he stranger arrived in Iping on a cold day in February, garbed head to foot in an ensemble that seemed to come straight from a theatrical wardrobe, complete with false nose. He took up residence in a private parlor at the Coach and Horses, and although he paid well and promptly, something about his demeanor seemed strangely amiss. He ate all of his meals alone, and he hinted at some sort of vague accident when questioned about the bandages he wore around his head and face.
After a few unusual encounters with the man, the town of Iping is abuzz with theories about his situation. Some folks think he truly is disfigured, while others suspect he may be on the run from the law. One night the Coach's owners, Mr. and Mrs. Hall, see an opportunity to learn more about their curious guest when they find his bedroom door ajar while he is seemingly out of the house. But when they start investigating his room, they are suddenly chased out by what appears to be a flying chair. Moments later the man himself emerges from the room, which had just been empty.
The stranger decides to divulge his secret, and he undoes his bandages to reveal...nothing! The man is not disfigured, he's invisible. But amidst the confusion this causes among the townspeople, the local sheriff shows up to arrest the stranger--invisible or not--for his suspicious activities. The invisible man is forced to flee, but not before causing a good deal of havoc in Iping. Soon the papers are rolling off the presses with stories of the strange goings-on in Iping, even as the invisible man makes his way to Port Stowe. Stung by his treatment at the hands of the Iping villagers, he is no longer hoping for understanding from his fellow humans; he only only wants to force cooperation from them as he seeks to restore himself to visibility.
What can science do to us?
The Invisible Man is a cautionary tale of scientific hubris, written in 1897 by one of SF's master storytellers. While other "scientific romance" stories of the time were concentrating on explaining to readers what science could do for society, H.G. Wells was exploring what science could do to society. The tale of the invisible man is a case in point, a story that starts out as a mild mystery and builds to a terrifying ending that questions both science and humanity at the same time.
The story begins innocently enough, with the almost comic arrival of the (ironically) overdressed researcher, who readers will come to learn is named Griffin. At first glance Griffin seems to be an odd character rendered hapless by circumstance, but his real nature is slowly revealed by Wells. The blundering scientist is in truth not only a man misunderstood by his fellows, but a man who, in turn, has no use--and no care--for them. And, perversely, the science that appears to be Griffin's gift later becomes Griffin's curse, a curse shared by those around him.
The story itself is told rather simply, which is probably evidence more of the burgeoning nature of the SF genre in 1897 than a stylistic choice by Wells. Interestingly enough, Wells does an excellent job of creating plausible science to back up Griffin's transformation, or at least science that seems plausible enough to readers. The novel also moves along nicely, which is due in part to its original nature as a serial and in part to Wells' skills as a storyteller.
Despite being one of SF's earliest full-blown tales of science gone amok combined with human nature gone awry, The Invisible Man remains a fascinating tale and a true classic of the genre more than 100 years after it was first published.
