War of the Worlds by H.G. Wells

First published in 1898

One of the characters in War of the Worlds talks about how people live their lives in fear. They buy insurance because they fear catastrophe. They work at jobs they hate because they fear a loss of security. They scurry home and stay indoors because they are afraid of the dark. On Sundays they fear the hereafter. They want only “safety in their one little miserable skedaddle through the world.” Now they have something real to fear -- Martians. Even after the invasion, some will be happy to be caught and caged, because to “submit to persecution and the will of the Lord” is easy, and what people really fear is thinking for themselves.

I think that little speech by a soldier in the second part of War of the Worlds highlights one of the novel’s best themes. You’re either content to be a rabbit in a cage or you have the will to take risks. The soldier thinks that most people can’t be saved from the Martians but most aren’t worth saving. Knowledge and ideas are worth saving, the sum of human accomplishment. With time and rescued knowledge, humankind will be able to fight the Martians (or so the soldier hopes), to stage a comeback after a devastating defeat. But is that realistic or is it folly? The book’s narrator calls the soldier a “strange undisciplined dreamer of great things,” but perhaps those are the people we should strive to be in time of crisis.

Focused myopically on their own lives, early twentieth century humans failed to appreciate that Martians might exist or that humans might have something Martians would desire: a healthy planet. Mars and the life it sustains are coming to an end. The Martians want Earth.

The narrator of War of the Worlds is curious when a cylindrical object crashes near his home. He’s still curious when the top unscrews and creatures with tentacles scramble into the crater that was created by their crashing vessel. He’s vexed when the creatures assemble a heat ray that systematically sets trees, buildings, and people on fire. Fortunately, the sweep of the heat ray is not extensive (hiding behind the nearest hill provides adequate protection) so the narrator assumes the military will make short work of the Martians. That assumption gives way to panic when more cylinders fall and mechanized tripods begin to wander about, deploying heat rays and poisonous black clouds to wipe out cities and their defenses.

As you probably know, the Martians kick human butt for most of the novel. War of the Worlds is about badly behaving Martians, but it is also about badly behaving humans. Running from the Martians, people trample each other, throw each other from escaping boats, take advantage of weakness, and generally put their own lives above everyone else’s. The narrator’s brother is an exception, and there are a few others, including the soldier mentioned at the beginning of this review, but Wells’ view of mankind as a whole is rather dim. The epilogue, on the other hand, suggests an optimistic vision of the future.

Most people who have not read The War of the Worlds probably know how it ends, but I won’t spoil it for those who don’t. I will say only that the ending is a testament not only to Wells’ vivid imagination, but to his understanding that human beings (and even Martians) are not necessarily the most powerful entities in this vast universe. It is only hubris that makes us (or Martians) believe we thrive and survive because we are superior. Wells makes clear that humility always defeats hubris. That is the other timeless theme that makes The War of the Worlds an enduring contribution to the history of literature.

RECOMMENDED

The Hanging Club by Tony Parsons

First published in the U.K. in 2016; published by Minotaur Books on November 1, 2016

“What’s wrong with a bit of revenge?” asks a curator at the Crime Museum who keeps track of the ropes that were used to hang shoplifters and more nefarious criminals before England did away with capital punishment. That’s also the question on the minds of Londoners as they watch bad guys being executed on YouTube.

In the prologue to The Hanging Club, a small group of men execute (by hanging) a Pakistani taxi driver who just finished a relatively light sentence for his role in a gang that sexually assaulted young girls. A video of the hanging, accompanied by the hashtag #bringitback, goes viral. A good share of London’s population believes that the cab driver had it coming.

DC Max Wolfe, who has a little girl of his own, is assigned to investigate the hanging. He’s soon investigating additional hangings, some of the victims less obviously deserving of public outrage — although it doesn’t take much to stir outrage, even in stoic England.

The theme of retribution also shows up in a couple of collateral plotlines. One involves a man who was beaten to death by two young men as a third recorded the crime on his phone. The assailants receive an improbably short sentence (hence the desire for retribution). The other involves a police detective whose son was blinded by thugs. Both plot threads seem forced — contrivances that advance the plot rather than realistic events.

Another subplot involves Wolfe’s childhood BFF who is now living on the street. The reader is asked to decide whether the friend is a good guy or a bad guy, or a mixture of both. That subplot is also a bit forced, but it serves to personalize the retribution theme for Wolfe. A final subplot involving Wolfe’s attraction to a deaf specialist in voice analysis adds moderate interest to the story.

Vigilantism is often the product of fear. Unfortunately, fear and vigilantism both destroy the bonds that hold a civilized society together. “It was as if nobody could be trusted any more, as if the world had gone insane, as if you never knew who might want to dance on your grave.” Those thoughts are in Wolfe's head as London anti-terrorist police refuse to take their boots off the back of his neck, even after he has identified himself as a Detective Constable, because they fear he might be a terrorist.

The world of thrillers makes heroes of vigilantes, but too few thrillers spotlight the hypocrisy of people who think murder is justifiable if murders are committed for the right reasons. The story invites readers to consider whether private retribution is acceptable when vigilantes are dissatisfied with the punishment imposed by the criminal justice system. A shocking number of people seem to believe that trials and due process are “politically correct” values that shouldn't apply to people they categorically dislike. Defenders of vigilantism used to form lynch mobs. How much progress society has made (British or American) is a question the book invites readers to ponder.

