Pole to Pole Publishing just released Not Far From Roswell, an anthology of dark short stories involving aliens in New Mexico. My tale called “Reconnaissance Mission” appears there, and you’re about to discover the story behind that story.
When the submission call went out, I figured I’d pass. I don’t often write dark stories or alien visitation fiction. My intellectual side had moved on, but my muse grabbed it by the collar and said, “Come back here. I’ve got an idea. Hold my beer.”
Over the years, I’ve learned to listen to my muse, even when she’s drunk. With alcohol on her breath, she whispered her idea about an alternate version of history where Edgar Allan Poe visits New Mexico and encounters something. My intellect argued back: “I don’t think Poe ever visited that area, and the state of New Mexico didn’t even exist in his time.” The muse replied, “Details, shmetails. Those are your problems.”
My crack research team uncovered some interesting and useful tidbits about Poe. Before going to West Point (yes, he was a cadet, though he didn’t graduate), he had enlisted in the Army in 1827. At that time, many of our Army’s enlisted personnel were recent immigrants from Ireland and Germany, so Poe probably stood out. His regiment was posted to Fort Moultrie in Charleston, South Carolina. Highly intelligent and a quick learner, Poe became the battery’s “artificer.”
The U.S. Army
doesn’t have much need of artificers these days, but back then “Tiffys” were vital.
They calculated explosive loads and fuse lengths for artillery shells. Any computational
error could result in a missed shot, a premature detonation, or even death of the
gun crew.
Poe was skilled,
though, and rose to the rank of Sergeant Major. His commanding officer,
Lieutenant Howard, recognized his talent and urged Poe to apply for the Military
Academy. Upon acceptance, Poe entered West Point in 1829.
All that is true. But, my muse asked, what if…? What if the Army ordered one platoon to conduct a clandestine mission to Santa Fe de Nuevo México, then a territory of Mexico? What if their mission had been to assess the military strengths and potential threats of the Mexicans and the Apaches?
Further, what if the platoon encountered something unusual, something that might explain Poe’s later writings, something that seemed very…well…alien?
Then, as is usual
for me, the story wrote itself. It’s an origin story for Poe, one that could
have happened. Well, there’s no evidence it didn’t happen. As they say, the
truth is out there.
You can purchase Not Far From Roswellhere. Knowing the fine editors at Pole to Pole Publishing, I’m certain all the stories in that anthology are terrific.
Yes, I know. I owe
my muse a beer. Without her, I really wouldn’t be—
The submarine
in Jules Verne’s novel Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea is one of the
most amazing settings in all of literature. Let’s explore it.
Before we do, I’ll invite you to write and submit a short story to an anthology I’m co-editing along with the esteemed Kelly A. Harmon of Pole to Pole Publishing. Twenty Thousand Leagues Remembered is intended for release on June 20, 2020, the 150th anniversary of Verne’s masterwork. Click here for details about submitting your story.
As a degreed naval architect and former submariner, I could write many posts about the design of the Nautilus. You can read this book or this one, or peruse this website for more information like that. My purpose today is to explore this submarine as a literary setting.
Before the publication
of Verne’s novel, submarines were tiny and dangerous; they could only stay
submerged a short time. In the public’s mind they were curiosities, odd little experimental
toys. Moreover, electricity was new—a phenomenon with known, but unrealized
potential.
At a stroke, Verne
astounded readers with a submarine like they’d never imagined. He gave them a
glimpse through the veil of the future. The Nautilus was far bigger than any
real submarine to date, nearly as big as the naval ironclad surface ships of the
time. With a maximum speed of fifty knots, the Nautilus could outrace anything
at sea. Moreover, it could dive into any deep-sea trench and only needed to
surface once a day for air.
At a time when people
lit their homes with whale oil, cooked with wood, and powered ships with coal, Verne
sparked their imaginations by giving them an all-electric vessel. “Electricity”
was then still almost magical, and Nemo had tamed it for lighting, cooking, and
propelling his vessel.
