Journey to the Center of the Earth

By Jules Verne

When Professor Lidenbrock discovers a 16th-century manuscript that reveals a route to the earth's core, he can't resist the chance to investigate. Together with his whiz-kid nephew and an Icelandic guide, the professor heads for the crater of an extinct volcano. Tension builds as the trio descends: What bizarre creatures may lurk below? Will the supplies last, and how will the group return to the surface? Meanwhile, the explorers find themselves traveling backward through geologic time to encounter a living past that holds the secrets to the origins of humanity.
The grandfather of modern science fiction, Jules Verne published this gripping tale of adventure in 1864. Verne's skillful storytelling blends realism and romanticism, and his gift for predicting future technological trends adds to the freshness and vitality of his novels. In addition to its action-packed excitement, Journey to the Center of the Earth offers the allure of a psychological quest, in which the trek itself is as important as the destination.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dover Publications
• Release date: May 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9780486830308

Jules Verne

Jules Verne (1828-1905) was a French novelist, poet and playwright. Verne is considered a major French and European author, as he has a wide influence on avant-garde and surrealist literary movements, and is also credited as one of the primary inspirations for the steampunk genre. However, his influence does not stop in the literary sphere. Verne’s work has also provided invaluable impact on scientific fields as well. Verne is best known for his series of bestselling adventure novels, which earned him such an immense popularity that he is one of the world’s most translated authors.

Book preview

XLVI

I

IT was on Sunday, the 24th of May, 1863, that my uncle, Professor Lidenbrock, came rushing suddenly back to his little house in the old part of Hamburg, No. 19, Königstrasse.

Our good Martha could not but think she was very much behindhand with the dinner, for the pot was scarcely beginning to simmer, and I said to myself:

Now, then, we’ll have a fine outcry if my uncle is hungry, for he is the most impatient of mortals.

Mr. Lidenbrock, already! cried the poor woman, in dismay, half opening the dining-room door.

Yes, Martha; but of course dinner can’t be ready yet, for it is not two o’clock. It has only just struck the half-hour by St. Michael’s.

What brings Mr. Lidenbrock home, then?

He’ll probably tell us that himself.

Here he comes. I’ll be off, Mr. Axel; you must make him listen to reason.

And forthwith she effected a safe retreat to her culinary laboratory.

I was left alone, but not feeling equal to the task of making the most irascible of professors listen to reason, was about to escape to my own little room upstairs, when the street-door creaked on its hinges, and the wooden stairs cracked beneath a hurried tread, and the master of the house came in and bolted across the dining-room, straight into his study. But, rapid as his flight was, he managed to fling his nutcracker-headed stick into a corner, and his wide-brimmed rough hat on the table, and to shout out to his nephew:

Axel, follow me.

Before I had time to stir he called out again, in the most impatient tone imaginable:

What! Not here yet?

In an instant I was on my feet and in the study of my dreadful master.

Otto Lidenbrock was not a bad man. I grant that, willingly. But, unless he mightily changes, he will live and die a terrible original.

He was a professor in the Johannæum, and gave the course of lectures on mineralogy, during which he regularly put himself into a passion once or twice. Not that he troubled himself much about the assiduity of his pupils, or the amount of attention they paid to his lessons, or their corresponding success. These points gave him no concern. He taught subjectively, to use a German philosophical expression, for himself, and not for others. He was a selfish savant—a well of science, and nothing could be drawn up from it without the grinding noise of the pulleys: in a word, he was a miser.

There are professors of this stamp in Germany.

My uncle, unfortunately, did not enjoy great facility of pronunciation, unless he was with intimate friends; at least, not when he spoke in public, and this is a deplorable defect in an orator. In his demonstrations at the Johannæum the professor would often stop short, struggling with some obstinate word that refused to slip over his lips—one of those words which resist, swell out, and finally come forth in the anything but scientific shape of an oath. This put him in a great rage.

Now, in mineralogy, there are many names difficult to pronounce—half Greek, half Latin, barbarous appellations which would blister the lips of a poet. I have no wish to speak ill of the science. Far from it. But when one has to do with rhomboidal crystallisations, retinasphaltic resins, galena favosite, molybdates of lead, tungstates of manganese, and titanites of zircon, the most nimble tongue may be allowed to stumble.

The townsfolk were aware of this pardonable infirmity of my uncle’s, and they took advantage of it, and were on the watch for the dangerous passages; and when he put himself in a fury laughed at him, which was not in good taste, even for Germans. His lectures were always very numerously attended, but how many of those who were most regular auditors came for anything else but to make game of the professor’s grand fits of passion I shouldn’t like to say. Whatever my uncle might be, and I can hardly say too much, he was a true savant.

