Although
Rudyard Kipling’s With the Night Mail: A
Story of 3000 A.D. would be a great resource for anyone researching the
Steampunk genre, I wouldn’t recommend reading it for any other purpose.
Why?
Because
there isn’t really much of a story. There are a few vague characters, the
narrator is nameless and devoid of personality, the plot is nearly nonexistent,
and the point is completely lost.
This
book is entirely forgettable. I should know: I actually read this twice because I’d forgotten I’d read it
the first time, and the only reason I realized I’d read it before was because I
had highlighted a Oh So Very Steampunk Passage of the text in my e-reader copy.
The
bare bones of the story is that the Nameless Narrator is a news correspondent
who is shadowing the daily (that is, nightly) workings of an airship. Yes,
according to Kipling, dirigible-type aircraft are the mode of transportation of
the future. Global travel is so easy that the intertwining of nations has
necessitated a universal language so the airships can communicate with one
another. The airships run on electricity and some sort of semiprecious gem
power. Airplanes, called “’planes” exist as well, but are considered outmoded
and unfashionable.
This
book is a crying shame, because I generally like Kipling’s writing, and even if
I didn’t, there’s so much raw potential for the story. I would have loved to
read more about the international relationships and how Kipling speculated they
would be changed by a global transportation network. Could his imaginary
airships have battles? How did these gems help the ships function? Were these
“airlines” privatized, or controlled by governments, or almost a separate
global power themselves?
Jules
Verne’s The Clipper of the Clouds (originally titled Robur the Conqueror) is pretty
much Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the
Sea IN THE SKY. If Leagues were
broken down into a basic formula, Clouds would tick off pretty much every check mark.
-
Begins
with mysterious sightings around the world
-
Scientists
trying to figure it out
-
Mysterious
genius of unknown nationality is behind it
-
Genius
kidnaps scientists and a token comic relief character and takes them on his
travels
-
Although
he’s supposed to be the “bad” guy the genius shows himself capable of
compassion
-
Scientists
try to escape
-
Genius
is eventually defeated and goes down with his ship, apparently killed in a
“blaze of glory”
-
BUT
SPOILERS: Genius then shows up again in another book.
In
this case, the role of Captain Nemo is played by Robur “the Conqueror,” a rogue
aeronaut who is laughed out of the scientific community for thinking that
aeroplanes run on machinery will master the skies rather than balloon-buoyant
ships like dirigibles.
SPOILERS:
He shows up again in Master of the World,
just as Nemo shows up in The Mysterious
Island. This time Robur keeps his feet on the ground, terrorizing people by
speeding around in a race car, but otherwise the plot is similar to the first book.
Even
more than Captain Nemo, I felt like Robur’s role as the villain of the story
was forced. After all, his scientific theories were right (in-story, as well as
later in reality), his antagonism toward the men he kidnapped was warranted by
their insulting and condescending behavior, and he doesn’t really do anything
bad to people except confuse them by popping out of the clouds in random places
around the globe. In fact, before they’re kidnapped, the two scientists are kind of jerks in general, and they don’t improve over the course of the
story as they scheme, argue, and continually insult Robur even when he’s in
control of their fates.
The
comic relief character is also unsympathetic, being a terrible caricature
of a cowardly, foolish slave—even though, like the “cowardly fool” servant Job
in She, he probably has more common
sense than any of the characters in the book, despite Verne’s best attempts to
make the reader laugh at him.
In
conclusion: These two stories are exactly the sort of fiction that contributed
to the newborn Sci Fi genre. Are they good
science fiction? Not really. But if you have to read one of them, read The Clipper of the Clouds.
Or
you could skip both and just read Longinus’ On
the Sublime, which bears little to no similarity to either of these books,
but is vastly superior and more edifying. I’ll talk about that book more next week.
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