Mark Twain’s Adventures Of Huckleberry Finn (1884)

Samuel Lang­horne Clemens (1835–1910) was of course the great Amer­i­can writer and humourist bet­ter known by the pseu­do­nym Mark Twain, and laud­ed as the father of Amer­i­can lit­er­a­ture. His nov­els include The Adven­tures of Tom Sawyer (1876) and its sequel, Adven­tures of Huck­le­ber­ry Finn (1884) as well as A Con­necti­cut Yan­kee in King Arthur’s Court (1889) and Pud­d’n­head Wil­son (1894). The lat­ter nov­el I had on my book­shelf as a boy although I must admit I don’t remem­ber read­ing it; Adven­tures of Huck­le­ber­ry Finn, on the oth­er hand, was a sta­ple of my gen­er­a­tion that every­one read.

Clemens used a litany of pen names: before “Mark Twain” he had writ­ten as “Thomas Jef­fer­son Snod­grass”, “Sieur Louis de Con­te”, “John Snook” and even just “Josh”. There are a num­ber of com­pet­ing the­o­ries about the pseu­do­nym he con­clu­sive­ly decid­ed to adopt, my favourite being the river­boat call from his days work­ing on steam­boats: “by the mark, twain” (refer­ring to sound­ing a depth of two fath­oms, which was just safe enough for a steam­boat trav­el­ling down the Mis­sis­sip­pi). How­ev­er, anoth­er the­o­ry talks about his keep­ing a reg­u­lar tab open at his local saloon and call­ing the bar­tender to “mark twain” on the black­board, and I get the impres­sion that he enjoyed the spec­u­la­tion and nev­er con­clu­sive­ly con­firmed one or the oth­er.

He was raised in Han­ni­bal, Mis­souri, which lat­er pro­vid­ed the set­ting for both Tom Sawyer and Huck­le­ber­ry Finn. In his ear­ly years he worked as a print­er and type­set­ter, and then, as men­tioned, a river­boat pilot on the Mis­sis­sip­pi Riv­er, before head­ing west to join his broth­er Ori­on in Neva­da to spec­u­late unsuc­cess­ful­ly in var­i­ous min­ing enter­pris­es. Final­ly, he turned to jour­nal­ism and writ­ing which soon won him suc­cess and praise from his crit­ics and peers, and led him to his true voca­tion.

Adven­tures of Huck­le­ber­ry Finn is writ­ten through­out in ver­nac­u­lar Eng­lish and told in the first per­son by Huck­le­ber­ry “Huck” Finn. The book comes across as an authen­tic por­tray­al of boy­hood and it is awash with colour­ful descrip­tions of peo­ple and places along the Mis­sis­sip­pi Riv­er. Set in a South­ern ante­bel­lum soci­ety marked by the preva­lent prac­tice of slav­ery and its asso­ci­at­ed soci­etal norms, it often makes for uncom­fort­able read­ing, but at the same time it is a scathing satire against the entrenched atti­tudes of those days. The nov­el explores themes of race and iden­ti­ty long before that was a phrase, but also what it means to be free and civilised in the chang­ing land­scape of Amer­i­ca.

Adven­tures of Huck­le­ber­ry Finn, 1st edi­tion
Mark Twain

Gene Roddenberry’s Star Trek (1966)

In the last blog, I wrote about Thomas More’s Utopia and the more gen­er­al area of utopi­an fic­tion and it occurs to me that this week’s top­ic, Gene Roddenberry’s sem­i­nal TV series Star Trek, itself falls square­ly into the genre of utopi­an fic­tion, albeit a far future one in which human­i­ty, hav­ing con­quered the stars, has also con­quered those quaint old divi­sions that char­ac­terised 1960s Amer­i­ca. The Enterprise’s crew of star sailors includes a Russ­ian, a Japan­ese and a black woman and no-one bats an eye­lid because it’s the 23rd cen­tu­ry and the Cold War, Hiroshi­ma, and racial seg­re­ga­tion are all mark­ers of a dis­tant past.

Star Trek first debuted in the US on 8th Sep­tem­ber 1966 but here in the UK it wasn’t until 12th July 1969 (just eight days before the Apol­lo 11 mis­sion to the moon) that this soon-to-be-huge pop-cul­ture phe­nom­e­non began air­ing on BBC One. It must have been a few years lat­er when it came upon my radar because I have no mem­o­ry of a black-and-white ver­sion and it wasn’t until about 1974 that we got a colour tel­ly. But boy, how they cap­i­talised on that new colour medi­um: bright gold, blue and red tunics abound­ed aboard the USS Enter­prise, whilst the numer­ous plan­ets they beamed down to, and aliens they encoun­tered, were also cap­tured in glo­ri­ous tech­ni­colour.

The con­cepts were mind-blow­ing­ly imag­i­na­tive, the sound effects reas­sur­ing­ly futur­is­tic (the back­ground com­put­er chat­ter on the bridge, the sound of a com­mu­ni­ca­tor flip­ping open, the swoosh of the auto­mat­ic doors, the fir­ing pf phasers, the mech­a­nisms of the trans­porter in full beam), and the sets were…well, lim­it­ed by the peri­od shall we say, but full marks for imag­i­na­tion.

The Enter­prise, as every­one knows, was a space explo­ration star­ship on a mis­sion to “explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civil­i­sa­tions; to bold­ly go where no man has gone before”. Led by the Cap­tain James T Kirk, First Offi­cer Spock and Chief Med­ical Offi­cer Leonard “Bones” McCoy, the crew also includ­ed lieu­tenants Sulu and Uhu­ra, ensign Chekov and of course, on the engi­neer­ing deck and respon­si­ble for all things engi­neer­ing (includ­ing beam­ing, shields, di-lithi­um crys­tals, and giv­ing her as much as he dare), was Mont­gomery “Scot­ty” Scott.

It spawned an immense­ly suc­cess­ful fran­chise, of course, with some­thing like eleven spin-off TV series and numer­ous fea­ture films, but it’s the orig­i­nal series that will always be the true Star Trek to me. Their week­ly mis­sions had me rapt from the moment Kirk kicked off each episode with an excerpt from his Captain’s Log, and below, for the sake of nos­tal­gia, are the open­ing and clos­ing cred­its of this icon­ic TV series.

Kirk and Spock