Though he sometimes broke his specimens by his rough handling, he had both the genius of a geologist and the eye of a mineralogist. With his hammer and steel pointer and magnetic needle, his blow-pipe and his flask of nitric acid, he was a master indeed. By the fracture, the hardness, the fusibility, the ring, the smell, of any mineral whatever, he classed it without hesitation among the six hundred species science numbers to-day.

The name of Lidenbrock was consequently mentioned with honour in gymnasiums and national associations. Humphry Davy, Humboldt, and Captains Franklin and Sabine, paid him a visit when they passed through Hamburg. Becqueul, Ebolmann, Brewster, Dumas, Milne-Edwards, Sainte Clarice Deville, took pleasure in consulting him on the most stirring questions of chemistry, a science which was indebted to him for discoveries of considerable importance; and in 1853 a treatise on Transcendent Crystallography, by Professor Otto Lidenbrock, was published at Leipsic, a large folio, with plates, which did not pay its cost, however.

Moreover, my uncle was curator of the Museum of Mineralogy, belonging to M. Struve, the Russian ambassador, a valuable collection, of European celebrity.

Such, then, was the personage who summoned me so impatiently.

Fancy to yourself a tall, spare man, with an iron constitution, and a juvenile fairness of complexion, which took off a full ten years of his fifty. His large eyes rolled about incessantly behind his great goggles; his long thin nose resembled a knife-blade; malicious people declared it was magnetised, and attracted steel filings—a pure calumny; it attracted nothing but snuff, but, to speak truth, a superabundance of that. When I have added that my uncle made mathematical strides of three feet at every step, and marched along with his fists firmly clenched—a sign of an impetuous temperament—you will know enough of him not to be overanxious for his company.

He lived in his little house in Königstrasse, a dwelling built partly of brick and partly of stone, with a crenated gable-end, which looked on to one of those winding canals which intersect each other in the center of the oldest part of Hamburg, which happily escaped the great fire in 1842.

The old house leaned forward slightly, and bulged out towards the passers-by. The roof inclined to one side, in the position a German student belonging to the Tugendbund wears his cap. The perpendicular of the house was not quite exact, but, on the whole, the house stood well enough, thanks to an old elm, firmly embedded in the façade, which pushed its flower buds across the window-panes in spring.

My uncle was pretty rich for a German professor. The house was his own, and all its belongings. These belongings were his godchild Gräuben, a Virland girl, seventeen years old, his servant Martha, and myself. In my double quality of nephew and orphan, I became his assistant in his experiments.

I must confess I have a great appetite for geological science. The blood of a mineralogist flows in my veins, and I never grow weary in the society of my beloved stones.

On the whole, it was possible to live happily in this little house in Königstrasse, notwithstanding the impatience of the owner; for though he had a rough fashion of showing it, he loved me for all that. But, the fact was, he was a man who could not wait, and was in a greater hurry than nature.

When he used to plant mignonette and convolvuluses in his terracotta pots in the spring, every morning he went regularly and pulled their leaves, to hasten their growth.

With such an original, there was no alternative but to obey, so I darted into the study immediately.

II

THE study was a complete museum, every specimen of the mineral kingdom was to be found there, all labelled in the most perfect order, in accordance with the three great divisions of minerals—the inflammable, the metallic, and the lithoid.

How well I knew this alphabet of mineralogical science. How many a time, instead of loitering about with boys of my own age, I amused myself by dusting these graphites, and anthracites, and pit coal, and touch-stones; and the bitumens, and the resins, and organic soils, which had to be kept from the least particle of dust; and the metals, from iron up to gold, the relative value of which disappeared before the absolute equality of scientific specimens; and all those stones, enough to build the little house in the Königstrasse over again, and an extra room besides, which I would have fitted up so nicely for myself.

But when I entered the study now, I scarcely thought of those wonders. My mind was entirely occupied with my uncle. He had buried himself in his big arm-chair, covered with Utrecht velvet, and held a book in his hands, gazing at it with the most profound admiration.

What a book! What a book! he exclaimed.

This reminded me that Professor Lidenbrock was also given to bibliomania in his leisure moments; but an old book would have had no value in his eyes unless it could not be found anywhere else, or, at all events, could not be read.

