ready to be reignited once again with the blossoming coming of the summer king, Henry VIII.

Penn takes the position that Henry’s reign was dominated and dictated by what had come before, namely the chaos and confusion of the Wars of the Roses. Mindful of his modest origins, Henry is paranoid and never stable on his throne, having to face threats from left, right and centre. Interestingly, many other histories - including a particular book that the Worm is currently reading - such threats are noted as having been stopped by 1499 with the death of the great pretender, Perkin Warbeck. However, Penn highlights other threats – notably the Earl of Suffolk – to continually bring home the message that Henry’s hold on the crown was never secure. This dynasty, which would go on to hold the imagination of historians for centuries upon centuries, hung by a thread at many points in Henry VII’s declining years. It rested on the shoulders of his youngest son (and we all know that he would go on to achieve some very interesting feats).

As well as the psychological aspect, Penn is keen to chart the financial functions of Henry’s court. In particular, the extracting exploits of Henry’s advisors Dudley and Empson. Their dodgy dealings highlighted the wrongs of Henry VII’s end years, and their bloody removal in the early stages of Henry VIII’s reign were a sure sign that the winter was over.

Penn manages to bring to life a period of history that has been overshadowed in the grander scheme of the Tudor dynasty. As earlier stated, Chrimes managed to dissect the reign with a scholarly eye; Penn – despite holding such lofty credentials – attempts an accessible history within his book. In doing this, he undoubtedly succeeds. From the shadows Henry VII is brought into focus. The question now is, can Penn take on another monarch – perhaps one of greater fame – to paint a book of greater standing. The Worm waits with, as always, baited breath.

Buy it here

#216 A Streetcar Named Desire (1947)

Author: Tennessee Williams
Title: A Streetcar Named Desire
Genre: Play
Year: 1947
Pages: 110
Origin: a tried and trusted library book
Nod Rating: 5 nods out of 5

'Hello! I am Llewelyn Sinclair! I have directed three plays in my career, and I have had three heart attacks! That's how much I care, I am planning for a fourth.'
Llewelyn Sinclair, The Simpsons, ‘A Streetcar Named Marge’ (1992)

The Worm’s first encounter with the play A Streetcar Named Desire was, like many things in his childhood, witnessed whilst watching an episode of The Simpsons. The 1992 episode of the all-embracing cartoon was titled 'A Streetcar Named Marge', with a connection being made between her relationship with Homer and Williams’ characters Blanche DuBois and Stanley Kowalski. Of course, for an earlier generation the first thing that might come to mind – and perhaps a tad more apt – is the bawling of Marlon Brando (‘Stell-lahhhhh!’) in black and white at the cinema. Such is the declining cultural experience of each successive decade. Perhaps those born in the twenty-first century will experience the play by way of a phone-in talent show or via an ill-advised internet pornography production

The fantastically named Tennessee Williams (Tennessee being, unfortunately, a nick-name) wrote the play A Streetcar Named Desire in the late 1940s. It proved to be a hit, making its way to the silver screen and finding a home in the popular consciousness for the past sixty years. It charts the character of Blanche DuBois who has journey to her sister’s (Stella) home in the hope of finding shelter from the mess that has become her world. Stella is happy to have her demanding sibling under the same roof as her again, however, her husband – Stanley – has the opposite feelings. Blanche and Stanley go head to head in a cold war of their wits, with Blanche ending up losing whatever remained of hers; leading to the near closing immortal line of hers: ‘I’ve always depended on the kindness of strangers.’

The Worm didn’t expect to become so engaged in Williams’ play. This can be explained in three reasons. Firstly, the dialogue is entertaining. Williams has a talent in bringing the page to life through use of slang and jokes (both surface jokes and dark humour). Secondly, this dialogue finds perfect voices in his development of the characters, including the central triumvirate that is Blanche, Stella and Stanley. The sisters’ relationship reveals their affection for one another (Blanche labelling her sister as a saviour of sorts, ‘Stella for Star’), as well as Blanche and Stanley’s rivalry for the loyalty of Stella. Thirdly, Williams paces the play in a way in which suspense is continually building throughout. It peaks at certain points, namely in Stella’s and Stanley’s argument/fight, as well as in the climax of Blanche and Stanley’s argument/fight (one will correctly deduce that Stanley is an argumentative kind of guy).

