Time Machineby H. G. Wells
Herbert George Wells was born into a decidedly middle-class family on September 21, 1866, in the London borough of Bromley. His father was a tradesman and his mother a Lady’s maid. Central to the experiences of his youth was an acute awareness of class structure that was emphasized by the position of his family in the class-conscious/b>
About the Author
Herbert George Wells was born into a decidedly middle-class family on September 21, 1866, in the London borough of Bromley. His father was a tradesman and his mother a Lady’s maid. Central to the experiences of his youth was an acute awareness of class structure that was emphasized by the position of his family in the class-conscious English society of the time.
After a basic education he became a pupil-teacher at the Midhurst Grammar School and secured a scholarship that allowed him to study with T.H. Huxley, the champion of Darwinism in England. After completing his studies with Huxley, Wells worked in a number of professions including journalism until 1895 when The Time Machine was published.
From that point on, Wells became a full-time writer. The Island of Dr. Moreau was published in the following year and War of the Worlds two years later. Wells produced a significant corpus of journalistic, philosophical, and political writing as well as fiction.
Two works in particular, The Discovery of the Future (1902) and Mankind in the Making (1903) caught the attention of George Bernard Shaw and Wells was invited to join the Fabian Society.
In 1920 Wells wrote an immensely popular historical work, The Outline of History. As evidenced by his involvement in the establishment of the League of Nations, Wells was continually involved with questions of social reform. During the Second World War he created the first draft of what would become the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. He died in London on August 13, 1946.
- Publication date:
- Product dimensions:
- 4.36(w) x 6.74(h) x 0.44(d)
Read an Excerpt
The Time Machine
By Wells, H. G.
Tor ClassicsCopyright © 1992 Wells, H. G.
All right reserved.
The Time Traveller (for so it will be convenient to speak of him) was expounding a recondite matter to us. His grey eyes shone and twinkled, and his usually pale face was flushed and animated. The fire burned brightly, and the soft radiance of the incandescent lights in the lilies of silver caught the bubbles that flashed and passed in our glasses. Our chairs, being his patents, embraced and caressed us rather than submitted to be sat upon, and there was that luxurious after-dinner atmosphere when thought runs gracefully free of the trammels of precision. And he put it to us in this way--marking the points with a lean forefinger--as we sat and lazily admired his earnestness over this new paradox (as we thought it:) and his fecundity.
"You must follow me carefully. I shall have to controvert one or two ideas that are almost universally accepted. The geometry, for instance, they taught you at school is founded on a misconception."
"Is not that rather a large thing to expect us to begin upon?" said Filby, an argumentative person with red hair.
"I do not mean to ask you to accept anything without reasonable ground for it. You will soon admit as much as I need from you. You know of course that a mathematical line, a line of thickness nil, has no real existence. They taught you that? Neither has a mathematical plane. These things are mere abstractions."
"That is all right," saidthe Psychologist.
"Nor, having only length, breadth, and thickness, can a cube have a real existence."
"There I object," said Filby. "Of course a solid body may exist. All real things--"
"So most people think. But wait a moment. Can an instantaneous cube exist?"
"Don't follow you," said Filby.
"Can a cube that does not last for any time at all, have a real existence?"
Filby became pensive. "Clearly," the Time Traveller proceeded, "any real body must have extension in four directions: it must have Length, Breadth, Thickness, and--Duration. But through a natural infirmity of the flesh, which I will explain to you in a moment, we incline to overlook this fact. There are really four dimensions, three which we call the three planes of Space, and a fourth, Time. There is, however, a tendency to draw an unreal distinction between the former three dimensions and the latter, because it happens that our consciousness moves intermittently in one direction along the latter from the beginning to the end of our lives."
"That," said a very young man, making spasmodic efforts to relight his cigar over the lamp; "that...very clear indeed."
"Now, it is very remarkable that this is so extensively overlooked," continued the Time Traveller, with a slight accession of cheerfulness. "Really this is what is meant by the Fourth Dimension, though some people who talk about the Fourth Dimension do not know they mean it. It is only another way of looking at Time. There is no difference between Time and any of the three dimensions of Space except that our consciousness moves along it. But some foolish people have got hold of the wrong side of that idea. You have all heard what they have to say about this Fourth Dimension?"
