18 July 2012
King Solomon’s Mines pioneered the ‘lost world’ genre in Britain.
The British public had been reading about recent discoveries – in Egypt’s Valley of the Kings, in Assyria, Schliemann’s Troy, and the lost empire of Greater Zimbabwe. Haggard’s novel was the first in English to exploit the mystique and romance surrounding these discoveries and to invent a fictional lost civilisation for dramatic purposes (Jules Verne’s Journey To The Centre of the Earth, 1864, has a claim to priority for Continental literature).
Countless others have followed suit: Kipling soon after in The Man Who Would be King (1888), HG Wells’ In The Country of The Blind (1904), the first of Edgar Rice Burroughs’ Tarzan novels (1912), Arthur Conan Doyle’s Lost World, from the same year which introduced the idea of dinosaurs surviving in a freak enclave, a meme which has led a healthy career in popular culture up to and including Jurassic Park (1993) its imaginatively-title sequel, The Lost World (1997) and Peter Jackson’s fabulously preposterous King Kong (2005).
I suppose the Lost World is itself part of a larger genre which is the the New World, where the narrator is introduced to an entirely new culture and slowly learns their customs. Almost every travel book would be included from Utopia (1516) and Gulliver’s Travels (1726) onwards. What distinguishes Lost World romances from these earlier fables is the earlier ones are nearly all moralistic or satirical in intent. They have a point, an aim or design on the reader. The Lost World romances exist purely to entertain.
The Lost World genre was at its most popular during the era of High Imperialism, 1870-1914. Though it continued to thrive thereafter (James Hilton’s Lost Horizon of 1933 introduced the key phrase ‘Shangri-La’), it was affected by the thoroughness with which discoverers and cartographers were filling in the gaps on the world map. Some if the teenage energy of the genre was redirected into the burgeoning genre of science fiction. Here the borders were infinite, and the topos of a small band of explorers arriving in a new world to be shown its customs etc can be recycled ad infinitum, from HG Wells’s First Men In The Moon (1901) to Ridley Scott’s Prometheus (2012).
The obvious question is, Is any of this for grown-ups? Or for the grown-up part of our minds? Probably not. They are for the teenager in all of us, and probably teenage boys more than girls. None of the main works in the genre are by women writers, partly because the tales are designed to move from one perilous situation to another, in which the immature male mind can fantasise about danger and rescue, success against the odds. The continual need to prove their physical prowess doesn’t seem to occur to women as much as men.