War of the Worlds

Perhaps the father of science-fiction, H.G. Wells, is best known for his celebrated classic War of the Worlds. The book was written between 1985 and 1897, and first published in Pearson's Magazine in the U.K. and Cosmopolitan in the U.S. The serial transitioned into a novel in 1898, and has been reprinted and offered in numerous formats since then. The seminal alien invasion novel has also been adapted into radio drama, films, comics, and television.

The novel, presented in third-person by an unnamed narrator, begins in Southeast England as a cylinder launches from Mars and arrives on Horsell Common in Surrey. The narrator approaches the pit where the capsule is laying. He then gets a neighboring journalist to accompany him and the news spreads as more and more people arrive to gaze into the pit. Eventually, the cylinder's top spins open and the aliens, possessing tentacles and a beak-like moth, emerge. Within a few minutes the aliens incinerate over 40 people with a devastating heat ray. The human slaughter commences and another capsule arrives.

The book's prose intensifies with more descriptions of battle. Wells focuses a great deal on catastrophe and destruction, elevated with the emergence of the tripods, three-legged Martian fighting machines that simply annihilate military forces. Entwined in the narrative is the narrator's flee with his wife to the nearby town of Leatherhead, leaving her there with relatives. The narrator (for reasons unclear to me) returns to the Woking area to witness more carnage and then the mass exodus of people abandoning London.

The book's second half (labeled Book 2) is more atmospheric as the nature of the novel expands into a more despondent post-apocalyptic tone. London, referred to as “Dead London” in chapter eight, is described as a truly dismal place littered with corpses and alien scavengers. These scavengers seemingly squeeze the blood from humans as a source of nutrients. 

The more intimate details of the book's second half features the narrator and a soldier trapped in a deserted house. The narrator is concerned with his wife's safety and irritated with the soldier's deteriorating mental state. There's a lack of food and water that adds more misery to the situation. Both characters eventually leave the house, only to find themselves trapped in another dwelling as the alien scavengers continue to scrape the streets and houses with probing tentacles. 

The book's climax comes as the narrator travels into lifeless London. As he walks through wreckage he begins to hear an eerie sound emanating from the aliens. I won't ruin the surprise here, but this is a hopeful sound that eventually leads to Earth's liberation from the Martian invaders. 

Reviewing literary classics is challenging. These works are over a century old, and my personal exposure to their legacy – various adaptations of the material, decades of critique, imitators, and overall cultural awareness – means I have been desensitized from the novel's initial grandeur. I hadn't read the book before, but I had watched the movies, heard the radio drama, and was made aware of the book's importance in science-fiction and as a catalyst for the genre's sub-genre of alien invasion. One watch of something as flashy as Independence Day (1996) makes this novel's action sequences a little underwhelming. But that's a personal problem reflective of my absorption of media, not any fault of the author or the work. 

With all that in consideration, I found War of the Worlds to be a good novel. I enjoyed the atmosphere, and the narrator's survival horror perspective. The Martians appearance as tall blood sucking creatures with large eyes, tentacles, heat rays, and deadly gas played on my fears of being flesh-squeezed by a hideous alien invader. The description of England as a lifeless and decimated husk was described in the darkest way imaginable. In post-apocalyptic situations, humans can be the worst horror of all. Wells does an excellent job presenting human suffering and the mass lunacy of everyday people forced into extreme circumstances. Selfishness and greed leads to the greatest suffering of all.

I think my only real complaint with the book was the inability to really hone in on the narrator. Often this character would tell me things happening in other parts of England or explaining in great detail his brother's exploits to survive the invasion, including a naval battle between a battering ram and an alien. I felt that I lost the intimacy of things directly occurring with the character, his personal predicament and the things affecting only him. It took me out of the moment and made the narration more epic in nature than personal. 

Needless to say, War of the Worlds is an important book, and a praised work of science-fiction worthy of imitation, inspiration, and discussion. Read the book and appreciate the novel's legacy and impact. You won't be disappointed.

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