H.G. Well’s wrote The Star in 1897, but apocalyptic/disaster
fiction had already existed for thousands of years. Well, the authors didn’t
think they were writing fiction, but nevertheless, they were still writing
speculative ‘non-fiction’. A quick Wikipedia look-up on Google will tell you
that hundreds of seers have prophesized the end of mankind. Unfortunately, fortunately,
they have all been wrong!
Yet, these countless predictions prove a point about
our very own human nature: many of us have fetishized the ‘end of the world’.
Christians call it the rapture. Vikings called it Ragnarok. Others called it
the Apocalypse. All these stories about our eventual end on this earth have a
common thread: there is some greater reason for our end to occur – most of the
time, it involves the triumph of good over evil.
This is where The Star differs in its narrative. Instead of focusing on some
grand narrative of good gods achieving a final victory over the forces of evil,
it sticks to describing the end of the world with surgical precision. Wells
methodically gives the reader a play-by-play of the end of the world with an
almost apathetic disposition. He talks of a “growing tidal wave… a wall of
water, fifty feet high, roaring hungrily, upon the long coasts of Asia…
millions of sleepless people staring in helpless terror at the incandescent
sky...” – never dwelling on any particular person or group of people.
Eventually he ends a paragraph of descriptive terms with a curt phrase: “and
then death.” His writing style evokes a notion of inevitability – not dwelling
on any personal story shrinks the role of any and all humans. By switching
swiftly from human reaction to description of pending doom, he elucidates the
escalating speed of which death comes to the people in The Star. There is hardly any time for any sustained emotions in
his characters and sympathy from the readers.
The
story begins with news of an incoming spectacle: an “unprecedented kind” of
planetary collision involving Neptune and an ominous ‘star’. Miniscule at
first, it swiftly grows in size – it catches the attention of thousands by the
third day of discovery. As the masses marveled, Wells writes the death of Neptune,
“far greater than our earth, indeed, that had so suddenly flashed into flaming
death”. An entire planet, extinguish in moments – humankind views this as a
spectacle, not knowing the effect this very Star will have on them.
The
Star gets brighter. In typical human, solipsistic fashion, a weeping woman
laments “what is a new star to me?”
as she kneels “beside her dead”. Two lovers whisper to one another, “That is our star”. Though some reach the conclusion
that “Man has lived in vain”, a large majority of humans choose not to believe
the impending doom, insisting that humans had nothing to fear. Most are assured
in humanity’s guaranteed survival – after all, the Star was still so very far
away…
In a
blink the Star became blinding to look at, the winds blew hot, the weather
turbulent, the water levels increasing at an awful steadiness. The “laughter
ceased”. A few paragraphs later, Wells writes the end of the world as we know.
Most humans perish, but a minority find subsistence “towards the poles of the
earth”.
Wells
caps this tale off by writing from the point of view of astronomers on Mars.
The Martians fail to recognize the irreparable damage the Star has had on
humankind, because the geography of earth has mostly remained “intact”. Wells
links this observation to the inconsequential nature of humankind’s inevitable
end, as even the “vastest of human catastrophes” may seem small “at a distance
of a few million miles.”
And
that is what is Well’s main message – mankind’s futility in the face of its
potential end. We have found ourselves in a “vacant immensity that almost
defeats the imagination”, our existence being absolutely dwarfed by time and
space. Yet, we (or at least most of us) would never resign to nihilism. Our innate
natures compel us to find more comforting reasons for the nature of our
existence. In The Star, man reacts to
a supernatural event the same ways it always has: through science and
superstition. Wells writes of a “master mathematician” who discovers the true
danger of the Star in the sky. He goes on to give his students a lecture on the
inevitable disaster awaiting mankind. Wells does not describe his story any
further. In its place, he goes to describe people that are summoned by “the
tolling of the bells” to go the churches to gather and pray. Yet another coping
mechanism for the people was wilful ignorance. Rather than fearing death,
people choose to reduce its significance, effectively ignoring it after it had
captured their attention for a few days.
Neither
of these methods to cope with our end matter in the end. In his narrative,
Wells focuses not on mankind in his final few paragraphs, but on describing the
absolutely brutal way in which the world is physically affected by the passing
Star. In intricate detail, he writes of the earth’s destruction: “And then
star, sun and moon rushed together across the heavens…star and sun merged into
one glare of flame at the zenith of the sky. The moon…but was lost to sight in
the brilliance of the sky…the thunder and lightning wove a garment round the
world….” Wells writes of the unmitigated chaos, but in a hauntingly beautiful
manner.
And
once again, through the entire incident, mankind’s role is insignificant. Man,
infinitesimal in the grand scheme of the universe, will have no say in its end.
If and when disaster strikes, it wouldn’t matter whether or not we turn to
science, superstition, or ignorance, our collective end will still be assured.
Whether or not the earth ends with a bang or a whimper does not matter. Its end
would have been inevitable either way: entirely out of our hands.
you just saved me a detention.
ReplyDeleteHm
DeleteGreat and that i have a super supply: How To House Renovation log home restoration near me
ReplyDelete