Verne alarmed his
readers with a horrible new weapon of war. No longer would the seas be safe
when an unseen danger could rise from the depths and cleave ships in two. It’s
how the book began, with mariners terrified of a ‘sea monster’ that struck without
warning.
Yet the
Nautilus had another side, as Pierre Aronnax learned. It was a civilized
vessel, with a vast library and a relaxing parlor or salon with paintings, busts,
and display cases. Yes, even a pipe organ. Large portals opened to provide a
window to the sea, making this submarine a vessel of exploration, too.
But Verne’s
surprises didn’t end there. For the sailors of the Nautilus, the sea wasn’t
merely their workplace. It was home. Unlike all previous humans, they lived
their lives in the ocean, never making land, eating only seafood, and being
buried in the depths.
For Conseil, Pierre
Aronnax, and especially Ned Land, the Nautilus was also an iron prison from which
escape seemed impossible. Before the phrase ‘gilded cage’ came in vogue, Verne trapped
his characters within one. The scenes played out between metal bulkheads with
characters caught in an odd dichotomy. Freer than anyone else to explore the
vast oceans, they could not pass beyond the Nautilus’ steel hull. Were they
guests, or prisoners, or both?
The Nautilus was,
and remains, unique. Some literary scholars consider it a character in its own
right. I don’t go that far, but this submarine makes for a remarkable setting. Many
novels since have been set aboard submarines, but we must measure all fictional
subs against the standard of the Nautilus.
That concludes our tour. Watch your step on the ladder and don’t hit your head on the hatchway. Please exit quickly; if Captain Nemo found out I’d brought you aboard, I’m not sure what he’d do to—
Readers with long memories will recall I interviewed Todd Sullivan
once before. I decided to interview him again because a lot has happened in his
writing career. He’s got two novellas being published soon.
Author Todd Sullivan
Todd Sullivan teaches English as a Second Language, and
English Literature & Writing in Asia. He has had numerous short stories,
novelettes, and novellas published across several countries, including Thailand,
the U.K., Australia, the U.S., and Canada. He is a practitioner of the
sword-fighting martial arts, kumdo/kendo, and has trained in fencing (foil),
Muay Thai, Capoeira, Wing Chun, and JKD. He graduated from Queens College with
a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing, and received a Bachelor of Arts in
English from Georgia State University. He attended the Bread Loaf Writers’
Conference and the National Book Foundation Summer Writing Camps. He currently
lives in Taipei, Taiwan, and looks forward to studying Mandarin.
Here’s the interview:
Poseidon’s Scribe: Since I last interviewed you in
September 2017, what have you been writing?
Todd Sullivan: Funny enough, I’ve still been writing from the same narrative universe that that 2017 story, “Wheels and Deals,” published in the Dark Luminous Wings anthology, took place in. My current novella, Butchers, is a vampire story that takes place in South Korea. But the actual storyline, along with several other short stories that were published between 2016 and 2018, all exist in the same nightmarish reality.
P.S.: What are the titles of the other stories?
T.S.: “Gwi’shin,” published in Eastlit Journal;
“Transubstantiation,” published in Aurealis Science Fiction & Fantasy.
“Chingu,” published in Tincture Journal. “The Ascent Made Him Plunge,” published
in The Big Book of Bootleg Horror 2. They’re all connected.
P.S.: You’ve been busy, and successful in getting your stories published. Congratulations on the publication of Butchers. The book cover is eye-catching. If you had to describe this novella in three words, what would they be?
T.S.: To coin Public Enemy, “Fight the power.”
P.S.: The story is set in Seoul, South Korea. Why did
you choose that setting?
T.S.: I lived in South Korea for ten years, three of
which were spent in Seoul. The very first incarnation of this story took place
on a small island at the southern-most tip of the country called Jeju. Jeju
will still play a pivotal role in how the ongoing narrative unfolds. If one can
imagine the narrative universe as a typhoon, Jeju is the center of the
maelstrom.
P.S.: So many horror stories deal with vampires
working alone. In Butchers, there’s an entire vampire organization with
initiation rites, rules, a mission, and rogue members. What can you tell us
about this group?