What! don’t you see it, then? he went on. It is a priceless treasure! I discovered it this morning while I was rummaging about in Hevelin’s, the Jew’s shop.

Magnificent! I replied with forced enthusiasm.

Really, what was the good of making such a fuss about an old quarto volume, the back and sides of which seemed bound in coarse calf—a yellowish old book, with a faded tassel dangling from it?

However, the professor’s vocabulary of adjectives was not yet exhausted.

Look! he said, asking himself questions, and answering them in the same breath; is it handsome enough? Yes; it is first-rate. And what binding! Does it open easily? Yes, it lies open at any page, no matter where. And does it close well? Yes; for binding and leaves seem in one completely. Not a single breakage in this back after 700 years of existence! Ah! this is binding that Bozerian, Closs, and Purgold might have been proud of.

All the while he was speaking, my uncle kept opening and shutting the old book. I could not do less than ask him about the contents, though I did not feel the least interest in the subject.

And what is the title of this wonderful volume? I asked.

The title of it? he replied, with increased animation. The title is ‘Heims Kringla,’ by Snorre Turleson, the famous Icelandic author of the twelfth century. It is the chronicle of the Norwegian princes who reigned in Iceland.

Indeed! I said, doing my best to appear enthusiastic. And it is translated into German, of course?

Translated! cried the professor, in a sharp tone. What should I do with a translation? Who cares for translations? It is the original work, in the Icelandic—that magnificent idiom at once grand and simple—which allows of the most varied grammatical combinations and most numerous modification of words.

Like German, I said, making a lucky hit.

Yes, replied my uncle, shrugging his shoulders; without taking into account that the Icelandic language has the three numbers like the Greek, and declines proper names like the Latin.

Does it? said I, a little roused from my indifference. And is the type good?

Type? Who is talking of type, you poor, ignorant Axel. So, you suppose this was printed! You ignoramus! It is a manuscript, and a Runic manuscript, too.

Runic?

Yes. Are you going to ask me to explain that word, next?

Not if I know it, I replied, in a tone of wounded vanity.

But my uncle never heeded me, and went on with his instructions, telling me about things I did not care to know.

The Runic characters were formerly used in Iceland, and, according to tradition, were invented by Odin himself. Look at them, and admire them, impious young man!—these types sprang from the imagination of a god.

The only reply I could think of was to prostrate myself, for this sort of answer must be as pleasing to gods as to men, since it has the advantage of never embarrassing them. But before I could do this the current of the conversation was changed in an instant by the sudden appearance of a dirty parchment, which slipped out of the old book and fell on the floor.

My uncle pounced on this treasure with avidity, as can easily be supposed. An ancient document, shut up in an old volume, perhaps from time immemorial, could not fail to be of priceless value in his eyes.

What is this? he exclaimed, carefully spreading out on his table a piece of parchment, five inches long and three wide, on which some incomprehensible characters were inscribed in long transverse lines.

I give the exact fac-simile, for great importance attaches to these fantastic marks, as they led Professor Lidenbrock and his nephew to undertake the strangest expedition of the nineteenth century.

The professor looked at the queer characters for some minutes, and then pushed up his spectacles and said:

It is Runic! these marks are exactly like those in the manuscript of Snorre Turleson. But what can they mean?

As Runic appeared to me an invention of learned men to mystify the poor world, I was not sorry to see that my uncle could not decipher it. At least I judged so from the convulsive working of his fingers.

Yet it is the ancient Icelandic! he muttered to himself.

And Professor Lidenbrock could not but know this, for he was considered a veritable polyglot. Not that he could speak fluently the 2,000 languages and 4,000 dialects used on the surface of the globe, but he was familiar with a good part of them.

A difficulty like this, then, was sure to rouse all the impetuosity of his nature, and I was just expecting a violent scene, when two o’clock struck and Martha opened the study door and said:

Soup is on the table.

Pitch the soup to the devil and the cook too, and those who eat it.

Martha fled and I scampered after her, and hardly knowing how, found myself in my accustomed seat in the dining-room.

I waited a few minutes. The professor did not come.

This was the first time to my knowledge that he had ever neglected the grave business of dinner. And what a dinner, too! Parsley soup, a ham omelette, and sorrel à la muscade, a loin of veal, and a compôte of plums; and for dessert, crevettes au sucre, and all washed down with sparkling Moselle wine.

All this was what my uncle was going to lose for the sake of an old paper. Really, as a devoted nephew, I felt obliged to do his share of eating as well as my own, and I did it conscientiously.

