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Around the World in Eighty Days: Illustrated

Around the World in Eighty Days: Illustrated

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Around the World in Eighty Days: Illustrated

ratings:
4/5 (108 ratings)
Length:
284 pages
2 hours
Publisher:
Released:
Apr 3, 2015
ISBN:
9786155529542
Format:
Book

Description

The story starts in London on Tuesday, October 1, 1872. Fogg is a rich English gentleman and bachelor living in solitude at Number 7 Savile Row, Burlington Gardens. Despite his wealth, which is £40,000 (roughly £3,020,000 today), Fogg, whose countenance is described as "repose in action", lives a modest life with habits carried out with mathematical precision. Very little can be said about his social life other than that he is a member of the Reform Club. Having dismissed his former valet, James Foster, for bringing him shaving water at 84 °F (29 °C) instead of 86 °F (30 °C), Fogg hires a Frenchman by the name of Jean Passepartout, who is about 30 years old, as a replacement.


Later on that day, in the Reform Club, Fogg gets involved in an argument over an article in The Daily Telegraph, stating that with the opening of a new railway section in India, it is now possible to travel around the world in 80 days. He accepts a wager for £20,000 (roughly £1,510,000 today) from his fellow club members, which he will receive if he makes it around the world in 80 days. Accompanied by Passepartout, he leaves London by train at 8:45 P.M. on Wednesday, October 2, 1872, and thus is due back at the Reform Club at the same time 80 days later, Saturday, December 21, 1872.


Mr. Phileas Fogg lived, in 1872, at No. 7, Saville Row, Burlington Gardens, the house in which Sheridan died in 1814. He was one of the most noticeable members of the Reform Club, though he seemed always to avoid attracting attention; an enigmatical personage, about whom little was known, except that he was a polished man of the world. People said that he resembled Byron—at least that his head was Byronic; but he was a bearded, tranquil Byron, who might live on a thousand years without growing old.


Certainly an Englishman, it was more doubtful whether Phileas Fogg was a Londoner. He was never seen on 'Change, nor at the Bank, nor in the counting-rooms of the "City"; no ships ever came into London docks of which he was the owner; he had no public employment; he had never been entered at any of the Inns of Court, either at the Temple, or Lincoln's Inn, or Gray's Inn; nor had his voice ever resounded in the Court of Chancery, or in the Exchequer, or the Queen's Bench, or the Ecclesiastical Courts. He certainly was not a manufacturer; nor was he a merchant or a gentleman farmer. His name was strange to the scientific and learned societies, and he never was known to take part in the sage deliberations of the Royal Institution or the London Institution, the Artisan's Association, or the Institution of Arts and Sciences. He belonged, in fact, to none of the numerous societies which swarm in the English capital, from the Harmonic to that of the Entomologists, founded mainly for the purpose of abolishing pernicious insects.


Phileas Fogg was a member of the Reform, and that was all.
The way in which he got admission to this exclusive club was simple enough.
He was recommended by the Barings, with whom he had an open credit. His cheques were regularly paid at sight from his account current, which was always flush.


Was Phileas Fogg rich? Undoubtedly. But those who knew him best could not imagine how he had made his fortune, and Mr. Fogg was the last person to whom to apply for the information. He was not lavish, nor, on the contrary, avaricious; for, whenever he knew that money was needed for a noble, useful, or benevolent purpose, he supplied it quietly and sometimes anonymously. He was, in short, the least communicative of men. He talked very little, and seemed all the more mysterious for his taciturn manner. His daily habits were quite open to observation; but whatever he did was so exactly the same thing that he had always done before, that

Publisher:
Released:
Apr 3, 2015
ISBN:
9786155529542
Format:
Book

About the author

Murat Ukray, aynı zamanda yayıncılık da yapan yazar, 1976 yılında İstanbul'da doğdu. Üniversite'de Elektronik Mühendisliği okuduktan sonra, Yazarlık ve Yayıncılık hayatına atıldı. Yayınlanmış -16- kitabı vardır. Çöl Gezegen, Yazarın 16. Kitabıdır.Yazarın yayınlanmış diğer Kitapları:1- Kıyamet Gerçekliği (Kurgu Roman) (2006)2- Birleşik Alan Teorisi (Teori - Fizik & Matematik) (2007)3- İsevilik İşaretleri (Araştırma) (2008)4- Yaratılış Gerçekliği- 2 Cilt (Biyokimya Atlası)(2009)5- Aşk-ı Mesnevi (Kurgu Roman) (2010)6- Zamanın Sahipleri (Deneme) (2011)7- Hanımlar Rehberi (İlmihal) (2012)8- Eskilerin Masalları (Araştırma) (2013)9- Ruyet-ul Gayb (Haberci Rüyalar) (Deneme) (2014)10- Sonsuzluğun Sonsuzluğu (114 Kod) (Teori & Deneme) (2015)11- Kanon (Kutsal Kitapların Yeni Bir Yorumu) (Teori & Araştırma) (2016)12- Küçük Elisa (Zaman Yolcusu) (Çocuk Kitabı) (2017)13- Tanrı'nın Işıkları (Çölde Başlayan Hikaye) (Bilim-Kurgu Roman) (2018)14- Son Kehanet- 2 Cilt (Bilim-Kurgu Roman) (2019)15- Medusa'nın Sırrı (Bilim-Kurgu Roman) (2020)16- Çöl Gezegen (Bilim-Kurgu Roman) (2021)