T.S.: The Gwanlyo is, in many ways, the tyrannical
employer. Mindlessly cruel, and diabolical, with arcane regulations that seem
to serve only one purpose: to torture their employees.
P.S.: The novella’s protagonist, Sey-Mi, sounds
fascinating. Please tell us what she’s like at the beginning of the book.
T.S.: Kim Sey-Mi is a graduating high school senior
who, like Alice, tumbles down the rabbit hole. She meets strange and terrible figures,
and the question is will she become one of them: a strange, terrible person.
P.S.: You describe this as a novella of extreme
horror. Why will this book appeal to horror and vampire fans?
T.S.: As a vampire fan myself, I have to admit that
it doesn’t take much to make me fall in love with a vampire story. I think a
lot of vampire fans share a similar sentiment. I think, though, that Butchers
is a unique take on the mythology. It combines Korean culture with Western
horror to create an exciting fusion of ideas. I think even a vampire fan really
appreciates a new take on the undying genre.
P.S.: Is the launching of this book coming soon? How
can eager readers find out more, and buy it?
T.S.:Butchers is available to purchase now in ebook and book form. The official launch date is December 5th, and there will be a Facebook event from 10am to 12am EST where I’ll answer questions, and where an attendee can win a free copy of the novella.
P.S.: I understand this will be the first of a
series. What can you tell us about the second book?
T.S.:The Gray Man of Smoke and Shadows is a
stellar tale that focuses on a character introduced in Butchers: Hyeri.
I had a lot of fun writing Hyeri, and I knew that the next book in the series
would be about her. There’s no point in wasting a character this good.
P.S.: You’ve also got another novella soon to be published, called Hollow Men. I love its cover image as well. Please give us three words to describe this book.
T.S.: Death comes easy.
P.S.: Please describe the setting of this work of
epic fantasy. Where and when are you taking your readers this time? What makes
this setting different from most other works in this genre?
T.S.: So, Hollow Men takes place in a fantasy version of medieval South Korea. The story revolves around men who go on quests to become heroes. The story also deals with the politics of being a foreigner in a homogeneous society. And it’s different because it fuses the east and west in a tale of swords & sorcery. It’s a D&D campaign that takes place in the Hermit Kingdom.
P.S.: What are the fantasy elements in the story? I
understand there’s a heroic quest, a magic sword, and a knight. What else will
readers encounter?
T.S.: I guess the narrative touches upon the ideas of
globalism. We can say that we are all just the human race, but do we really
believe it? Actions speak louder than words, and if one were to look at the
actions of the world’s people, can one really say that we truly believe we are
all of the human race? So imagine this quandary using the metaphor of the
fantastical, and that’s Hollow Men.
P.S.: Please paint a word picture of Ha Jun, your
protagonist.
T.S.: Ha Jun is a young man who increasingly realizes
that the world is trying to kill him. And he’s simply trying to figure out how
to stay alive.
P.S.: When and where can readers get this book?
T.S.:Hollow Men’s expected release date is
December 9th, 2019. It would make a great Christmas gift for teen
readers.
P.S.: It certainly would. You also intend this
novella to be the beginning of a series. Can you give us a glimpse of the
second book, and what connects the two?
T.S.: Life is a constant struggle. That’s actually
the general theme of this fantasy series. One keeps fighting, and either one
dies, or one survives to fight again. There is no peace. There is only the
hustle, the struggle to survive.
Poseidon’s Scribe: Where can readers go to find out
more about you?
My favorite
novel is Jules Verne’s 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. Still, the book is
not free of literary flaws. Let’s examine them.
Before diving into those, allow me to remind you I’ll be co-editing an anthology paying tribute to Verne’s novel. Along with award-winning author and editor Kelly A. Harmon, I’ll be launching Twenty Thousand Leagues Remembered on June 20, 2020, the sesquicentennial of the classic submarine tale. Click here for details on when and how you can contribute a short story to this anthology.
