The War of the Worlds

Written by H. G Wells and since its first publication, reiterated and made into comic books and films, The War of the Worlds is a book that I found incredibly boring. You would have thought that the central science fiction theme and conflicts between Martian and Man would be intriguing, but Wells chooses to not write so much about the war, the conflict, or the science fiction, but rather the effect that such devastation and destruction will have on society. As a result of this, although he makes some fairly respective and admirable points of mankind’s primal reversion and such, I still found this book to be really boring. I’m glad that I’ve read it and it’s branded as a classic, so I’m fine to boast my sophistication by having it in my personal library, but I did find it boring. 

The night after a shooting star is seen streaking over England, a strange cylinder is discovered near London. Curious and completely unarmed, the locals approach it, only to be brutally killed by a fearsome Heat Ray as the cylinder opens and tentacled Martian invaders emerge. Soon the country is being reduced to flaming and charred ruins and humanity’s existence is greatly threatened as Martians move across the country, armed with poisonous black gas and terrible heat rays, determined to claim the Earth for their own. 

I think what really sparked interest in this book was Orson Welles’ infamous radio broadcast of 1938. Reading from the book and interspersed with music from Ramon Raquello and his orchestra, Welles broadcasted a full-scale Martian invasion, causing quite a panic in the US though the broadcast was slightly exaggerated. 

Wells writes the book as the memoirs of a philosophy writer who survived through the whole thing, so it’s in the first person, speaks directly to the reader, and is written in blunt and simple descriptive tones. The character perception is a hard way to write in, I think, and it was these blunt and short descriptions regarding the science fiction aspect of the story that I found to be a bit of a letdown. The horror and drama that this character would have felt was incoherently communicated, therefore I did not feel terrified or compelled to continue turning the pages. 

Having said all this, I do respect and loosely admire Wells’ description of what would happen to human society in the even that something like this ever did happen. We would revert back to our primal and primitive ways or those who are not turned feral by the panic of the destruction that surrounds us would engage in a natural selection to begin society again underground. Wells’ central dramas hinge on man’s strong will to survive and it was reading about epiphanies and realisation such as these in this book that kept me turning pages. 

Filled with science fiction, destruction, fire, panic, poverty, drama, and a ridiculously-are-you-kidding-me? ending, The War of the Worlds is book that puts forth some respectable and interesting ideas about the human nature and society, but ultimately I found it to be rather boring and I was quite happy that it was only 180 pages long.