Blanche’s long list of pretensions (such as the naming of literary authors and poets) attempts – and fails – to cover up her own past: including the loss of a youthful fiancé, the loss of her reputation, and the loss of the ancestral home, Belle Reve. Despite fleeing to New Orleans and courting Mitch, she is unable to escape her eventual fate: this being the tragedy of the play. As Blanche explains to her sister:

‘I never was hard or self-sufficient enough. When people are soft – soft people got to court the favour of hard ones, Stella. Have got to be seductive – put on soft colours, the colours of butterfly wings, and glow – make a little – temporary magic just in order to pay for – one night’s shelter! That’s why I’ve been – not so awf’ly good lately. I’ve run for protection, Stella, from under one leaky roof to another leaky roof – because it was storm – all storm, and I was – caught in the centre… People don’t’ see you – men don’t – don’t even admit your existence unless they are making love to you. And you’ve got to have your existence admitted by someone, if you’re going to have someone’s protection. And so the soft people have got to – shimmer and glow – put a – paper lantern over the light… But I’m scared now – awf’ly scared. I don’t know how much longer I can turn the trick. It isn’t enough to be soft. You’ve got to be soft and attractive. And I – I’m fading now.’

Her battle with Stanley reaches fever pitch towards the play’s end in what is an ambiguous closing to a heated and possibly sinister scene (‘Tiger – tiger! Drop the bottle-top! Drop it! We’ve had this date with each other from the beginning!’). The ‘magic’ that Blanche has sought to provide to those around her is not needed, and with that comes her removal to a mental institution.

Of course, the words on paper do not factor in the breadth of Williams’ world that he has created in A Streetcar Named Desire. Obviously a reading of the play misses the music of the Varsouviana – used as a haunting reminder of Blanche’s memories. However, this does not detract from what is an outstanding read of 5 nodder quality. The Worm was absorbed and invested much emotion in these characters, being left to ponder the fate of Blanche DuBois and whether or not she could survive into her own age or in a modern world. In this alone Tennessee Williams should be commended. The Simpsons cannot do such a masterpiece justice, but the Worm is thankful that he found this play through its portal.

Buy it here

#215 In Cold Blood (1966)

Author: Truman Capote
Title: In Cold Blood
Genre: “Faction” Novel
Year: 1966
Pages: 330
Origin: bought in a second-hand book-shop
Nod Rating: 4 nods out of 5

Faction was once all the rage. Have no clue at what the word means? It is a novel – chiefly that of literature – that contains facts connected to the real world; a non-fiction novel. Truman Capote’s name is forever connected to this genre of writing, and the Worm thought it best to read In Cold Blood to find out what all the fuss was about.

It is a story like any other crime novel. It contains victims and murderers, with the eventual justice of the law prevailing. The case was that of the death of the Clutters, a family of farmers in Kansas. One night in 1959 their home was invaded by two men – Dick Hicock and Perry Smith – who wrongly believed there was money to be found on the premises. They kill each of the family members (the two parents as well as daughter and son) before fleeing from the house. After weeks of moving around the country – and Mexico – they are eventually caught and sentenced to death. Just one in many other incidents that have occurred, but for Capote, his eye was caught by these people, and he would spend the next six years of his life writing his eventual book that would attempt to retell the story to the world..

The book’s subtitle - ‘A true account of a multiple murder and its consequences’ – therefore outlines its remit: to stick to the facts. Therefore a vast collection was gathered to help him, including testimonies, interviews, letters, court notes, notebooks (including ‘a non-alphabetically listed miscellany of words he believed “beautiful” or “useful” or least “worth memorising”), and assorted reports (such as Perry’s father’s written report to the Kansas State Parole Board, ‘A History of My Boy’s Life’).

