H.G.
Wells’ The War of the Worlds is a classic novel depicting London laid waste by alien
catastrophe with an underlying commentary on the social, political,
psychological, and religious state of Britain.
Most certainly a work heavily influenced by Wells’ 1898 novel, John
Wyndham’s The Day of the Triffids (1951) likewise lays waste to London in apocalyptic
style. The novel a hero’s tale, however,
it forgoes thematic layering to tell the conventional tale of one man against
the odds—as contrived as they are.
Awakened
in a hospital bed by silence, Bill Masen can’t wait to remove the bandages
covering his eyes to know the reason. Partially
blinded while researching triffids, a carnivorous, poisonous plant which
spreads aggressively, he was forced into the emergency ward. Removing the bandages, Masen finds the reason
for the silence: catastrophe. One of the
lucky ones, a meteor shower that passed Earth has rendered all those who stared
at its iridescent beauty, blind. The
sightless stagger the streets, groping for food and companionship, some
choosing to end it all with a jump out a window. Masen eventually coming across a woman who
can also see, the two make their plans together. But with blind gangs roaming the streets led
by others who can still see and death and chaos all around, their survival is anything
but certain.
Wyndham
well imagining the chaos that would be unleashed were 95% of the population to
suddenly go blind, the majority of the tension in The Day of the
Triffids
derives from the unknown—man acting and behaving in desperation with other
men. This in itself unnerving, added to
the mix is the slip-step slither of triffid plants as they cross the lawns and
pavements of London, striking helpess victims with their poisions and waiting
while the flesh putrifies to feed. The
sightless unaware of the threat, humanity becomes a feeding ground.
Genre
indeed, at precious few points does Wyndham pause to contextualize these nearly
unfathomable changes to society. Ill
formed or only half thought out, on the occasions he does attempt elaborate on the
imprecations, the story quickly pulls him back, carrying the reader to the next
point of action. The love story which
develops is in particular a B-movie touch.
Romance blossoming at the hero’s rescue, the story goes on to make some
very dated assumptions regarding female autonomy and does not engender (ha!) discussion
on liberal values.
Additional
problems with The Day of the Triffids are in structure and conceptualization. Seeming to lack confidence or a proportioned
outline, there are a couple jarring changes in the narrative, as well as
presumptions and major coincidences pushed on the reader. The first is the opening two chapters. Waking to the silence of a London blinded by
a meteor shower is a powerful scene; I can see why Wyndham chose to include it
first. But in the next chapter, yet
another strange phenomena is foisted on the reader: the triffids. The two coming together too neatly, a pall of
CONTRIVED! hangs over every scene thereafter.
(The Day of the Triffids and Meteor Shower would be a more appropriate title.) And there are other moments of indulgence thrown at the reader—Coker’s
fire ruse, the “reunion”, and the premise of the climax, for example. The territory of big budget Hollywood, the
novel amounts to popcorn sci fi.
Wyndham
does try to interject philosophical discussion into the situations created. Near the beginning there is one interesting
question raised: in times of such catastrophe and chaos, is it the individual’s
responsibility to protect themselves or to provide for others? The hero’s story, or in this case, the classic
British gentleman’s story, takes over, diluting the narrative with pretension, Wyndham
never quite taking any major stabs at unpacking the quandaries created.
In
the end, The Day of the Triffids is a half-baked idea that survives based on the contrived—ahem,
uniqueness of its premise. Humanity’s
blindness and the triffids which prey upon it making for light reading, all
else about the book is standard plot filler.
The love story, the political machinations, and Masen’s overall story
arc are conventional fiction. The reader
must thus approach the story as simple entertainment if they are to appreciate
it. Were this story to be published
today, I’d be curious whether it would be as successful…
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