Certainly, there is no shortage of plot holes.
President Barbicane invents a way to lessen the effect within the projectile of the immense initial impulse, which today wouldn't even be believable to a high school freshman.
Chemical methods for producing oxygen that consume more oxygen than they produce.
The plan to send a projectile full of supplies to the settlers annually, counting on the fact that "more or less" they would arrive where they could be found. Just blindly.
And above all, Captain Nicholl, who bets significant sums on the spectacular failure of the launch and yet, even while affirming that it is absurd, agrees in a microsecond to become part of the crew.
Not to mention the uncontrollable meat-eating, oxygen-consuming Newfoundland dog and — then — for what purpose?
On each of these points — and others — Verne could have, with a revision supported by others, achieved a work less prone to contradictions.
Nevertheless, we accept it with affection.
But don't take it as a science fiction novel, that would be asking too much of it.
160 years have passed.
In fact, he did get a lot right.
So what kind of novel is it today?
It is a testimony.
The first part is a novel that describes the way politics was conducted in America in the mid-nineteenth century.
Or at least, the ironic narrative given by a cultured Frenchman.
The second part is a novel that describes the way industry was conducted in America in the mid-nineteenth century.
Or at least, the ironic narrative given by a cultured Frenchman.
The first and second parts together are a treatise on customs, on how these Americans appeared to a notable of old Europe, a mix of exuberance, intelligence, initiative, barbarism, stubbornness, bellicism, ignorance.
This newcomer, Michel Ardan, seemingly out of place and out of time, a brilliant French explorer with a light spirit, represents Verne's Alter Ego, and together represents — with the conferment of honorary U.S. citizenship he receives — the true desire for collaboration and brotherhood that the novel inspires.
Verne underestimated a lot of issues — or rather, he addressed them correctly but clearly underestimated the level of complexity necessary for a solution.
Yet he redeems himself in the finale, with an epilogue that is — apart from everything else — the only "believable" way this beautiful story could end.
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