I purchased a leather bound omnibus of four Verne tales in an Antique store in 1969 and was instantly hooked. I found a copy of the Mysterious Island later that year, a worn library book in my elementary school library, and surprised my teacher by doing a book report on it . . . she assumed it was over my head, but I surprised her. My mother purchased a copy for my next birthday, a Kingstone translation, a hardback version I still have.
The Kingstone translation is all I have ever know, but I heard about the Jordan Stump translation and had to buy it.
I am told that this version is more truthful to how the book reads in French, the language Verne wrote in. I will certainly say that the version holds up well, having not read my Kingstone versions in ten or fifteen years.
It is a great tale that shows how a number of strong willed men, when led by a man knowledgeable in engineering and the sciences, can overcome severe adversity. The Mysterious Island is a not an easy read for most, written in the common language of the 19th century and containing many, many sections wherein the characters use their knowledge of period skills and science to survive on an uncharted island. For those of you who have not yet attempted the reading of Verne's novels, I would suggest starting with '20000 leagues' . . . if you like that try this one; it too has a great deal of geography and science involved in the story.
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The Mysterious Island (Modern Library Classics) Mass Market Paperback – April 27, 2004
Based on the true story of Alexander Selkirk, who survived alone for almost five years on an uninhabited island off the coast of Chile, The Mysterious Island is considered by many to be Jules Verne’s masterpiece. “Wide-eyed mid-nineteenth-century humanistic optimism in a breezy, blissfully readable translation by Stump” (Kirkus Reviews), here is the enthralling tale of five men and a dog who land in a balloon on a faraway, fantastic island of bewildering goings-on and their struggle to survive as they uncover the island’s secret.
- Print length768 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherModern Library
- Publication dateApril 27, 2004
- Dimensions4.27 x 1.25 x 6.77 inches
- ISBN-100812972120
- ISBN-13978-0812972122
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Editorial Reviews
Review
“The reason Verne is still read by millions today is simply that he was one of the best storytellers who ever lived.” —Arthur C. Clarke
From the Inside Flap
Based on the true story of Alexander Selkirk, who survived alone for almost five years on an uninhabited island off the coast of Chile, The Mysterious Island is considered by many to be Jules Verne s masterpiece. Wide-eyed mid-nineteenth-century humanistic optimism in a breezy, blissfully readable translation by Stump (Kirkus Reviews), here is the enthralling tale of five men and a dog who land in a balloon on a faraway, fantastic island of bewildering goings-on and their struggle to survive as they uncover the island s secret.
From the Trade Paperback edition.
From the Trade Paperback edition.
About the Author
Jordan Stump is an associate professor of French at the University of Nebraska–Lincoln, and translator of more than half a dozen French novels. His translation of Nobel Prize–winning novelist Claude Simon’s Le jardin des plantes won the French-American Foundation Translation Prize for 2001.
Caleb Carr is the bestselling author of The Alienist and, most recently, The Lessons of Terror. He lives in New York.
Caleb Carr is the bestselling author of The Alienist and, most recently, The Lessons of Terror. He lives in New York.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter 1
I
The Great Storm of 1865.-Shouts in the Air.-A Balloon in a Whirlwind.-The Torn Fabric.-Nothing but Water.-Five Passengers.-The Events in the Gondola.-A Shoreline on the Horizon.-The Outcome of the Drama.
"Are we rising?"
"No! Quite the reverse! We're sinking!"
"Worse than that, Mr. Cyrus! We're falling!"
"For the love of God! Drop some ballast!"
"That's the last sack emptied!"
"Is the balloon climbing now?"
"No!"
"I think I hear waves crashing!"
"We're over the ocean!"
"We can't be more than five hundred feet above it!"
Just then a powerful voice rent the air, and the following words rang out:
"Everything heavy overboard! . . . everything! And God save us!"
Such were the cries echoing over the vast emptiness of the Pacific Ocean on March 23rd, 1865, at about four o'clock in the afternoon.
Surely no one will have forgotten the terrible northeasterly gale that was unleashed at the vernal equinox of that year. The barometer fell to 710 millimeters, and the storm went on unabated from the eighteenth to the twenty-sixth of March. Great was the devastation it wrought, in America, Europe, and Asia alike-a vast diagonal swath of destruction eighteen hundred miles wide, from the thirty-fifth parallel north to the fortieth south! Shattered cities, uprooted forests, shorelines ravaged by crashing mountains of water, ships slammed against the shore-by the hundreds, according to the dossiers of the Bureau Veritas-whole regions leveled by cyclones that smashed everything in their path, a human toll that numbered in the thousands, both on land and at sea: such was the scene in the wake of the cyclone, and such were the tokens of its fury. In the ranks of natural disasters, it outstripped even the horrific devastation witnessed at Havana and on the island of Guadeloupe, on October 25th, 1810, and July 26th, 1825, respectively.
