The Mysterious Island by Jules Verne

Date originally posted on Facebook: January 28, 2011

Source of book: I own this.

I am slowly republishing my early Facebook reviews on my blog. Here is one from early 2011. 

 

Photograph by Félix Nadar, c. 1878

Although Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is considered the first Science Fiction novel, the author to truly popularize the genre was Jules Verne. Whereas Shelley approached modern technology with anxiety, Verne largely celebrated it. Verne’s scientists are larger than life, work mostly for the good of others, and have few reservations about technology. One might almost say that the scientist takes the role once accorded to the gods of mythology.

Verne was unusually prescient when it came to the scientific aspects of his books. Verne accurately predicted numerous technologies before they were realized, such as submarines, rockets, and even scuba diving. What is striking is not so much the imagination (which is impressive in itself) but the accuracy of detail when it came to the actual functions and challenges of the technology. The realism is startling when considered in light of the limited scientific knowledge of the time.

The Mysterious Island may be described as a Robinson Crusoe for a later age. Five persons steal a balloon to escape from besieged Richmond, Virginia, during the American Civil War; are caught by a massive storm, and are finally deposited on an uninhabited island in the South Pacific. Cyrus the engineer; Gideon the journalist; Pencroft the sailor; Neb, the engineer’s servant; and Herbert, the sailor’s young assistant; must find a way to survive with their wits and a minimum of possessions. In Crusoe’s case, he has the wreck and all it contains to start his civilization. For the protagonists of this story, all they have is their clothes, a watch, a grain of wheat, a dog, eventually the remains of the balloon fabric, and the extraordinary knowledge of Cyrus the engineer. The others each have their own areas of knowledge which will contribute to their survival.

An additional contrast with Defoe’s book is that Crusoe considers himself to be saved and sustained by Divine intervention. Indeed, Crusoe’s devotion is a central part of the narrative. Despite this, Crusoe largely survives by his wits and hard work. His survival of the wreck and eventual deliverance from the island, though, are the only clear miracles. The rest is accomplished by Crusoe’s hard work and ingenuity.

In Verne’s tale, this is partially inverted. There are a few token references to the divine, but the characters seem to feel as if they are truly alone and cast upon their own wits. Oddly enough, key turns of the plot depend on the mysterious intervention of an unknown benefactor. The deux ex machina, if you will. Who is helping them at key moments? This mystery is not revealed until the end, but the answer involves a character from another of Verne’s novels.

Verne’s books are generally more plot driven than character driven. Despite this emphasis, two of his characters have become among the most famous in all of literature. Phineas Fogg from Around the World in 80 Days, and Captain Nemo from 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea are familiar to many of us, whether from the movies or abridged editions for children. These two characters contain the elements common to all of Verne’s heroes. The archetype of the confident, brilliant, forceful, and above all, scientific hero is truly Verne’s invention. Nemo is perhaps best loved because he is flawed: many of Verne’s creations appear too good to be true at times.

In this book, Cyrus the engineer takes on this role. He truly is what most of us would desire in a leader. He is brilliant but not arrogant, strong but not domineering, and confident but not reckless. This is also why Pencroft the sailor seems more human and endearing. Similarly, Ned and Passepartout are the best characters in their respective books.

Another interesting facet of Verne’s writing is that he, more than any writer, has no need or interest for female characters. The Mysterious Island has exactly zero, as does 20,000 Leagues. I was particularly struck by the fact that these five men, all alone on an island for three years, never seem to miss female company. “The island supplies all our needs,” each says in his turn. This isn’t completely abnormal for the time and genre, but was a bit odd.

Verne can tell a compelling tale. He balances scientific discussion with plot pacing in a way that keeps the reader from feeling either bogged down in details or rushed through important developments. This story, like all science fiction, is best enjoyed by a reader willing to immerse him or herself in the world the author has created. Verne in this book creates a world that is a microcosm of the science of its era. Its strongest point is the joy of the creation of a society, even a civilization, out of the raw materials of the island. Its pleasure is therefore what we feel when we labor to bring order out of chaos, to bring comfort out of our efforts: in a word, to Create.

