A Journey to the Centre of the Earth

I had read this as a child, but evidently didn't remember much of it. I picked it up to re-read because while planning a visit to Snæfellsjökull I read that the place has significance in this story. I'm very glad I did, and that I did so while in Iceland, though there are some of the typical regrettable portions (ugh "Race Science" makes an appearance, though mercifully only for a few pages), and towards the end it jumps the shark a bit.

I think there's basically two things that make Verne still worth reading, when I mostly avoid white mens' SFF from before this century, never mind before the 20th:

One is that he was a very good observer of the things in his stories that were drawn from reality. I can't tell if he actually went to Iceland himself, but if not then he had good notes from someone who did. His rendering of Reykjavík fits with what I've read in museums in that city, and the descriptions of the landscape work very well, when it's one that would be pretty hard for someone who'd never left mainland Europe to imagine. There was a detail of the Icelanders' clothing that seemed off and stereotyped to me, until we happened to go to a museum with a reenactor who was clearly wearing what I'd misunderstood the description of a few days earlier.

The other is that he was an avid follower of the big scientific debates of the time. The central conceit of Journey is that the mad geologist is trying to prove a theory that sounds absolutely bonkers in hindsight. But it sent me down a wikihole, from which I learned that it was very much a live controversy in the mid-19th Century. Verne picked what ended up being the losing side of the argument, because it's the one that gave him a story to write, but somehow that feels much more credible knowing that he didn't make it up.

Some stories invite me to observe from a distance, but Journey to the Center of the Earth pulled me forward from the very beginning. As one of the enduring classics of French Literature, Jules Verne’s novel combines scientific curiosity with adventurous storytelling in a way that still feels imaginative today. I quickly realized that this was not simply a tale about exploring the underground world. It was also about courage, discovery, and the irresistible desire to understand what lies beyond accepted knowledge.

The story follows Professor Otto Lidenbrock, his cautious nephew Axel, and their dependable Icelandic guide, Hans. After discovering an ancient manuscript containing directions to the Earth's interior, they begin an extraordinary expedition through volcanic passages beneath Iceland. I found the contrast between the fearless professor and the hesitant Axel especially engaging. Axel often expressed the doubts I would have felt myself, making his gradual growth both believable and rewarding. Hans, with his quiet competence and remarkable calm, became the steady force that held the expedition together whenever uncertainty threatened to overwhelm them.

As the travelers descend deeper underground, they encounter astonishing landscapes, prehistoric creatures, underground seas, and natural wonders that stretch the imagination. I admired how Verne blended scientific ideas with adventurous fiction. Even when modern science no longer supports many of the novel's geological concepts, the enthusiasm behind its vision remains inspiring. I felt as though I were exploring each cavern alongside the characters, sharing both their excitement and their anxiety whenever danger emerged.

What impressed me most was the novel's celebration of curiosity. Every obstacle becomes another opportunity to learn rather than a reason to retreat. That spirit made the adventure feel meaningful instead of merely thrilling. The discoveries beneath the surface reminded me that human progress often begins with someone willing to question accepted limits.

By the final chapters, I felt both relieved and reluctant to leave the underground world behind. The journey ends dramatically, but its greatest achievement lies in the sense of wonder it creates. Closing the book, I carried with me a renewed appreciation for imagination, perseverance, and the excitement of exploration. Journey to the Center of the Earth reminded me that the greatest adventures often begin with a single question and the courage to follow it wherever it may lead.