Regarding the weaknesses of 20,000 Leagues, I know it’s unfair to judge a Nineteenth Century French novel by the standards of Twenty First Century America. Still, it is a classic, and therefore it must explore universal and enduring facets of the human condition. It does so, as I discussed here, but some aspects of the work have not stood up well by modern standards.
Submarine
Verne devotes
two whole chapters to a tour of the Nautilus and a discussion of its features
and capabilities. No modern writer would risk boring readers that way. In
truth, some of us like these chapters, and I credit them with inspiring me to
major in Naval Architecture at college, but for most readers these tedious
details are unnecessary.
Women
No significant female
characters appear in the work, a glaring defect by modern standards. The only
mentions of women are a brief reference to Ned Land’s former fiancée, Kate
Tender (Really? Kate Tender?) and a moment when Pierre Aronnax spies
Captain Nemo kneeling and crying before a portrait of a woman—presumably Nemo’s
former wife—and two children. Few of Verne’s novels feature female characters,
and he might have found it difficult to write one into this story, had he been so
inclined. Film versions of the novel often include women, though.
Protagonist
Any well-written
novel has a clear protagonist. Who is the protagonist in 20,000 Leagues?
Before you answer, recall a protagonist is at the center of a story, propels
the plot forward, makes key decisions, faces the obstacles, and endures the
consequences.
You could make a case that Captain Nemo is the protagonist, making all the novel’s key decisions and driving the plot along. The consequence of his mounting hatred against oppressive nations is that he goes mad at the end.
However, most
reviewers consider Pierre Aronnax the protagonist. He’s the narrator through
whose eyes we see all the action. He faces a significant conflict—whether to stay
aboard with Nemo the Ultimate Marine Biologist, or escape from Nemo the Insane
Pirate. Still, Aronnax is a weak protagonist, more of an observer of events, a
scientist studying Nemo’s decisions.
Motivation
In modern literature, no antagonist can be purely evil without a reason. In our post-Freud world, we must know the backstory behind the ‘bad guy.’ As an antagonist (if he is one), Captain Nemo seems driven by forces kept obscure and never revealed. We’re left to wonder why someone would gather a crew, construct a submarine, shun all inhabited land, and sail around the world attacking ships from certain nations. In this novel, readers see a few vague hints about Nemo’s motives and background. Only in Verne’s later novel, The Mysterious Island, do we come to understand what made Nemo tick.
Fish
Among the major
turn-offs for modern readers are the long, tiresome descriptions of fish. To
give his work credibility, Verne wrote on and on about the fish seen by his
characters. Long paragraphs with lists and details litter the work. While
acceptable, and even standard for novels of his time, these extensive
descriptive paragraphs would be recommended for deletion by any editor today. As
if knowing he might bore some readers, Verne structured these descriptions such
that a reader could skip to the next paragraph without missing anything.
Please forgive me for taking these unfair swipes against a literary classic. If I point out the tiny blemishes making this novel less than perfect for modern readers, I do so out of love, and with full recognition of the glorious masterpiece it is. Writing a novel half as good as 20,000 Leagues remains a dream cherished by—
Songwriter Robert
Lopez once wrote, “The temptation to quit and start over infects every creative
process I’ve ever been in. Frustration and boredom always fuel this self-doubt.”
Let’s analyze this as it applies to writing fiction.
First of all, I think we can agree Mr. Lopez speaks with some authority about the creative process. He’s won multiple Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, and Tony awards, the only person to have done so.
I suspect
nearly every fiction writer knows the experience he alludes to. You get partway
into a story, then pause and reflect on what you’ve done so far. Your story looks
terrible now. You think it would be better to abandon that draft and start fresh.
You’re torn between the fear that no amount of editing will improve the current
version and the fear that a new draft won’t be any better.
It’s appropriate
that Mr. Lopez used the verb “infects,” invoking the metaphor of viruses and sickness.
The temptation to start over does seem like that—spreading inside you, overwhelming
your immune system, and making you miserable.
We’ll get to the frustration, boredom, and self-doubt soon. First, let’s examine what happens initially in the process of creating a short story or novel. You come up with the idea, then add to it in your mind. Enthusiasm takes over as the mental picture of the finished work crystallizes. It’s going to be great.