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Around the World in Eighty Days - Murat Ukray

Chapter I

IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG AND PASSEPARTOUT ACCEPT EACH OTHER, THE ONE AS MASTER, THE OTHER AS MAN

Mr. Phileas Fogg lived, in 1872, at No. 7, Saville Row, Burlington Gardens, the house in which Sheridan died in 1814. He was one of the most noticeable members of the Reform Club, though he seemed always to avoid attracting attention; an enigmatical personage, about whom little was known, except that he was a polished man of the world. People said that he resembled Byron—at least that his head was Byronic; but he was a bearded, tranquil Byron, who might live on a thousand years without growing old.

Certainly an Englishman, it was more doubtful whether Phileas Fogg was a Londoner. He was never seen on 'Change, nor at the Bank, nor in the counting-rooms of the City; no ships ever came into London docks of which he was the owner; he had no public employment; he had never been entered at any of the Inns of Court, either at the Temple, or Lincoln's Inn, or Gray's Inn; nor had his voice ever resounded in the Court of Chancery, or in the Exchequer, or the Queen's Bench, or the Ecclesiastical Courts. He certainly was not a manufacturer; nor was he a merchant or a gentleman farmer. His name was strange to the scientific and learned societies, and he never was known to take part in the sage deliberations of the Royal Institution or the London Institution, the Artisan's Association, or the Institution of Arts and Sciences. He belonged, in fact, to none of the numerous societies which swarm in the English capital, from the Harmonic to that of the Entomologists, founded mainly for the purpose of abolishing pernicious insects.

Phileas Fogg was a member of the Reform, and that was all.

The way in which he got admission to this exclusive club was simple enough.

He was recommended by the Barings, with whom he had an open credit. His cheques were regularly paid at sight from his account current, which was always flush.

Was Phileas Fogg rich? Undoubtedly. But those who knew him best could not imagine how he had made his fortune, and Mr. Fogg was the last person to whom to apply for the information. He was not lavish, nor, on the contrary, avaricious; for, whenever he knew that money was needed for a noble, useful, or benevolent purpose, he supplied it quietly and sometimes anonymously. He was, in short, the least communicative of men. He talked very little, and seemed all the more mysterious for his taciturn manner. His daily habits were quite open to observation; but whatever he did was so exactly the same thing that he had always done before, that the wits of the curious were fairly puzzled.

Had he travelled? It was likely, for no one seemed to know the world more familiarly; there was no spot so secluded that he did not appear to have an intimate acquaintance with it. He often corrected, with a few clear words, the thousand conjectures advanced by members of the club as to lost and unheard-of travellers, pointing out the true probabilities, and seeming as if gifted with a sort of second sight, so often did events justify his predictions. He must have travelled everywhere, at least in the spirit.

It was at least certain that Phileas Fogg had not absented himself from London for many years. Those who were honoured by a better acquaintance with him than the rest, declared that nobody could pretend to have ever seen him anywhere else. His sole pastimes were reading the papers and playing whist. He often won at this game, which, as a silent one, harmonised with his nature; but his winnings never went into his purse, being reserved as a fund for his charities. Mr. Fogg played, not to win, but for the sake of playing. The game was in his eyes a contest, a struggle with a difficulty, yet a motionless, unwearying struggle, congenial to his tastes.

Phileas Fogg was not known to have either wife or children, which may happen to the most honest people; either relatives or near friends, which is certainly more unusual. He lived alone in his house in Saville Row, whither none penetrated. A single domestic sufficed to serve him. He breakfasted and dined at the club, at hours mathematically fixed, in the same room, at the same table, never taking his meals with other members, much less bringing a guest with him; and went home at exactly midnight, only to retire at once to bed. He never used the cosy chambers which the Reform provides for its favoured members. He passed ten hours out of the twenty-four in Saville Row, either in sleeping or making his toilet. When he chose to take a walk it was with a regular step in the entrance hall with its mosaic flooring, or in the circular gallery with its dome supported by twenty red porphyry Ionic columns, and illumined by blue painted windows. When he breakfasted or dined all the resources of the club—its kitchens and pantries, its buttery and dairy—aided to crowd his table with their most succulent stores; he was served by the gravest waiters, in dress coats, and shoes with swan-skin soles, who proffered the viands in special porcelain, and on the finest linen; club decanters, of a lost mould, contained his sherry, his port, and his cinnamon-spiced claret; while his beverages were refreshingly cooled with ice, brought at great cost from the American lakes.