I never saw the like of this! exclaimed our good Martha, Mr. Lidenbrock not to come to dinner! It is incredible! This bodes something serious, went on the old servant, shaking her head.

In my opinion it boded nothing except a frightful outbreak when my uncle found his dinner devoured.

I was just finishing my last crevette when a loud thundering summons tore me away from my voluptuous enjoyment. I made one bound into the study.

III

I T is evidently Runic, said the professor, knitting his brows, but there is a secret in it, and I will discover it, or else——

A violent gesture completed his sentence.

Sit down there, he added, pointing to the table with his fist, and write.

I was ready in an instant.

Now, then, I am going to dictate to you each letter of our alphabet which corresponds to one of these Icelandic characters. We shall see what that will give us. But by St. Michael take care you make no mistake.

The dictation commenced. I did my best. Every letter was called out one after another, and formed the following incomprehensible succession of words:

When I had finished it my uncle snatched the paper from me and examined it attentively a long time.

What can it mean? he repeated mechanically.

On my honour I could not tell him. Besides, he did not ask me, he was speaking to himself.

It is what we call a cryptogram, where the meaning is concealed by confusing the letters designedly, and to make an intelligible sentence they must be arranged in proper order. To think that here perhaps lies the explanation or indication of some great discovery!

For my own part, I thought it was absolute nonsense, but I was wise enough to keep my opinion to myself.

The professor took up the book and the parchment again, and compared them.

The two writings are not done by the same hand, he said. "The cryptogram is of later date than the book. On the very face of it there is an irrefragable proof of it. The first letter is a double m, which would be sought in vain in Turleson’s book, for it was only added to the Icelandic alphabet in the fourteenth century. Consequently, there are at least 200 years between the manuscript and the document."

This certainly seemed logical enough.

I therefore come to the conclusion, continued my uncle, that these mysterious characters were inscribed by some one who came into possession of the book. But who on earth was it? Could he have put his name, I wonder, in any part of the manuscript?

And my uncle pushed up his spectacles, and taking a powerful magnifying-glass, began to examine carefully the first pages of the book. On the back of the first leaf he discovered a spot, which looked like a blot of ink. But, on closer inspection, sundry letters, half obliterated, could be distinguished. My uncle saw instantly that this was the chief point of interest, and fastened on it furiously, poring over it through his big magnifying-glass, till at last he made out these marks, Runic characters, which he read off immediately.

Arne Saknussemm! he cried, in a triumphant tone. "Why, that is a name, and an Icelandic name, too; that of a celebrated alchemist, a savant who lived in the sixteenth century."

I looked at my uncle with a feeling of admiration.

These alchemists, he went on, "Avicenna, Bacon, Lully, Paracelsus, were the true, the only savants of their times. They made discoveries which may well astonish us. Why should not this Saknussemm have hidden under this incomprehensible cryptogram the secret of some surprising invention? It must be so. It is."

The professor’s imagination was enkindled at this hypothesis.

No doubt, I ventured to reply; "but what interest could the savant have in concealing a wonderful discovery?"

Why? Why? Ah, don’t I know? Didn’t Galileo act so about Saturn? Besides, we shall soon see. I will get the secret of this document; I will neither eat nor sleep till I find it out.

Oh! thought I.

No more shall you, Axel!

Plague it! said I to myself. It’s a good job I have had a dinner for two to-day!

The first thing to be done, said my uncle, is to find the language of the cipher.

I pricked up my ears at this. My uncle continued his soliloquy.

Nothing is easier. In this document there are 132 letters, in which there are 79 consonants and 53 vowels. Now this is just about the proportion found in the words of southern languages, while the northern idioms are far richer in consonants. Consequently this must be in a southern language.

His conclusions were very just.

But what language is it?

It was this I waited for him to tell me, for I knew he was a profound analyst.

This Saknussemm, he went on, "was a learned man, and since he did not write in his mother tongue, he would be sure to employ the language in common use among the cultivated minds of the sixteenth century; I mean the Latin. If I am mistaken, I could try the Spanish, the French, the Italian, the Greek, the Hebrew. But the learned in the sixteenth century generally wrote in Latin. I may rightly, then, say, à priori—this is in

