Thursday, 2 October 2025

Review: The Land That Time Forgot

The Land That Time Forgot The Land That Time Forgot by Edgar Rice Burroughs
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

The nonsense racist pseudoscience is strong with this one.

A dastardly World War I German U-boat commander attacks the hero's unarmed civilian passenger ship (with US registry, and I don't think they were in the war yet, so it's neutral shipping) and sinks it, shelling boats with women and children in. The hero survives and rescues his dog and also a young woman, and they are picked up by a British tug - which is then attacked by the same U-boat. The brave tug captain chooses to ram the U-boat and then his men fight the Germans hand-to-hand, capturing it at the cost of the lives of the captain and several crew.

It turns out that the young woman's fiancé is the U-boat commander, but it was an arranged marriage. Fortunately, the hero's father's business is building submarines, and they built this one, so he can take over command.

Then we get a long series of misadventures that end up taking them into the Pacific and all the way down almost to Antarctica, thanks to assorted villainy. (view spoiler)

They are running low on fuel and water and well out of their course, and then (about halfway through the book) they come across the land of the title, a large volcanic island with unscalable cliffs all round and just one river discharge, through caves that can only be navigated by submarine. Fortunately, they have a submarine!

(view spoiler)

This isolated place has a tropical climate (from the volcanic heat, presumably) despite being near Antarctica, and was probably the model for the Marvel Universe's Savage Land. It's full of otherwise extinct creatures from every era and continent, dinosaurs, plesiosaurs, pteranodons, sabre-tooth tigers, cave hyenas, you name it. It's like the Swiss Family Robinson's island, but with palaeontology.

It also has various apes, ape-men, and primitive humans, which is where the racism comes in; the less developed ones, of course, are "negroid" in appearance, even though their skins are white, and that disappears as they become more advanced. This seems to happen in the lifetime of an individual, with people heading further north and adopting more technology as they evolve (or rather metamorphose) in the direction of modern homo sapiens. It also seems to have something to do with the pools in which they bathe - I bet it's radium, that would fit the science of the time. Piltdown Man gets a name-check, being still believed in at the time of publication (1918), and not exposed definitely as a hoax until the 1950s.

It's all a bunch of nonsense, of course, with the flimsiest scientific backing at best, but it's mainly there to be a backdrop for the adventure - and the romance, such as it is, between the hero and the woman he rescued.

There were a couple of sequels, which apparently follow very similar lines to the second part of this book, and it wasn't good enough for me to want to read them. I didn't expect much from Burroughs, a pulp writer among pulp writers, and I didn't get much. The adventure parts are the best parts, of course, and if you're just reading for that, it's OK, but nothing else is very good at all.

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Wednesday, 1 October 2025

Review: The Mummy and Miss Nitocris A Phantasy of the Fourth Dimension

The Mummy and Miss Nitocris A Phantasy of the Fourth Dimension The Mummy and Miss Nitocris A Phantasy of the Fourth Dimension by George Chetwynd Griffith
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I've recently loaded up my e-reader with a large selection of early science fiction and fantasy titles from Project Gutenberg, after a binge on classic mysteries from the same source. I've often steered clear of early SFF, because it has, let's say, very different strengths from current SFF - it might as well be a different genre in many ways. But there is some good stuff out there - I know, from having read some now and again - and I'm going to explore and see if I can find some more.

The thing about reading hundred-year-old fiction is that the preoccupations and the tropes and the stock characters are very different. (And the prevailing ideologies, naturally.) Anything involving science, too, is liable to involve what we would think of as pseudoscience. That's certainly true of this one.

The central characters are an English professor of mathematics and his daughter, who he named Nitocris after an ancient Egyptian queen, since he's a keen amateur Egyptologist. But it turns out that she is in fact the reincarnation of the ancient queen, and he is the reincarnation of a priest who fell in love with the queen (don't think too hard about them now being father and daughter, or things will become more like ancient Egyptian royalty than modern minds are generally comfortable with) and helped her avenge herself on the murderer of her husband. Of course, the murderer and his associate, another priest, have also been reincarnated, and set out to play their villainous role over again.

Meanwhile, though, the professor, musing on a proposition of Euclid, comes to a gnostic realization of the nature of the fourth dimension, which gives him superpowers. He can become invisible, see into the past and great distances away, and so forth. He confounds his learned peers and rivals by demonstrating three supposed impossibilities: trisecting the triangle, squaring the circle, and doubling the cube (all of which, by that point, had been proved to be impossible with the ancient tools of compass and straightedge, though mathematical cranks continued to try). And then Nitocris, his highly intelligent and well-educated daughter, is raised to a knowledge of her heritage and gets superpowers too, and they decide to use them to solve the mystery of the disappearance of a possible future elective Tsar of Russia, depending how the revolution goes (this is 1906, a couple of years before World War I and several more before the Bolshevik victory). Of course, one of the villains, the reincarnation of the murderer of original-Nitocris's husband, is involved in that disappearance; he's a rival for the imperial throne. His sidekick, the reincarnation of the wicked priest, performs wonders similar to those performed on the music hall stage of the period, some of which were rumoured to be performed by Indian fakirs, but does so out in the open and in the middle of a circle of scientific skeptics, to their extreme annoyance and puzzlement.

Meanwhile, Nitocris wants to marry a naval officer, which her father (who, like many intellectuals of the time, believes in eugenics) opposes, being bitterly opposed to war and warriors. She also manages to pair up an unsuccessful suitor of hers with her American friend, who's the daughter of the professor's chief rival - though the two academics are friends of a sort when they're not trying to tear down each other's arguments.

So, we have: reincarnation (presented by the author as if it was a pretty obvious truth), superpowers arising from the understanding of abstruse mathematics, mystery, international politics, academic politics, two romances, and the plot of the reincarnated villains against the reincarnated Nitocris and her priest, now father. All of these are intertwined like a ball of snakes.

It's a complex way to approach a plot, and should only be attempted by experienced authors. This one, I think, largely pulls it off; he was at the end of his life when he wrote it, and although critics considered his powers were waning (under the influence of alcoholism, which killed him), he does juggle and intertwine the various strands capably. Having so many of them does mean that some remain underdeveloped, notably the romance subplots, which barely get any time devoted to them - not only on the page, but in the lives of the participants. The disappearance and reappearance of the mummy of the title is never explained in any way whatsoever; it just falls under "a wizard did it".

He's not the greatest prose stylist, and his characters and descriptions can be thin and stereotyped. Nitocris, for instance, is simultaneously a nice early-20th-century Gibson girl from a prosperous English background and a ruthless ancient Egyptian, and the contrast is sometimes jarring, because neither side of her has much depth, and so it's simply a contradiction with no bridge in the middle. Griffith also shares the usual anti-foreign bias of his time; practically anyone who's not English is automatically and obviously a villain, with an exception granted for the Americans (who are, however, portrayed as odd people talking a slangy dialect). He conveys the distinct impression that simply by being born English, the professor had taken a big step up from his previous incarnations.

Overall, it's an interesting idea but a less-than-amazing execution, and just makes it into the lowest tier of my annual recommendation list.

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