All of this shows Capote to be a thorough researcher, enabling him portray those in the book as a rounded people that the reader can relate to. We gain a greater insight and possible understanding of their motivations and the sort of people they are. Capote doesn’t flirt with the idea of forgiving the pair for their actions, but the time he expends on the characters on death row with Smith and Hicock – including the details of the trail and the intriguing example of Lowell Lee – suggests that the author is critical about the death penalty. Such a hint can be found in a conversation:

‘Parr said, “Many a man can match sob stories with that little bastard. Me included. Maybe I drink too much, but I sure as hell never killed four people in cold blood.”

“Yeah, and how about hanging the bastard? That’s pretty goddam cold-blooded too.”’

The time spent on Perry and Dick’s travelling after the deaths of the Clutters paints a colourful human picture of the pair of them; all of which can be inferred by the paragraph noting the fortunes of Perry’s friend whilst on death row: a squirrel. ‘He sure misses Perry. Keeps coming to the cell looking for him. I’ve tried to feed him, but he won’t have anything to do with me. It was just Perry he liked.’

The book is strongest when it quotes the comments of others, such as the description by police officers of finding the murdered bodies of the Clutters in their home, as well as Susan’s recollection of her murdered friend, Nancy Clutter:

‘I went outside and waited in the car… Across the street a man was raking leaves. I kept looking at him. Because I didn’t’ want to close my eyes. I thought, if I do I’ll faint. So I watched him rake leaves and burn them. Watched, without really seeing him. Because all I could see was the dress. I knew it so well. I helped her pick the material. It was her own design, and she sewed it herself. I remember how excited she was the first time she wore it. At a party. All I could see was Nancy’s red velvet. And Nancy in it. Dancing.’

Therefore, the reader must remember that these words are not the invention or talent of Capote, but rather those of his interviewees. The contrast is striking if we include a short sample of Capote’s own standard descriptive prose, which at times is very dull:

‘Some souvenirs exist; a moderately colourful row of commercial buildings is known as the Buffalo Rock, and the once splendid Winsor Hotel, with its still splendid high-ceilinged saloon and its atmosphere of spittoons and potted palms, endures amid the variety stores and supermarkets as a Main Street landmark…’

A larger question mark grows throughout the book: how much is fiction and how much is fact? The success of the book in the mid-sixties brought about a stream of articles disputing Capote’s version of events in the books, therefore clouding the subtitle’s claim to be ‘a true account’. New research and interviews with some of the key people involved revealed discrepancies, with Phillip K. Tompkins concluding that Capote ‘has made himself vulnerable to those readers who are prepared to examine seriously such a sweeping claim’. All of which destroys any credibility the book can have as a work of Faction.

Clearly, the strengths of the book do not lie in Capote’s descriptive prose or in his ability (or is that inability?) to tell the truth. Furthermore, Capote breaks the writer’s “rule” about the author remaining invisible to the reader; his influence throughout In Cold Blood feels intrusive. One can never shake his presence lurking behind the unfolding the story, bending the facts to suit his needs. However, despite such failings, the Worm is adamant that this is an interesting and engaging book. Capote’s success is not in his own ability to string a sentence, but rather as an editor of material and comments. The testimonies of many characters are put together in a sensible order that, at times, resembles a thriller (the last two hundred pages of the book fly by in an enjoyable torrent of a read). It is better, then, to view Capote not as an author in the mould of other American writers before him but rather as the conductor of a crime scene of an opera.

Despite a few standout successes, faction is no longer the rage. Perhaps this is a good thing. It is not a case of “never the twain shall meet”, but rather the Worm’s belief that fact and fiction work better when working independently. Yes, fictional elements can help brighten up a narrative account of history – and has done fantastically in various books – but this should not detract from the history book’s first mission: to find/debate as much of the truth as possible. Here in Capote’s book the reader is left slightly confused as to what is fiction and what is fact, blurring the independence of each sphere and spewing forth its abrasive, brash offspring: Faction. Despite the condemnation of the veracity of his work, In Cold Blood remains an exciting read; if we are to ignore the worst and concentrate on the best, we must agree that it allow us to question our beliefs and values on the crime of murder.