"I have not," said the Provincial Mayor.
"It is simply this. That Space, as our mathematicians have it, is spoken of as having three dimensions, which one may call Length, Breadth, and Thickness, and is always definable by reference to three planes, each at right angles to the others. But some philosophical people have been asking why three dimensions particularly--why not another direction at right angles to the other three?--and have even tried to construct a Four-Dimension geometry. Professor Simon Newcomb was expounding this to the New York Mathematical Society only a month or so ago. You know how on a flat surface, which has only two dimensions, we can represent a figure of a three-dimensional solid, and similarly they think that by models of three dimensions they could represent one of four--if they could master the perspective of the thing. See?"
"I think so," murmured the Provincial Mayor; and, knitting his brows, he lapsed into an introspective state, his lips moving as one who repeats mystic words. "Yes, I think I see it now," he said after some time, brightening in a quite transitory manner.
"Well, I do not mind telling you I have been at work upon this geometry of Four Dimensions for some time. Some of my results are curious. For instance, here is a portrait of a man at eight years old, another at fifteen, another at seventeen, another at twenty-three, and so on. All these are evidently sections, as it were, Three-Dimensional representations of his Four-Dimensioned being, which is a fixed and unalterable thing.
"Scientific people," proceeded the Time Traveller, after the pause required for the proper assimilation of this, "know very well that Time is only a kind of Space. Here is a popular scientific diagram, a weather record. This line I trace with my finger shows the movement of the barometer. Yesterday it was so high, yesterday night it fell, then this morning it rose again, and so gently upward to here. Surely the mercury did not trace this line in any of the dimensions of Space generally recognized? But certainly it traced such a line, and that line, therefore, we must conclude was along the Time-Dimension."
"But," said the Medical Man, staring hard at a coal in the fire, "if Time is really only a fourth dimension of Space, why is it, and why has it always been, regarded as something different? And why cannot we move in Time as we move about in the other dimensions of Space?"
The Time Traveller smiled. "Are you sure we can move freely in Space? Right and left we can go, backward and forward freely enough, and men always have done so. I admit we move freely in two dimensions. But how about up and down? Gravitation limits us there."
"Not exactly," said the Medical Man. "There are balloons."
"But before the balloons, save for spasmodic jumping and the inequalities of the surface, man had no freedom of vertical movement."
"Still they could move a little up and down," said the Medical Man.
"Easier, far easier down than up."
"And you cannot move at all in Time, you cannot get away from the present moment."
"My dear sir, that is just where you are wrong. That is just where the whole world has gone wrong. We are always getting away from the present movement. Our mental existences, which are immaterial and have no dimensions, are passing along the Time-Dimension with a uniform velocity from the cradle to the grave. Just as we should travel down if we began our existence fifty miles above the earth's surface."
"But the great difficulty is this," interrupted the Psychologist. "You can move about in all directions of Space, but you cannot move about in Time."
"That is the germ of my great discovery. But you are wrong to say that we cannot move about in Time. For instance, if I am recalling an incident very vividly I go back to the instant of its occurrence: I become absent-minded, as you say. I jump back for a moment. Of course we have no means of staying back for any length of Time, any more than a savage or an animal has of staying six feet above the ground. But a civilized man is better off than the savage in this respect. He can go up against gravitation in a balloon, and why should he not hope that ultimately he may be able to stop or accelerate his drift along the Time-Dimension, or even turn about and travel the other way?"
"Oh, this," began Filby, "is all---"
"Why not?" said the Time Traveller.
"It's against reason," said Filby.
"What reason?" said the Time Traveller.
"You can show black is white by argument," said Filby, "but you will never convince me."
"Possibly not," said the Time Traveller. "But now you begin to see the object of my investigations into the geometry of Four Dimensions. Long ago I had a vague inkling of a machine---"
"To travel through Time!" exclaimed the Very Young Man.
