Skip to main content

In the Year 2889 by Jules Verne (or possibly Michel Verne)


Somehow with every passing day, my tastes in reading are inching towards the wildly fantastical rather than the thought-provoking. My current reading list would attest to that. As I noted in an earlier post, I had picked up this article In the Year 2889 purely out of my utter reverence for Jules Verne, and I dare say that I derived some childish pleasure in reliving some of his visions. 

I wouldn't certainly put this up as must-read, but for a 'futuristic' article, it serves its purpose quite well. As the title suggests, the article follows a day in the life of a Rupert Murdoch-ish character in the year 2889. You should remember that the article was written in late 19th century and most of the author's fantasies have been already realised. Some are yet to be conceptualised though, and make for good imaginative reading. 

The work however lacks the awe-inspiring nature of 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea and The Mysterious Island, and sounds more like a wishful after-dinner conversation. There is a marked lack of details and perhaps the fact that some of the Verne's imaginations are in fact, regular realities of life now, takes away some of the sheen. There is some debate about the actual authorship of the piece, with suggestions that it may have been penned by Jules Verne's son Michel Verne. Either way, In the Year 2889 would have been perfect had I read it as a kid, though I still dig the folding furniture concept !

All considered, I was expecting a little more kick out of a Verne work, but the mild knock wasn't too bad either.


Image courtesy http://acidfreepulp.com/2014/09/01/in-the-year-2889-by-jules-verne/

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

These are a few of my least favourite things ...

I have been feeling pretty mad lately; its the end of the fiscal year (which is synonymous with doomsday for everyone - the one in the job and the one tackling the one in the job) and though I have had a lot of 'free' time, most of it has been going into making time for me to be able to read anything besides corporate papers in the weekdays. Either way, I am touchy right now and little things set me off. Little things like... 1. There was a not-so-battered copy of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire lying in the heap at the foot of a second-hand bookseller. Really ?? You had the heart to give away the book where Cedric died ? And Voldemort returned ? I am astounded (disgusted ?) at your emotional strength. 2. An acquaintance said she found Hurt Locker so boring, she walked off the theatre at interval. I am sorry the movie wasn't a musical.  3. Another acquaintance refused to come to Les Miserables. Oh I am so sorry, there are no guns blazing in this one....

My favourite book-reading corners

I'm in a heady mood today and the weather is egging me on. Its been raining intermittently over the last week, and I've been dying to find the time to sit by the window, the rain lashing at it, while I sip my tea and turn the pages of the book at hand. Also, this weekend comes after numerous ones when both S and me have been extremely busy, so that relaxation seemed a distant luxury. Its nearing 6 in the evening now, the breeze is soothing and the sun is getting hazier behind the cottony grey clouds. I am thinking of all the nice little spots where I have managed to curl up and read, and then some more which I wish to come across eventually. 1. This is where I first dipped into the world of books; by the double-paned wooden windows was my single bed, where I lounged after school (back when additional tuition classes had not begun ruining my life). I remember reading my first Hardy Boys there there.To this day, the greenish, glittering beams of sunlight filtering through t...

Higginbothams of Ooty

It took us some time to decipher that the name of the crossroad was Charing Cross. After all, it is an unexpected name for an Indian crossroad in Tamil Nadu, and the mildly opinionated chap driving us to our hotel had a heavy accent. Charing Cross turned out to be a triangular enclosure, with an imposing fountain (we later discovered that it was named the Adam's Fountain; it is three-tiered, the second one topped by four very colourful cherubs). Since we had arrived in the middle of the afternoon in the thick of winter, the roads were thronging with people and vehicles. Shops were bustling and business appeared brisk. Our driver skilfully negotiated the traffic as we passed woollens shops, gift houses, eateries, groceries and mobile-phone shops.  We returned to the market later in the evening, after having deposited our luggage. Both my husband and I had been fending off a nasty bout of flu and needed to restock our now near-empty medicine pouch. Charing Cross in the ...