Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea is written in first person from the perspective of French Professor of Natural History Pierre Aronnax. Because Aronnax is the one narrating and he is focused much more on scientific discovery and exploration than on the dynamics between people (or even his position as a prisoner), the style is quite descriptive and straightforward. There are large swaths of the novel in which Aronnax simply describes the submarine’s location in exquisite detail, such as the following passage in Part 1, Chapter 19:
On the 25th of December the Nautilus sailed into the midst of the New Hebrides, discovered by Quiros in 1606, and that Bougainville explored in 1768, and to which Cook gave its present name in 1773. This group is composed principally of nine large islands, that form a band of 120 leagues N.N.S. to S.S.W., between 15° and 2° S. lat., and 164 deg. and 168° long.
Though some readers may find such sections boring, they contribute to the logbook or journal style of writing that Verne is going for. These kinds of entries convince readers that Aronnax—and, by extension, Verne—know what they are talking about when it comes to exploration, making the adventures that the crew goes on feel even more believable and engaging.
Verne also has Aronnax spend a great deal of time describing the marine life with which they come in contact, such as in Part 1, Chapter 24:
I seemed to see the membraneous and cylindrical tubes tremble beneath the undulation of the waters. I was tempted to gather their fresh petals, ornamented with delicate tentacles, some just blown, the others budding, while a small fish, swimming swiftly, touched them slightly, like flights of birds. But if my hand approached these living flowers, these animated, sensitive plants, the whole colony took alarm. The white petals re-entered their red cases, the flowers faded as I looked, and the bush changed into a block of stony knobs.
Unlike the passages in which Aronnax describes the submarine’s location (using mostly logistical navigational language), the sections about the flora and fauna of the sea become lyrical and poetic—“ornamented with delicate tentacles,” “like flights of birds,” etc. This shift in style communicates the power that the sea holds over Aronnax.
Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea is written in first person from the perspective of French Professor of Natural History Pierre Aronnax. Because Aronnax is the one narrating and he is focused much more on scientific discovery and exploration than on the dynamics between people (or even his position as a prisoner), the style is quite descriptive and straightforward. There are large swaths of the novel in which Aronnax simply describes the submarine’s location in exquisite detail, such as the following passage in Part 1, Chapter 19:
On the 25th of December the Nautilus sailed into the midst of the New Hebrides, discovered by Quiros in 1606, and that Bougainville explored in 1768, and to which Cook gave its present name in 1773. This group is composed principally of nine large islands, that form a band of 120 leagues N.N.S. to S.S.W., between 15° and 2° S. lat., and 164 deg. and 168° long.
Though some readers may find such sections boring, they contribute to the logbook or journal style of writing that Verne is going for. These kinds of entries convince readers that Aronnax—and, by extension, Verne—know what they are talking about when it comes to exploration, making the adventures that the crew goes on feel even more believable and engaging.
Verne also has Aronnax spend a great deal of time describing the marine life with which they come in contact, such as in Part 1, Chapter 24:
I seemed to see the membraneous and cylindrical tubes tremble beneath the undulation of the waters. I was tempted to gather their fresh petals, ornamented with delicate tentacles, some just blown, the others budding, while a small fish, swimming swiftly, touched them slightly, like flights of birds. But if my hand approached these living flowers, these animated, sensitive plants, the whole colony took alarm. The white petals re-entered their red cases, the flowers faded as I looked, and the bush changed into a block of stony knobs.
Unlike the passages in which Aronnax describes the submarine’s location (using mostly logistical navigational language), the sections about the flora and fauna of the sea become lyrical and poetic—“ornamented with delicate tentacles,” “like flights of birds,” etc. This shift in style communicates the power that the sea holds over Aronnax.