You begin to
write, but you find out enthusiasm is a tough emotion to sustain, certainly for
a novel, but sometimes even for a short story. The words you’re writing don’t
match the gloriously perfect story in your mind. Compared to that ideal vision,
the real version stinks. That gap in quality between real and ideal causes the frustration.
As your enthusiasm
continues to fade, you lose interest in the story and become bored with it.
Your muse moves on to shinier objects and even the thought of continuing the
story becomes too much to bear. You’ll do anything to avoid working on it, including
the most hated household chores. In this way, boredom has fueled your self-doubt.
Now that Mr. Lopez
has put his finger on a very real and universally experienced problem with the creative
process, is there a solution? When these negative feelings overcome you, should
you edit the draft you started with, or abandon it and start over?
I suspect it’s
a very rare occasion when the right answer is to quit and start over. The real
problem is, you are no longer in the right frame of mind to write well. What
the situation calls for is a break. You should stop editing that story and do
something else. Look at the story the next day with fresh eyes and a sunnier
mood. You’ll see some things wrong with it, but just maybe the original
enthusiasm will return, that zeal you felt when the story was just an idea.
Maybe you’ll
decide the problem isn’t a gap between the ideal vision and the faulty reality.
Perhaps the vision wasn’t so ideal after all. Don’t be afraid to alter it and
work to capture the new vision. This isn’t starting over; this is making a
change in light of a new realization.
Even though
writers aren’t immune to the problem Robert Lopez identified, and self-doubt is
bound to infect you at some point, you can pull yourself out of it. Most
likely, you can salvage the draft you’re working on and won’t have to abandon it
to start over.
That’s been my experience
with the creative process of—
Literary
scholars consider Jules Verne’s novel 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea to be
a classic. Why? Let’s dive deep into that subject.
First, as a reminder, I have teamed up with the talented writer and editor Kelly A. Harmon of Pole to Pole Publishing with the intent of producing Twenty Thousand Leagues Remembered, an anthology of stories paying tribute to Verne’s submarine novel. Our antho will open for submissions soon, as detailed here, and will launch on June 20, 2020, the sesquicentennial of 20,000 Leagues.
What makes a classic book, and why include 20,000 Leagues in that category? I like the definition put forward by Esther Lombardi in this post. She says a classic: (1) expresses artistic quality, (2) stands the test of time, (3) has universal appeal, (4) makes connections, and (5) is relevant to multiple generations.
Let’s find out
if Verne’s work meets these standards.
Artistic Quality
This attribute
concerns whether the book was well written by the standards of its time and whether
it expresses life, truth, and beauty with artistic excellence. Although much of
Verne’s prose seems stilted today, and the book’s over-long descriptions of the
submarine and various fish tend to bore today’s readers, the artistic merit of the
work certainly met the literary standards of its era. No mere adventure novel,
it explored deep themes through its complex anti-hero, Captain Nemo. As the
first fictional book to feature a submarine, written in a style imbued with
scientific credibility, it stood out from all previous works.
Test of Time
A century and a half after its first publication, 20,000 Leagues is still widely read, with new editions appearing frequently. The novel inspired several films, comic books, video games, and a theme park ride. In 2018, Chicago’s Lookingglass Theatre Company produced a play based on the novel. There’s a Wikipedia entry devoted entirely to adaptations of the work.
Universal Appeal
Everyone can
relate to some aspect of the novel. We all admire the unshakable loyalty of Conseil
for his master, understand the impulsive and restless Ned Land, sympathize with
the dilemma forced on the scientist Pierre Aronnax, and marvel at the unfathomable
engineer/pirate Captain Nemo. What reader could remain unmoved while riding
along in a fantastic submarine, the Nautilus—part warship, part exploration
vessel, and part private yacht—as it cruises from one undersea adventure to the
next?
Connections
Verne’s novel
contains plenty of allusions to prior works. Captain Nemo’s name (Latin for ‘nobody’)
recalled the pseudonym Odysseus used as a ruse with the Cyclops in Homer’s Odyssey.