Now, even as these many catastrophes were unfolding at sea and on land, another drama, no less prodigious, was being played out in the turbulent skies.
For a balloon, wafted along atop a whirlwind like a toy ball, and caught up in the rotational movement of the column of air, was traveling through the heavens at a speed of ninety miles an hour,* spinning in circles as if seized by some aerial maelstrom.
Beneath the appendix on the underside of the balloon swayed a gondola holding five passengers, scarcely visible in the dense mists and sea spray that suffused the air.
Whence came this aerostat, this plaything of the terrible storm? From what point on the globe had it taken flight? It could not have set off in the middle of the cyclone, of course, and the cyclone's first symptoms had appeared on the eighteenth-five days before. The reasonable conclusion would thus be that the balloon had come from far, far away; indeed, given the speed of the wind, it could not have traveled less than two thousand miles in every twenty-four-hour period!
But, caught up in the storm as they were, the passengers had no point of reference, and hence no means of gauging the distance they had traveled. Indeed, a very curious phenomenon must then have been at work: the violent winds propelled them at a terrific speed, and yet they themselves had no sense of their own motion. Forward they sped, ever turning circles, as perfectly unaware of their rotation as of their horizontal movement. Their gaze could not penetrate the thick mass of fog below them; and around them all was gray mist, forming a veil so opaque that they could not say whether it was day or night. No glimmer of light, no sound from land, no ocean roar could have reached them through that vast darkness so long as they remained at high altitude. Their rapid descent alone had alerted them to the peril they faced above the waves.
But now, relieved of all heavy objects such as ammunition, weapons, and provisions, the balloon had once again risen into the upper levels of the atmosphere, to an altitude of 4,500 feet. Realizing that the sea alone lay beneath the gondola, and believing the dangers awaiting them above to be less formidable than those below, the passengers did not hesitate to jettison even the most vital elements of their equipment; their only thought was to prevent any further loss of the precious gas, the soul of their conveyance, that held them aloft over the abyss.
The night passed, full of fears that might have proven fatal for less vigorous souls. Then daylight returned, and with the sunrise the storm began to abate. A newfound calm settled over the atmosphere in the first hours of that twenty-fourth of March. By dawn the clouds had grown more billowy, and had lifted higher into the sky. Over the next several hours, the whirlwind gradually expanded and weakened. The winds, once hurricane-force, were now at the "near-gale" level, meaning that the speed of the atmospheric levels' translatory motion had fallen by half. The balloon was still caught up in a wind that would have caused a prudent sailor to take three reefs in his sail; nevertheless, the perturbation of the atmosphere had greatly decreased.
By eleven o'clock, the air had cleared noticeably at the lower altitudes. The atmosphere was bathed in the sort of damp limpidity that is often seen, and even felt, in the wake of a major meteorological phenomenon. It seemed not so much that the cyclone had moved on to the west as that it had simply exhausted itself. Perhaps, once the center had collapsed, its energy had dispersed in sheets of electricity, as sometimes happens with typhoons in the Indian Ocean.
At about this same hour, it became evident that the balloon was once again sinking through the lower levels of the atmosphere, slowly and continuously. Worse yet, it seemed to be deflating little by little, the envelope growing longer, distended, no longer spherical but ovoid.
By noon, the aerostat hovered no more than two thousand feet above the sea. Its volume was fifty thousand cubic feet,* and it was thanks to this that it had stayed so long afloat; for a balloon with such a capacity can travel both high and far.
Now the passengers jettisoned the last few objects weighing down the gondola, the small remaining store of foodstuffs, even the utensils crammed into their pockets, and one of them, hoisting himself onto the ring that encircled the ropes of the net, tried to tie off the aerostat's appendix with a sturdy knot.
It was clear that the passengers could not hope to maintain the balloon in the upper reaches of the atmosphere. A great quantity of gas must have escaped from the envelope into the open air!
They were finished!
For no continent lay beneath them, not even so much as an island. Not a single landing place as far as the eye could see, not a single solid surface in which to cast anchor.