I’m not sure The Hanging Club tackles these issues with much depth, but it does explore both sides by demonstrating that the rule of law is what saves society from anarchy, while acknowledging that people become understandably frustrated when they feel that the rule of law has let them down. The story gives readers the chance to make up their own mind about whether lynch mobs have anything to do with justice. It also allows readers to appreciate the conflict that Wolfe feels as he upholds the law in the face of angry people who think he’s on the wrong side when he pursues vigilantes.

Apart from its interesting development of a timely social issue and a multifaceted protagonist, The Hanging Club delivers an entertaining action story that is peppered with intriguing conflict among key characters. The ending contains a nice surprise. This isn’t an “edge of my seat” thriller, but it’s worth reading both as an engaging story and as a novel that makes readers think about important questions.

RECOMMENDED

The Obsidian Chamber by Douglas Preston & Lincoln Child

Published by Grand Central Publishing on October 18, 2016

The last Pendergast novel ended with another cliffhanger, as Pendergast was swept out to sea. Since the series didn’t end, it isn’t a spoiler to suggest that Pendergast might still be alive, perhaps held captive by smugglers who pursue an improbable scheme to trade Pendergast for a prisoner in FBI custody. Of course, the smugglers don’t realize just how formidable Pendergast might be.

Much of the story focuses not on Pendergast, but on other characters. The Obsidian Chamber begins with the kidnapping of Constance Greene from Pendergast’s home. Characters in a Pendergast novel seem to have trouble staying dead, as evidenced by the character, presumed dead, who takes Constance. In the absence of Pendergast, it falls to his loyal servant Proctor to give chase.

And give chase he does, first by plane and then by Land Rover, using wits and a bag full of cash to stay, it seems, on the heels of Constance’s captor as he travels between and across continents. The fun factor triggered my willingness to suspend disbelief of the events described in those chapters. They are, in fact, by far the best chapters in the book. Unfortunately, when the chase peters out, Proctor disappears, leaving Constance to carry the story. That was a disappointing choice.

Pendergast, Constance, and Proctor are apparently the smartest and toughest people in the world. To a degree, they are intriguing because they are so far removed from common experience, and their knowledge of history and science and unusual meditative practices adds intellectual interest to the story. At the same time, Proctor is the only character I care about, and his role in the novels is limited. For that reason, while I generally enjoy the series, I lack the emotional investment in the Pendergast novels that I have made in other crime novels with recurring characters.

There is more melodrama in The Obsidian Chamber than I expect from a Pendergast novel. By the time the predictable ending rolls around, melodrama has overwhelmed the story. While The Obsidian Chamber doesn’t end in a cliffhanger, it does leave an issue unresolved that might tempt the authors to continue a disappointing storyline at some point in the future. I’d be happier if they killed Constance, cut out the family melodrama entirely, and returned Pendergast to a crime fighting role with an able assist from Proctor. I liked some of The Obsidian Chamber, but not enough to give it an enthusiastic recommendation. Preston and Child do marvelous research and fill their novels with interesting factoids, so I will keep reading them, but with the fond hope that the authors have put silly storylines behind them and are preparing to venture into more gripping territory.

RECOMMENDED WITH RESERVATIONS

Loner by Teddy Wayne

Published by Simon & Schuster on September 13, 2016

David Federman, a newly arrived freshman at Harvard, quickly finds a girlfriend who is perfect for him (i.e., she is capable of tolerating him) and just as quickly takes an interest in her beautiful roommate. David uses tactics to get close to Veronica that could be characterized as stalking, but it takes some time before Veronica even notices that he exists. When she does notice, she realizes that she can use him to write her papers. And so we have a classic relationship involving a user and a person who wants to be used (albeit in a different way), the kind of relationship that never ends well.

The story is told from David’s perspective, as if he were telling it to Veronica. It doesn’t build suspense in the traditional way, but it does create a sense of foreboding. Neither David, who mistreats his girlfriend and cares only about himself, nor Veronica, who seems to cultivate a tragic air when she’s not manipulating people, are particularly likable characters, so the reader might look forward to something bad happening to one (or preferably both) of them.

The story takes a smart twist near the end as David gains insight into Veronica and fails to gain insight into himself. The ending isn’t as powerful as I was expecting, but it is true to the story that precedes it. Sensitive readers might find it disturbing.

Teddy Wayne’s prose is graceful, but the novel’s real strength lies in its psychological exploration of David, a loner who is so stuck on himself that he has no clue how he is perceived by others. His sense of entitlement might make him a good fit for Harvard, but he is a misfit in any setting, socially awkward and completely invisible to the smug students who surround him. His story opens a window to other young men who derive a misplaced sense of entitlement from their intelligence while lacking the empathy and humility that would help them understand their true place in the world.

RECOMMENDED

Warp by Lev Grossman

First published in 1997; reprint editon published by St. Martin's Griffin on September 20, 2016

Young Hollis Kessler spends much of his time arguing with his friends about the science of Star Trek and saying clever but pointless things like “Lies are like these little peepholes into a better world.” He also has random thoughts, generally in the form of quotations from works he’s read or seen, all of which he inflicts upon the reader. That’s sort of interesting -- the world in Hollis’ head is certainly more interesting than the world he barely inhabits -- but clever writing and a series of references to pop culture aren’t enough to sustain a novel.

Trading on Lev Grossman's success with The Magicians trilogy, the publisher describes Warp as Lev Grossman’s “lost origin novel.” Had it not been for Grossman’s later success, this book would have stayed lost, and deservedly so. Grossman even admits to posting fake reviews on Amazon to boost the average star rating when it first came out, presumably because actual readers know a bad book when they encounter one. It strikes me as self-indulgent and pointless, although the prose certainly evidences a writer who knows how to craft an entertaining sentence.

NOT RECOMMENDED