In naming his submarine Nautilus, Verne paid tribute to the American inventor
Robert Fulton, who gave that name to his submarine in 1800. The encounter with the
giant squid was reminiscent of an octopus scene in Victor Hugo’s Toilers of
the Sea. The maelstrom at the end of Verne’s novel honored A Descent
into the Maelstrom by Edgar Allan Poe, a writer Verne admired. As already
mentioned, this web of connections continued into a vast number of later works,
all inspired by 20,000 Leagues.
Relevance
To be relevant,
the work must resonate with multiple age groups throughout time. Young people
can certainly connect with the adventurous aspects of 20,000 Leagues—the
visit to Atlantis, the escape from the ice, the attack on the warship, and the
battle with the squid. More mature readers can appreciate Aronnax’s internal
struggle between staying aboard for scientific discovery and leaving to escape
a madman, as well as the twisted genius of Nemo as he descends into insanity. Even
in our age, when nuclear submarines prowl the seas, nothing compares to the
Nautilus’ museum, library, and pipe organ. No modern submarine can travel both as
deep and as fast as Nemo’s, and the oceans remain almost as mysterious to us as
in Verne’s day. Thus, the Nautilus retains its singular fascination for us.
By this
standard, 20,000 Leagues has earned its designation as a classic work of
fiction. You can check with any literary scholar; you don’t have to take the
word of—
Sometimes a movie can capture a profound thought in a simple line of dialogue. With a single, succinct line, the film How to Train Your Dragon(2010) provided good insight into the advancement of science.
The movie showed
the young hero, Hiccup, learning from his father, village authorities, and the “Book
of Dragons” that these beasts were extremely dangerous and must be killed on
sight.
When he observed
actual dragon behavior close-up, however, he discovered they were not as he’d
been told, nor as he’d read. Surprised at this, he said, “Everything we know
about you guys is wrong.”
This is a great
expression of the way science advances in the real world. At one point,
authorities agreed the Earth was flat, the Sun revolved around the Earth, species
were unchanging, continents did not move, dinosaurs were reptiles, etc.
In each case, one open-minded person examined actual evidence and discovered previously accepted facts to be in error. In each case, the astonished person might well have uttered a statement similar to Hiccup’s. “Everything we’ve known about this is wrong.”
After that, there ensues a long struggle by that brave, lone person against established authority, and eventual acceptance by scientists of the new understanding.
Since these
dramatic moments of dogma-toppling discovery occur in real life, they’re well
suited to fiction, as in the dragon-training movie. The common elements of the everything-we-know-is-wrong
story include:
A
widely-accepted model or theory of how things are, codified by respected authority
and regarded as true beyond question.
A hero
character, who, by intent or accident, discovers that reality does not
correspond to the standard model or theory. The hero is usually puzzled and
surprised at the moment of discovery.
The
struggle by the hero to convince others of the truth of the discovery through
practical demonstration and empirical evidence. The hero becomes frustrated
that people would rather believe a book or authorities than their own senses.
The
escalation of that struggle until the hero must confront the authorities who are
invested in the status quo. This is a second moment of high drama as the hero
demonstrates bravery in speaking truth to power.
Eventual
wearing down of the established order until authorities at last accept the new
model as true.
We like to
think of Science and scientists as being open to new discoveries, as inviting
the advancement of new theories, so long as they’re backed up by evidence. In
reality, scientists can get entrenched and stolid, just like any other authorities.
Of course, not
everyone’s model-busting theory is true. Sometimes a crackpot idea is just a
crackpot idea, and there are plenty of those.
Still, what legitimate
paradigm-destroying discoveries await us? What remaining falsehoods do we all accept
as true? How open and accepting will you be when someone comes to you with
proof that everything you know about something is wrong?
Here’s a more intriguing
question: what if you’re the one who makes the next such discovery? Are you
bold enough to advance your theory to a skeptical world? Are you brave enough
to defy well-established authority?
