Saturday, April 6, 2024

The Centenary of 'The Dream' by H.G. Wells: A Guest Post by John Howard

The Sunray Estate in Camberwell, South London, was built just over one hundred years ago and noted at the time for the employment of direct labour and building guild principles. With its tree-lined roads and open spaces, the estate was intended to provide housing for the returned heroes of the Great War and their families. It is tempting to speculate that some memory of this still attractive district might have been in H.G. Wells’ mind when he chose the amusingly fashionable names of the characters who inhabit the future as depicted in his novel The Dream, which was published as a book in April 1924 following magazine serialisation the previous year.

In its opening pages The Dream seems yet another of Wells’ sunshine-filled Utopias, an unexciting world-state not very distinguishable from a garden housing estate. Sunray is the companion and lover of Sarnac, who after a prolonged period of hard work plans a leisurely boating and walking holiday for them both. They meet four others: brother and sister Radiant and Starlight, and their friends, the ‘fair girls’ Willow and Firefly, who work as electricians. They all decide to travel together.

But this pleasant vision is quickly left behind as the tourists make a detour to explore the newly excavated ruins of a town destroyed by bombing and gas warfare some two thousand years before. The shrivelled remains of many of the victims, with their belongings, are preserved in a museum. While exploring a railway tunnel, complete with a train that had been caught and entombed, Sarnac stumbles and cuts his hand, drawing blood. Later his sleep is disturbed by dreams of war. In the morning the group continues on its way, but Sarnac’s troubled night catches up with him. As they pause in a flower-filled meadow he goes to sleep, watched over by Sunray.

When the sleeper wakes again he is briefly disorientated and for a moment does not remember who he is or recognise Sunray. During the short time Sarnac lay asleep in the sunshine, he had lived another life. Sarnac proceeds to relate his dream: the story of Harry Smith, born in 1896 and who had lived, loved, and died during the ancient ‘Age of Confusion’ that came before the ‘Social Collapse’.

In The Dream Wells treads old ground – as he would again – but there is a difference. Wells often created a future to use in a ‘compare and contrast’ exercise with the contemporary world. Here he reverses that: the future dreams the past. Sarnac not only unfolds the life he had led during his dream; he comments on times through the questions asked by Sunray and the others, who luckily remember their history lessons.

Through Sarnac and Smith, Wells presents a widescreen prospect of society from his usual autobiographical viewpoint as a member of the lower middle-class, mired in respectability and genteel poverty, who yearns to escape it all. He vividly describes the grime and muddle, the shoddy clothing, adulterated food, and chronic illnesses. Harry Smith is the youngest child of caring but ineffectual parents. His father runs a small greengrocer’s shop but is unable to stem the inexorable decline of the business, while his mother is immured in the basement kitchen endlessly cooking and cleaning. Smith lives for the Sundays when he and his father walk the several miles through the Kent countryside to visit his uncle, the head gardener at Chessing Hanger. Encouraged by an older sister, Smith wishes to get an education and become a writer – but it is decided that he must go to work as a gardener. Smith’s constant reading and burning desire for education was Wells’ own.

After his father’s death Smith accompanies his mother and sister to Pimlico when they are given the opportunity to help run a lodging-house. He discovers London, revelling in its vastness and magic, its fogs and filth, its crowded streets of unplanned growth. With his other sister’s help and his own efforts, he gradually eases himself out of the hopeless situation that he had seemed predestined to by his birth.

Smith and Sarnac are representatives despite themselves. Through the accumulation of description and remembered experience, Wells rages at the constant insecurity and waste of human potential and natural resources that he saw as taken for granted. Through the sane and calm questions and reflection of our descendants, who have learned the misery and futility of war and competition and the distortions imposed by education and religion, Wells expects it to be obvious which of the two societies is to be preferred.

It was Wells’ misfortune that those with the power to effect change and transformation saw no reason to take the logical, radical steps to improvement. To that extent The Dream failed: yet again those he preached to would not listen, while the converted were given a well-written tale that merely confirmed their enlightened outlook. H.G. Wells never ceased to agitate for a ‘profound reconstruction of the methods of human living […]; a real, effective federation of mankind, a genuine attempt to realise that age of world-wide plenty and safety that we have every reason to suppose attainable…’ (The Rights of Man, 1940). The Sunray Estate and a future world: perhaps there was more than one reason for Wells entitling his novel The Dream. As Sarnac comments, at the time he was Harry Smith people were ‘only beginning to learn the art of being human.’

(John Howard)

Sunday, March 31, 2024

What Do We Know? Observations of the Strange & Unusual by Arthur Machen

Newly available in paperback from the publisher. See here (scroll down for ordering link). 

From the publisher's blurb:

Throughout the 1920s, Arthur Machen worked his sense of mystery as a contributor for many daily and weekly newspapers, including a stint as columnist at The Observer. Every Sunday, readers discovered delightful and curious investigations into the strange and the unusual. Though it lasted only a year, Machen’s column found a lively and interactive audience as he discussed Grail legends, fairy stories, psychic phenomena, myth-making, and among other queer things, his own experience with a ghost. As with the previous volumes in this informal series, this installment will grant Machen enthusiasts and scholars access to a body of fine work which has been largely inaccessible for nearly a century.

The column reads very much like a weekly blog, covering whatever happened to catch Machen's attention that week.  Here are a few samples.

So the explanation of the Marie Celeste mystery will not stand. The Marie Celeste, it will be remembered, which was the ship which was so strangely found on the high seas with all things in perfect order, with a meal prepared, with no trace of affray or struggle, and yet derelict, without a man on board, with never a word to declare what strange fate had come upon the crew. A recent article in "Chambers's Journal" declared that the mystery resolved itself into an elaborate salvage swindle, and the information was said to have been taken from the confession of John Pemberton, on board the Dei Gratia, the ship which discovered the Marie Celeste. ¶  But "Lloyd's List" has taken the explanation in hand. And "Lloyd's List" is not to be trifled with as to clearings and dates of sailings. "Lloyd's List" knows when the Dei Gratia cleared, when the Marie Celeste sailed; and it declared that the Pemberton story cannot be true. I am glad of it. I do not want to have the words and music (original notation) of the song that the syrens sing. The more mysteries the better. [25 July 1926]

I was noting the other day that, in Celtic traditions at all events, the fairies are rather beings of ill will than of good. It is hard to find any link between them and the gracious following of Oberon and Titania. And I have just lit on a curious confirmation of their ill character in Miss Somerville's "Wheel-Tracks." Miss Somerville relates how her brother and herself were reading "Alice in Wonderland" one sunny morning in the 'sixties. The two children were in their grandmother's sitting room. "It was high summer, and the three windows of the room were wide open; from one of them one can see out over the harbour to the open sea, the other two look on the croquet ground and towards the avenue. Suddenly, we heard from, as it seemed, the avenue, a rushing outbreak of music, richer and more delicious--as I remember it--than any music that I have heard before or since." ¶ The children thought it was a German band playing, and rushed to ask for more. But there was no band to be seen and nobody but themselves had heard any music at all, and they were pooh-poohed and derided.  . . .  ¶ Miss Somerville says that she never heard the fairy music again; but that her sister has heard it twice, the second time in December, 1922.  [7 November 1926]

The story of Edith Somerville as related by Machen was interesting enough that I looked it up, where I found Machen didn't give some very interesting parts.  I copy the pages from Wheel-Tracks below.