I would rate The Island of Dr. Moreau at least 4 stars, but upon re-reading, it doesn’t quite hold up to that level, which it would have when it was first released one hundred and thirty years ago.

The novel is well written. H.G. Wells does a phenomenal job of taking us through this brave new world, allowing us to see the island and all its inhabitants with fresh eyes. The characters, as well as the story, are well-crafted. I never felt like something was out of place or hard to understand, even in a demented location like the House of Pain.

Where this novel falls short is the idea that Moreau created these creatures by chopping up and rearranging their parts to make them more human. He practices vivisection, which is: the cutting of or operation on a living animal, usually for physiological or pathological investigation, and: animal experimentation, especially if considered to cause distress to the subject. That’s some messed-up stuff, and it fits perfectly within this narrative.

In the past, I understood it as he was doing some form of gene-splicing or other methods–that’s why they could talk and understand human nuances. Nope. I suppose in 1896, this wasn’t too far-fetched a thing? I suppose we all didn’t bat an eye when Mary Shelly wrote Frankenstein in 1818, so why would we care about how these animal-man hybrids were created 80 years later? Is it the intelligence? Their practice of religion?

Whatever it is, The Island of Dr. Moreau is a well-crafted and fun (I use that word carefully) ride. It might not make you think too hard (as it may have in the past), but there are still morals to pull from the story that are still relevant today.