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270 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1877
In one way "Off on a Comet" shows a marked contrast to Verne's earlier books. Not only does it invade a region of remotest space, but the author here abandons his usual scrupulously scientific attitude and gives his fancy freer rein. In order that he may escort us through the depths of immeasurable space, to show us what astronomy really knows of conditions there and upon the other planets, Verne asks us to accept a situation which is in a sense self-contradictory. The earth and a comet are brought twice into collision without mankind in general, or even our astronomers, becoming conscious of the fact. Moreover several people from widely scattered places are carried off by the comet and returned uninjured. Yet further, the comet snatches and carries away with it for the convenience of its travelers, both air and water. Little, useful tracts of earth are picked up and, as it were, turned over and clapped down right side up again upon the comet's surface. Even ships pass uninjured through, this remarkable somersault. These events all belong to the realm of fairyland.
If the situation were reproduced in actuality, if ever a comet should come into collision with the earth, we can conceive two scientifically possible results. If the comet were of such attenuation, such almost infinitesimal mass as some of these celestial wanderers seem to be, we can imagine our earth self-protective and possibly unharmed. If, on the other hand, the comet had even a hundredth part of the size and solidity and weight which Verne confers upon his monster so as to give his travelers a home―in that case the collision would be unspeakably disastrous—especially to the unlucky individuals who occupied the exact point of contact.
But once granted the initial and the closing extravagance, the departure and return of his diameters, the alpha and omega of his tale, how closely the author clings to facts between! How closely he follows, and imparts to his readers, the scientific probabilities of the universe beyond our earth, the actual knowledge so hard won by our astronomers! Other authors who, since Verne, have told of trips through the planetary and stellar universe have given free rein to fancy, to dreams of what might be found. Verne has endeavored to impart only what is known to exist.
Most Jules Verne books are known for being rigorously, almost obsessively, accurate in their premises (at least based on the science of the time). In our recent review for From the Earth to the Moon and Around the Moon, we discussed at length just how realistic and accurate both the concept and the math were, and how predictive that novel proved to be for the Apollo program a century later. Off on a Comet! is a very different matter. It starts and ends with an utterly outlandish premise, that a chunk of the Earth should be scooped up by a comet without anyone hardly noticing, and then that it should be returned, again without anyone hardly noticing.
In speculative fiction writing, we often refer to this as a “by.” This is shorthand for some outlandish premise that we are asking the reader to accept, usually early in a book. (Note: it is sometimes referred to as a “buy,” meaning something the readers will buy into, but I prefer the “by” in the sense of something that that readers will allow us to bypass without detailed justification.) This can be a lot of different things, and the specifics vary be genre. In fantasy, for instance, you get a lot of extra “bys” by virtue of the genre: readers of fantasy expect there to be magic, talking plants, and other things that are impossible in the “real” world. If you’re writing realistic fiction, on the other hand, you’re not going to get as many bys, and the ones you do get to use will be smaller.
There’s a lot more that we could talk about on this idea, and we could probably even do a whole post on it in the future, but let’s turn out attention to science fiction. When I read science fiction, I give authors relatively few bys. In other words, I expect my science fiction to be pretty scientifically rigorous, or at least well-justified. If there is going to be an exception to this, like a poorly explained way of breaking the lightspeed barrier, it needs to be established up front, near the start of the story, or I’m not going to accept it. I bring all of this up because Off on a Comet! starts us off with a giant by: the aforementioned premise that a chunk of the Earth can be scooped off by a comet, and the inhabitants would not even realize what was happening.
This is a pretty major ask, and it only stays within readers’ suspension of disbelief because of the rigor of all of the science between those outlandish bookends. Once the characters are “off on a comet,” their attempts to ascertain what happened, characterize the effects, and understand their new circumstances are as rigorous as in any Verne novel. These investigations are accompanied by some really dramatic imagery, and it was that imagery that stuck in my head from my first reading of the book all those years ago. There was one instance in which a perfectly still body of water stays liquid far below freezing until someone throws a stone into it, when it all freezes at once.
In this reread, while I still enjoyed the book, I did not find the story quite as compelling as I remembered it. Because I already knew the answers to all of the mysteries, the investigations did not hold my attention as much, and the characters who get swept up by the comet are not among Verne’s most compelling or iconic personages. I still enjoyed it, but it was perhaps not quite as worthy of rereading as was From the Earth to the Moon and Around the Moon, or some of the better-known Verne titles. All of that being said, if you haven’t read this before, I would absolutely recommend that you give it a try soon.