Only the vast ocean, whose waves continued to crash with an inconceivable violence! The sea, with no visible end, not even from an altitude that offered a view of forty miles in every direction! Only a liquid plain, relentlessly tossed and whipped by the winds, which appeared from this height as an endless cavalcade of frenzied waves topped by a vast expanse of foaming whitecaps! No land in sight, not a ship to be seen!
The descent would have to be halted, no matter what the cost, for if left to fall unchecked the balloon would soon vanish into the billows. It was thus to this urgent task that the passengers of the gondola now turned their efforts; but no matter how they struggled, the balloon only continued to sink, all the while moving at great speed with the direction of the wind, from northeast to southwest.
A truly terrible situation now faced the aerostat's wretched passengers! They were clearly no longer in control of their craft. Their exertions had no effect. The envelope of the balloon was deflating before their eyes; the gas was escaping, and they had not the slightest hope of preserving it. The descent was accelerating perceptibly, and, at one hour past noon, the gondola hung only six hundred feet above the ocean.
For the leak had proved impossible to stem, and the gas flowed unhindered through a tear in the fabric of the balloon.
By ridding the gondola of its contents, the passengers had prolonged their aerial suspension by a few hours. The catastrophe could be delayed, but it could not be prevented; and unless some land appeared before nightfall, the passengers, the gondola, and the balloon would disappear forever beneath the waves.
One final maneuver was left to them, and it was to this that they now turned in desperation. It should be plain to see that the aerostat's passengers were men of great mettle, able to look unflinching into the face of death, without a single murmur of complaint. They were determined to fight to the very last, to do whatever they must to slow their fall. The gondola was nothing more than a sort of wicker basket, incapable of flotation; once it had dropped to the surface of the water, it would inevitably sink like a stone.
At two o'clock, the aerostat was scarcely four hundred feet above the waves.
Just then, a manly voice-the voice of one whose heart was impervious to fear-made itself heard. To this voice responded other voices, no less forceful than the first.
"Has everything been thrown out?"
"No! There are still ten thousand francs in gold!"
And at once a heavy sack fell into the water.
"Is the balloon climbing now?"
"A little, but it will soon be sinking again!"
"What's left to throw overboard?"
"Nothing!"
"One thing! . . . The gondola!"
"Hang on to the net! and off with the gondola!"
For this was their one last means of lightening the aerostat. The ropes attaching the gondola to the ring were cut, and when it had fallen away the aerostat climbed two thousand feet higher.
The five passengers had clambered into the netting above the ring, and clung to the network of interlaced ropes, staring down at the abyss.
The static sensitivity of balloons is well known. To jettison even the lightest object is to provoke an immediate vertical displacement, for the apparatus acts like a balance of mathematical precision as it floats in the air. Thus, when it is unburdened of a relatively large weight, its upward movement will naturally be sudden and considerable. Such was the result in this case.
But after stabilizing in the upper altitudes for a brief moment, the aerostat once again began to sink. The gas still leaked from the rip, and the rip was beyond repair.
The passengers had done everything within their power. No human intervention could save them now. There was nothing left to do but hope for assistance from God.
At four o'clock, the balloon was only five hundred feet above the surface of the water.
A resounding bark was heard. There was a dog with the passengers, clinging to the interlaced ropes alongside its master.
"Top's seen something!" one of the passengers cried.
Then, at once, a loud voice rang out:
"Land! Land!"
Still carried southwest on the wind, the balloon had traveled some hundreds of miles since dawn, and a slightly elevated coastline now appeared in that direction.
But that shore was still thirty miles leeward. It would take no less than an hour to reach it, and only on condition that the balloon not be blown off course. They could not say if it was an island or a continent, for they scarcely knew toward what part of the world the cyclone had carried them! In any case, inhabited or not, hospitable or not, that land was their only hope!
But by four o'clock it was all too evident that the balloon could no longer stay aloft. Even now it was skimming the surface of the sea. Several times already the peaks of the enormous waves had lapped at the bottom of the net, further adding to its weight, and the aerostat only half floated in the air, like a bird with lead shot in its wing.
A half-hour later, the land lay only a mile distant; but the balloon, exhausted, limp, distended, creased with great folds, had lost all but a small pocket of gas at the top. It could no longer bear the weight of the passengers who clung to its net; soon they were half submerged in the water, and buffeted by the furious waves. The slack sheath of the balloon now acted as a sort of sail, catching the great gusts and speeding over the water like a ship with a tailwind. Perhaps it would be blown to shore!