"That shall travel indifferently in any direction of Space and Time as the driver determines."
Filby contented himself with laughter.
"But I have experimental verification," said the Time Traveller.
"It would be remarkably convenient for the historian," the Psychologist suggested. "One might travel back and verify the accepted account of the Battle of Hastings, for instance!"
"Don't you think you would attract attention?" said the Medical Man. "Our ancestors had no great tolerance for anachronisms."
"One might get one's Greek from the very lips of Homer and Plato," the Very Young Man thought.
"In which case they would certainly plough you for the Little-go. The German Scholars have improved Greek so much."
"Then there is the future," said the Very Young Man. "Just think! One might invest all one's money, leave it to accumulate at interest, and hurry on ahead!"
"To discover a society," said I, "erected on a strictly communistic basis."
"Of all the wild extravagant theories!" began the Psychologist.
"Yes, so it seemed to me, and so I never talked of it until---"
"Experimental verification!" cried I. "You are going to verify that?"
"The experiment!" cried Filby, who was getting brain-weary.
"Let's see your experiment anyhow," said the Psychologist, "though it's all humbug, you know."
The Time Traveller smiled round at us. Then, still smiling faintly, and with his hands deep in his trousers pockets, he walked slowly out of the room, and we heard his slippers shuffling down the long passage to his laboratory.
The Psychologist looked at us. "I wonder what he's got?"
"Some sleight-of-hand trick or other," said the Medical Man, and Filby tried to tell us about a conjurer he had seen at Burslem; but before he had finished his preface the Time Traveller came back, and Filby's anecdote collapsed.
The thing the Time Traveller held in his hand was a glittering metallic framework, scarcely larger than a small clock, and very delicately made. There was ivory in it, and some transparent crystalline substance. And now I must be explicit, for this that follows--unless his explanation is to be accepted-is an absolutely unaccountable thing. He took one of the small octagonal tables that were scattered about the room, and set it in front of the fire, with two legs on the hearthrug. On this table he placed the mechanism. Then he drew up a chair, and sat down. The only other object on the table, was a small shaded lamp, the bright light of which fell upon the model. There were also perhaps a dozen candles about, two in brass candlesticks upon the mantel and several in sconces, so that the room was brilliantly illuminated. I sat in a low arm-chair nearest the fire, and I drew this forward so as to be almost between the Time Traveller and the fire-place. Filby sat behind him, looking over his shoulder. The Medical Man and the Provincial Mayor watched him in profile from the right, the Psychologist from the left. The Very Young Man stood behind the Psychologist. We were all on the alert. It appears incredible to me that any kind of trick, however subtly conceived and however adroitly done, could have been played upon us under these conditions.
The Time Traveller looked at us, and then at the mechanism. "Well?" said the psychologist.
"This little affair," said the Time Traveller, resting his elbows upon the table and pressing his hands together above the apparatus, "is only a model. It is my plan for a machine to travel through time. You will notice that it looks singularly askew, and that there is an odd twinkling appearance about this bar, as though it was in some way unreal." He pointed to the part with his finger. "Also, here is one little white lever, and here is another."
The Medical Man got up out of his chair and peered into the thing. "It's beautifully made," he said.
"It took two years to make," retorted the Time Traveller. Then, when we had all imitated the action of the Medical Man, he said: "Now I want you clearly to understand that this lever, being pressed over, sends the machine gliding into the future, and this other reverses the motion. This saddle represents the seat of a time traveller. Presently I am going to press the lever, and off the machine will go. It will vanish, pass into future Time, and disappear. Have a good look at the thing. Look at the table too, and satisfy yourselves there is no trickery. I don't want to waste this model, and then be told I'm a quack."
There was a minute's pause perhaps. The Psychologist seemed about to speak to me, but changed his mind. Then the Time Traveller put forth his finger toward the lever. "No," he said suddenly. "Lend me your hand." And turning to the Psychologist, he took that individual's hand in his own and told him to put out his forefinger. So that it was the Psychologist himself who sent forth the model Time Machine on its interminable voyage. We all saw the lever turn. I am absolutely certain there was no trickery. There was a breath of wind, and the lamp flame jumped. One of the candles on the mantel was blown out, and the little machine suddenly swung round, became indistinct, was seen as a ghost for a second perhaps, as an eddy of faintly glittering brass and ivory; and it was gone--vanished! Save for the lamp the table was bare.