If to live in this style is to be eccentric, it must be confessed that there is something good in eccentricity.

The mansion in Saville Row, though not sumptuous, was exceedingly comfortable. The habits of its occupant were such as to demand but little from the sole domestic, but Phileas Fogg required him to be almost superhumanly prompt and regular. On this very 2nd of October he had dismissed James Forster, because that luckless youth had brought him shaving-water at eighty-four degrees Fahrenheit instead of eighty-six; and he was awaiting his successor, who was due at the house between eleven and half-past.

Phileas Fogg was seated squarely in his armchair, his feet close together like those of a grenadier on parade, his hands resting on his knees, his body straight, his head erect; he was steadily watching a complicated clock which indicated the hours, the minutes, the seconds, the days, the months, and the years. At exactly half-past eleven Mr. Fogg would, according to his daily habit, quit Saville Row, and repair to the Reform.

A rap at this moment sounded on the door of the cosy apartment where Phileas Fogg was seated, and James Forster, the dismissed servant, appeared.

The new servant, said he.

A young man of thirty advanced and bowed.

You are a Frenchman, I believe, asked Phileas Fogg, and your name is John?

Jean, if monsieur pleases, replied the newcomer, Jean Passepartout, a surname which has clung to me because I have a natural aptness for going out of one business into another. I believe I'm honest, monsieur, but, to be outspoken, I've had several trades. I've been an itinerant singer, a circus-rider, when I used to vault like Leotard, and dance on a rope like Blondin. Then I got to be a professor of gymnastics, so as to make better use of my talents; and then I was a sergeant fireman at Paris, and assisted at many a big fire. But I quitted France five years ago, and, wishing to taste the sweets of domestic life, took service as a valet here in England. Finding myself out of place, and hearing that Monsieur Phileas Fogg was the most exact and settled gentleman in the United Kingdom, I have come to monsieur in the hope of living with him a tranquil life, and forgetting even the name of Passepartout.

Passepartout suits me, responded Mr. Fogg. You are well recommended to me; I hear a good report of you. You know my conditions?

Yes, monsieur.

Good! What time is it?

Twenty-two minutes after eleven, returned Passepartout, drawing an enormous silver watch from the depths of his pocket.

You are too slow, said Mr. Fogg.

Pardon me, monsieur, it is impossible—

You are four minutes too slow. No matter; it's enough to mention the error. Now from this moment, twenty-nine minutes after eleven, a.m., this Wednesday, 2nd October, you are in my service.

Phileas Fogg got up, took his hat in his left hand, put it on his head with an automatic motion, and went off without a word.

Passepartout heard the street door shut once; it was his new master going out. He heard it shut again; it was his predecessor, James Forster, departing in his turn. Passepartout remained alone in the house in Saville Row.

Chapter II

IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT IS CONVINCED THAT HE HAS AT LAST FOUND HIS IDEAL

Faith, muttered Passepartout, somewhat flurried, I've seen people at Madame Tussaud's as lively as my new master!

Madame Tussaud's people, let it be said, are of wax, and are much visited in London; speech is all that is wanting to make them human.

During his brief interview with Mr. Fogg, Passepartout had been carefully observing him. He appeared to be a man about forty years of age, with fine, handsome features, and a tall, well-shaped figure; his hair and whiskers were light, his forehead compact and unwrinkled, his face rather pale, his teeth magnificent. His countenance possessed in the highest degree what physiognomists call repose in action, a quality of those who act rather than talk. Calm and phlegmatic, with a clear eye, Mr. Fogg seemed a perfect type of that English composure which Angelica Kauffmann has so skilfully represented on canvas. Seen in the various phases of his daily life, he gave the idea of being perfectly well-balanced, as exactly regulated as a Leroy chronometer. Phileas Fogg was, indeed, exactitude personified, and this was betrayed even in the expression of his very hands and feet; for in men, as well as in animals, the limbs themselves are expressive of the passions.

He was so exact that he was never in a hurry, was always ready, and was economical alike of his steps and his motions. He never took one step too many, and always went to his destination by the shortest cut; he made no superfluous gestures, and was never seen to be moved or agitated. He was the most deliberate person in the world, yet always reached his destination at the exact moment.