It was only two cables from land when four terrible cries burst from four breasts at once. Just when it had begun to seem certain that the balloon would never rise again, a huge wave had washed over it, and it had taken an unexpected leap upward. As if suddenly freed of a part of its burden, it climbed to an altitude of fifteen hundred feet; there it encountered a sort of eddying wind, which, rather than carrying it directly toward the coastline, drove it along almost parallel to the shore. Finally, two minutes later, it obliquely approached the land, and at last came to rest on the sands of the shoreline beyond the reach of the waves.
Each helping the next, the passengers extricated themselves from the ropes of the net. Freed of their weight, the balloon was caught up by the wind, and, just as an injured bird sometimes briefly comes back to life, it disappeared into the heavens.
Five men and a dog had once occupied the balloon's gondola, but only four were thrown onto this beach.
The one missing had evidently been carried off by the great wave that had struck the net. Relieved of his weight, the aerostat had made one final climb, only to fall to earth a few moments later.
And as these castaways-for such indeed they were-set foot on land, their thoughts turned at once to the missing member of their party. As one man, they cried:
"He might be trying to swim ashore! We've got to rescue him! rescue him!"
I
The Great Storm of 1865.-Shouts in the Air.-A Balloon in a Whirlwind.-The Torn Fabric.-Nothing but Water.-Five Passengers.-The Events in the Gondola.-A Shoreline on the Horizon.-The Outcome of the Drama.
"Are we rising?"
"No! Quite the reverse! We're sinking!"
"Worse than that, Mr. Cyrus! We're falling!"
"For the love of God! Drop some ballast!"
"That's the last sack emptied!"
"Is the balloon climbing now?"
"No!"
"I think I hear waves crashing!"
"We're over the ocean!"
"We can't be more than five hundred feet above it!"
Just then a powerful voice rent the air, and the following words rang out:
"Everything heavy overboard! . . . everything! And God save us!"
Such were the cries echoing over the vast emptiness of the Pacific Ocean on March 23rd, 1865, at about four o'clock in the afternoon.
Surely no one will have forgotten the terrible northeasterly gale that was unleashed at the vernal equinox of that year. The barometer fell to 710 millimeters, and the storm went on unabated from the eighteenth to the twenty-sixth of March. Great was the devastation it wrought, in America, Europe, and Asia alike-a vast diagonal swath of destruction eighteen hundred miles wide, from the thirty-fifth parallel north to the fortieth south! Shattered cities, uprooted forests, shorelines ravaged by crashing mountains of water, ships slammed against the shore-by the hundreds, according to the dossiers of the Bureau Veritas-whole regions leveled by cyclones that smashed everything in their path, a human toll that numbered in the thousands, both on land and at sea: such was the scene in the wake of the cyclone, and such were the tokens of its fury. In the ranks of natural disasters, it outstripped even the horrific devastation witnessed at Havana and on the island of Guadeloupe, on October 25th, 1810, and July 26th, 1825, respectively.
Now, even as these many catastrophes were unfolding at sea and on land, another drama, no less prodigious, was being played out in the turbulent skies.
For a balloon, wafted along atop a whirlwind like a toy ball, and caught up in the rotational movement of the column of air, was traveling through the heavens at a speed of ninety miles an hour,* spinning in circles as if seized by some aerial maelstrom.
Beneath the appendix on the underside of the balloon swayed a gondola holding five passengers, scarcely visible in the dense mists and sea spray that suffused the air.
Whence came this aerostat, this plaything of the terrible storm? From what point on the globe had it taken flight? It could not have set off in the middle of the cyclone, of course, and the cyclone's first symptoms had appeared on the eighteenth-five days before. The reasonable conclusion would thus be that the balloon had come from far, far away; indeed, given the speed of the wind, it could not have traveled less than two thousand miles in every twenty-four-hour period!
But, caught up in the storm as they were, the passengers had no point of reference, and hence no means of gauging the distance they had traveled. Indeed, a very curious phenomenon must then have been at work: the violent winds propelled them at a terrific speed, and yet they themselves had no sense of their own motion. Forward they sped, ever turning circles, as perfectly unaware of their rotation as of their horizontal movement. Their gaze could not penetrate the thick mass of fog below them; and around them all was gray mist, forming a veil so opaque that they could not say whether it was day or night. No glimmer of light, no sound from land, no ocean roar could have reached them through that vast darkness so long as they remained at high altitude. Their rapid descent alone had alerted them to the peril they faced above the waves.
