(1904). One of Wells' better paced novels. It's a real hodgepodge of genres. He tackles his subject from every angle, throws in the kitchen sink.
It starts off in the same vein as The Invisible Man, a concept mined for humor and then horror. Indeed the part where the science teacher is attacked by giant beetle larvae is the earliest example of a classic horror gross-out scene I can think of:
“'Look!' he cried, 'I can't get 'em off!'
"And with a qualm of horror the boy saw that, attached to Mr. Carrington's cheek, to his bare arm, and to his thigh, and lashing furiously with their lithe brown muscular bodies, were three of these horrible larvae, their great jaws buried deep in his flesh and sucking for dear life. They had the grip of bulldogs, and Mr. Carrington's efforts to detach the monsters from his face had only served to lacerate the flesh to which it had attached itself, and streak face and neck and coat with living scarlet.
"'I'll cut 'im,' cried the boy; ''old on, Sir.'
"And with the zest of his age in such proceedings, he severed one by one the heads from the bodies of Mr. Carrington's assailants. 'Yup,' said the boy with a wincing face as each one fell before him. Even then, so tough and determined was their grip that the severed heads remained for a space, still fiercely biting home and still sucking, with the blood streaming out of their necks behind.”
And the descriptions of the food of the gods breaking containment, leaking out into a ditch in the countryside, or carried into an unsuspecting town by an idiotic old lady, reminded me of every zombie/plague movie ever made.
“'The mischief's done,' Lady Wondershoot decided when they told her—with expurgations—what Redwood had said.
"'The mischief's done,' echoed the Vicar.
"Though indeed as a matter of fact the mischief was only beginning.”
Then there's the experiment-gone-haywire aspect, which reminded me of Crichton, with hens like dinosaurs, muscular plants smashing through windows as in The Day of the Triffids, battles against giant rats and wasps like in an Atom Age B-movie, a climax like King Kong and Frankenstein combined. Throw in a little subplot about stealing trade secrets, some progressive and reactionary politics, the rise of a charismatic demagogue, ethnic cleansing, and on and on, and you've got an unbelievably wide-ranging short novel. A little too wide-ranging.
Arching over all is a satire on scientists playing God while absolving themselves of the consequences to society. In many ways this book is Wells' most timely. Certainly prescient is this warning to those who like to proclaim the End of History:
"Just as many a stream will be at its smoothest, will look most tranquil, running deep and strong, at the very verge of a cataract, so all that is most conservative in man seemed settling quietly into a serene ascendency during these latter days. Reaction became popular: there was talk of the bankruptcy of science, of the dying of Progress, of the advent of the Mandarins,—talk of such things amidst the echoing footsteps of the Children of the Food. The fussy pointless Revolutions of the old time, a vast crowd of silly little people chasing some silly little monarch and the like, had indeed died out and passed away; but Change had not died out. It was only Change that had changed.”
Wells observes the way the future is often already present, but simply not evenly distributed, as the food at first revolutionizes the world in patchwork fashion. One emblem of the transition is the vicar. He's willfully blind to the change happening around him, insists nothing in his little parish will ever change, only for his tombstone to be swiftly swallowed up by monstrous vegetation.
While there aren't quite those moments where the novel suddenly deepens, or breaks out and gives glimpses into new, more poetic planes of existence, as in Wells' best stuff, there are still a couple of beautiful and mysterious moments characteristic of him. If the book doesn't reach the heights of earlier work, it lacks the tedious penchant for repetition.
I think except for the short stories I might be running out of Wells' scientific romances. Sad!
Ranking so far, favorite to least:
The First Men in the Moon
The War of the Worlds
Short stories like The Country of the Blind and The Lord of the Dynamos.
The Food of the Gods, tied with The Time Machine
The Invisible Man
The Island of Doctor Moreau
When the Sleeper Wakes
Marginalia:
*Early usage of the term "iron curtain."
Quotes:
“'Not go on with it!' he shrieked. 'But—! You can't help yourselves now. It's what you're for. It's what Winkles is for... Often wondered what Winkles was for. Now it's obvious. What's the trouble? Disturbance? Obviously. Upset things? Upset everything... Here you are, fearfully and wonderfully made, and all you think you're made for is just to sit about and take your vittles. D'you think this world was made for old women to mop about in?'" (Cossar is such a great foil, by the way. I like how Wells doesn't bother explaining his position. You intuitively grasp it, and what it says about his character).
“She declared she never wished to enter her nursery again, wished she was dead, wished the child was dead, wished everybody was dead, wished she had never married Redwood, wished no one ever married anybody..."
“And withal the reef of Science that these little 'scientists' built and are yet building is so wonderful, so portentous, so full of mysterious half-shapen promises for the mighty future of man! They do not seem to realise the things they are doing!”
“When at last Skinner followed the lonely footpath over the swelling field that separated Hickleybrow from the sombre pine-shaded hollow in whose black shadows the gigantic canary-creeper grappled silently with the Experimental Farm, he followed it alone.” (Lot of nice imagery like this in the novel).