He lived alone, and, so to speak, outside of every social relation; and as he knew that in this world account must be taken of friction, and that friction retards, he never rubbed against anybody.

As for Passepartout, he was a true Parisian of Paris. Since he had abandoned his own country for England, taking service as a valet, he had in vain searched for a master after his own heart. Passepartout was by no means one of those pert dunces depicted by Moliere with a bold gaze and a nose held high in the air; he was an honest fellow, with a pleasant face, lips a trifle protruding, soft-mannered and serviceable, with a good round head, such as one likes to see on the shoulders of a friend. His eyes were blue, his complexion rubicund, his figure almost portly and well-built, his body muscular, and his physical powers fully developed by the exercises of his younger days. His brown hair was somewhat tumbled; for, while the ancient sculptors are said to have known eighteen methods of arranging Minerva's tresses, Passepartout was familiar with but one of dressing his own: three strokes of a large-tooth comb completed his toilet.

It would be rash to predict how Passepartout's lively nature would agree with Mr. Fogg. It was impossible to tell whether the new servant would turn out as absolutely methodical as his master required; experience alone could solve the question. Passepartout had been a sort of vagrant in his early years, and now yearned for repose; but so far he had failed to find it, though he had already served in ten English houses. But he could not take root in any of these; with chagrin, he found his masters invariably whimsical and irregular, constantly running about the country, or on the look-out for adventure. His last master, young Lord Longferry, Member of Parliament, after passing his nights in the Haymarket taverns, was too often brought home in the morning on policemen's shoulders. Passepartout, desirous of respecting the gentleman whom he served, ventured a mild remonstrance on such conduct; which, being ill-received, he took his leave. Hearing that Mr. Phileas Fogg was looking for a servant, and that his life was one of unbroken regularity, that he neither travelled nor stayed from home overnight, he felt sure that this would be the place he was after. He presented himself, and was accepted, as has been seen.

At half-past eleven, then, Passepartout found himself alone in the house in Saville Row. He began its inspection without delay, scouring it from cellar to garret. So clean, well-arranged, solemn a mansion pleased him; it seemed to him like a snail's shell, lighted and warmed by gas, which sufficed for both these purposes. When Passepartout reached the second story he recognised at once the room which he was to inhabit, and he was well satisfied with it. Electric bells and speaking-tubes afforded communication with the lower stories; while on the mantel stood an electric clock, precisely like that in Mr. Fogg's bedchamber, both beating the same second at the same instant. That's good, that'll do, said Passepartout to himself.

He suddenly observed, hung over the clock, a card which, upon inspection, proved to be a programme of the daily routine of the house. It comprised all that was required of the servant, from eight in the morning, exactly at which hour Phileas Fogg rose, till half-past eleven, when he left the house for the Reform Club—all the details of service, the tea and toast at twenty-three minutes past eight, the shaving-water at thirty-seven minutes past nine, and the toilet at twenty minutes before ten. Everything was regulated and foreseen that was to be done from half-past eleven a.m. till midnight, the hour at which the methodical gentleman retired.

Mr. Fogg's wardrobe was amply supplied and in the best taste. Each pair of trousers, coat, and vest bore a number, indicating the time of year and season at which they were in turn to be laid out for wearing; and the same system was applied to the master's shoes. In short, the house in Saville Row, which must have been a very temple of disorder and unrest under the illustrious but dissipated Sheridan, was cosiness, comfort, and method idealised. There was no study, nor were there books, which would have been quite useless to Mr. Fogg; for at the Reform two libraries, one of general literature and the other of law and politics, were at his service. A moderate-sized safe stood in his bedroom, constructed so as to defy fire as well as burglars; but Passepartout found neither arms nor hunting weapons anywhere; everything betrayed the most tranquil and peaceable habits.

Having scrutinised the house from top to bottom, he rubbed his hands, a broad smile overspread his features, and he said joyfully, This is just what I wanted! Ah, we shall get on together, Mr. Fogg and I! What a domestic and regular gentleman! A real machine; well, I don't mind serving a machine.

