Hollow Earth by David Standish

One to file in the 'I Can't Believe Somebody Actually Wrote This' category (alongside that study of the films of Steven Segal, Segalogy perhaps). Standish's book claims to be 'for anyone interested in the history of curious notions that just won't go away.' In his case, the notion he is referring to is the idea that the Earth is hollow, and that the inside of it is filled with lost continents and advanced civilizations.

It's an idea with some pedigree, as this book demonstrates- famous names such as Edmund Halley, Jules Verne, Edgar Allen Poe and Edgar Rice Burroughs all took up the Hollow Earth cause- some more seriously than others. If this book accomplishes nothing else, it ties together a number of disparate but fascinating characters, uniting them under the common banner of the Hollow Earth. Through this single idea, Standish gets to treat 19th century geology, age-of-exploration literature, early science fiction, crackpot science and early 20th century pulp fiction. All of which I have a serious penchant for.

The idea started because of this- in the early days of science, lots of unusual theories were floating around, because all of them were difficult to prove or disprove. If one believed that the earth was birthed from a cloud of cosmic gas that formed a hardened shell around an inner sun, well, that was probably no more outlandish than the next guy's theory. And if you claimed that the entrances to this inner world were located at the poles, nobody could disprove you. Yet. It was certainly an interesting time, during which science and religion were curiously intermingled. Edmund Halley proposed an inner world, and Isaac Newton wrote numerous volumes on alchemy (from the Arabic al keme, meaning 'of Egypt', according to some).

Then, throughout the 19th century, the idea of the Hollow Earth served as a useful location for writers, scientists and dreamers to locate their fictional utopias. Many of these utopian novels were American, and Standish covers them in some depth- a section of the book I found especially interesting. The dream of a vast, unspoiled paradise ready to be utilized by man began to appear consistantly in literature at exactly the same time as America was turning out to be anything but. This is essentially Standish' thesis here, and I found it very convincing. Of course, not everyone believed their utopias were fictional. The survival of the hollow earth idea is due largely to an American called Symme who spent his life trying to fund an expedition to the hole he believed was found at the North Pole.

Once the idea became popular, it was used for good and for ill by writers such as Edgar Allen Poe, Jules Verne and Edgar Rice Burroughs (damn his eyes) in the 19th and early 20th centuries. Standish elaborates at length on these, which is ok by me, as their high-adventure fantasies are probably about as important to the world as any crackpot scientist ever was.

Then, in the mid-twentieth century, the cause was again taken up by those who believed. A man with the improbable name of William Sharpe-Shaver began to publish stories in Amazing magazine claiming that he was under the control of creatures that dwell beneath the Earth's crust. This now being the age of UFO's and conspiracy theories, the high-adventure was replaced with sinister plots and overwhelming paranoia. Standish's overall point is how this one strange idea was recycled many times, on each occasion being used to fulfill certain time-specific longings. (For those interested in this story, click here to read Sinnott's Last Scam from Black Lagoon Comix, my fictionalization of this story, featuring a totally unrelated character called William Sharp-Shearer).


Throughout, Standish maintains a rather sarcastic attitude towards his cast of deluded dreamers. His standard technique is to allow his subjects to talk at length (via the use of very extended quotes), and then use their own words, however ridiculous, against them in a kind of deadpan sarcasm. It certainly catches the readers' attention, and can be quite funny in a dry way. But if a good book, as Holden Caulfield says, ought to make you want to meet the author and have a good chat with them over a cold beer, then I don't know if I want to meet David Standish. Granted, he is fascinated enough by the same things as I to write a book about them (and a more thorough and complete book about the Hollow Earth I challenge you to find), but I find his attitude throughout somewhat negative. He often seems to be condescending rather than affectionate towards Symme and those who followed him.

Overall, Hollow Earth covers in admirable depth many fascinating tales from history and fiction, but is undone somewhat by the author's occasionally snide tone.

Into Africa by Martin Dugard

'Doctor Livingstone, I presume?' Sigh. If only Henry Morton Stanley knew the can of misery-worms he was about to unleash upon the world. His famous discovery of missing British hero Dr. David Livingstone opened up an interest in the dark continent that was to result in untold horror for millions. With the extraordinary King Leopold of Belgium at the helm (and Stanley as his aid, to his eternal shame), Africa was torn apart in a new age of Imperialism that opened wounds that still hurt today.

But preceding this, of course, came the greatest colonial tale ever told round a campfire to warm the quinine-soaked heart of a wayward explorer- the Stanley-Livingstone story.

In this book, Martin Dugard retells the famous tale in fascinating detail. Livingstone, a working-class Scot turned Christian missionary, traveled across central Africa looking for the source of the Nile. While he was away, he became something of a hero at home, so when contact was lost with him in 1871, several individuals began to rustle up funds to mount a rescue attempt. The politics of this are twisted and tortuous, but eventually, one Henry Morton Stanley, an American journalist working for the New York Herald, left Zanzibar and plunged into the heart of darkness in pursuit of Livingstone.