Reviews for Journey to the Center of the Earth

[darthdeverell · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Jules Verne’s Journey to the Centre of the Earth follows the German professor Otto Lindenbrock and his nephew Axel as they, along with their guide Hans, descend into the Icelandic volcano Snæfellsjökull, see various prehistoric animals, and return via the Stromboli volcano in Italy. Verne found inspiration in the geologist Charles Lyell’s 1863 book, Geological Evidences of the Antiquity of Man as well as some of the works of Edgar Allan Poe. This edition, published by Oxford University Press, features a new translation from the original French by William Butcher. The book also features an introduction situating Verne and his work in its historical milieu as well as an explanation of the translation. As part of the Oxford World’s Classics series, the novel features explanatory notes for many of the scientific and foreign-language terms Verne used to add verisimilitude to the book. Though typically classified as science-fiction, the term was not popularized until Hugo Gernsback used it in the 1920s, and Verne himself would have considered this an adventure novel as it focuses more on the journey than the science or technology involved in getting there. This edition works well for those studying science-fiction and its history, though, and is a must-read for even the casual fan!

[jessiqa_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Professor Leidenbrock and his nephew Axel find a mysterious note suggesting an Icelandic geologist traveled to the center of the earth and lived to tell the tale. The two prepare for the long and arduous journey to Iceland, for that is where the geologist began, and enlist the help of an Icelander named Hans to assist with the journey below ground. Not to spoil a 150-year-old book, but the trio makes it to the center of the earth after several setbacks and strange occurrences, and return safely to ground level.There is a scene near the start of the book in which Professer Leidenbrock and Axel are arguing about what they may find in the center of the earth. The nephew believes that the center would be liquid rock and metal. The professor is convinced that it is solid rock. Both trot out a series of scientific facts and figures to prove their points. Readers are of course meant to side with the Professor and, indeed, he is proven correct later in the book (or there would be no book), but as a modern reader, knowing that the nephew is actually correct, the exchange is pretty hilarious.While the science is obviously not accurate, the book itself is fun. It’s an adventure story written by a master. We read the story from Axel’s point of view, who is reluctant about everything involved in this journey. This makes for a pleasant “surprise” when Axel is proven wrong. If you’ve only ever seen the film version starring James Mason, you will be surprised at some of the differences. I hope you have fun with this classic, as I did.

[soylentgreen23 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I have to admit that Jules Verne is harder to read as an adult than as a bright-eyed, impressionable kid. There is so much wonder on these pages, and yet I felt like I needed to work far too hard to get at it - the adventure is hidden behind steampunk techno-babble in a way that modern writers would never be able to get away with. Still, I'm glad to have revisited this book, and I will continue to work through the Verne canon, disillusioned though I am.

[shaunesay · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I probably wouldn't have gotten through this very quickly had I been reading it on my own rather than listening to Tim Curry's masterful performance. He was able to infuse so much character into it, and it truly helped me to appreciate how well done this story really is. There really is a lot of character there. There is also A LOT of detailed geological and instrumental description that probably would have bogged me down, even though I understand it, it's not always the most exciting reading, but definitely added realism to the story. Axel and his uncle Otto, and their guide Hans, really have very distinct personalities that add humor to the story which I believe I would have missed without having the assistance of Tim's reading.

I highly recommend listening to this version, as we like to say Tim Curry could read the phone book and it would be a 5 star performance. He brings this classic adventure story to life and I'm happy to have experienced it!

[cecrow · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Unimpressive writing, dull pacing and stick-thin characters (Hans is an android, I swear it) make this a tough read. Written to introduce children to science, it mostly lends amusement for the things it got wrong and the other far-fetched things it proposes that might lurk beneath the Earth's surface. It's frustrating to read about the most basic rules of cave exploration being ignored, and a professor obsessed with science who can't be bothered to give more than cavalier attention to any startling thing he discovers. Didn't make a whole lot of sense to me, but at least the ending had some excitement to it.

[prop2gether · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I loved this book! I seriously cannot believe that I avoided Verne for decades because I found Wells somewhat plodding. Of course, I've seen the movies made of both authors' works, but it was the most recent (2008) version which piqued my interest. By following the story by telling a narrative which encompassed it, I was having so much fun that I decided to read--and what a trip! It's on my favorites list now.

[kellswitch_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I was a bit surprised how much my expectations with this book were colored by the 1959 movie based off of it, I was surprised because I knew going in they weren't really the same but I still found myself missing the whimsy of the movie, which made the book seem a bit drab in comparison. I found the characters a bit flat, not quite believable by today standards, I never really bought them as real people or believed in their motivations and I found the ending a bit rushed and convenient, though I'm not sure how else it could have ended. That said, I enjoyed this more than I thought I would and it was a much faster read then I had expected and was an interesting adventure story. It was also a fascinating look back at the early days of Earth science, of science as we know it in general, and its easy to forget just how much we had to learn.