Everyone was silent for a minute. Then Filby said he was damned.
The Psychologist recovered from his stupor, and suddenly looked under the table. At that the Time Traveller laughed cheerfully. "Well?" he said, with a reminiscence of the Psychologist. Then, getting up, he went to the tobacco jar on the mantel, and with his back to us began to fill his pipe.
We stared at each other. "Look here," said the Medical Man, "are you in earnest about this? Do you seriously believe that that machine has travelled into time?"
"Certainly," said the Time Traveller, stooping to light a spill at the fire. Then he turned, lighting his pipe, to look at the Psychologist's face. (The Psychologist, to show that he was not unhinged, helped himself to a cigar and tried to light it uncut.) "What is more, I have a big machine nearly finished in there"--he indicated the laboratory--"and when that is put together I mean to have a journey on my own account."
"You mean to say that that machine has travelled into the future?" said Filby.
"Into the future or the past--I don't, for certain, know which."
After an interval the Psychologist had an inspiration. "It must have gone into the past if it has gone anywhere," he said.
"Why?" said the Time Traveller.
"Because I presume that it has not moved in space, and if it travelled into the future it would still be here all this time, since it must have travelled through this time."
"But," I said, "if it travelled into the past it would have been visible when we came first into this room; and last Thursday when we were here; and the Thursday before that; and so forth!"
"Serious objections," remarked the Provincial Mayor, with an air of impartiality, turning towards the Time Traveller.
"Not a bit," said the Time Traveller, and, to the Psychologist: "You think. You can explain that. It's presentation below the threshold, you know, diluted presentation."
"Of course," said the Psychologist, and reassured us. "That's a simple point of psychology. I should have thought of it. It's plain enough, and helps the paradox delightfully. We cannot see it, nor can we appreciate this machine, any more than we can the spoke of a wheel spinning, or a bullet flying through the air. If it is travelling through time fifty times or a hundred times faster than we are, if it gets through a minute while we get through a second, the impression it creates will of course be only one-fiftieth or one-hundredth of what it would make if it were not travelling in time. That's plain enough." He passed his hand through the space in which the machine had been. "You see?" he said, laughing.
We sat and stared at the vacant table for a minute or so. Then the Time Traveller asked us what we thought of it all.
"It sounds plausible enough to-night," said the Medical Man; "but wait until to-morrow. Wait for the common sense of the morning."
"Would you like to see the Time Machine itself?" asked the Time Traveller. And therewith, taking the lamp in his hand, he led the way down the long, draughty corridor to his laboratory. I remember vividly the flickering light, his queer, broad head in silhouette, the dance of the shadows, how we all followed him, puzzled but incredulous, and how there in the laboratory we beheld a larger edition of the little mechanism which we had seen vanish from before our eyes. Parts were of nickel, parts of ivory, parts had certainly been filed or sawn out of rock crystal. The thing was generally complete, but the twisted crystalline bars lay unfinished upon the bench beside some sheets of drawings, and 1 took one up for a better look at it. Quartz it seemed to be.
"Look here," said the Medical Man, "are you perfectly serious? Or is this a trick--like that ghost you showed us last Christmas?"
"Upon that machine," said the Time Traveller, holding the lamp aloft, "I intend to explore time. Is that plain? I was never more serious in my life."
None of us quite knew how to take it.
I caught Filby's eye over the shoulder of the Medical Man, and he winked at me solemnly.