Buy it here

#214 The Overcoat (1842)

Author: Nikolai Gogol
Title: The Overcoat
Genre: Short Story
Year: 1842
Pages: 60
Origin: read on an iPhone
Nod Rating: 3 nods out of 5

Nikolai Gogol holds a literary reputation in Russia comparable to that of Dickens in this country; both are writing titans of the nineteenth century. But rather than stories of orphans in Victorian London, Gogol concentrates on that other obsession of Russian literature: the neurotic fears of bureaucracy. This is shown in his work, such as the play The Government Inspector and the ludicrous short story The Nose. The Overcoat continues in this similar vein.

The coat in question belongs to Akakiy Akakievich: ‘a certain official’ who goes about his business in ‘a certain department’, but as Gogol notes, ‘it will be better to describe the department in question only as a certain department’. Due to becoming ‘an object of ridicule’ by his colleagues, he decides to buy a new overcoat. He saves for months upon months – even starving himself of food and other essentials - to buy his new overcoat in order to save face amongst those in his office. The resulting overcoat causes a sensation in the office, being deemed worthy of Akakiy’s ‘most glorious day’ in his life:

‘All rushed into the ante-room to inspect it. They congratulated him and said pleasant things to him, so that he began at first to smile and then grow ashamed. When all surrounded him, and said that the new cloak must be “christened”, and that he must give a whole evening at least to this, Akakiy Akakievitch lost his head completely, and did not know where he stood, what to answer, or how to get out of it.’

However, disaster strikes when Akakiy is attacked the coat is stolen. Looking left, right and centre for help, Akaky asks a ‘prominent personage’, who only berates him for bringing such a trivial matter to his attention. The embarrassment proves the end for Akakiy, who returns home and succumbs to death; Gogol noting, ‘so powerful is a certain scolding!’But, that is not the end of the story or Akakiy, with his ghost haunting the streets of the Russian capital:

‘But who could have imagined that this was not really the end of Akakiy Akakievitch, that he was destined to raise a commotion after death, as if in compensation for his utterly insignificant life?’

This ghost searches for a suitable overcoat, ‘with regard to rank or calling’, forcing the police to issue orders to catch the corpse ‘alive or dead, at any cost, and punish him as an example to others in the most severe manner’. The prominent personage is accosted and reprieved of his own overcoat, with the ghost of Akakiy never being seen again.

All of which sounds like a rather odd short story, and one that could not possibly take hold of the reader’s attention. However, there is more at work here than just the barebones of the narrative outlined above. Gogol – and many other Russian writers of the 1800s (most of whom looked up to Gogol) – wrote fiction with thinly veiled attacks on Russian society and government (this method used due to the dreaded censor of the autocratic Tsarist government). Gogol comments on the ludicrous manners of society, of the foolishness of bureaucracy, and the crazy results that come about by following the rules of superiors (such as the arresting of ghosts). The overcoat serves as a linchpin of what is wrong in society, rather than being a story based on sartorial nervousness.

What makes Gogol’s story so readable is his own distinctive voice as the narrator. In the fashion of the nineteenth century writer, he interferes with the story as and when he chooses: ‘It is not necessary to say much about the tailor; but, as it is the custom to have the character of each personage in a novel clearly defined, there is no help for it’. Whilst he has fun describing the ‘prominent personage’:

‘What was the exact official position of the prominent personage remains unknown to this day. The reader must know that the prominent personage had but recently become a prominent personage, having up to that time only an insignificant person. Moreover, his present position was not considered prominent in comparison with others still more so. But there is always a circle of people to whom what is insignificant in the eyes of others, is important enough.’

In doing this, Gogol is playing with the conventions of the story form. These are only mild examples of Gogol’s experimentation, with greater instances found in his masterwork Dead Souls.

