Carbonnel on Even (2023)

Kevin Even takes readers on a refreshing tour of Jules Verne’s Voyages Extraordinaires, journeying from the well-charted waters of Vingt mille lieues sous les mers to less-explored territories such as Sans dessus dessous (1889), L’Invasion de la mer (1905), and Paris au XXe siècle—the latter rejected by Verne’s publisher Hetzel and published posthumously in 1994. This range of texts is complemented by Even’s effort to distinguish Verne’s voice from Hetzel’s editorial influence, revealing the author’s more nuanced stance toward progress and technology. This approach underpins Even’s central argument: that the Voyages Extraordinaires’ celebrated pedagogical mission coexisted—more than has been commonly acknowledged—with Verne’s more ambivalent stance toward humanity’s technological mastery over nature. In doing so, Even’s study contributes to the dismantling of the persistent mischaracterization of Verne as a univocal champion of technological progress and suggests that our contemporary ecological crisis can illuminate previously overlooked aspects of his work.

The opening chapter establishes historical context by examining how environmental awareness emerged in nineteenth-century France through observations of industrial degradation. Even shows how this consciousness developed within specific frameworks: colonial exploitation on the one hand, as after physiocrats, “les administrateurs coloniaux ont été parmi les premiers à interroger les logiques capitalistes menaçant la pérennité des territoires colonisés” (25), while on the other hand, industrial urbanization raised concerns about public health and living conditions: “la sensibilisation du public aux questions environnementales est rendue possible par les vulgarisateurs scientifiques et par les politiques d’assainissement.” (30)

Building on these insights, Even shows in chapter two that while scholars have long noted how Verne combines geographic and scientific precision with poetic description, Verne’s descriptions of nature also serve as mirrors for revealing human hubris. Even first situates Verne’s environmental protection ethic within his republican moral framework—one that cautions against unchecked ambition and celebrates measured progress over dangerous excess—before offering a welcome reminder that machines often appear suspect in Vernian novels: “Qu’elles servent à l’industrie ou à la découverte, elles sont au mieux des inventions égalant imparfaitement les créations de la nature, au pire un moyen de la souiller.” (58)

Moving beyond broader environmental themes, the third chapter takes us underground into a Scottish coal mine and delves into the specter of resource depletion through Verne’s lesser-known work Les Indes noires (1877). Verne, Even argues, weaves Gothic and fantastic literary traditions into a narrative that probes concerns about coal resource depletion: “Poursuivant sa mission éducative, [Verne] décrit avec attention l’activité minière, mais ces informations ne servent pas qu’à détailler le fonctionnement de la houillère, elles soulignent aussi l’épuisement des sols. Présentée comme un corps exsangue, la mine abandonnée sert de point de depart à une representation sinistre des paysages exploités ainsi qu’à des commentaires sur l’avidité industrielle […]” (80). 

Shifting from resource exhaustion to more apocalyptic visions, the fourth chapter presents one of the work’s most compelling sections, exploring eschatological themes in Verne’s writing against the backdrop of the century’s eschatological preoccupations: “À cette époque, des récits profanes et des textes scientifiques s’emparent de la question [de l’Apocalypse] et l’éloignent de la prophétie religieuse. La certitude que l’humanité est vouée à connaître de grands bouleversements reste intacte, mais les inquiétudes démographiques, les recherches cosmologiques […], le perfectionnement technologique […] ainsi que les découvertes de Charles Darwin renouvellent l’imaginaire eschatologique […] Ajoutons que l’instabilité chronique de la France depuis la Révolution favorise les discours alarmistes.” (100) Even convincingly resituates Les Voyages Extraordinaires within the century’s literary apocalyptic “trend”—including but not limited to Grainville’s Le Dernier Homme (1805) and Mary Shelley’s response novel The Last Man (1826). As Even shows, Verne participated in the century’s broader secularization of apocalyptic narratives while maintaining—unsurprisingly given his young readership—a measured approach to global catastrophe.

Following these harbingers of civilizational collapse, chapter five turns to climate modification and resource exploitation through Sans dessus dessous (1889), where American industrialists attempt to alter the Earth’s axis with a giant cannon shot, hoping to transform the Arctic into a coal mining paradise. Even reads this novel as an early example of climate fiction, not only anticipating current debates on climate geoengineering Arctic resource exploitation but also offering a prescient insight on how the “Anthropos” of the Anthropocene represents not humanity as a whole but rather a small group driven by profit motives. Particularly interesting is Even’s exploration of Verne’s little-known play Voyage à travers l’impossible (1882), as well as how Sans dessus dessous engages with the work of French astronomer Camille Flammarion, particularly his treatise La pluralité des mondes habités (1865).

Concluding this journey through Verne’s environmental consciousness, the final chapter turns to L'Invasion de la mer (1905), which follows a French colonial project to create an inland sea in the Sahara, pitting French colonizers against local Tuareg people resisting the destruction of their lands. For Even, the novel’s interweaving of colonial and environmental issues makes it particularly relevant to contemporary Anthropocene discussions.

Although the work challenges many conventional readings of Verne, it adheres to the standard periodization that places his turn toward pessimism around 1880—despite evidence in Even’s own analysis of earlier novels pointing to an earlier shift. Beyond this chronological question, the work's engagement with environmental themes opens valuable paths for dialogue with eco-critical scholarship, particularly in sharpening our understanding of what constituted—and constitutes—“la question environnementale.” Ultimately, Even’s book stands out for its remarkable accessibility and its careful contextualizing of specialized terminology and theoretical concepts. It offers an engaging read that will appeal to both specialists of and newcomers to Vernian scholarship, and will be especially welcomed by educators seeking to present Verne’s work through the lens of contemporary environmental concerns, offering a fresh alternative to traditional readings. Unlike the energetic resources that preoccupied Verne and his contemporaries, we have not yet exhausted the possibilities for reading and rediscovering the Voyages Extraordinaires—and Even’s study is a testament to it.