Around the World in Eighty Days

***4.0***

A wonderful read :)

Happy Reading!!

This was pretty good. Not, in my opinion, better than any Jane Austen books I've read so far.

But the English gentleman asked nothing. He was not travelling, he was tracing a circle. He was matter in orbit around the globe, following the laws of physics.

Around the World in Eighty Days was a solid entry from Verne that I thoroughly enjoyed. While for me it didn't have the sense of wonder that I found in

Journey to the Centre of the Earth (largely thanks to Fogg's complete lack of interest in any of the places they rush through), it was a well-structured page-turner, unlike the meandering and sometimes dull

Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Seas. And unlike either of those, in this novel the characters actually

have a defined goal and accomplish it in a climax for which they are conscious and which is recounted to the reader

.

Verne's characters have never been his strong suit. Here we have his two favorite archetypes: the eccentric gentleman leading the expedition (Fogg), and the faithful and eminently competent servant (Passpartout). They're fine as far as Verne goes, which is to say that they’re generally two-dimensional but consistent, entertaining, and easy to root for. This time around, Verne throws a potential love interest into the mix, which was a nice surprise, especially given how active she is—even if I wish more had been done with her and that the budding romance would have been explored more. The low points are 1) as mentioned, Fogg's disinterestedness in exploring, which is a bit disappointing as it not only makes for a bit of a bland character but also keeps the reader from seeing the sights and Verne from ever really creating a sense of atmosphere, though there are a few moments of beautiful description, and 2) Fix, whose logic for following Fogg really doesn’t make much sense (

if he thinks that Fogg is trying to escape England with the stolen money, how could he possibly in any way rationalize Fogg’s race

back to England during the second half of their trip?

) and is very obviously contrived for plot purposes—though it does give us a remarkable ending, so may somewhat be excused.

The plot is episodic, as is to be expected from serialized literature, but is driven by the solid throughline of the race around the world. It is marvelously entertaining, and often quite funny (in fact, the chapters themselves often end not on a cliffhanger, but a punchline). Highlights, of course, are the group’s adventures in India and the United States. Overall, it feels a bit like a season of

The Amazing Race: the narrator pauses periodically to interject with some trivia about the city they’re passing through (be it commentary on cultural practices, major landmarks, or just some statistical facts and figures), but the focus is very much on timetables and when the next ship/train leaves and how fast it’s expected to travel based on what technology it employs. It also provides an unintentionally fascinating glimpse into life in the nineteenth century: Verne seems deeply concerned about drug abuse (specifically opium).

Verne meticulously lists many of the cities the characters travel through, which wasn’t always interesting until they got to Sacramento, my hometown. (It was generally very fun to read Verne’s descriptions of the city and the surrounding area.) According to my translation:

After Sacramento the train, once it had gone past the stations at Junction, Rochin, Auburn and Colfax, entered the Sierra Nevada mountain range.

I have never heard of either Junction or Rochin near Sacramento, but found that the Central Pacific Railroad

did pass through Sacramento, Junction (which

apparently is modern-day Roseville),

Rocklin, Auburn, and Colfax…so Verne was pretty close, but incorrect. Or was he? The

original French here reads:

les stations de Junction, de Roclin, d'Auburn et de Colfax

So, spelling variance aside, Verne was completely accurate, and it’s only a transcription error in my edition that introduced the error! Fairly impressive for a novel written in the nineteenth century, and I have more faith than ever in Verne’s research.

The ending, though, is perhaps the best part. I remembered the “twist” from the Great Illustrated Classics abridgement, but that doesn’t make it any less exciting. The fun of an unexpected science-y element, the callback to Passpartout’s watch, the role Mrs. Aouda plays (

which also confirms that she really doe loves Fogg and isn’t just marrying for money

), and Verne’s execution that jumps back-and-forth through time…it’s absolutely thrilling.

Now that I’ve read his three blockbusters, the only question I have is: which to read next?

Some favorite quotes:

As far as was known, Phileas Fogg didn’t have a wife or children — something that can happen to the most respectable of people — but he had no relatives or friends either, which is less common.