Whether it’s you or someone else who comes up with the next world-shaking discovery that proved everything we know is wrong, I’ll bet when it occurs, you’ll think of Hiccup, and you may also think of—
Did one of Jules Verne’s female fans inspire history’s most famous undersea adventure novel, a work that includes not a single female character?
First, readers of my posts will note I’ve been writing a lot about 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea lately. That’s because I’ve teamed up with editor par excellenceKelly A. Harmon of Pole to Pole Publishing to develop 20,000 Leagues Remembered, an anthology filled with short stories paying tribute to Verne’s submarine masterpiece. It’s scheduled to launch on June 20, 2020, the sesquicentennial of the famous novel. Write your own story now, and submit to this site.
Let’s set the
scene. It’s 1865, early in Jules Verne’s career. He has contracted with the
famous editor Pierre-Jules Hetzel, and two of his novels have already achieved
fame in Paris and across France: Five Weeks in a Balloon (1863) and Journey
to the Center of the Earth (1864). Another novel, From the Earth to the
Moon, will soon be released.
Sometime during
that year, Verne receives a letter from a woman. After she praises both Five
Weeks and Journey, she writes “Soon I hope you’ll take us into the
ocean depths, your characters traveling in diving equipment perfected by your
science and your imagination.”
Within a few years after that, Verne sails on the ship Great Eastern to visit America, and acquires his own sailboat, the Saint-Michel. Writing aboard his boat, he boasts to his publisher that he’s writing a new novel with an oceanic setting unlike anything written before. It will be “superb, yes superb!” By March 1869, the first chapters of 20,000 Leagues begin appearing in Hetzel’s magazine.
What can we
conclude? Did Verne get the idea for 20,000 Leagues from a fan letter? Had
she not written to him, would Verne have begun such a novel?
First, who was this mysterious woman? She was none other than George Sand, the pen name of Amantine Lucile Aurore Dupin. By 1865, Sand had achieved fame in her own right, having written numerous popular novels and plays. Her publisher was the same Pierre-Jules Hetzel who published Verne’s works. When she wrote to Verne, she would have been about 61, and he about 37.
No doubt Sand had noted Verne’s talent and observed the success of what would come to be known as Verne’s Voyages Extraordinaires. She had a keen sense of what would catch on with the French reading audience of the time.
So, was Sand’s
letter truly the spark that led to Captain Nemo and the Nautilus? We may never know
for sure. I’ve seen no evidence that Verne wrote back to Sand or admitted to
anyone that the idea had originated with her.
We know, too,
that Verne visited the Exposition Universelle (World’s Fair) in Paris in
1867 and saw a model of a primitive (and unsuccessful) submarine, Plongeur.
He also saw demonstrations of electrical apparatus there. Could these exhibits have
inspired 20,000 Leagues instead?
It’s impossible
to say with any certainty whether George Sand provided the true impetus for
Verne’s novel. It’s fun—and a bit ironic—to think she did, for there are only a
few minor mentions of women in the novel.
Still, in case George Sand did inspire Verne to write 20,000 Leagues, she deserves this sincere thank-you, sent back through time, from—
What happens to
stories when a writer moves? I mean when an author pulls up stakes and relocates
to a different place. I’ve just done that and I’m wondering how it will affect
my writing.
How much is a
writer affected by locale? When you write in a room with a window, or even
write outside, does that sliver of outside world influence you? When you go
about your life—working, shopping, dining out—how much do the immediate surroundings
and the local people seep into your fiction?
Assuming that effect
is greater than zero, then something has to change when you box up your
household goods, load a truck, and transport them to a different location. If
your new place is far enough away, maybe several states away, a change in perspective
occurs. Nature looks different in the new place. Local people talk differently
and have different views.
Remember the famous
New Yorker magazine cover from March 1976, showing the world from the perspective
of someone living in New York City? Local streets and buildings were well defined,
but things got vague and nebulous beyond that. It’s like that for all of us,
isn’t it? We have a good handle on our nearby vicinity, but only a rough mental
map of the rest of the world.