All new material in this edition is Copyright 1986 by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
Excerpted from The Time Machine by Wells, H. G. Copyright © 1992 by Wells, H. G.. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Meet the Author
Herbert George Wells was born in Bromley, Kent, England, on September 21, 1866. His father was a professional cricketer and sometime shopkeeper, his mother a former lady’s maid. Although “Bertie” left school at fourteen to become a draper’s apprentice (a life he detested), he later won a scholarship to the Normal School of Science in London, where he studied with the famous Thomas Henry Huxley. He began to sell articles and short stories regularly in 1893. In 1895, his immediately successful novel The Time Machine rescued him from a life of penury on a schoolteacher’s salary. His other “scientific romances”—The Island of Dr. Moreau (1896), The Invisible Man (1897), The War of the Worlds (1898), The First Men in the Moon (1901), and The War in the Air (1908)—won him distinction as the father of science fiction. Henry James saw in Wells the most gifted writer of the age, but Wells, having coined the phrase “the war that will end war” to describe World War I, became increasingly disillusioned and focused his attention on educating mankind with his bestselling Outline of History (1920) and his later utopian works. Living until 1946, Wells witnessed a world more terrible than any of his imaginative visions, and he bitterly observed: “Reality has taken a leaf from my book and set itself to supercede me.”
Greg Bear’s novels and stories have appeared in more than twenty languages worldwide and have won numerous prizes, including two Hugos, five Nebulas, and the Prix Apollo. His novels include Darwin’s Radio (winner of the Nebula and Endeavor awards), Darwin’s Children, Vitals, Blood Music, Eon, Queen of Angels, and Moving Mars. He has served as a consultant and a lecturer on space and defense policy, biotechnology and bioterrorism, multimedia entertainment, and Internet issues.
Simon J. James is Professor of Victorian Literature at the Department of English Studies, Durham University. He is the editor of The Wellsian, the peer-reviewed scholarly journal of the H.G. Wells Society. He has edited four H.G. Wells novels for the Penguin Classics, as well as George Gissing’s Charles Dickens: A Critical Study. James is the author of Maps of Utopia: H.G. Wells, Modernity and the End of Culture and Unsettled Accounts: Money and Narrative Form in the Novels of George Gissing.
- Date of Birth:
- September 21, 1866
- Date of Death:
- August 13, 1946
- Place of Birth:
- Bromley, Kent, England
- Place of Death:
- London, England
- Normal School of Science, London, England
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
See all customer reviews
H G Wells has awakened the world with his art of tale through the travel of time. He is the inspiration of every time travel writer in existence today, with no exception, myself included. Along with great classics like Twenty-thousand Leagues Under the Sea, I remember the first time reading these classics. I was in awe. Though time travel, a genre given life by H G Wells is the ultimate epic sci-fi adventure. The very idea of time travel has opened the eyes of every imagination in my soul. The ramifications are endless. H G Well's Time Machine is my favorite, all time story. Even when you think of how the future looked as grim as it did thousands of years from the story-line's origination, one only needs to remember that this tale is merely one possiblity of billions that could be changed with a simple act of maybe a push of a button or even less. I believe THAT was the message Wells was revealing to us all. This is a very well written story that I highly recommend to anyone of any age or time. This very book was my biggest inspiration since I was first able to read.
this was a interesting book but i am not that interested in science. there were parts in the book that were very interesting and had a great climax. i recommend this book for someone who likes science and mystery.
Have you read any other time travel books? Ever? Thanks to this wonderful author and seer we have unlimited stories of time travel via many fantastic authors. Time travel is the subject of much controversy, and no doubt will be until we prove Albert Einstein wrong. I like sci-fi, that's why I picked up the book back when I was kid. Today, the subject still fascinates me. The time machine is well written, opening the door for an endless line of sci-fi lovers with open minds for imagination.
I feel like i'm sitting by a campfire listening to his story. And a.. good one at that. Cant wait to finish
this book is inspiaring and one of the most wonderful books ever written.