It was also the club’s ice, brought at great expense from the lakes of North America, that kept his drinks chilled to just the right temperature.

However, it is easy to understand why he lived alone and without any social relationships: he knew that everyday life involved social contact and because such contact took up time he chose to live without it.

The house was clean and tidy, austere and puritanical, and well planned for servants. He liked it. For him it was like being inside the shell of a snail, but a snail that had gas lighting and heating!

And so all the marvels of Bombay seemed of no interest to him: the town hall, the magnificent library, the fortifications, the docks, the cotton market, the bazaars, the mosques, the synagogues, the Armenian churches and the splendid temple on Malabar Hill with its twin polygonal towers. Not for him the masterpieces of Elephanta, with its mysterious underground burial chambers hidden to the south-east of the natural harbour, nor the caves at Kanheri on the island of Salsette, those magnificent remains of Buddhist architecture. Absolutely nothing interested him.

Sago trees, large ferns with their magnificent fronds, gave variety to the tropical vegetation and the air was thick with the intense perfume of nutmeg trees, with their shiny green foliage.

Then came mendicant friars, pilgrims in long robes, ordinary civilians, with sleek, jet-black hair, large heads, long torsos and thin legs, short in stature, with complexions varying in colour from the darkest shades of copper to dull white, but never as yellow as that of the Chinese, from whom the Japanese differ considerably.

Night came. Passepartout returned to the native quarter and wandered about the streets amid the multicoloured lanterns, watching the groups of travelling acrobats perform their amazing tricks and the outdoor astrologers getting crowds of people to gather around their telescopes. Then he saw the harbour again, sparkling with the lights of fishermen, who attracted the fish by the glow of their burning torches.

by its large expanse of sail, the steamer did not roll. The Pacific Ocean lived up to its name.

He still had in his mind the image of the legendary city of 1849, a town of bandits, arsonists and murderers all attracted by the lure of gold, an immense confusion of social misfits, where people betted in gold dust with a revolver in one hand and a knife in the other. But these ‘good old days’ were gone. San Francisco looked like any other large commercial town.

Work began immediately and was carried out in typical American style, without too much paperwork orbureaucratic fuss.

and towards midnight, while the travellers slept soundly, they went through Sacramento. They therefore saw nothing of this sizeable city, the seat of the legislature of the state of California, with its handsome wharves, its wide streets, its splendid-looking hotels, its squares and churches.

The route taken by the train followed the twists and turns of the Sierra, at times clinging to the mountainside, at others hanging over precipices, avoiding tight corners by cutting bold curves, rushing into narrow gorges with apparently no way through. The locomotive sparkled like a box of jewels, with its great lantern that gave off a yellowish light, its silver bell and its cowcatcher that jutted out like a spur, and as it went the noise of its whistling and roaring mingled with the sound of the streams and waterfalls and its smoke twisted itself around the black branches of the fir trees.

Passepartout were comfortably seated and were looking out at the varied scenery that went past them: vast prairies, a backdrop of mountains and creeks that poured forth their foaming waters. Sometimes a large herd of bison gathered in the distance, forming what seemed like an encroaching tide.

The orb of the sun, swollen by the mist, looked like a huge gold coin, and Passepartout was busy calculating its value in pounds sterling when he was interrupted in this useful activity by the arrival of a rather odd-looking character.

Two hours were enough to visit this absolutely typical American town, one that was built to the same pattern as all the others, huge chessboards with long cold lines, with ‘the mournful sadness of right angles’, to use Victor Hugo's phrase.

He even reminded people that some engineers had had the idea of crossing rivers without building bridges, with rigid trains hurtling along at full speed, etc.

When Passepartout discovered the cost of this latest crossing he let out the sort of extended ‘Oh’ that goes through every interval on the descending chromatic scale.

“Mr Fogg,” Mrs Aouda then said, as she got to her feet and offered the gentleman her hand, “would you like both a relative and a friend? Would you like to have me as your wife?”

In other words, by going eastwards Phileas Fogg had seen the sun cross the meridian eighty times, whereas his colleagues back in London had only seen it cross seventy-nine times.

