The Wonderful Visit — Edition Insights
Edition facts
For The Wonderful Visit — Edition Insights, the stored edition analysis reports 41,962 words, 3 hr 3 min estimated reading time, and 5 detected text sections.
The text analysis averages about 12.1 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.
Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.
Calculated from edition completeness, EPUB availability, text structure and catalogue metadata. Not a user rating.
How this score is calculated
- Description quality20 pts
- Title & short description10 pts
- Source metadata20 pts
- Text length15 pts
- Chapters / structure15 pts
- EPUB file integrity20 pts
Total of 100 points, scaled to a 2.5-5.0 range. Editions with an empty description or a missing EPUB file are not scored.
Read the Text
These were the first three eye-witnesses of the Strange Bird.
Now in these days one does not cower before the devil and one's own sinfulness, or see strange iridiscent wings in the light of dawn, and say nothing of it afterwards. The young solicitor's clerk told his mother and sisters at breakfast, and, afterwards, on his way to the office at Portburdock, spoke of it to the blacksmith of Hammerpond, and spent the morning with his fellow clerks marvelling instead of copying deeds. And Sandy Bright went to talk the matter over with Mr Jekyll, the "Primitive" minister, and the ploughman told old Hugh and afterwards the vicar of Siddermorton.
"They are not an imaginative race about here," said the Vicar of Siddermorton, "I wonder how much of that was true. Barring that he thinks the wings were brown it sounds uncommonly like a Flamingo."
THE HUNTING OF THE STRANGE BIRD.
The Vicar of Siddermorton (which is nine miles inland from Siddermouth as the crow flies) was an ornithologist. Some such pursuit, botany, antiquity, folk-lore, is almost inevitable for a single man in his position. He was given to geometry also, propounding occasionally impossible problems in the _Educational Times_, but ornithology was his _forte_. He had already added two visitors to the list of occasional British birds. His name was well-known in the columns of the _Zoologist_ (I am afraid it may be forgotten by now, for the world moves apace). And on the day after the coming of the Strange Bird, came first one and then another to confirm the ploughman's story and tell him, not that it had any connection, of the Glare upon Sidderford moor.
Now, the Vicar of Siddermorton had two rivals in his scientific pursuits; Gully of Sidderton, who had actually seen the glare, and who it was sent the drawing to _Nature_, and Borland the natural history dealer, who kept the marine laboratory at Portburdock. Borland, the Vicar thought, should have stuck to his copepods, but instead he kept a taxidermist, and took advantage of his littoral position to pick up rare sea birds. It was evident to anyone who knew anything of collecting that both these men would be scouring the country after the strange visitant, before twenty-four hours were out.
The Vicar's eye rested on the back of Saunders' British Birds, for he was in his study at the time. Already in two places there was entered: "the only known British specimen was secured by the Rev. K. Hilyer, Vicar of Siddermorton." A third such entry. He doubted if any other collector had that.
He looked at his watch--_two_. He had just lunched, and usually he "rested" in the afternoon. He knew it would make him feel very disagreeable if he went out into the hot sunshine--both on the top of his head and generally. Yet Gully perhaps was out, prowling observant. Suppose it was something very good and Gully got it!
His gun stood in the corner. (The thing had iridiscent wings and pink legs! The chromatic conflict was certainly exceedingly stimulating). He took his gun.
He would have gone out by the glass doors and verandah, and down the garden into the hill road, in order to avoid his housekeeper's eye. He knew his gun expeditions were not approved of. But advancing towards him up the garden, he saw the curate's wife and her two daughters, carrying tennis rackets. His curate's wife was a young woman of immense will, who used to play tennis on his lawn, and cut his roses, differ from him on doctrinal points, and criticise his personal behaviour all over the parish. He went in abject fear of her, was always trying to propitiate her. But so far he had clung to his ornithology....
However, he went out by the front door.