Chapter III

IN WHICH A CONVERSATION TAKES PLACE WHICH SEEMS LIKELY TO COST PHILEAS FOGG DEAR

Phileas Fogg, having shut the door of his house at half-past eleven, and having put his right foot before his left five hundred and seventy-five times, and his left foot before his right five hundred and seventy-six times, reached the Reform Club, an imposing edifice in Pall Mall, which could not have cost less than three millions. He repaired at once to the dining-room, the nine windows of which open upon a tasteful garden, where the trees were already gilded with an autumn colouring; and took his place at the habitual table, the cover of which had already been laid for him. His breakfast consisted of a side-dish, a broiled fish with Reading sauce, a scarlet slice of roast beef garnished with mushrooms, a rhubarb and gooseberry tart, and a morsel of Cheshire cheese, the whole being washed down with several cups of tea, for which the Reform is famous. He rose at thirteen minutes to one, and directed his steps towards the large hall, a sumptuous apartment adorned with lavishly-framed paintings. A flunkey handed him an uncut Times, which he proceeded to cut with a skill which betrayed familiarity with this delicate operation. The perusal of this paper absorbed Phileas Fogg until a quarter before four, whilst the Standard, his next task, occupied him till the dinner hour. Dinner passed as breakfast had done, and Mr. Fogg re-appeared in the reading-room and sat down to the Pall Mall at twenty minutes before six. Half an hour later several members of the Reform came in and drew up to the fireplace, where a coal fire was steadily burning. They were Mr. Fogg's usual partners at whist: Andrew Stuart, an engineer; John Sullivan and Samuel Fallentin, bankers; Thomas Flanagan, a brewer; and Gauthier Ralph, one of the Directors of the Bank of England—all rich and highly respectable personages, even in a club which comprises the princes of English trade and finance.

Well, Ralph, said Thomas Flanagan, what about that robbery?

Oh, replied Stuart, the Bank will lose the money.

On the contrary, broke in Ralph, I hope we may put our hands on the robber. Skilful detectives have been sent to all the principal ports of America and the Continent, and he'll be a clever fellow if he slips through their fingers.

But have you got the robber's description? asked Stuart.

In the first place, he is no robber at all, returned Ralph, positively.

What! a fellow who makes off with fifty-five thousand pounds, no robber?

No.

Perhaps he's a manufacturer, then.

The Daily Telegraph says that he is a gentleman.

It was Phileas Fogg, whose head now emerged from behind his newspapers, who made this remark. He bowed to his friends, and entered into the conversation. The affair which formed its subject, and which was town talk, had occurred three days before at the Bank of England. A package of banknotes, to the value of fifty-five thousand pounds, had been taken from the principal cashier's table, that functionary being at the moment engaged in registering the receipt of three shillings and sixpence. Of course, he could not have

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  • (4/5)
    A fast-paced adventure dripped with cliches and humor - I listened to the audio read by Jim Dale and it was a lovely way to spend an afternoon.
  • (4/5)
    There's something rather charming and fantastic about this work, and in the way that Verne manages to bring to life characters in even such a fast-paced and simply told tale as this one. Certainly, the language is as dated as the narrative and the modes of transportation involved in Fogg's journey, but in an odd way, that feels to make it all the more fantastic and believable. Strange as that might be.I don't think I would have had the patience for this tale when I was younger, so I'm glad to have finally gotten around to it now. Certainly, I'd recommend it.
  • (5/5)
    In Around the World in 80 Days, Jules Verne's main character, Phileas Fogg, is presented with a challenge. To journey around the world, all in 80 days. Phileas' attitude towards the journey is naive, but his servant, Passepartout, is worrisome about the journey, and the various gains and losses of time on their schedule.The book takes you on a journey, around the world in 80 days, with the characters. I think that this book provides a great reading environment, as well as an overall experience. Many people have had the same as I have, therefore making this book a classic.
  • (3/5)
    excelent book to read i also wish to travel around the world but not only in eighty days
  • (3/5)
    It's Jules Verne. It's not fabulous - but it's not bad either. It was a fairly easy read. Nothing to rave about.
  • (5/5)
    I must admit that my motivation to read this book came from the book and TV series by Michael Palin (who attempted to go around the world in eighty days strangely enough in the 1980s). Palin’s journey was inspired by this classic.As you can probably guess, this book deals with Phileas Fogg’s attempt to go around the world in eighty days in the 1800s. Accompanied by his new but trusty servant, Passepartout, he leaves the Reform Club, London promising to return back in exactly eighty days. Armed with a book of timetables of ships and trains (as well as good luck), they begin their journey. However, Detective Fix is on Fogg’s trail, suspecting him of stealing from the Bank of England. Add to this a ride on an elephant, rescue of a young widow, a meeting with the Sioux and a circus troupe (not at the same time) and like Fogg, this book never stops. One thing you will learn is longitude and latitude in an important but fun way!I found this book fast paced and interesting. It read like a modern book to me, I had no problems with language or dreary bits. Fogg’s trip was interesting from both a cultural and historical perspective. Passepartout was just gorgeous with his devotion to Fogg and his journey.If you’ve never read a classic, I suggest you start with this one – it’s short and feels completely modern.
  • (3/5)
    Although I like the premise--going around the world. However, it felt more like Verne portraying England as amazing and everywhere else...not. This includes showing barbaric rituals and getting into fights as soon as he sets foot on US soil.