Now, suddenly,
my idea of ‘near’ has undergone a disruption. I have to create a whole new
mental map. As of now I must view the entire country from a different angle.
Thanks to
modern instant communication, I won’t lose touch with my writer friends from my
previous state. We’ll keep our critique group going. But I’ll likely establish
new writer friends close to my new house. Assuming I can join a new critique
group nearby, their critiques are likely to be different and to emphasize
different things. They may well shape my writing, molding it into a slightly
altered form.
Only time will
tell if readers can discern any difference in my stories, or if I’ll detect any
differences myself. I’d love to hear from other writers who have moved. What
changes did you experience? Did the move help or harm your writing? Did the new
setting for your real life become the new setting for your stories? Did your
characters start talking differently?
Let me know. I’d
love to hear about the impact of your move on your writing. For me, of course,
some things won’t change. I’ll still come up with blog posts; I’ll still have
the same electronic contact information; and I’ll still be—
If you’re a
really good author, your book’s reputation can survive even a botched translation.
As evidence, I offer the first English language translation of Jules Verne’s 20,000
Leagues Under the Sea.
Before we get to that, I’ll remind you of an upcoming anthology I’m co-editing, along with the talented and creative Kelly A. Harmon. We both encourage you to contribute a short story to 20,000 Leagues Remembered, our sesquicentennial tribute to Verne’s novel. You can find more information about that here.
The success of
Verne’s undersea masterpiece in France prompted its translation into several other
languages. As bad luck would have it, the first translation into English got
rendered in 1872 by Lewis Page Mercier, a Protestant Reverend in London.
Among his many
translation errors are the following:
Sea
or Seas? Mercier should
have translated the novel’s title as “…Under the Seas” (plural). Note how
that one little ‘s’ could have spared countless mix-ups between vertical depth and
horizontal distance. You can’t go 20,000 leagues (43,000 miles) deep into one
sea, but a plural ‘seas’ clarifies the meaning.
Disagreeable
Territory. Verne knew his
geography and wrote about his character Pierre Arronax returning from the
Badlands of Nebraska. In one of his worst howlers, Mercier rendered the Badlands
as “the disagreeable territory of Nebraska.” In other words, the phrase
survived the English-to-French translation, but couldn’t quite make it back the
other way.
Lightweight
Steel. Mercier
translated some dialogue of Captain Nemo as “These two hulls are composed of
steel plates, whose density is from .7 to .8 that of water.” If Nemo had discovered
a type of steel that could float like wood, it would be worth more than that
casual mention. Of course, Verne wrote “whose density is 7.8 times that of
water.”
Cork
Jackets. When the (Mercier-translated)
Nemo asked Arronax if he’d like to don his cork jacket, he didn’t mean a garment
woven in Cork, Ireland nor a coat made from tree bark. Verne’s words should have
come out as ‘diving suit.’
From
Where to Where? Mercier
translated the title of Part II, Chapter XX as “From Latitude 47° 24′ to
Longitude 17° 28′.” Wait…from a latitude to a longitude? For all its numerical
precision, that title tells you nothing about the path of the Nautilus. A competent
translator would have rendered it as “In Latitude…and Longitude…”
These are only
a few of the atrocities Mercier committed against Verne’s text. For example, he
left 20-25% of the novel untranslated. Perhaps these were the parts he
considered the dullest.
Perpetuating Mercier’s
many errors, subsequent English editions of the novel used his translation. Up
until the 1970s, his was the most widely available. When I first read 20,000
Leagues, I read a Mercier.
As pathetic a hatchet-job
as Mercier’s translation was, the innate greatness of Verne still shone
through. When a bad version is all you have, you pause only a second to wonder
at the odd phrasings and logic flaws, then read on. I wish I knew French and
could read the novel in its original tongue.
Fortunately, today’s English readers have several good translations from which to choose, including the following:
While writing your own story inspired by Verne’s classic and preparing it for submission to 20,000 Leagues Remembered, consider re-reading the original work. Avoid any version translated by Mercier, and read one of the newer ones recommended by—