But now, relieved of all heavy objects such as ammunition, weapons, and provisions, the balloon had once again risen into the upper levels of the atmosphere, to an altitude of 4,500 feet. Realizing that the sea alone lay beneath the gondola, and believing the dangers awaiting them above to be less formidable than those below, the passengers did not hesitate to jettison even the most vital elements of their equipment; their only thought was to prevent any further loss of the precious gas, the soul of their conveyance, that held them aloft over the abyss.
The night passed, full of fears that might have proven fatal for less vigorous souls. Then daylight returned, and with the sunrise the storm began to abate. A newfound calm settled over the atmosphere in the first hours of that twenty-fourth of March. By dawn the clouds had grown more billowy, and had lifted higher into the sky. Over the next several hours, the whirlwind gradually expanded and weakened. The winds, once hurricane-force, were now at the "near-gale" level, meaning that the speed of the atmospheric levels' translatory motion had fallen by half. The balloon was still caught up in a wind that would have caused a prudent sailor to take three reefs in his sail; nevertheless, the perturbation of the atmosphere had greatly decreased.
By eleven o'clock, the air had cleared noticeably at the lower altitudes. The atmosphere was bathed in the sort of damp limpidity that is often seen, and even felt, in the wake of a major meteorological phenomenon. It seemed not so much that the cyclone had moved on to the west as that it had simply exhausted itself. Perhaps, once the center had collapsed, its energy had dispersed in sheets of electricity, as sometimes happens with typhoons in the Indian Ocean.
At about this same hour, it became evident that the balloon was once again sinking through the lower levels of the atmosphere, slowly and continuously. Worse yet, it seemed to be deflating little by little, the envelope growing longer, distended, no longer spherical but ovoid.
By noon, the aerostat hovered no more than two thousand feet above the sea. Its volume was fifty thousand cubic feet,* and it was thanks to this that it had stayed so long afloat; for a balloon with such a capacity can travel both high and far.
Now the passengers jettisoned the last few objects weighing down the gondola, the small remaining store of foodstuffs, even the utensils crammed into their pockets, and one of them, hoisting himself onto the ring that encircled the ropes of the net, tried to tie off the aerostat's appendix with a sturdy knot.
It was clear that the passengers could not hope to maintain the balloon in the upper reaches of the atmosphere. A great quantity of gas must have escaped from the envelope into the open air!
They were finished!
For no continent lay beneath them, not even so much as an island. Not a single landing place as far as the eye could see, not a single solid surface in which to cast anchor.
Only the vast ocean, whose waves continued to crash with an inconceivable violence! The sea, with no visible end, not even from an altitude that offered a view of forty miles in every direction! Only a liquid plain, relentlessly tossed and whipped by the winds, which appeared from this height as an endless cavalcade of frenzied waves topped by a vast expanse of foaming whitecaps! No land in sight, not a ship to be seen!
The descent would have to be halted, no matter what the cost, for if left to fall unchecked the balloon would soon vanish into the billows. It was thus to this urgent task that the passengers of the gondola now turned their efforts; but no matter how they struggled, the balloon only continued to sink, all the while moving at great speed with the direction of the wind, from northeast to southwest.
A truly terrible situation now faced the aerostat's wretched passengers! They were clearly no longer in control of their craft. Their exertions had no effect. The envelope of the balloon was deflating before their eyes; the gas was escaping, and they had not the slightest hope of preserving it. The descent was accelerating perceptibly, and, at one hour past noon, the gondola hung only six hundred feet above the ocean.
For the leak had proved impossible to stem, and the gas flowed unhindered through a tear in the fabric of the balloon.
By ridding the gondola of its contents, the passengers had prolonged their aerial suspension by a few hours. The catastrophe could be delayed, but it could not be prevented; and unless some land appeared before nightfall, the passengers, the gondola, and the balloon would disappear forever beneath the waves.
One final maneuver was left to them, and it was to this that they now turned in desperation. It should be plain to see that the aerostat's passengers were men of great mettle, able to look unflinching into the face of death, without a single murmur of complaint. They were determined to fight to the very last, to do whatever they must to slow their fall. The gondola was nothing more than a sort of wicker basket, incapable of flotation; once it had dropped to the surface of the water, it would inevitably sink like a stone.