    I think that might be the only thing I got out of this book: England rocks, English colonies, better than non English colonies but not as good as England itself...and America...really lame.
  • (3/5)
    In what is a very odd case of cognitive dissonance, the plot of the Jackie Chan movie (which bears very little resemblance to the original here) actually makes more sense than the book. However, this is an entertaining travelogue with wacky characters and a crazy plot. Think of it as the "classics" version of a non-sensical thriller.
  • (2/5)
    The book "Around the World in 80 Days" by Jules Verne is a decent book. It is very slow in the beginning and has annoying old words. As the story progesses it gets a little better, but still not very good. The book is about a guy (Phileas Fogg) who bets he can make it around the world in 80 days. The book is just a boring account of the stuff he does. This book is very slow and boring and is not recommended to read unless you need to.
  • (4/5)
    A classic, with good reason. There was a certain amount of 'Deus ex machina', but it didn't detract from the enjoyment of the book. I found it interesting how Verne subtly brought up Phileas Fogg's despondency, at the end - it was a while before I clued in as to what Fogg was actually planning to do.While the story was delightful, I have a couple of quibbles with this particular edition:1. It doesn't say who the translator was; and2. I found at least 3 typos in the book. Proofreading!I chose this edition because it had interesting cover art and wasn't full of "book club" questions and endless commentary like most of the others - but the typos were disappointing, and omission of the translator's name baffling to say the least. Those things aside, the story was thoroughly enjoyable, and before I'd finished I was already wanting to read it again. Highly recommended - but try a different edition.
  • (4/5)
    This book was a tricky one to get my hands on. It was hiding in a box in my basement. Now its up in my room comfortably now that its been read. its was the story of an inventor from Britain, who teamed up with his faithful servant to circumnavigate the globe.I thought it was a great story line. Lots of change happens to the characters throughout the journey. THE BOOK IS MUCH MUCH MUCH MUCH BETTER THAN THE MOVIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
  • (4/5)
    Great fun to read, although the cover is incorrect (showing camels). Interesting to note because the Barnes and Noble book jackets talks about the "wrongness" of the balloon in the Fifties film version. Fast paced, full of action, and why did I not read it years ago!
  • (5/5)
    Reading this as an adult, I realise how oddly written it is. Most of it is told at such a high level that critical scenes are reported to the reader rather than shown. As a result the pace rips along. Sometimes I wanted Verne to slow down and give me more detail, but he never does; everything is sacrificed to pace. It's story story story and you're slightly isolated from the characters. Which is interesting because the characters are all isolated in some way by a lack of communication; Passepartout doesn't tell Fogg about Fix's true identity, Fix isn't who he says he is, Aouda doesn't tell Fogg about her feelings and Fogg hardly says a word to anyone. A most strange book and thoroughly enjoyable.
  • (2/5)
    It was a fun read, but the presentation of Mormons is completely inaccurate and misleading.
  • (5/5)
    (Reprinted from the Chicago Center for Literature and Photography [cclapcenter.com]. I am the original author of this essay, as well as the owner of CCLaP; it is not being reprinted illegally.)A couple of years ago, when I did a write-up of Jules Verne's 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea for the "CCLaP 100" essay series, I heard from a number of his fans that part of the reason I found it rather lackluster was because of the free but ancient translation I had read, and that Verne is one of those cases where it really pays to seek out and even purchase the most recent translations that you can find. And that's because it's only been in literally the last 20 or 30 years, since genre work has really started gaining academic respect, that we've even wanted to go back and explore the beginnings of things like science-fiction or crime novels, and to apply a scholarly eye to such original material; but for a century before that, the dozens of fantastical titles put out by someone like Verne were considered by most to be the literary version of throwaway kiddie shows, pumped out quickly and cheaply to soon part an adolescent from his allowance money at the corner drugstore on a Saturday afternoon, and usually translated on the fly by overworked copyeditors who could care less if they were successfully capturing the subtleties of the original text.So I was glad to recently come across Amazing Journeys: Five Visionary Classics by Jules Verne, a new collection of some of his most famous novels, edited and translated by the quite obvious slavish fan and full-time scholar Frederick Paul Walter, put out in a plain but professional oversized edition and containing all the books' original illustrations. And indeed, as I learned while reading through these 'Anglicized' new translations (i.e. they feature standard measurements and Fahrenheit temperatures), Verne's work at its best contained a kind of dry humor and political awareness that we in the English-speaking world rarely equate with the French speculative pioneer, with dialogue that's not nearly as histrionic as we've come to think of it in books like these, which to be fair really were pumped out originally on a fairly quick basis mostly for the amusement of children and the working class, a series of 54 novels known