The Violinist's Thumb by Sam Kean

Source of Book: Borrowed from the library

I previously read and reviewed The Disappearing Spoon by the same author. Sam Kean writes for the New York Times Magazine and Mental Floss, and has appeared on NPR. His books could loosely be called pop science: understandable to the average educated reader, without an abundance of footnotes and citations, but with significant intellectual content. Obviously, a professional scientist would consider them simplistic, and utterly lacking in the higher math they work with every day. Like Malcolm Gladwell - who I also enjoy - he tells a good story. Unlike Gladwell, who writes pop sociology, Kean has no need to make a point or suggest a solution to anything. Rather, his goal is to make an arcane area of knowledge enjoyable.

In his previous book, Kean discussed the elements and the periodic table. Eighteenth and Nineteenth Century science, essentially. For this book, he delves into what is a decidedly Twentieth and Twenty-first Century topic - that of genetics and DNA. 

The title, by the way, comes from the story of Paganini, who had unnaturally flexible fingers. The pieces he wrote 200 years ago - unlike most of the music from that era - still challenges the technique of the world’s finest violinists to this day. Playing Paganini is the sort of thing one does as an exclusive pursuit. The genetic source of Paganini’s physical advantages probably came from a defective mutation that caused him to become nearly crippled at a relatively young age, which is why his story makes it into the book.

What I have found is that while most people tend to acknowledge the truth of atomic theory - even while failing to understand or spectacularly misunderstanding it - they don’t tend to have heated opinions about chemical reactions. Genetics is a whole other beast. Most people lack even a basic knowledge of what DNA is and how it works. But that certainly does not stop them from having violently strong opinions about genetic issues. And many deny even the best understood and proven scientific facts about genetics. I’ll make specific mention here of the O. J. Simpson trial, which took place during my first year in law school. Much of the prosecution’s case turned on DNA evidence, which failed to impress the jury, who preferred doggerel poetry as the best explanation. (“If it doesn’t fit, you must acquit.”) Although my own theory is that Mark Fuhrman’s use of racial slurs would have sunk the case in any event. Another contemporary issue was the drive to require warning labels on genetically modified food here in California. In that case, there was a lot of heated rhetoric centering on what is “natural” (such as human directed hybridizing and mutating using toxins and radiation) and what is “unnatural” (directly manipulating the DNA). Instructive in this debate might be C. S. Lewis’ excellent discussion of the word “nature” in Studies in Words, which I reviewed here. (“Natural” often meaning “what I like.”)

For those who get the heeby-jeebies about intentional manipulation of genes, I recommend you avoid this book. On that level, it is highly disconcerting because recent discoveries have upended some of what we popularly believe about the nature of humanity and our conception of nature as static and clean and perfect.

Let me just lead off with the one that blew my mind the most. Viruses (which occupy the weird line between living and non-living) are notorious for rapid mutation and evolution. This is why the flu shot has to be different each year. All the related flu viruses combine and swap genetic information whenever they are present in the same host. Plus, random errors in DNA and RNA transcription occur, and stuff gets moved around and lost, and imported from the host creature, and all kinds of crazy stuff. Viruses are essentially a bad carbon copy system that makes billions of copies really fast.

Here is where it got freaky: not only do viruses steal our genes, they insert their own into our DNA. Not every time we get sick - our error-check system is better than that in viruses. And what mutations we do get from viruses typically only affect the infected cells, not our reproductive cells (egg or sperm). But once in a while, they do. And, since viruses reproduce like crazy, the insertions add up. Viral genes can be recognized by a combination of two ways. First, some genes are easily seen to be virus genes because of the proteins they make (to form the viral shell). Second, if certain stretches of DNA in the human genome show the same unusual (for humans) genes, but placed in different places in a seemingly random order, the chances are, it is junk. Stuff placed there by an error. So, apparently, we have a lot of virus DNA accidentally spliced into our own.

Yeah, this sounded like it might be a stretch. Until a guy named Thierry Heidmann went through and re-created a virus from this material. Yes, he actually located and spliced together the pieces. It looked similar - but not exactly like - known modern viruses.

Now, freak out time. He injected the reconstituted virus DNA into living cells from various mammals. And they caught the disease. (A very mild, rather benign infection, fortunately.) The virus replicated itself and infected new cells.