To do so he had used all possible means of transport: steamships, railways, carriages, yachts, commercial vessels, a sledge and an elephant.

What had the journey brought him? Nothing, it could be said. Nothing, that is, except for a charming wife who, however unlikely it may seem, made him the happiest of men. In all truth, isn’t this more than enough reward for going around the world?

Phileas Fogg is an English gentleman with a propensity for whist and punctuality. When the Bank of England is robbed of twenty thousand pounds, his friends discuss whether or not a robber could escape. Upon hearing that the world is small, Fogg concurs, explaining that one can travel around the world in eighty days. His companions agree in theory but argue that eighty days does not take into account bad weather, mechanical faults, timetable errors, etc and that it simply cannot be done. Fogg declares any and all delays are included in his reasoning and upon being told his friend would "like to see you do it." He responds, "It depends on you. Shall we go?". A wager is made, Fogg finishes his game of whist and proceeds to leave that night on an eighty day trip around the world.

With him, he takes only a few changes of clothes and money and his newly hired (as in literally that day because the other servant didn't heat his water properly) domicile, Jean Passepartout. At the same time, Detective Fix is sent abroad to look for the bank robber. When Passepartout and Fix cross paths, Fix is suspicious. Afterall how likely is it that an English gentleman leaves London in a bid to win a wager that he can travel around the world in eighty days? Much more likely he's the robber! And so, Fix follows along, hoping at each stop to obtain his arrest warrant and arrest the suspect. Only it doesn't go so well...

Passepartout and Fix are hilarious. Between one trying to stop Fogg, the other accidentally managing to stop him to them both trying to help, they provide much needed comic relief. Fogg for his part is unflappable. But although he is unmoved by panic or prone to the fits that plague Fix or Passepartout, he is not unfeeling. He may not care about delays but he is generous with his time and money.

In one such venture he meets the lovely Aouda, an Indian woman he rescues from being burned alive. Aouda is grateful and ends up continuing to journey with Fogg for the rest of his journey. The romance between them is hinted at throughout, although remains unconfirmed until the end.

The ending is amusing and had me laughing.

Almost being late when they arrive a day early. All the more amusing because of the constant references to time.

Overall I enjoyed this. It's not a perfect book but it's entertaining. 3 stars.

Of all the Verne books I have read, this is the one I like the most. For several reasons.

First of all, in this book there was the smallest number of boring passages in which the author explains a scientific question in too much detail. When I was reading Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea I found it terribly exhausting at times. There were also some fragments like this in this book, but luckily there weren't many of them, and the book's focus was mostly on the plot.

Speaking of which, the plot is surprisingly well-thought out and interesting. Mr. Fogg's goal is clear to us from the beginning, and the stakes are so high that we truly cheer him on in his venture. I was really caught up in this race against time and followed it with bated breath. But can we stop for a moment and appreciate the whole idea of this story, going around the globe in 80 days? This story is so well known that we don't think about what imagination it took to come up with such an idea. Verne was always able to think of something truly spectacular.

The characters are interesting but not annoying. Of course, they are a bit exaggerated, as is the case in such stories, but overall they are funny and likeable. Even the antagonist is a nice guy after all. I guess what surprised me the most was Aouda, I didn't know there would be a female character in this novel. Also note that for those times she was presented as quite a strong, independent and resourceful lady.

I also wonder if my book has been re-edited and some parts have been removed from it, or if I have not noticed it, but I believe there were relatively few controversial statements in this book that stemmed from the time it was written. Of course, some parts about India or First Nations would not be found in modern books, as we are slowly finally learning to respect other cultures. But it wasn't as much as I expected in this book. Unfortunately, I am not able to say whether it is not a matter of re-editing my copy.

The ending sentences of this story surprised me a bit. I even wonder if this story was ultimately aimed more at women than men, due to the strongly romantic overtone of the statement. But it seems to me to fit in with the overall style of the period in which this book was written.

This story has aged surprisingly well. Probably the best of the Verne books I've read so far. The action is fast-paced, the characters are interesting, and the adventures of Mr. Fogg and his companions evoke emotions even today.