Insomnia strikes again. Just me and my turtle, Boo Radley, kicking it cold-style in our 60 degree apartment as Adam is floating in the warm embrace of that forever-out-of-reach-for-me sleeping at night thing. So, Boo. . .Wonder Twins activate. Form of chick-eating-a-cup-of-animal-crackers-wondering-why-blogger.com-is-so-laggy.
The title of my blog two posts ago inspired me to read Around the World in 80 Days by Jules Verne. I've never actually read any of Verne's classics but I must say this was a good one to start with. I did see the most recent moving picture rendition of Journey to the Center of the Earth. Oh Brendan Fraser, you silly silly man.
I'm not sure if a Verne tale could ever really become a truly beloved and workable film. Judging from 80 Days, Verne is almost a subtler 1800's precursor to Terry Pratchett or possibly Douglas Adams. Eccentric, enigmatic characters embarking on seemingly nonsensical journeyings. Encountering strange and uncertain obstacles in the form of people, places and things along the way. The humour feels similar. The wink to the reader is obvious and appreciated. Nothing worse than an author who has to explain an explanation. Well. . .there are quite a few worse things but we'll mow over that for the sake of my point. Basically, these stories should stay within the bounds of the written word and the reader's fantastic imagination.
I find it peculiar that, though I'd never read the book before today, if someone were to have asked me what I knew about 80 Days prior to reading it, I would probably have made some immediate mention of that hot air balloon.
Of which, oddly enough. . .there is none.
There is even an illustration of such on the cover of the copy I read. But none within. Hm.
One other strange instance is the chapter entitled, "In which Passepartout undergoes, at a speed of twenty miles an hour, a course of Mormon history" which then goes on to indicate an Elder William Hitch who informs our Passepartout that Joe Smith was visited by Morom who was bequeathed the annals of a new religion from a Mormon prophet in Israel, the language therein being Egyptian.
What?
Okay, I'll chock up the inaccurate "Morom" to the unfortunate editor who must have mistaken an "ni" for an "m." A simple error, to be sure. Another simple error? That any prophet in Israel before the establishment of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints would have been called Mormon. Mormon (Moroni's father) was the name of a specific prophet who compiled all the writings of the various prophets and witnesses into what is now the published Book of Mormon. Mormon was not a Mormon by faith. Mormon is the once-derogatory term coined by those in the early days of the latter-day church who did not like us. Now, it is the term by which many Latter-day Saints are comfortable being referred to. Why allow a few angry naysayers act the thief with one of our prophets? Take a hint, people-who-give-malicious-words-a-power-they-don't-deserve.
How could this possibly matter in a fictional tale of adventurous daring-do? It probably wouldn't have around 10 years ago before I'd ever heard of a Mormon. Not when their commercials which I would occasionally catch on tv were re-circuited through my brain as "not-cartoons-so-go-get-some-cheese-curls." Whether we're talking religion, geography, science, whathaveyou - If an author blatantly and, without an ounce of satiric humour, gets something unforgiveably wrong, how can you trust him on the stuff you're more ignorant about? It will be forever in question whether you can share what you've read as fact or embarassing misinformation. And let's face it, no one ever wants to preface their illustrious knowledge with "I read in a book somewhere. . . . ." followed up with, ". . . . .so correct me if I'm wrong."
I thoroughly enjoyed the book, however, even at the expense of a perceptible cold shoulder salute to Mormonism. Though the phrase, "Jolly good!" was never exactly uttered throughout the 108 pages, I found myself shouting that acclaim in my head.
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