The Time Machine tells us of the future and how it can be drastically different than how we may predict it to be. Many people talk of flying cars and robots, but the Time Traveler sees something different. The Time Traveler is the main character in the book and has figured out how to build a time machine. When he tells this to his friends they do not believe him. To show them that it works, he ventures to the year 802,701.He arrives there and finds that humans have evolved in two different ways. There is a lower class called the Morlocks. These people are nocturnal and ape-like. They live underground and appear to be more barbaric than the Eloi. The Eloi are the upper class of people. They live similar to how we live now - in houses and above ground. Both of the species speak odd languages, so it is difficult for the Time Traveler to communicate with them. When the Morlocks steal the Time Travelers time machine, he has to get it back from them. While attempting to get it back he learns many things of the two classes, and he wonders what went wrong with the world. He makes a friend along the way named Weena, who is an Eloi. When he finally gets the time machine back he travels back to the present time, but his friends still do not believe him. The Time Traveler must go back to the future to prove it, but this time he says he will take pictures. Three years had gone by since then, and his friends still had not seen him. The major theme in this book is the problems of the current day. H.G. Wells makes the point that the gap between the upper-class and lower-class is too expansive, and if we don't do anything about it then we will one day evolve into two different species. This book was written during the Victorian times in Great Britain. I think H.G. Wells may have been relating that Communism was a safer path at the time, and he expressed his feeling about it in the book by warning people of what could happen. I disliked this book because I feel like the author could have made the book longer by telling what happened to the Time Traveler after he went back into the future and at least gave the reader an idea of what happened. It almost seemed like he didn't finish the book. On the other hand, I liked this book because it is entertaining to think about what the future could be like and all the different possibilities. I also liked it because it was paced very well, and there was the right amount of action. I think that you should read this book because it is very entertaining and it is a classic.
I found The Time Traveler a little boring, but not horrible. It is about the Time Traveller, and how he travels to the future and meets the playful creatures he calls the Eloi, and the frightening Morlocks, who are obsessed with mechanics and eat the Eloi. While the Time Traveller is observing the Eloi, the Morlocks steal the time machine, the only way of escape for the Time Traveller. If you think this sounds like a good book, don't let my opinion discourage you from reading it. While I didn't like it, many people I know really loved this book. I think it is one of those books where you either really like it or really don't. If you like science and are not easily confused you should really give this a shot.
This book was my first of inspiration to the theory of time travel. I love the story, the adventure, and the possibility of what could happen if time could, in fact, be manipulated and folded...HG Wells is truly the pioneer of the subject. The book is fantastic, a must read.
Great story very gripping
This was an interesting book. I would recommend this book to anyone 8+ who likes action, mystery & mechanics. I am just suprised that this book was so cheap. Best book I have ever read.
I liked this book very good
What a great book
I love this book
I'm not a big fan of science fiction but the Time Machine by H.G. Wells has to be one of the gratest books I've read. In this book Wells talks about the fourth dimension known as time. The story of the book comes told by the Time Traveler and how he has been working on a time machine and how he gets it to work. He then goes to tell all about his travels. I would recomend this book to anybody I know who doesn't like reading or science. This is once of those books that can get the wheels turning inside somebody's head that they actually do like reading and that they were just reading the wrong type of books. The Time Machine will leave you staying up late just to finish one chapter after the next. It's one of those type of books where you can't put them down.
Interesting plot of the future, the way he interprets time was intriguing and new. Wells goes into great detail (without boring you) and really makes you visualize what hes saying. The ending i think could ve had more excitement or ended abruptly.
I think its a good book and so far fun to read
The first chapter was a bit slow and disjointed but I am glad I stayed with it Wells is a gifted writer who can tell a good story and make you stop and think at the same time
As soon as I finished, I only had one wish: if only it was longer. It was undeniably well written, and an awesome read.
This is for a book review section not facebook quit using this as a chat respond, its not!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But this book was good had a good plot.
H G Wells has always been one of my favorite scienc fiction authors. He doesn't compose thousedan-page novels because he doesn't need to. With The Time Machine he does just that. This short story grabbed me quick and wouldn't let me go! I loved his visions of the future and the detail he went to tell of it. I wasn't able to read his books as a kid but have always wanted to. Now that I finally have, I must admit, the hype was live up to. I would definitely recommend reading this short story if you'd like an intro to Wells, or just want another vision of the future. :)
I liked it way more than I thought I would.
Enjoyed reading!!' :)
Amazing book!!!!!! I was caught in the story within the first few pages
It was interesting but good
Good book read it