Take what you will from this review of an intriguing writer. The nods do not fully compliment his skill. But for those interested greater short reads lie ahead, including the ridiculous The Nose. For those put off by such critical thoughts masquerading as foolishness, it is best stay away from Nikolai Gogol… but try not to stay away for too long.

Buy it here

#213 Kick-Ass (2010)

Authors: Mark Millar & John Romita Jr
Title: Kick-Ass
Genre: Graphic Novel
Year: 2010
Pages: 190
Origin: read online during April 2013
Nod Rating: 3 nods out of 5

‘Okay you cunts, let’s see what you can do now’ – Hit Girl

Kick-Ass became known to millions in the form of the 2010 movie directed by Matthew Vaughn. It charts rising star Aaron Johnson as a self-made superhero-cum-internet sensation, Nicholas Cage as the trained killer Big Daddy, and Chloe Grace Moretz as his foul-mouthed assassin daughter, Hit Girl. Their quest, like all other superhero stories, is to take down the bad-guy. And, like all other superhero stories, it can trace its origin in print form.

Mark Millar is a well respected name in the Comics Industry, even taking on the role of overseer of all superhero movies for Twentieth Century Fox. Kick-Ass is his initial baby, before it took on life in theatres and with Nicholas Cage’s fake moustache. Released as a series of comics between 2008 and 2010, Millar’s story charts the journey of Dave Lizewski, a boy who decides to become a superhero and help out people. Interesting – for the modern day – is how he becomes an internet sensation on YouTube, using social media to advertise his services. Unwittingly, he teams up with the trained vigilantes Big Daddy and Hit Girl in a serious plot for revenge against a mobster; this team-up brings about recognition that he finds it ‘harder and harder to relate to people who didn’t wear masks’.

In many ways, the film trumps the comic book. Chiefly, with regards to the emotion on offer and the investment we plough into these characters. Whereas the concluding third of the movie reveals the death of Big Daddy and the climatic battle scene, the comic appears to throw a southpaw into the gut of expectations by revealing that Big Daddy is not an ex-cop, but rather an avid comic collector who invented the fantasy for his daughter so as to avoid banality of ordinary life. His lifestyle of guns and death is funded by selling unique out-of-print comics on eBay. As the character shouts out before his impending death:

‘I wasn’t a cop. I was a number-cruncher for a credit company and married to a wife who fucking hated him. Are you satisfied? I hated my friends and I hated my life so I ran away with my baby girl and built a new one. I’m a fanboy, Dave. Just like you. Mindy died having no idea, but I’m just another asshole.’

However, you could suggest that this is part of Millar’s greater plan: a love-letter to superhero comics. There is no doubt that Kick-Ass is a homage on the superhero theme, but with a grounding in the real, modern world. Comics are referenced throughout the series, such as in Dave telling Hit Girl that he will not kill anybody; the reply given from Hit Girl is: ‘Oh, kiss my ass. What is this? The Silver Age?’ Later conversations chart Dave commenting on his team-up with Big Daddy and Hit Girl: ‘Spidey wouldn’t mind teaming up with the Punisher, but there’s no way he’s gonna employ his fucking Vietnam-honed methods.’ Whilst he also notes: ‘Big Daddy and Hit-Girl could be our team’s Wolverine’. Such references will serve as a treat for comic book fans, however, unlike the Vaughn film it does not hold universal appeal.

Other notable differences include the love interest. Interestingly, rather than the inevitable movie match-up, the comic takes a fresh twist. Dave reveals his undying love, only to be rebuffed and then beaten up by a jealous boyfriend. Millar piles on the agony and humiliation, having a picture message sent to Dave showing the love interest performing oral sex on the boyfriend. This illustrates – in its own gratuitous way – that the comic has kept enough of its original identity to remain a unique read.

The comic book references, the use of social media, and the language utilised – ‘If I’m absolutely honest, I’ve wanted to see you in pain since the first we met. I’ve even jerked off about it. Does that sound weird?’ – makes this a read better suited to a younger audience. The violence hints at this; notably in Big Daddy’s death in which a bullet blows open his skull.

