I just finished The Island of Doctor Moreau by H.G. Wells (free at Amazon). I must say, how freaking terrifying! Edward Prendick gets stranded on a seemingly deserted island, but is actually some sinister laboratory for the infamous Dr. Moreau’s crazy experiments. At first it seems like Moreau is experimenting on humans, but what he’s actually doing is dissecting and vivisecting animals with one another to make them “more human”. This insane obsession with creating humans is pretty horrifying; it’s like a perverse version of our world, and he’s an awful and careless God who makes animals for his own edification.
Before, they had been beasts, their instincts fitly adapted to their surroundings, and happy as living things may be. Now they stumbled in the shackles of humanity, lived in a fear that never died, fretted by a law they could not understand; their mock-human experience, begun in an agony, was one long internal struggle, one long dread of Moreau – and for what? It was the wantonness of it that stirred me. (Location 1164)
What’s scary about this is… doesn’t that sound horrifyingly familiar? Sometimes, in times of crisis or chaos it feels somehow that we’re only living a mock-human experience, like we’re always on the verge of reverting to our animalistic ways. And who’s to say that God did create us lovingly, with a purpose and order of life? We’d like to believe it, but this all sort of us makes you wonder whether we’re as special and intelligent as we think we are.
An excellent read, but scary as anything!