Robur the Conqueror by Jules Verne
Translator unknown
142 pages
Published 1886
Read from June 29 to July 1
Rating: ★ out of 5
Jules Verne was among my earliest favorite authors. 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea and Journey to the Center of the Earth were two of the first unabridged books I ever read, and even after I became more of a Wells partisan, I was always open to more of Verne's classic works. I remember, as a kid or young teen, reading in a preface to one of his books about Verne's increasing cynicism and concern that the wonders of science would be put to dangerous, malevolent uses, and Robur the Conqueror was singled out as an example of this gloomier phase of Verne's career. I don't believe the term "grimdark" had been popularized yet, but I had all a tween boy's enthusiasm for grimmer and darker (confusing the two, as certain demographics still do, for synonyms of "better" and "more compelling"). Robur, then, has long been one of my sought-after reads.
The last time I got my hands on a Verne book I hadn't yet read, it didn't work out so well. Bad translations and racism far more virulent than I remembered conspired with a dull travelogue narrative to sap all enjoyment out of the experience. I feared much the same from Robur, but this was a book I'd wanted to read since I was 10 or 12. The reality, alas, was even worse than I'd feared.
Imagine 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, but instead of the compelling antihero Captain Nemo, make the voyaging inventor a total dick without backstory or motivation. Switch Consiel into a vile and hateful racial stereotype played for comic effect. Eliminate the characterization and implicit conflict between Professor Arronax and Ned Land, get rid of the professor's internal conflict between admiration for and horror of the antihero inventor, and substitute bland protagonists who agree on everything and want to kill the inventor and everyone aboard -- not because of any ethical qualms, but because Robur kidnapped them for a nice vacation. Get rid of any plot or interesting incident in favor of a generic Vernean travelogue, hitting up various geographical highlights for no other reason than to portray them (crudely and stereotypically) for his young readers. That, my dears, is Robur the Conqueror.
This was not worth waiting two decades for. And aside from some business with flags on national landmarks at the beginning, none of this alleged motif of "technology suborned to evil purposes," which so captured my preteen imagination, even shows up. Perhaps the author of that preface was thinking more of Master of the World, an even slimmer novella packaged in with my copy of Robur. I guess I'm resigned to reading that next, but I am not looking forward to it. At least it can't be any worse, can it?
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