At two o'clock, the aerostat was scarcely four hundred feet above the waves.
Just then, a manly voice-the voice of one whose heart was impervious to fear-made itself heard. To this voice responded other voices, no less forceful than the first.
"Has everything been thrown out?"
"No! There are still ten thousand francs in gold!"
And at once a heavy sack fell into the water.
"Is the balloon climbing now?"
"A little, but it will soon be sinking again!"
"What's left to throw overboard?"
"Nothing!"
"One thing! . . . The gondola!"
"Hang on to the net! and off with the gondola!"
For this was their one last means of lightening the aerostat. The ropes attaching the gondola to the ring were cut, and when it had fallen away the aerostat climbed two thousand feet higher.
The five passengers had clambered into the netting above the ring, and clung to the network of interlaced ropes, staring down at the abyss.
The static sensitivity of balloons is well known. To jettison even the lightest object is to provoke an immediate vertical displacement, for the apparatus acts like a balance of mathematical precision as it floats in the air. Thus, when it is unburdened of a relatively large weight, its upward movement will naturally be sudden and considerable. Such was the result in this case.
But after stabilizing in the upper altitudes for a brief moment, the aerostat once again began to sink. The gas still leaked from the rip, and the rip was beyond repair.
The passengers had done everything within their power. No human intervention could save them now. There was nothing left to do but hope for assistance from God.
At four o'clock, the balloon was only five hundred feet above the surface of the water.
A resounding bark was heard. There was a dog with the passengers, clinging to the interlaced ropes alongside its master.
"Top's seen something!" one of the passengers cried.
Then, at once, a loud voice rang out:
"Land! Land!"
Still carried southwest on the wind, the balloon had traveled some hundreds of miles since dawn, and a slightly elevated coastline now appeared in that direction.
But that shore was still thirty miles leeward. It would take no less than an hour to reach it, and only on condition that the balloon not be blown off course. They could not say if it was an island or a continent, for they scarcely knew toward what part of the world the cyclone had carried them! In any case, inhabited or not, hospitable or not, that land was their only hope!
But by four o'clock it was all too evident that the balloon could no longer stay aloft. Even now it was skimming the surface of the sea. Several times already the peaks of the enormous waves had lapped at the bottom of the net, further adding to its weight, and the aerostat only half floated in the air, like a bird with lead shot in its wing.
A half-hour later, the land lay only a mile distant; but the balloon, exhausted, limp, distended, creased with great folds, had lost all but a small pocket of gas at the top. It could no longer bear the weight of the passengers who clung to its net; soon they were half submerged in the water, and buffeted by the furious waves. The slack sheath of the balloon now acted as a sort of sail, catching the great gusts and speeding over the water like a ship with a tailwind. Perhaps it would be blown to shore!
It was only two cables from land when four terrible cries burst from four breasts at once. Just when it had begun to seem certain that the balloon would never rise again, a huge wave had washed over it, and it had taken an unexpected leap upward. As if suddenly freed of a part of its burden, it climbed to an altitude of fifteen hundred feet; there it encountered a sort of eddying wind, which, rather than carrying it directly toward the coastline, drove it along almost parallel to the shore. Finally, two minutes later, it obliquely approached the land, and at last came to rest on the sands of the shoreline beyond the reach of the waves.
Each helping the next, the passengers extricated themselves from the ropes of the net. Freed of their weight, the balloon was caught up by the wind, and, just as an injured bird sometimes briefly comes back to life, it disappeared into the heavens.
Five men and a dog had once occupied the balloon's gondola, but only four were thrown onto this beach.
The one missing had evidently been carried off by the great wave that had struck the net. Relieved of his weight, the aerostat had made one final climb, only to fall to earth a few moments later.
And as these castaways-for such indeed they were-set foot on land, their thoughts turned at once to the missing member of their party. As one man, they cried:
"He might be trying to swim ashore! We've got to rescue him! rescue him!"