[john257hopper · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This is a re-read. It is a very good adventure, one of his best, maintaining a real sense of threat and suffocating claustrophobia under the ground. There are some internal inconsistencies in dates and timings which would probably not get past a modern editor. Good stuff.

[scottslaughter · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Though exciting in spots it is essentially a primer on 19th century theistic evolution.

[rrainer-1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I read a much abridged version of this as a kid but never the whole thing, and I'm glad to have finally read it. It was kind of historically fascinating, and I found Axel a really interesting and unexpected narrator. I think I was expecting something different from the tone, so that was really compelling for me.

[narilka · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Journey to the Center of the Earth is the grand adventure story of Professor Lidenbrock's quest to follow a the instructions in a cryptic text that describe how one can descend to the very center of the planet via volcanic tubes originating in an Icelandic volcano. He sets out with his nephew Axel and their hired guide Hans on an extraordinary journey through the bowels of the earth that has them encountering strange phenomena and many dangers. The story is told entirely from Axel's point of view as he writes journal of the trip.This is my first time reading Jules Verne. It was a lot of fun and reminded me very much of the 1959 movie. The story starts off slow and spends a bit more time in the preparation than on the journey than I'd like. I wish there had been more time spent deep within the earth and the discoveries there. Axel is quite over dramatic and probably should never have gone along with his uncle. The science in the story is incredibly out dated so you have to unplug that part of the brain to enjoy the adventure.I listened to the audio book narrated by Tim Curry. His performance is top notch and fits the work beautifully. I love the emotion he's able to give the characters.

[davidgnp · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I remember being entirely engrossed in this book when I read it as an eleven-year-old boy, feeling I was in those subterranean tunnels and passages with the travellers. Recently I downloaded the Malleson translation onto my Kindle (free from Project Gutenberg) to explore whether the story still has the capacity to engage the adult as it had the child. The simple answer is, yes it does, and in some ways I may have reaped more from the experience this time around, because I appreciated the skill in the characterisation as well as Verne's ability to take us along with them on the adventure. The three main characters - Axel, the young narrator, his eccentric and obsessed uncle Professor Liedenbrock, and their taciturn Icelandic guide Hans - make wonderful travelling companions for the reader. We are sucked along in the whirlwind of the Professor's passion experiencing, like Axel, that heady mix of curiosity and trepidation, relying for our safety on Hans, one of the most steadfast silent heroes in literature. Of course the scientific arguments that Verne presents through the arguments between Axel and the Professor sometimes border on the absurd, and the sights we come across - including an underground ocean, living dinosaurs and a twelve foot humanoid - are fantastic indeed but there is just enough true science to persuade us to leave our disbelief at the entrance to the volcano. Jules Verne was a true pioneer of the science fiction genre. Many lesser writers have followed in his footsteps; but literature is a sustainable magic for readers, and it's our delight that we can still make the journey with the original master.

[saltmanz · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I was surprised how easily this read, for a story that's pushing 150 years old. Some of the grammar had the touch of the archaic, but on the whole it felt surprisingly modern. It did get off to a fairly plodding start, but once the journey proper (up and into the volcano) was underway, it moved along nicely.I did find the ending, though exciting enough in its own right, to be a bit of a letdown. Although I admit that "Journey TOWARD the Center of the Earth" wouldn't have been nearly as catchy a title.

[deltaqueen50 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

What a wonderful thing an imagination is. In Journey to the Center of the Earth we get to appreciate the imagination of Jules Verne in his 1864 novel that follows Professor Otto Lidenbrock, his nephew Axel, and their guide Hans down a volcanic tube in Iceland in a quest to reach the center of the earth.A little dated and somewhat silly at times, this was still a fun and exciting read that had this group of adventurers encountering many dangers, including prehistoric animals before they discovered themselves back on the surface of the earth. Although many of the scientific “facts” that were used in this book have since been disproved, the author’s vision and his writing style make this book a classic of nineteenth century literature.I read this book in instalment form through Daily Lit and as much as I thoroughly enjoyed my trip to this subterranean world, I can’t help but wish I had discovered this book when I was young as I know it would have fired my own imagination tremendously. Coming to the book at my advanced age, does allow me to understand why this book has been filmed for both movies and television numerous times as the author’s vision of a strange inner earth is vivid and one can see that it would play well on film.