Now remember, viruses are quasi-living. They reproduce, but they require a living cell to do so. They cannot process food or create waste or reproduce without the use of a living cell. Thus, they may or may not be “alive” as we consider it. But still, an “extinct” virus was resurrected purely from the DNA found interspliced in ordinary human DNA.

(Yes, this is the premise of Jurassic Park, originally written by the fascinating Michael Crichton. It would/will be much, much harder to re-create a more complex extinct organism because viruses are merely DNA or RNA in a protein capsule. Insert the genetic information into the cell, and the cell assembles the parts. A lizard would require a very similar lizard to develop the egg and sperm and develop the grown creature. It may well turn out to be impossible. Or at least unlikely.)

I’ll mention a few other interesting things. Just like in the case of the so-called Big Bang (which I discussed in Why Does the World Exist), originally, the discovery of DNA was considered a threat to Darwinism. If all traits of all living things were determined by an inviolable code, then they cannot have changed over time. Later, of course, it was discovered that DNA does in fact mutate - and much more often than originally thought. Obviously, there are many unanswered questions. The specifics of development from simple to complex defies an easy explanation, but a genetic explanation of inherited traits doesn’t preclude one or the other.

One of the most interesting parts of this book was the history of the fruit fly experiments, which formed the basis of much of what we know about genetics. Just a fascinating story.

Also intriguing was the long term experiment in genetic mutation that arose in the case of Hiroshima. Nothing like bombarding a large population with strong radiation, and then checking to see what happens over the next 70 years. I found it interesting that, despite the potential for great damage, the rates of cancer for the survivors was surprisingly low. In particular, those unlucky individuals who managed to get hit by both bombs were far less affected than expected. For the most part, they went on to live normal lifespans and die of normally expected diseases. (Yes, plenty died of cancer - often in their 90s, though. Which may well have occurred anyway at that age if they missed out on heart disease.) Human and animal bodies are remarkably resilient, particularly to short term exposure. What doesn’t kill us may not always make us stronger, but it doesn’t always weaken us either.

Another great fact was the application of knot theory to DNA. In a development that will come as absolutely NO surprise to any musician who uses cables, if you put a rope in a box and jostle it for a while, it will form surprisingly complex knots by itself. DNA is similar. It makes knots that must be untangled for copying. In fact, in light of all the things that can easily go wrong, it is amazing that we can reproduce at all.

I’ll also note the interesting - and unsurprising - fact that many of the great developments in genetics that came from the work of women came from the work of nuns. Why? Well, a woman in the not very distant past was expected to give up her career on marriage. A woman who remained single was looked on with suspicion, and rarely if ever could make her living at science. So who might be able to devote the time to scientific pursuits without being pressured to marry or ostracised if they did not? Well, why not those who had devoted their single lives to the service of God?

(Side note: if my wife had been born 100 years ago, I believe she would have gone this direction. As it was, she was sure she would never marry, because she had ambitions beyond the kitchen, which was unacceptable in the group she grew up in.)

Finally, I give bonus points to this book for addressing the ethical issues in genetics in a dispassionate and informative manner. One of the big ones has been the issue of genetics and race. Even Watson (of Watson and Crick - discoverers of the structure of DNA) tried to make a political statement about the “error” of failing to acknowledge the inferiority of certain races. (Guess which race was singled out as inferior?) And yet, despite fanfare, the supposed “smart gene” which certain races have less of, turned out to not, um, determine intelligence after all. But it sure tends to make news! In this context, the problem of nature versus nurture arises again and again. Both are tied up and possibly inseparable. And while genes for specific diseases have been found, the big traits such as intelligence and strength appear to be determined by many genes and possibly other genetic markers yet to be discovered.

Kean also notes the controversies over genetic manipulation. If we could some day cure cystic fibrosis (to give one example) by repairing the broken gene, that would be an unmitigated blessing to mankind. However, the means of manipulation are often misunderstood, and attacked as “not natural.” (Reminder, disease is very natural.) However, other manipulations are fraught with ethical issues. Cloning gets a specific mention, for the risk of making clones, not to be viewed as separate humans, but as organ harvests, for example. That said, I appreciate that Kean notes that clones have been living among us since the dawn of life. We call them identical twins, but genetically, they are simply clones: identical at the genetic level. But clearly separate persons - and different despite the identical DNA.

