But the tales start and end in two tremendously different manners. These two tales represent Wells’ most famous ghost stories, and they concern the same idea: an amateur ghost investigator accidentally leaves his body. A truer mixture of beauty and horror could not be asked for. The torturous description of one character’s gory demise is among the most violent I’ve ever read from this period. But at its heart is a story of vile hatred, and a lesson: when your lover’s husband catches you whispering sweet nothings to his wife, don’t let him take you for a walk into his factory. “The Cone” is a beautiful impressionistic piece, as lovely to read as a painting is to view. A tremendously creepy story, that brilliantly uses a fragile insect as a source of deep horror – not for those with mottephobia. The hideous climax has him put into a straightjacket but well-meaning neighbors, only to have his face exposed to the delighted moth.
Convinced that his old enemy has returned in the form of the species they fought so dearly for, he tries to rid himself of a moth that no one can see. At first he is intrigued, but there is something spectral about the delicate insect, and as it seems to follow him wherever he goes, he grows to loathe the feel of its wings against his face. Then one night he is examining specimens under his microscope when a new species of moth floats into his room. His survivor is left without a reason for living – their rivalry was his chief thought – and grows depressed and disoriented. James – rival scientists rip one another apart until one has been thoroughly shamed to the point of death. In “The Moth” – a story with more than a touch of M. One is a brilliant psychological ghost story, and the other is an uncommonly gruesome example of body horror. “In the Abyss” is highly suggestive of Lovecraft’s Deep Ones (with a touch of “Rats in the Walls”): a race of fish-people are uncovered by a mystified deep-sea diver who finds a civilization that uses the skeletons of drowned seamen to construct their houses and view sinking wrecks as gods.
Nature tale that brings out Wells’ concern that our unchallenged reign over the world could be very easily brought to an end.
In a scene that resembles JAWS – and one that challenges all Victorian standards of form – they capsize a rowboat filled with women and children on a seaside holiday… and shred them to bits. “The Sea Raiders” is a grisly forbearer of “The Birds”: a charming coastal town is terrorized when swarms of carnivorous squid take a liking to human flesh. The first pair that deserves attention are both seafaring tales. Okay, so right off the bat I should be clear: Wells’ stories are of such a consistent caliber – well above average but with few outstanding masterpieces – that I’m going to pair several similar stories together, so it’s going to be a tad broader than my typical "7 BEST" lists.
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