Open Road Media, $5.99
Sci-fi, 2020 (Reissue)
The Poison Belt is the second outing of Professor George Challenger, the man who makes mansplaining an Olympic sport. Set four years after The Lost World, this novella brings the whole gang back together for an oddly specific anniversary party—one where you’re asked to bring lots of oxygen. Yes, you read that right. No cake, no balloons, just good old O₂.
Professor Challenger, ever the life of the party, announces that by studying the Fraunhofer lines—which sound like something you’d need a monocle to even begin to understand—he’s deduced that Earth’s orbit is about to intersect with a “poison belt”.
Quick aside: Fraunhofer lines are dark lines in the solar spectrum caused by light absorption, basically space’s way of telling us what elements are hanging out in the sun’s atmosphere. Or, as Challenger would put it, “Science your tiny brain could never comprehend!”
The belt’s poisonous ether will kill off humanity but fear not! If the chosen few in Challenger’s living room huff enough oxygen, they’ll survive.
But here’s where things get delightfully absurd. If Challenger really expects to repopulate the Earth, you’d think he’d invite more people. Instead, it’s just his gang of mostly middle-aged men, his long-suffering wife, and—hilariously—zero concern for his servants, who are left to shuffle around the house blissfully unaware of their impending doom. Ah, the pious snobbery of the British upper class, where the apocalypse is BYOO (Bring Your Own Oxygen), and the staff are… expendable?
It’s hard to ignore the parallels between this story and Sir Doyle’s real-life fascination with spiritualism. Initially a skeptic, he eventually embraced the movement with the fervor of a convert, and The Poison Belt feels like a thinly veiled sermon. Through Challenger, Sir Doyle rails against the complacency and decadence of humanity, using the poison belt as a cosmic reset button to imagine a world more to his liking. It’s misanthropy with a splash of sci-fi, served on a silver platter of British superiority.
That said, Sir Doyle’s storytelling chops are undeniable. The novella is narrated by Edward Malone, who’s back as our everyman guide. His curiosity and occasional snark make him an excellent stand-in for the reader, especially when he’s not-so-subtly angling for a juicy scoop to boost his career.
The story itself, though largely confined to a single room with a lot of bickering, manages to maintain suspense and a touch of claustrophobic dread. It’s a testament to Doyle’s skill that he can make the end of the world feel both intimate and oddly cozy.
However, let’s address the elephant in the room—or rather, the lack of a real apocalypse. Sir Doyle pulls his punches at the end, turning what could have been an extinction-level event into a temporary hiccup. Did his publisher insist on this softer ending? Did Sir Doyle chicken out? Either way, it’s a bit of a letdown after all the doom-and-gloom buildup.
Still, The Poison Belt is a quick, engaging read. While it doesn’t hold a candle to The Lost World, it’s a fascinating exercise in apocalyptic storytelling, proving you can end the world without leaving your living room. Fans of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, old-school sci-fi, or just quirky tales of cosmic calamity should definitely give it a try. Just don’t forget your oxygen.
