A Timeless Warning About Corruption and Abuse: A Review of H.G. Wells’ “Invisible Man”
by Chet Carlson
Author H.G. Wells is best known for his science fiction books, most notably The War of the Worlds from 1898 and The Time Machine from 1895. All of his works have a unique quality about them that puts them ahead of the time they were written, giving them a timeless appeal. While reading The Invisible Man, a story he wrote in 1897, I found that the book tells a fascinating story about corruption and abuse.
The Invisible Man is perhaps best known from the Universal monster film of the same title from 1933, which is more-or-less a straightforward adaptation of the original book. But the property has seen brand new revitalization in the most recent 2020 film version, which reboots the story and puts it into a modern setting. This version uses the concept of an invisible man to represent abuse — particularly, domestic abuse — as well as the trauma that’s left behind from an abusive relationship.
We feel fear palpably as we watch the 2020 film adaptation because we are put into the protagonist’s shoes as we become aware of the invisible man’s abuse of power: the invisible man in this film abuses his technology to subtly harm others in order to get what he wants. The original story has a similar focus on abuse of power. Griffin, the invisible man, begins the novel obsessively seeking a cure for his condition. His obsession leads to madness as he begins to abuse his invisibility, frightening and threatening the simple citizens of the countryside to the point of coercing them with the threat of harm or death.
[Spoiler alert!] Wells’ invisible man is not as immediately terrifying and not nearly as realistic as the 2020 film adaptation version. Wells opts to portray the invisible man as more mysterious and secretive, using his emotional outbursts later in the book to represent his dwindling mental health. As we read, he becomes more corrupt with each action, and more and more brazen in his crimes as the book reaches a climax with his death.
Wells’ invisible man is more of a tragic figure, suffering from mental issues after an experiment gone wrong. Reading his descent into villainy is gripping! In particular, I was interested in the way that certain scenes do not explicitly reveal or take note of Griffin’s presence; instead, Wells leaves subtle descriptions that imply the man’s movement and actions, such as when he breaks into the vicar’s house or sneaks up behind someone with a revolver. Wells does a great job at portraying this invisible man as staying hidden from the reader as well.
As much as the story is interesting due to the focus on Griffin’s descent into madness and his megalomaniacal uprise, it also, strangely enough, has some more comedic moments near the beginning of the book. For example, the invisible man’s reveal is treated as a spectacle within the town of Iping. Everyone goes to the inn to check out the racket as Griffin creates an amusing scene of fooling with the locals before running out into the wilderness.
Reading this book during the winter of 2020 was an interesting experience, as the book’s early chapters describe a snowy countryside, and Griffin quarantines himself in his room at the inn while wearing a mask over his face at all times in public. It was hard not to feel a sense of connection to those scenes: even though they were painted long ago, the art still managed to reach me one way or another. And that is what I think classic pieces of literature such as this one can do for the right reader: create a connection between you and the book. There’s a reason why these books and stories are so fondly remembered and retold, and rediscovering that reason is a satisfying feeling for someone like me who loves literature.
The book ultimately possesses a simple message (especially when compared to more modern stories), of how absolute power corrupts, but it’s expressed masterfully here in one of the earliest examples of science fiction. Perhaps the most difficult part of reading this book is the language Wells used; many of the characters possess phonetically written accents and use outdated terminology, but otherwise, nothing about the story is particularly dated or feels irrelevant to the interested reader. I would highly recommend this book for fans of the film — both the modern reboot and the classic black and white picture — and to any science fiction fan, as this is not only an essential read but an entertaining and fascinating one too.
Chester Carlson is a creative writing major at Beloit College in Wisconsin. He is an avid fan of film, literature, and tabletop gaming.