[janeajones · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

It appears that there are two circulating English versions of Verne's Journey to the Center of the Earth. The one I read on my Kindle was published by Dover, and the protagonists are the German mineralogy Professor Lidenbrock and his nephew Axel, the narrator of the tale.On deciphering a secret Runic/Latin message written in an old Icelandic MS by the 16th c. savant, Arne Saknussemm:Descend the crater of the Jokul of Snafell, that the shadow of Scartaris softly touches before the Kalends of July, bold traveller, and thou wilt reach the center of the earth. Which I have done., the Professor and his nephew set off immediately for Iceland.Arriving in Iceland, the Professor hires an Icelandic eider-hunter, Hans, as a guide to for their ascent of (and subsequent descent into) the crater of Snafell. Marvellous adventures follow, most unbelievable, given what we now know of dormant volcanoes and the center of the earth, and the travellers eventually emerge through the volcano of Mount Stromboli in Sicily. It's an entertaining and quick read, if thoroughly preposterous.

[john_warner-1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I was a young adolescent when I first started reading this book. However, I placed the book on top of the family's station wagon when we stopped at a convenience store only to lose it when we I forget it as I hopped back in the car. Fifty years later, I finally finished it. When Professor Lidenbrock deciphers a runic note authored by Icelandic alchemist Arne Saknussemm, he discovers that the alchemist discovered and traveled a passage in Iceland to the center of the Earth. With the assistance of a Icelandic guide, the taciturn Hans, Professor Lidenbrock and his nephew Axel, and the novel's narrator, follow their predecessor in his descent into an extinct volcano to the center of the Earth.If you have seen either the 1959 movie with James Mason and Pat Boone or the 2008 film with Brendan Fraser, you will not significant differences, especially with the latter which is more a sequel to the book. In the book there are no competitors seeking to first reach the center of the Earth, no dinosaur fights on the beach, or abandoned temples at the center of the Earth. However, the book is a good read nevertheless.

[carebear36 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Through most of the novel, I was intrigued by Verne's descriptions and scientific explanations of the time period. Overall, it was an interesting story, but I was underwhelmed by the resolution and after finishing it, the whole thing seemed pretty anticlimactic. I think one has to go into reading a Verne novel with the expectations of fascinating and outdated science instead of focusing too much on the plot to really enjoy it.

[clurb · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

A nice little adventure story full of peril and suspense but I was sorely disappointed with the ending.

[karin7-11 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

When I read this in high school, I loved it, but I have no idea what I'd thnk of it now.

[booklove2 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I thought I should read Jules Verne, H.G. Wells and books like that before I start in on steampunk. Jules Verne puts the science in science fiction. I personally love that he writes about geology or biology in his bizarre narratives. Just to learn a bit! This one does have a bit of a slow start to get to the mountain to go underground... it's around page 80. But then the story picks up speed and it keeps one-uping itself with what is found under that Icelandic volcano. I loved the story more than I thought I would of Professor Otto Lidenbrock, his nephew Axel, and the trusty Icelandic assistant Hans, always getting them out of a bind. The book is far less boring than I thought it would be. (And also, I want to avoid any movies made from these books, since I can't imagine they're better.) But try not to find it interesting when a character is lost 75 miles under the earth and then his torch goes out... and I don't want to mention anything else they find to ruin the book. I love most 19th century stories and this is no exception but it seemed like I was reading this one in five page chunks. I'm looking forward to others from Verne though! And I can't wait to get into steampunk!

[trhummer_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Good bedtime reading for the 7 year old daughter and me. And it takes me waaaaay back: I loved Verne when I was 8 and 9 and 10. The plot of this book is preposterous, but so what?

[simonlarsen_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Time has not been gentle to this classic.

[fillechaude · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I guess I've been spoiled by modern fast-paced writing. While I did enjoy this book, and it had some great parts, I found a lot of it to be time-killing "filler" type material. Was it really necessary to take 90 pages to actually descend into the earth? Not in my humble opinion.The afterword by Nimoy was interesting, though.

[srboone · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Well-written, but talky and often boring account of a scientific journey through an active volcano to reach the earth's core. A book I started in high school ,but couldn't finish. I finally read it a couple of years ago and was hugely disappointed. Still, there some exciting parts and descriptions filled with wonder.

[jerry.yoakum · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I know a lot of people who don't bother to read a book that has a movie version. You don't need to worry about this book. The movie is so different from the book that you won't know what will happen.