Product details
- Publisher : Modern Library; Reissue edition (April 27, 2004)
- Language : English
- Mass Market Paperback : 768 pages
- ISBN-10 : 0812972120
- ISBN-13 : 978-0812972122
- Item Weight : 12.4 ounces
- Dimensions : 4.27 x 1.25 x 6.77 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #1,662,967 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #2,153 in Classic Action & Adventure (Books)
- #35,378 in Classic Literature & Fiction
- #70,268 in Literary Fiction (Books)
- Customer Reviews:
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4.6 out of 5 stars
4.6 out of 5
188 global ratings
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Reviewed in the United States on November 12, 2018
Reviewed in the United States on August 2, 2016
This is such an amazing book and far more superior than the movie would ever be. As I read this book it is filled with such memories and flash backs as a child on the lighthouse stations I lived for 10 years. Packed full of adventure with the characters being intuitive in order to make their survival more successful and comfortable. Thus were the days I had on the lighthouse stations on the west coast of British Columbia. Anyone who had adventure in their past this is the book to read. Of course as I read it I cannot go without a highlighter and a pen to jot down notes and to highlight interesting areas which of course are many. Anyone buying this book and taking the time to read it will not be disappointed. Another most exciting thing to do as fathers is to read this book aloud during family time in the front room or the rec room or buy the bed side. So get ready for some high adventure as you race through these magnificent pages of excitement and intrigue. Happy reading everyone.
Reviewed in the United States on October 29, 2013
This review is about the quality of the print, not the story itself (which I highly recommend). My one and only issue with this book is that the map of the island on one of the first pages of this copy is incredibly faded. The text indicating important landmarks is almost impossible to read. The outline of the island itself is indistinguishable from the ocean around it. But, if you are willing to take the time and write in, with a pen, all the landmarks and trace the island (like I did), everything else about this copy is fabulous.
Reviewed in the United States on July 3, 2023
Glad I found it.
Reviewed in the United States on June 25, 2018
Awesome history, it transports you to the Island and it catch the attention because of the interesting personalities of the characters, that until certain point could be a model to follow... but everything has a reason, it is amazing the number of double meanings and hidden masonic references and numerology. Regardless of that, it motivates to incur into the study of a variety of subjects, it is amazing how limited we are now days, knowledge is bureaucratic at the present time; but this book help us to realize that we are capable to achieve certain grade of mastery in a lot of areas.
Reviewed in the United States on February 10, 2013
I am a huge Jules Verne fan and this is one of those great "go to" books I keep in my library (and on my Kindle) for those times when I want to read something that I've read before and enjoyed. It's obviously a classic, but the great thing about it is it's "modern" at the same time (am I making sense???) This is a science fiction book that has a lot of truly timeless themes that make it current even now.
Please please please read this book BEFORE you see any of the crappy Hollywood versions of this story. It is such a great tale and a true adventure and for some reason they just don't seem to get it right when turning it into a film.
Please please please read this book BEFORE you see any of the crappy Hollywood versions of this story. It is such a great tale and a true adventure and for some reason they just don't seem to get it right when turning it into a film.
Reviewed in the United States on March 24, 2013
Baseado na estória verdadeira de Alexander Selkirk, que sobreviveu sozinho, por quase 5 anos, numa ilha deserta na costa do Chile, The Mysterious Island é considerada, por muitos, a obra-prima de Julio Verne.
O texto conta sobre 5 homens (Cyrus, Pencroft, Herbert, Neb e Gideon) e um cachorro (Top), que escapam de uma prisão durante a Guerra Civil, num balão, e vão parar numa ilha deserta e desconhecida dos mapas, lutando para sobreviver enquanto descobrem o segredo da ilha.
Esses homens e seu cachorro conquistam a ilha e desafiam seus problemas e dilemas.
Mas... será que estão preparados para as surpresas que a ilha preparou para eles?
Verne é tão minucioso em seus detalhes, que o leitor pode vir a pensar que ele tenha passado muitas horas, em contemplação, sobre o que poderia ser feito, caso se encontrasse numa situação dessas.
Porém, o instinto de sobrevivência desses homens é tamanho que, logo, estão fabricando cerâmicas, armas e abrigos.
A maior beleza da estória é sua capacidade de nos tansportar aos anos 1800, e nos colocar pensando: "O que eu faria?"
O trailer do filme de 2010, baseado no livro, tem monstros marinhos gigantes, e mulheres na ilha. Acho que os produtores deram um toque comercial que estragou toda a estória.
O texto conta sobre 5 homens (Cyrus, Pencroft, Herbert, Neb e Gideon) e um cachorro (Top), que escapam de uma prisão durante a Guerra Civil, num balão, e vão parar numa ilha deserta e desconhecida dos mapas, lutando para sobreviver enquanto descobrem o segredo da ilha.
Esses homens e seu cachorro conquistam a ilha e desafiam seus problemas e dilemas.