Dugard plays up the differences between these great men. Stanley is by far the more interesting of the two- escaping from a hellish life of neglect and abuse in his native Wales, he reinvented himself as an American in the Deep South. Dugard paints him as a self-doubting oddball who worked hard all his life to achieve success and hide his true origins. Even before his African adventure, Stanley had a resume that fans of 19th century history will find impressive. He had fought on both sides in the US Civil War, covered the Abyssinia Campaign (where he allegedly met Flashman!), and traveled extensively through the territories of the Ottoman Empire. In Livingstone, Dugard notes that he sought the father figure that had searched for all his life.

Pretty soon into the proceedings it becomes clear that even before the mass intervention of Europeans, Africa was not a land of candy rainbows and gumdrop smiles. Local chiefs sold entire tribes as slaves in return for beads, trinkets and firearms. Nor were these chiefs naive or easily-manipulated by outsiders, as they have often been portrayed. They were often sharp and callous business men with extensive information networks. Whenever Stanley entered the territory of a new tribe, the local chief would know exactly what goods Stanley was carrying (via the 'bush telegraph') and demand a hefty tribute. He would frequently have to avoid villages, despite badly needing rest and medicine, because he could not afford the tribute. A cruel death was often the only alternative. Dugard is not trying to make any political point by mentioning these facts- its simply the way things were.

This book really makes clear the hardships these incredible men faced in those days. Tribal war, wild animals and especially disease made travel a nightmare. Characters in this book contract malaria and dysentary more frequently than I would have thought possible. When Stanley finally meets Livingstone and utters the famous words, its a positive relief for the reader. While the book is occasionally flawed on a prose level, the story is so good that you probably won't notice.

Hardy Bucks

(This not really an Empire-related article- but I've stuck it here anyway.)

There's a well-known, if apocryphal, story that frequently does the rounds in Ireland stating that the show Father Ted was turned down by RTE (the main Irish TV channel), and was then snapped up by the British Channel 4. Of course, following this, Father Ted went on to become not only one of the all-time classic comedies, but a part of the Irish cultural landscape for years to come. It's difficult to underestimate the impact this show had on our little country. Finally, we had a show which lovingly parodied our own culture without patronizing, and it was actually funny to boot! All the great Irish writers and comedians of the time were finally put to good work, and only English capitol could make it happen! We could watch it and recognize aspects of our culture, regardless of how ridiculously they were being exaggerated.

Coming out at the same time as the first major Church scandals, Father Ted also allowed people to laugh at the Church perhaps for the first time. We were able to see (and reassess) the Church's position in our society. In a very real way, Father Ted chronicles a period in Irish life which it itself helped bring to an end. Truly great comedy is capable of such feats.

This (untrue) story reinforces the common notion that RTE are insanely conservative, and wouldn't know good comedy if it slapped them in the face with a wet fish. Now they may be about to do it again. And again, it has taken an outsiders' perspective to make the definitive statement about Irish life. I'm talking, of course, about Hardy Bucks.

Hardy Bucks is an internet series that crams more truisms, laughs and memorable lines into its 10-15 minute no-budget episodes than an entire series of Killnascully (which wouldn't be hard, anyway). It chronicles the lives of four young lads living in Castletown, County Mayo, and their ongoing feud with local smartass The Viper. They live in a tiny rented cottage. They drink, they smoke, they fight, and they dream of making it to the 'big smoke'- Galway. Underneath their bravado however, they occasionally appear smart and sensitive. The unspoken theme is that they're not idiots, and that they recognise how they're trapped in their small-town situation . A state of affairs I'm sure many will identify with.

Two of the shows' creators, Chris Tordoff and Martin Maloney, are English but spent their teens growing up in Mayo. Moloney in particular, who is in actuality a Scouser, pulls off a flawless West-Ireland accent. Perhaps it's because of their background that they have been able to parody the Irish small-town scene accurately and affectionately.

Of course, this would all be so much pretentious nonsense if the show wasn't funny. But damn is it funny. It gives the impression of being very lightly (if at all) scripted, with most of the lines being ad-libbed by the talented and likeable cast. Special mentions must go to the incredible wit and voice talents of the Viper (imitating his ridiculous sneer will become a national passtime), though Hardy Bucks is definitely an ensemble project, with all involved spouting memorable lines. And almost every line is immensely quotable. They're just lads that you'd find in any town in the country. They're lads you'd know yourself. Perhaps the shows' true point of reference is not Father Ted but the Canadian Trailer Park Boys- there are few 'jokes', the humour coming instead from knowing and liking the characters. It's a show that rewards rewatching.

Hardy Bucks is rapidly becoming an underground cult hit. Their catchphrases are heard everywhere in Ireland, and even their 'deleted scenes' videos get more hits that their peers' full projects. All episodes are available on Youtube, and the lads also have Bebo and Facebook pages. Check them out.