[jgolomb_2 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

"Et quacumque viam dederit fortuna sequamur""And whatever route fortune gives, we shall follow"This IS your great-great-great-grandfather's adventure story, so reader beware. There's a lot of walking, a lot of exposition, and quite frankly, not a lot of action. But keep in mind...this is an original. Our modern day sensibilities expect high action out of our adventure stories…monsters, critters, thrill-a-minute. But in a much different time when society was in a much different state, "Journey to the Center of the Earth" set the table for the adventure/scifi stories of the future. The story revolves around German Professor and "Savant" Otto Lidenbrock, though is narrated by his nephew, Axel. The two come across a manuscript that references an Icelandic explorer's expedition to the center of the earth. Upon deciphering the document, Lidenbrock exclaims: "Let no one take it into his head before us to try and discover the center of the earth." And off they go.While much of the middle third of the book reads like a travelogue of northern Europe and anthropological tour of Iceland, the driving force of the story is the eccentric genius of Professor Lidenbrock. The professor is characterized by a certain "madness", as described by Axel. This obsessiveness is a driving characteristic that one can see across the literary spectrum of those who break new ground. In fact, one can see it across the spectrum of real life explorers as well. For without a little "crazy", who might have the strength and fortitude to forge ahead almost heedless of circumstances. Without the single-minded obsession and force of will, how would humans be driven to the hearts of darkness that lie at the root of all discovery?Like modern science fiction, Verne delves into the 19th century equivalent of cutting edge science with much speculation on portable artificial light, and various natural sciences related to deep earth biology and geology. Whereas Michael Crichton turned the real science of the possibilities of cloning extinct dinosaurs, Verne speculates on evolution, and deep earth temperatures.I couldn't help but compare the early chapters of Jules Verne's "Journey to the Center of the Earth" to H.G. Wells' "The Time Machine" or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's "The Lost World". They share a certain vibe in their respective late 19th/early 20th century writing style and tone. They're reminiscent, but different…"Journey" has much more of a sense of humor, and is particularly light-hearted during the early stage-setting scenes in Germany.I liked it. I didn't love it, but I'm glad I read it.

[jwhenderson_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Another classic travel adventure tale from the pen of Jules Verne. This is the third in a series he called "Voyages Extraordinaires". When Axel deciphers an old parchment that describes a secret passage through a volcano to the centre of the earth, nothing will stop him and his eccentric uncle from embarking on a perilous, terrifying journey through the subterranean world. Verne's novels are each a marvel of action, adventure, ideas, and the fantastic. In this case the emphasis is on the fantastic, but if you suspend your disbelief and join Verne on his journey you find enjoyable tales. This is not my favorite -- see Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea for that, but it is as they say, a rollicking good story.

[zottel-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Das Buch war deutlich besser als erwartet. Da ich kein großer Fan von Science Fiction bin, hatte ich nicht viel erwartet, es war einfach ein Experiment, den alten Klassiker einmal zu lesen. Faszinierend war für mich dann auch eher die Reise in die Vergangenheit, die das Buch mir ermöglichte, als die zum Mittelpunkt der Erde. Die alte Sprache meiner Übersetzung, die Beschreibung der Reise nach Island und vor allem die wissenschaftlichen Vorstellungen dieser Zeit. Äußerst faszinierend, gepaart mit einer spannenden Geschichte, die das Lesen leicht macht. Die von mir gelesene Ebook-Ausgabe von NTS Editions hatte des öfteren komplett falsche Wörter im Text, wo die OCR-Software offenbar s und f nicht unterscheiden konnte. Einmal erkannt machte das aber nicht mehr viel aus. Insgesamt eine klare Empfehlung, allerdings mehr an den historisch Interessierten als an Science-Fiction-Fans.

[michael_rose-1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This was the first true adult book I read. I seem to recall the story being a bit different than any of its film depictions. It makes me wish you could attempt to journey to the center of the earth in that way.

[csweder · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This book is to me the ultimate of the Science Fiction genre. You take an event that's impossible--say, traveling to the center of the Earth, and then add a bunch of scientific terms to it and make the reader think it might be possible. The addition of a character who he (typically he, sometimes she) doubts the possibility of completing the task is a nice one--he is there so the audiance will not feel too bad in their disbelief of what is happening in the book.

This was my first book by Jules Verne, and it was pretty much what I expected (what you would find in any science fiction novel?). But what I need to remind myself of, is that this book was written a lonnnnnggggg time ago, and I'm sure at the time, I could see how this book would be a huge hit.