War of the Worlds by Paul Alexander Mudie |
I have very fond memories of "War of the Worlds." I read it when I was 8 or 9 years old, it was one of the first books that I remember actively seeking out. I don't remember what it was that started my obsession with it, but I have a feeling it had something to do with the Orson Welles radio play, which I found on cassette at the library and listened to multiple times. After reading the book I tracked down a VHS copy of the 1953 movie which has the fact that it is a film that is firmly of it's time as an excuse for it's mediocrity (come to think of it, that's a pretty reasonable excuse for the Spielberg version as well).
The further you get away from those early obsessions of your youth the stronger the impulse to revisit them becomes. Plenty of people refuse to move beyond them; embracing them either sincerely or ironically (if irony even still exists, I'm really not sure if it does). For my part, I think I can separate out my feelings of sentimental attachment to the original book to accept that it's not all that good. As I said, it will always have a special spot in my heart.
As for this book, it doesn't really matter what I thought of it. It's out of print and unlikely to ever be reissued. I will point out that I thought that Connie Willis' section is one of her funnier short pieces that I've ever read and definitely worth tracking down (it's called "The Soul Selects Her Own Society: Invasion and Repulsion: A Chronological Reinterpretation of Two of Emily Dickinson's Poems: A Wellsian Perspective," if you're curious). Overall, my sense of nostalgia wasn't enough to make this a book I will ever revisit but the same is true of the original, so it's in good company.