Kick-Ass 2 is in cinemas later this year, but before checking out the movies it would be a good suggestion to pick up the comics. As can be seen from the brief review above, it will be an entertaining experience.

Buy it here
*In the Books Vs. Movies war earlier discussed, this goes as a win to Movies. The overall score now stands at 8-5.

#212 Marvel's Iron Man 3 Prelude (2013)

Authors: Will Pilgrim, Christos Gage, Ramon Rasonos
Title: Marvel’s Iron Man 3 Prelude
Genre: Graphic Novel
Year: 2013
Pages: 120
Origin: read online during April 2013
Nod Rating: 1 nod out of 5

Marvel has become a behemoth of the cinema in recent years, earning mega-bucks in theatres across the world through their films. The Avengers, Iron Man, Captain America, The Incredible Hulk, and Thor have changed the way that Hollywood views their “franchise” strategy – for good or for bad.

For good or bad – or shall we say, simply poor – comics have also added a new string to their bow: the tie-in graphic novel. Marvel’s intention is a simple one: continue adding to the adventures seen on screen. The Worm applauds the attempt to fill in the void that the movies are unable to cover, similar to the various novels/graphic novels of the Star Trek universe. The hope is that something greater can emerge that will delight and thrill keen fans.

However, when handled in such blasé fashion, the final product can be underwhelming and close to infuriating. In this particular comic, the awkwardly titled Marvel’s Iron Man 3 Prelude, the reader isn’t given any real meat on what will happen in the future movie. Rather than chart the exploits of Tony Stark/Iron Man, the reader is treated – or is that subjected to – the dull adventures of his wing-man, Rhodey/Iron Patriot. It is a wasted chance to help create a universe full of wonder, with the Worm left reading each page with a grimace, letting out a dull groan every once in a while. Only the most die-hard of fans will find this read of any interest.

All of which makes this book pointless and a waste of time. Unfortunately, the Worm has been suckered in before (with another “Prelude”, Fury's Big Week, which earned 1 pitiful nod) – and by extension, you also have been suckered in again (assuming that is, you have read both reviews). Therefore, the Worm makes a vow right now: he will not return to these cash-in tie-ins of comic book movies. The udders will forever be milked by Hollywood; it is up to the Worm to wise up, smell the coffee, and move on to better reads.

Buy it here if you dare!

#211 The Time Machine (1895)

Author: H.G. Wells
Title: The Time Machine
Genre: Sci-Fi Novella
Year: 1895
Pages: 130
Origin: read on the Kindle
Nod Rating: 4 nods out of 5

‘To me the future is still black and blank – is a vast ignorance, lit at a few casual places by the memory of his story.’

Time travel has long mystified and excited readers. It has shown its popularity on movie and TV screens in the form of Doctor Who and Star Trek coming back into fashion, but its origins – within Science Fiction form – are found in written text. The Worm is a keen time-travelling fan – despite failing at several attempts to build his very own time machine – and who better to turn to, then to read from Sci-Fi’s very own Godfather: H.G. Wells.

Godfather, captain, Great-Father, or commander: Wells ticks the boxes of all conceivable categories. He is the creator of The Invisible Man, The First Men in the Moon, and The Island of Doctor Moreau. The Worm has had a previous encounter with Wells, having read and reviewed his influential book The War of the Worlds. However, the Worm was left feeling slightly underwhelmed – a feeling not unusual to the Worm, as you will know – and therefore, he stepped into a second book with caution. The Time Machine was the chosen text to reignite enthusiasm.