Mas... será que estão preparados para as surpresas que a ilha preparou para eles?
Verne é tão minucioso em seus detalhes, que o leitor pode vir a pensar que ele tenha passado muitas horas, em contemplação, sobre o que poderia ser feito, caso se encontrasse numa situação dessas.
Porém, o instinto de sobrevivência desses homens é tamanho que, logo, estão fabricando cerâmicas, armas e abrigos.
A maior beleza da estória é sua capacidade de nos tansportar aos anos 1800, e nos colocar pensando: "O que eu faria?"
O trailer do filme de 2010, baseado no livro, tem monstros marinhos gigantes, e mulheres na ilha. Acho que os produtores deram um toque comercial que estragou toda a estória.
Reviewed in the United States on June 28, 2019
Very long compared to some of Verne's better-known works such as "Journey to the Center of the Earth", "Around the World in 80 Days", and "20,000 Leagues Under the Sea" - but this story compares favorably with all of them. It is actually the sequel to 20,000 Leagues.
Top reviews from other countries
Jan
5.0 out of 5 stars
I loved this book
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on August 9, 2022
A great adventure story with lots of interesting technical details and amusing attitudes that would seem very old fashioned nowadays
Natalia Muntyan
5.0 out of 5 stars
its very interesting
Reviewed in Germany on December 19, 2016
its the third book in Jules Verne's trilogy. I would recommend reading from the very first book: Captain Grant's Children, Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Seas and then this one: the Mysterious Island. From the start the connection between books is not really visible but at the end of the Mysterious Island you get the connection. Have fun :)
Nadia Steinberg
5.0 out of 5 stars
as usual
Reviewed in Canada on December 27, 2011
had this book in Czech originally. have been looking for it for a while. since I read and re-read it in Czech, wasn't sure if the English version would entertain me as much, ordered it more for other family members... alas, Jules Verne in any language is the master!
伊藤よしひろ
5.0 out of 5 stars
読みやすく、19世紀の味もある翻訳(英訳)
Reviewed in Japan on November 6, 2012
Modern Library; Reprint版 (2004/4/27)のレビュー。
10.9 x 17.5 cmのマスマーケット版。
原作の挿絵すべて収録。
フランス語を小説をわざわざ英訳で読むなんて邪道だかもしれませんが、これはいいですよ。いきなり19世紀の小説を読むのがキツイ方も、19世紀の雰囲気を出した翻訳を読んでみるのはどうでしょうか。
訳者の解説にありますが、この小説の主要登場人物はすべてアメリカ人(南北戦争当時の北軍側)で、会話はすべて英語でなされていたはずです。そのフランス語で書かれたアメリカ人の話をそれらしく英訳したそうです。
結果として、やや古風ながら、とても読みやすくなっています。まあ、ヴェルヌの小説はたいてい、章ごとに要約が書いてあって要点がわかりやすいし、登場人物の性格も単純ですが。おもしろさは、人物の描写ではなく、無人島でのサバイバルの細部の描写でしょう。
あっと驚く秘密も最後に用意されています。(もっとも、例の作品のファンには納得しがたいかも)それから、『グラント船長の子どもたち』の筋をそのままネタバレで書いてある章もあるんです。これは困るけど、話の都合上、読まないわけにはいかないでしょうね。
10.9 x 17.5 cmのマスマーケット版。
原作の挿絵すべて収録。
フランス語を小説をわざわざ英訳で読むなんて邪道だかもしれませんが、これはいいですよ。いきなり19世紀の小説を読むのがキツイ方も、19世紀の雰囲気を出した翻訳を読んでみるのはどうでしょうか。
訳者の解説にありますが、この小説の主要登場人物はすべてアメリカ人(南北戦争当時の北軍側)で、会話はすべて英語でなされていたはずです。そのフランス語で書かれたアメリカ人の話をそれらしく英訳したそうです。
結果として、やや古風ながら、とても読みやすくなっています。まあ、ヴェルヌの小説はたいてい、章ごとに要約が書いてあって要点がわかりやすいし、登場人物の性格も単純ですが。おもしろさは、人物の描写ではなく、無人島でのサバイバルの細部の描写でしょう。
あっと驚く秘密も最後に用意されています。(もっとも、例の作品のファンには納得しがたいかも)それから、『グラント船長の子どもたち』の筋をそのままネタバレで書いてある章もあるんです。これは困るけど、話の都合上、読まないわけにはいかないでしょうね。