The Invisible Man (1897)

The Invisible Man was a fun read. Clever, with a slightly sci-fi bend, but also some complex character development. The character of the invisible man is so evil and unfeeling, that you end up rooting for everyone who wants to destory him.
( )

if I were invisible I would spend my nights watching you sleep, maybe even kissing you so softly that you would think you are dreaming. the invisible man makes other choices. ( )

I've actually never read this before, and was surprised both by how detailed the science of the transformation was (though I probably shouldn't have been, because this era was big on the science in science fiction) and how unsympathetic the protagonist was. Enjoyed very much!

I must say that I've never read The Invisible Man before in my life; shame on me.

Now, while I've seen movies about The Invisible Man, I actually never read the original story by H.G.Wells. While I had a glimpse of The Island of Doctor Moreau (which I also never read, double shame on me) in a Japanese B-movie I saw when I was a child (Latitude Zero — a crazy but entertaining movie nonetheless, if you like the genre,) Wells' story about The Invisible Man I've never contemplated.

Contrary to the ultra-modernistic story told in The Island Of Doctor Moreau (which could easily be, save for wording, a 60's story — and I guess Planet of the Apes is greatly indebted to it,) The Invisible Man is a striking story told in a particular soft British tone I loved since its very beginning.

While (third time in a row I use this word!) I'm quite sure Wells contributed to the birth and to the development of the classical British cozy mystery of which Agatha Christie will be one of the greatest champions (The Invisible Man is a British cozy mystery, included with a case of Burglary At The Vicarage — does it ring some bell?) But I think many other authors might have drawn some of their inspiration from Wells' work, for instance from The Invisible Man.

Guess who?

I don't know how many of you are familiar with the Lord of the Rings written trilogy (I once made a ritual of reading it anew every year, come the first September rains — this was some years ago, though,) but some of you who have read Tolkien's trilogy, after you will have also read your Wells assignment, might have the same feeling I had.

At first I didn't realize, but then I couldn't help noticing that the description of the arrival of the stranger who is The Invisible Man at the Inn reminded me of one famous character from the trilogy.

"... for he was smoking a pipe, and all the time that she was in the room he never loosened the silk muffler he had wrapped round the lower part of his face to put the mouthpiece to his lips ... He sat in the corner with his back to the window-blind and spoke now, having eaten and drunk and being comfortably warmed through, with less aggressive brevity than before. The reflection of the fire lent a kind of red animation to his big spectacles [in the Fellowship Of The Ring it's the gleam in Strider's eyes] they had lacked hitherto."

"The visitor remained in the parlour until four o’clock, without giving the ghost of an excuse for an intrusion. For the most part he was quite still during that time; it would seem he sat in the growing darkness smoking in the firelight “perhaps dozing."
Well, I've got the clear image that this was exactly Aragorn, son of Arathorn, also known as Strider by the Bree people. Now, if you remember, this scene happens in Bree, at the Prancing Pony (more on this later.)

Now, after The Invisible Man runs out of money, in Wells' story, he steals some at the Vicarage and in the ensuing commotion he causes at the Inn, in the attempt of running from the suspicions he's risen, he reveals his nature of invisible man. That commotion will be much discussed later on by the Iping folks. That week, a village festival is underway at Iping — Whit's Monday. If you read the description of the people at the festival, and of their mood, I think you might have the feeling that there's a bit of the atmosphere Tolkien uses in the aftermath of his Bilbo's Party:

"...After the first gusty panic had spent itself Iping became argumentative. Scepticism suddenly reared its head—rather nervous scepticism, not at all assured of its back, but scepticism nevertheless. It is so much easier not to believe in an invisible man; and those who had actually seen him dissolve into air, or felt the strength of his arm, could be counted on the fingers of two hands. And of these witnesses Mr. Wadgers was presently missing, having retired impregnably behind the bolts and bars of his own house, and Jaffers was lying stunned in the parlour of the “Coach and Horses.” [more on this name later on] Great and strange ideas transcending experience often have less effect upon men and women than smaller, more tangible considerations. Iping was gay with bunting, and everybody was in gala dress. Whit Monday had been looked forward to for a month or more. By the afternoon even those who believed in the Unseen were beginning to resume their little amusements in a tentative fashion, on the supposition that he had quite gone away, and with the sceptics he was already a jest. But people, sceptics and believers alike, were remarkably sociable all that day. Haysman’s meadow was gay with a tent, in which Mrs. Bunting and other ladies were preparing tea, while, without, the Sunday-school children ran races and played games under the noisy guidance of the curate and the Misses Cuss and Sackbut [!!!] No doubt there was a slight uneasiness in the air, but people for the most part had the sense to conceal whatever imaginative qualms they experienced. On the village green an inclined strong, down which, clinging the while to a pulley-swung handle, one could be hurled violently against a sack at the other end, came in for considerable favour among the adolescent, as also did the swings and the cocoanut shies. There was also promenading, and the steam organ attached to a small roundabout filled the air with a pungent flavour of oil and with equally pungent music. Members of the club, who had attended church in the morning, were splendid in badges of pink and green, and some of the gayer-minded had also adorned their bowler hats with brilliant-coloured favours of ribbon. Old Fletcher, whose conceptions of holiday-making were severe, was visible through the jasmine about his window or through the open door (whichever way you chose to look), poised delicately on a plank supported on two chairs, and whitewashing the ceiling of his front room."

Now, all these people discuss the matter in another Inn, by the name of "Coach and Horses." Does it ring another bell? How far is "Coach and Horses" from "Prancing Pony?"

It is at the Prancing Pony, where Frodo wears for the first time the One Ring and becomes invisible, causing as much commotion as his uncle Bilbo did at his one hundred and eleventh birthday at Bags End.

I shall also add we have a specific use of a particular common room, which is found in both Wells' and Tolkien's inns, the parlor. I think the use of the parlor is strange in a mystery story. Both Frodo and The Invisible Man have the same relationship regarding the parlor -- because of the nature of both that man's and that hobbit's business, they should keep miles away from the next common room; instead, the parlor is used in both stories as a device to introduce a major change in the plot: The Invisible Man is (not) seen, so he must run and hide, the Ringwraiths are alerted to Frodo's presence.

I think there's enough here to raise more than a doubt that Tolkien might have remembered some passages from Wells' interesting book.

I'm halfway reading The Invisible Man, but these resemblances were so remarkable I had to put them down somewhere. ( )

I read The War of the Worlds a long time ago and I don't think I've really read any of Wells' other books until now, despite my intentions. I'm glad I finally got round to it. The Invisible Man isn't so much a story in some ways as an exploration of an idea -- not much happens, really: a man finds out how to make himself invisible but finds it much less convenient than expected, goes on a crime rampage, and is eventually killed. The main character is despicable and thoroughly unlikeable, which does the book no favours as a leisure read, but it's an interesting exploration of the idea. Though, of course, the 'scientific' explanation is laughable from a modern reader's perspective.

For the little that happens it's quite long and unrewarding, but considering Wells' influence on the genre, it's interesting in that way, too. ( )