As with Kean’s last book, I found it to be a good read. However, prepare to have some of what you thought you knew challenged. It is difficult to look at life the same way after reading this book.

Note on the Human Genome Project:

One of the juicy stories in this book was the contentious race between the National Institute of Health and the private company Celera to completely sequence the human genome. (Essentially a road map to human DNA.) I won’t attempt to recount the whole thing, but it was like the Ben Hur Chariot Race of science nerds, with plenty of trash talk, some dirty deeds, and a whole lot of finger pointing and chest pounding afterward. In fact, the controversy continues today, with NIH still trying to get sole credit for the discovery.

Here is a recent article, if you are interested in reading more.

This wasn’t helped at all by the fact that J. Craig Venter started out with NIH, and then grew impatient with the pace, started Celera, and then invented techniques which vastly improved the speed of sequencing. (Thereby pushing NIH to improve their process.) Venter was, shall we say, a “difficult” person. Brilliant, but difficult.

In fact, most who worked with or against him preferred a more “colorful metaphor,” as Spock would say.

(No, I cannot possibly resist using that reference and posting a clip. I love this movie. Also, I’ll note that my dad’s favorite line was “Ah. The giants.” 

Note on Paganini:

Do you really think I could write about Paganini without adding a clip?

Paganini’s Caprices are legendary among violinists in the same way that Bach’s Sonatas and Partitas are. Amazing invention combined with profoundly and maddeningly impossible technical demands. (In Bach’s case, the use of a solo instrument to play three and four part fugues, for example.)

Carprice #24 is famous because its theme was borrowed by several composers as the basis for their own sets of variations. The best known is Rachmaninov’s Variations on a Theme of Paganini, for piano and orchestra, which is one of my favorite piano works.

Here is Hilary Hahn, showing her chops. I will particularly note the left hand pizzicato section beginning at the 2:58 mark. Holy moley! I wish I could play like that…

For those who care, the second piece is Nathan Milstein’s Paganiniana, his own set of variations on Paganini’s theme.

Reading with my Kids: Halloween Edition

Source of books: I own all of these.

I didn’t initially plan it this way, but we ended up reading three scary or spooky tales for the month of October.

The Pied Piper of Hamelin by Robert Browning

I suppose most have at least a passing idea of the plot, and may have read a prose adaptation. But seriously, the poem is so much fun! Why haven’t more people read it? I remain puzzled about the lack of interest in poetry these days, and have yet to form a grand unification theory of of poetical uninterest.

Anyway, my kids loved this poem. I knew that my second daughter, who has loved all things rodent since she adopted “Mousie” as her favorite stuffed animal before she even turned one. She now has more stuffed rats and mice than I can keep track of, and finds them fascinating - even the dead ones our cat leaves as presents. I had to explain a few words, but not many. Browning’s skill as a poet makes this a good introduction to narrative poetry for children - or adults.

Their favorite part, which I had to read over and over for them afterward:

Rats!

They fought the dogs and killed the cats,

And bit the babies in the cradles,

And ate the cheeses out of the vats,

And licked the soup from the cooks' own ladles,

Split open the kegs of salted sprats,

Made nests inside men's Sunday hats,

And even spoiled the women's chats

By drowning their speaking

With shrieking and squeaking

In fifty different sharps and flats.

The legend wasn’t original with Browning, of course. It had existed at least since the 1300s, and may have arisen as a parable for an epidemic which killed a large number of children. (This would be a bit ironic, since at the time the legend arose, the Black Plague was known, but its cause - fleas transmitting the bacteria from rats - was not.

Other notable versions of the tale were written by the Brothers Grimm (the version perhaps most familiar) and Goethe. I am particularly partial to Browning’s version. It has a bit of sly humor, and delightful rhymes. And, let it be said, a moral that lawyers everywhere can appreciate:

So, Willy, let me and you be wipers

Of scores out with all men -- especially pipers!

And, whether they pipe us free from rats or from mice,

If we've promised them aught, let us keep our promise! 
 

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

This is another poem I loved when I first read it in high school, and thought it might work well for the kids - particularly since they wanted to hear something spooky. (My kids are fairly fearless, and find the macabre fascinating. I’m not sure where that came from.)