The novel opens not with the angel's arrival but with a strange glare on the moor, witnessed at a distance and described in a manner that already hints at the difficulty of seeing clearly: the light is 'broken all over by curving flashes like the waving of swords,' and a published drawing is dismissed as 'unlike the glare.' This initial image of a fleeting, ambiguous phenomenon sets the tone for a story in which perception and reality are repeatedly at odds. The vicar, later left alone with the angel's yellow robe, finds himself doubting the solidity of his own world, 'waking up to the Invisible.'
A Structure of Interruptions
The table of contents reveals a curious pattern: many chapters bear only Roman numerals, while others have descriptive titles such as 'The Night of the Strange Bird' or 'The Vicar and the Angel.' This alternation between titled and untitled sections suggests a rhythm of focused incident and more diffuse, perhaps reflective passages. The narrative moves rapidly from the initial sighting to the hunting of the strange bird, then to the vicar's private confrontation with the angel, and later to a chapter titled 'Parenthesis on Angels'—a direct break in the story for speculative commentary. These structural choices create a sense of a world that is constantly being interrupted, whether by the supernatural or by the author's own digressions.
Recurring Images of Light and Vision
From the opening glare to the vicar's sense of 'waking up to the Invisible,' light and sight are central. The angel's origin is described as a place where he was 'flying up a symphony' before everything went dark—a synesthetic blending of sound and light. Later, the doctor Crump observes the angel's wounds healing with unnatural speed, noting that 'your blood and flesh must be as clean and free from bacteria as they make 'em.' This clinical scrutiny contrasts with the vicar's more metaphysical wonder. The angel himself seems to perceive the world differently: he dreams of Earth 'in the moonlight, when the Nightmares have fanned us to sleep with their wings,' a phrase that turns familiar celestial imagery into something unsettling.
Movement Between Domestic and Open Spaces
The story shuttles between the vicar's private rooms, the village streets, and the open moor. The vicar's dressing-room becomes a site of contemplation where he handles the angel's yellow robe and questions his own reality. In contrast, the doctor's dining-room hosts a lunch scene where the angel takes mustard and the doctor tries to draw him out with skeptical questions. The village itself is a place of social performance: Lady Hammergallow sweeps in and out, and the vicar mutters 'Damn!' under his breath—a breach of clerical decorum that signals how the angel's presence disorganizes ordinary life. The moor, where the strange bird first appeared, remains a wild counterpoint to these enclosed spaces.
The Angel as a Disruptive Figure
The angel is not a serene visitor but a source of confusion and comedy. He arrives without luggage, explains his journey as a fall from a musical flight with Griffins and Fiery Cherubim, and seems baffled by earthly customs. The doctor's attempts to interrogate him are met with literal answers that undermine scientific rationality: 'Journey tire you yesterday?' prompts only 'my wings felt a little stiff.' The vicar, meanwhile, finds his own beliefs shaken, reflecting that 'there is no adamantine ground for any belief.' The angel's presence exposes the fragility of social and intellectual certainties, turning the village into a stage for a collision between the mundane and the inexplicable.
Readers should attend to the way Wells uses the angel not as a religious symbol but as a device to unsettle perception and social convention. The novel's brevity and episodic structure reward attention to small details—the vicar's muttered curse, the doctor's clinical curiosity, the recurring motif of light. The story moves quickly, and its ironies accumulate through juxtaposition rather than explanation.
Reading The Wonderful Visit again, that angel’s quiet dislocation made me think of another strange gathering, where Holmes and the departed bicker over a house-boat. Both worlds feel just a step sideways from ours—full of brightness and odd rules. It’s a gentle comfort, revisiting that other spectral story: The Pursuit of the House-Boat Being Some Further Account of the Divers Doings of the Associated Shades, under the Leadership of Sherlock Holmes, Esq. — Context and Discussion stayed with me like a half-remembered tune.
There are no reviews for this eBook.
Take a moment to reflect on this book
Create a short personal record of your experience with this book.
Brenda Powell - 3 weeks ago
George Obrien - 2 weeks ago
Brandy Owens - 1 week ago