Maura (maura853) -
I made it to about page 150 of "The Massacre of Mankind" before giving up, for now. In fairness to Stephan Baxter, there are some real delights in this, the authorized sequel to HG Wells' The War of the Worlds: I whooped with joy when I realized that the heroine of this narrative of the Martian's second attempt to invade Earth is none other than Miss Elphinstone, last seen with The Narrator's brother, braving the mobs who are fleeing London, demonstrating cool nerves and a nifty hand with a carriage whip. We meet other old friends: the Artilleryman, The Narrator's wife (now ex-wife), The Narrator's brother (now Miss Elphinstone's ex-husband), and Mrs. Elphinstone, Miss E's whiney sister-in-law. The body-count of the original means that Baxter has to dig deep in the text for characters with appropriate, authentic pedigrees: a courageous Militiaman whose âblink and you'd miss itâ appearance in WotW left him missing, presumed dead at the Martians' Heat Ray, is rewarded here with much more than a walk on & die role, AND that rarest of all things, a name! The widow of astronomer âPoor Ogilvy,â the Narrator's friend and one of the first victims of the Heat Ray on Horsell Common, has taken over his telescope, and watches Mars for any signs of invasive intent. I half expected the ghost of the Landlord of the Spotted Dog to make an appearance, railing for all eternity about overdue rental fees for his pony and trap.
And yes, we meet up once again with The Narrator, here given a name (Walter Jenkins â more about that in a moment), a man with a case pf PTSD and guilty conscience the size of a Red Planet.
In case it's not obvious by now, "The War of the Worlds" is one of my favorite novels. It is the second of the five incredible novels written by HG Wells between 1895 and 1901 in which Wells more or less invented the sub-genres of modern Science Fiction. (Time Travel, the Mad Scientist, Alien Invasion, Genetic Manipulation, and Planetary Exploration. If he forgot anything, like the Internet, or Genetically Modified Foods, or Total War, it probably featured in one of his equally iconic short stories from the remaining 45 years of his career.) WotW is written in an odd, clipped, journalistic style that takes a little time to warm up to, but manages with its nameless characters, and unreliable Narrator, and its Ordnance Survey Map approach to plot, to create a blank slate upon which readers of each generation can project their apocalyptic fears. Try it: reread WotW today, and it's Rocketman and The Dotard crawling out of those capsules with their Heat Rays, coming to kill us all.
Wells also managed to do this with amazing brevity; without, I would argue, a word or character wasted. We meet the Martian invaders, suffer as a great swathe of the English Home Counties is laid waste, and SPOILER live to see the Martians dismissed in ignominy because they hadn't thought to pick up some Nyquil before getting down to the business of invasion and genocide -- all in less than 200 pages. "Massacre" clocks in at almost 500 pages, and by page 150, I had enough. Baxter seems to feel that he has to explain everything: characters who were sketched in with a few sure brushstrokes, and given iconic labels (the Artilleryman, the Curate) are given names, backstories, complicated motivations and opinions about everything. Rather than allowing the reader to share the apocalyptic moment with the Narrator, look at the destruction and wonder what will happen next, Baxter indulges in a complicated alternative history, proposing the way, twenty years later, the Martian invasion of 1898 would have changed the history we know. World War I hasn't happened, and Britain is locked into a repressive alliance with The German Empire. Winston Churchill is a forgotten has-been. The Titanic didn't sink! But the Lusitania did â¦
Baxter seems unable to let anything go without an explanation, while part of the charm of the original novel was that Wells recognized the power of ânot sweating the small stuff.â Give your Readers the Big Picture, and let their imaginations do the rest.
But I forgive him. I know another True Fan when I see one. If you love The War of the Worlds, and HG Wells (who himself makes a walk-on, suitably grouchy appearance!), there is much â familiar characters, little in-jokes -- to love here. I wish this had been a little bit better, but I know I will come back to it when I have a bit more patience.
Oh, yes: Walter Jenkins. WHY Walter Jenkins? To get the joke, you have to know about the Jeff Wayne's ârock operaâ spectacular based on WotW, and particularly, the innovative posthumous casting (as a hologram) that allowed Beck to use a true superstar's mellifluous Welsh tones as the Voice of the Narrator.
Richard Walter Jenkins. Go look it up.
And yes, we meet up once again with The Narrator, here given a name (Walter Jenkins â more about that in a moment), a man with a case pf PTSD and guilty conscience the size of a Red Planet.
In case it's not obvious by now, "The War of the Worlds" is one of my favorite novels. It is the second of the five incredible novels written by HG Wells between 1895 and 1901 in which Wells more or less invented the sub-genres of modern Science Fiction. (Time Travel, the Mad Scientist, Alien Invasion, Genetic Manipulation, and Planetary Exploration. If he forgot anything, like the Internet, or Genetically Modified Foods, or Total War, it probably featured in one of his equally iconic short stories from the remaining 45 years of his career.) WotW is written in an odd, clipped, journalistic style that takes a little time to warm up to, but manages with its nameless characters, and unreliable Narrator, and its Ordnance Survey Map approach to plot, to create a blank slate upon which readers of each generation can project their apocalyptic fears. Try it: reread WotW today, and it's Rocketman and The Dotard crawling out of those capsules with their Heat Rays, coming to kill us all.
Wells also managed to do this with amazing brevity; without, I would argue, a word or character wasted. We meet the Martian invaders, suffer as a great swathe of the English Home Counties is laid waste, and SPOILER live to see the Martians dismissed in ignominy because they hadn't thought to pick up some Nyquil before getting down to the business of invasion and genocide -- all in less than 200 pages. "Massacre" clocks in at almost 500 pages, and by page 150, I had enough. Baxter seems to feel that he has to explain everything: characters who were sketched in with a few sure brushstrokes, and given iconic labels (the Artilleryman, the Curate) are given names, backstories, complicated motivations and opinions about everything. Rather than allowing the reader to share the apocalyptic moment with the Narrator, look at the destruction and wonder what will happen next, Baxter indulges in a complicated alternative history, proposing the way, twenty years later, the Martian invasion of 1898 would have changed the history we know. World War I hasn't happened, and Britain is locked into a repressive alliance with The German Empire. Winston Churchill is a forgotten has-been. The Titanic didn't sink! But the Lusitania did â¦
Baxter seems unable to let anything go without an explanation, while part of the charm of the original novel was that Wells recognized the power of ânot sweating the small stuff.â Give your Readers the Big Picture, and let their imaginations do the rest.
But I forgive him. I know another True Fan when I see one. If you love The War of the Worlds, and HG Wells (who himself makes a walk-on, suitably grouchy appearance!), there is much â familiar characters, little in-jokes -- to love here. I wish this had been a little bit better, but I know I will come back to it when I have a bit more patience.
Oh, yes: Walter Jenkins. WHY Walter Jenkins? To get the joke, you have to know about the Jeff Wayne's ârock operaâ spectacular based on WotW, and particularly, the innovative posthumous casting (as a hologram) that allowed Beck to use a true superstar's mellifluous Welsh tones as the Voice of the Narrator.
Richard Walter Jenkins. Go look it up.