as the "Extraordinary Voyages" that publisher Jules Hetzel built an entire little commercial empire around, and just like today with most of the duo's revenue coming not from the books themselves but rather the lucrative traveling stage adaptations that were often made of them. And in fact, a full reading of Verne's entire oeuvre remains a personal challenge that I will only tackle much later in life if at all, so I decided not to read even the full five tales collected here, and especially like I said since I had already read 20,000 Leagues and didn't relish the thought of slogging through the entire thing again.So instead I read just two of the titles in this collection, starting with 1864's Journey to the Center of the Earth, one of Verne's first speculative tales after first being an opera librettist for years, while lying to his father the whole time and claiming that he was establishing a fine career in Paris as a young urban lawyer. And indeed, this early thriller shows off what I consider one of the modern main weaknesses of Verne's work, no matter how good the translation; that many of the fanciful scientific theories he proposed in his books have turned out over the decades to be just flat-out wrong, which means that we no longer have the ability to enjoy his work in the same way his contemporary audience did. (Don't forget, readers in the 1800s thought of Verne not so much as a sci-fi author but more like Michael Crichton, a brilliant futurist writing day-after-tomorrow tales about what life would really be like for their children.) Essentially the tale of an eccentric German professor, his nephew assistant and their silent Icelandic guide, as they literally climb down a volcano and discover a vast continent-sized system of caves below the Earth's surface, complete with their own bodies of water and rainclouds, it's hard not to roll one's eyes when watching our heroes stumble across forgotten dinosaurs and house-sized mushrooms, or ride a lava eruption back out to the surface at the end as if they were Victorian surfers; although the story definitely has its charms as well, especially when thinking of it now as pure fairytale fantasy, and with there being lots to enjoy in the cartoonish stereotypes that come with each of our various characters.Ah, but then after that, I skipped straight to the last story in this collection, and undoubtedly the most famous of Verne's career as well, 1873's Around the World in Eighty Days, which has been made into high-profile films several times now over the years, and which turned out to be a much better reading experience. Basically a gentle satire of British stiff-upper-lip determinism in the height of their Empire years, it starts with a group of upper-class gentlemen at a private London club discussing the latest innovations in world travel, with the reclusive and unflappable Phileas Fogg quietly insisting to his peers that a globe-spanning trip could now be realistically accomplished in a flat 80 days, even wagering what today would be two million dollars on the deal and agreeing to leave on such a journey that very night, armed with nothing but an overnight bag and his loyal French butler. And thus starts a rollicking adventure that indeed takes us around the world, spiced up by a British P.I. in Raj India who mistakes Fogg for a fugitive bank robber and tries to trip up his plans the whole rest of the way, and with the incredible journey involving such details as an elephant ride across central Asia, a sudden alliance with Chinese acrobats, a deliberately planned mutiny on a British sea vessel, a shootout with Native Americans on a train ride across the American Midwest, and a whole lot more. (Although let it be noted that the original book features no hot-air balloons, an invention of Hollywood that has become a famous trope of its own by now.)And in fact, I'm sure that a big reason why this succeeds so much more than Journey to the Center of the Earth is that, unlike the outdated speculative nature of the former, Eighty Days is a faithful and now historical look at just what it was like to really pull off world travel in the late 1800s, the first time in history it became commercially viable for anyone besides pirates and explorers to even do so. (And indeed, just a year before Verne wrote his novel, Thomas Cook led history's very first trip around the world designed specifically for tourists, only in their case taking seven months to complete instead of Verne's three.) And that makes the book charming and fascinating instead of eye-rolling, and especially when adding Verne's astutely funny comments regarding imperial aspirations, and of the self-satisfyingly civilized way the British liked to think of themselves during the height of the Victorian Age. (Unlike his reputation in later movies, much of the humor in the original book comes from the conservative, adventure-hating Fogg maintaining such complete composure in the face of such globetrotting chaos, spending the majority of his 80-day trip not enjoying the scenery but playing an endless series of card games with his fellow steamship and railroad passengers.) And that's a delight to read about even today, no matter how dated the actual mechanics of the story itself. (And in fact, gonzo journalists have been recreating the trip in a period-faithful way almost since the publication of the book itself, from an 1889 newspaper reporter to most recently comedian Michael Palin, just a few years ago for a BBC television mini-series.)So it was nice, I admit, to see what all these Verne fans were talking about, as far as the surprising loveliness of his original texts, that for so long have been hidden from us English speakers by shoddy translations; but also like I said, I'm not sure just how much of a general interest I have in Verne even with the new translations, making a sampler like this nearly perfect for the casual fan. It comes highly recommended, but be prepared for it to be one of those volumes you read in little doses here and there for years to come.Out of 10: 9.1