This poem has some interesting social commentary, which the kids didn’t really get yet. So, a few things went over their heads. However, they enjoyed the story itself, and the older ones definitely understood the problems with killing purely for sport or boredom. My kids are interested in birds, including the condor, and love seeing and identifying them whenever we can. They also liked the ghost ship and the game played for the life of the sailor.

Although I didn’t really try to explain it to the kids, I did note the bit about superstition. I hadn’t really seen this before, but it is interesting now, to my older self. The other sailors initially cheer the killing of the albatross because they think it brought them wind, and then they change their minds rapidly. Either way, it is superstition adopted to match whatever current circumstances are at any given time.

I definitely have to quote the best known section, full of memorable lines.

Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down,

'Twas sad as sad could be;

And we did speak only to break

The silence of the sea!

All in a hot and copper sky,

The bloody Sun, at noon,

Right up above the mast did stand,

No bigger than the Moon.

Day after day, day after day,

We stuck, nor breath nor motion;

As idle as a painted ship

Upon a painted ocean.

Water, water, every where,

And all the boards did shrink;

Water, water, every where,

Nor any drop to drink.

Totally unforgettable. Coleridge brings the picture to life, and uses the rhythms of the traditional ballad stanza to emphasize the rocking and the flow of the narrative.

And then the ghost ship appears.

The western wave was all a-flame.

The day was well nigh done!

Almost upon the western wave

Rested the broad bright Sun;

When that strange shape drove suddenly

Betwixt us and the Sun.

And straight the Sun was flecked with bars,

(Heaven's Mother send us grace!)

As if through a dungeon-grate he peered

With broad and burning face.

Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud)

How fast she nears and nears!

Are those her sails that glance in the Sun,

Like restless gossameres?

Are those her ribs through which the Sun

Did peer, as through a grate?

And is that Woman all her crew?

Is that a DEATH? and are there two?

Is DEATH that woman's mate?

Her lips were red, her looks were free,

Her locks were yellow as gold:

Her skin was as white as leprosy,

The Night-mare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she,

Who thicks man's blood with cold.

The naked hulk alongside came,

And the twain were casting dice;

'The game is done! I've won! I've won!'

Quoth she, and whistles thrice.

It is well worth seeking out the Gustave Doré illustrations - particularly for this scene. The ghost woman throwing dice with Death in a ghoulish game.

This poem was a little more challenging than The Pied Piper, but still rather accessible.

The Legend of Sleepy Hollow by Washington Irving

Washington Irving is on my short list of unjustly neglected authors. (I would also put Anthony Trollope and P. G. Wodehouse on the list.) Again, most are familiar with this tale - at least through the many thoroughly bastardized movie and television adaptations. Alas, most think that it is the tale of a supernatural being that terrorizes Ichabod Crane. This completely misses the point of the story - and indeed much of Irving’s work. (It is the equivalent of describing Scooby Doo as being about actual ghosts and monsters rather than the debunking of said legends.) Sleepy Hollow is the story of a rather designing young man, eager to marry for money, who is scared off by an enterprising rival, who takes advantage of the fact that Ichabod has spent far too much time marinating his brain in the witch hunt tales of Cotton Mather. (Specifically, Wonders of the Invisible World.)

While I enjoy Irving greatly (Tales of the Alhambra and Tales of a Traveler come to mind as favorite story collections - but his non-fiction is rather good too), his language was a bit over the heads of the children in this case. They liked parts of the story once it got going, but the opening required a good bit of explanation. I expect it will be a good one to return to when they get older.

The two parts they did like were the description of Ichabod’s drooling over the feast put on by the father of his intended conquest, and the chase scene at the end.

Bonus fun facts about Irving: he originated the phrase, “the almighty dollar,” the use of “gotham” for New York City, and the idea of Santa Claus flying through the sky in a wagon or sleigh. How about that for influence?

I suspect we will revisit Irving at a later time, when the advanced language will be more understandable, and the dry humor more familiar.

Anyway, three interesting works with a spooky theme. I can’t wait until I can introduce them to Edgar Allan Poe in a few years.

*****

Okay, one final bit. My dad used to sing us this song when we were kids.