Such a feeling, then, was similar to the esteemed group that surround the Time Traveller at the beginning of the novella. The concept of time travel is put to them, with few converts to this idea (bar the story’s narrator). As one of them state: ‘You can show black is white by argument, but you will never convince me’. However, various ideas abound and passion is stoked by the possibility of jumping through time, showing the contrast of visions: ‘Just think! One might invest all one’s money, leave it to accumulate interest, and hurry on ahead!’ Or the narrator’s own vision: ‘To discover a society erected on a strictly communistic basis’. The Psychologist (there are no names, but rather the profession of the person) notes the observation of the machine:

‘We cannot see it, nor can we appreciate this machine, any more than we can the spoke of a wheel spinning, or a bullet flying through the air. If it is travelling through time fifty times or a hundred times faster than we are, if it gets through a minute while we get through a second, the impression it creates will of course be only one-fiftieth or one-hundredth of what it would make if it were not travelling in time.’

However, most are left non-persuaded by the Time Traveller, the narrator explaining: ‘I think that at that time none of us quite believed in the Time Machine. The fact is, the Time Traveller was one of those men who are too clever to be believed: you never felt that you saw all round him; you always suspected some subtle reserve, some ingenuity in ambush, behind his lucid frankness.’

This changes at a later date when the group return to the Time Traveller’s home for dinner only to discover that the man is bedraggled and starved, recounting a recent adventure that he has had in the future. The narrator notes: ‘You read, I will suppose, attentively enough; but you cannot see the speaker’s white, sincere face in the bright circle of the little lamp, no hear the intonation of his voice. You cannot know how his expression followed the turns of the story! Most of us hearers were in shadow, for the candles in the smoking-room had not been lighted, and only the face of the Journalist and the legs of the Silent Man from the knees downward were illuminated. At first, we glanced now and again at each other. After a time we ceased to do that, and looked only at the Time Traveller’s face.’

From this moment onwards the Time Traveller recounts his adventure, taking control of the story. Wanting to test the time machine, he travelled forward into the future in the hope of discovering the great inventions and ideas of mankind, before becoming stranded in 802,701 AD. He notes: ‘…the humour of the situation came into my mind: the thought of the years I had spent in study and toil to get into the future age, and now my passion of anxiety to get out of it. I had made myself the most complicated and the most hopeless trap that ever a man devised.’

It is at this point that the story takes on a familiar shape to the modern audience, in its division of races of the child-like innocence of the Eloi who live above ground, and the fearsome night creatures that live below, the Morlocks. Both live in separate spheres, yet at night the Eloi are taken with the Morlocks feasting upon their flesh. But, Well’s story is much more than a simple monster-tale; with his own beliefs on society finding a voice within these creatures. The book can be read as a commentary on the modern day evils of work and industry, in which the rich take the profit without getting their hands dirty, and how the workers are left to suffer the consequences. Such a view is, in Wells’ mind, unsustainable; the edifice will break down before too long:

‘Above ground you must have the Haves, pursuing pleasure and comfort and beauty, and below ground the Have-nots, the Workers getting continually adapted to the conditions of their labour.’

And:

‘Ages ago, thousands of generations ago, man had thrust his brother man out of the ease and the sunshine. And now that brother was coming back – changed!’

Unlike a recent, poor movie adaption, the Time Traveller does not destroy the system of the future to liberate the Eloi. No, he escapes from this nightmare to return to his own time (before disappearing again, but that last snippet is saved for you, dear reader). Rather, the saviour here is not the character of the Time Traveller, but H.G. Wells himself, firing off warning shots to the heads of industry around the world that they had better help their workers, or be faced to suffer the consequences as they are turned upon: ‘I grieved to think how brief the dream of the human intellect had been. It had committed suicide.’ Having written this work at the tail-end of the 1800s, it predicts – as much good Science Fiction does – the impending future. Within decades workers started standing up for themselves, overcoming the “Haves” in bloody riots and rebellions across the world. Wells believes such actions would bring about the suffering of everyone in society, in one large suicidal pact.

But such talk of future bloody revolution takes as away from Wells’ text. If the Worm was slightly critical of The War of the Worlds, he has found a home within Wells’ back catalogue in The Time Machine. It is a short book full of adventure and ideas, of threats and wonder. The Worm can predict one thing of his reading future: he will return to H.G. Wells full of confidence and hope of more escapades and exploits.


Buy it here

And read a similarly nod-worthy review here