  • (3/5)
    This novel is light and entertaining for the most part. A delightful romp around the world, some fantastical adventures, all in the company of Philias Fogg and his valet, Passepartout. Let's see, a maiden snatched from being sacrificed, opium dens in China, daring adventures with Indians in the United States......quite a busy journey. The characters are all stereotyped by ethnicity, even if tongue-in-cheek, and the end was predictable from almost the beginning. It was okay.
  • (5/5)
    Phileas Fogg is that among that special breed of eccentric British men that were such a fixture of Victorian England. At his club he is challenged to race around the world in 80 days -- in an era where transportation was a scosh...unreliable. Accompanied by his incredibly resourceful servant Passepartout he accepts the challenge. The book chronicles his adventures. It's a remarkable journey full of action, suspense, and absurd comedy. And of course, that comical Vistorian xenophobia -- though doubtless it is more humorous for the reader than it was in international business relationships. Focused on his goal, and only his goal, Fogg does his level best to bring England with him, and not experience even a trace of other cultures. That alone is worth the price of admission.
  • (5/5)
    I can't even begin to count the number of times I've read this book. Every time the adventure is just as fresh and fun and I still hold my breath waiting to see if he'll make it in time. It's a classic for good reason.
  • (5/5)
    A version of Around the World in 80 Days done as a French language textbook reader with English introduction and notes. Useful for someone like me who loves the story and has only moderate skill in French
  • (2/5)
    Probably a good book for kids, but reading it for the first time as an adult it really doesn't do it. It is SO cartoonish and the characters so outlandish that I stopped after about 40 pages.
  • (3/5)
    A very fun Victorian adventure - with all the baggage that entails. It's a cliché, but I do wish that I had read this earlier or during a more stressful part of my life. As it was, I didn't really engage with it very well. While it was certainly well executed, I'm still kind of surprised that this one made it on to the 1001. Mostly because when I think of Jules Verne I think of science fiction and this is one of his least scientific works. Of course Verne himself spends this entire book praising the English when he was French. So nothing is quite what you expect.
  • (5/5)
    Around the World in 80 Days is Jules Verne’s classic adventure story. One evening at the Reform Club, Phileas Fogg “impulsively” bets his companions £20,000 that he can travel around the entire globe in just eighty days. Breaking the very well-established routine of his daily life (one could say compulsive), the Fogg immediately sets off for Dover, accompanied by his servant Passepartout. Travelling by train, steamship, sailing boat, sledge and even elephant, they must overcome storms, kidnappings, natural disasters, Sioux attacks and the dogged Inspector Fix of Scotland Yard - who believes that Fogg has robbed the Bank of England - to win the wager. The story is simple and fun, though for the modern reader one may be surprised by the bias of the main character—particularly towards the natives of India. In addition I found that the main character for me was Passepartout—a wonderfully funny character—who in many ways really saves the day. But in the end we also see the growth of the character Fogg, who begins to see the importance of friendship and love above his usual concerns of reserve and punctuality. He is willing to lose his bet in order to personally help a friend, and he doesn’t care about defeat because he has won the hand of the woman he loves. I actually listened to the novel being read by Jim Dale (of Harry Potter fame)—which made this novel even more enjoyable. 4 ½ out of 5 stars.
  • (3/5)
    I listened to the Librivox recording by Mark Smith, which I found to be acceptable but not great. He did a fairly uninflected narration, so some folks may like it better than I did.As for the book itself, it was a cross between an adventure story and a travel book. It moved quite quickly from place to place, but it never really captured me. I also missed the humor that I recall from the movie version of this story...
  • (4/5)
    Loved the audio for this - read by the wonderful Jim Dale. Such a great classic tale!
  • (5/5)
    I adore this book. It is so delightful. How is it I have never read this book until now? How is it that Jules Verne was, until now, only an author mentioned in Back to the Future that I'd never read?
  • (5/5)
    I really enjoyed this book. The prose has a lovely flow to it.
  • (2/5)
    At no point does Phileas Fogg or Passepartout get in an air balloon. Lies, all lies.
  • (3/5)
    Verne's tale of a 19th century Englishman's travels around the world is most notable for its depiction of local cultures now far gone. Often quaint, sometimes humorous and occasionally a bit too dated for the modern reader. Hardly a great work, but still a fun read.
  • (1/5)
    My high hopes for “Around the World in Eighty Days” were dashed in eight chapters or so.Having seen a film of this as a child, I expected a similar amount of fun and adventure, but instead I endured a tedious plot and unappealing characters.
  • (4/5)
    a great adventure story about one Englishman's journey around the world at a time when only train and ships were available as means of transport.