The White Mountains

Last month, I wrote a post about Boys' Life, to which I subscribed during the late '70s and early '80s. Of all the things I remember about the magazine, the one that is perhaps the most vivid is its comic adaptation of John Christopher's 1967 science fiction novel, The White Mountains, which ran May 1981 to July 1982. This period marked the very end of my association with the Boy Scouts, so I'm not 100% certain I read the entire run of the adaptation, but I can still see the early installments in my mind's eye, like the fantastic splash page that kicked off the whole series.

For those unfamiliar with the novel, The White Mountains is the first in a series commonly called "The Tripod Trilogy" (even though a fourth book, which I've never read, was published in 1988). The series takes place on a post-apocalyptic Earth, after an alien invasion has reduced human civilization to roughly medieval technology. The invading aliens, known simply as the Masters, enforce their rule in several ways, most notably the eponymous Tripods, which are three-legged walking vehicles that patrol the world. The Masters also seek to suppress human creativity and curiosity by fitting humans over the age of 13 with a "cap," a technological implant of some sort that affects the proper functioning of the brain. As a kid, I remember being quite unnerved by the idea of the cap, influenced no doubt by this panel from the comic.

The panel shows the protagonist, Will, speaking with his friend, Jack, after he's been capped by the Masters. Jack's personality has changed and his previous curiosity about the world that existed before the coming of the Tripods is expunged. Even now, I find the idea of it sends shivers down my spine.

Whether or not I read the entirety of the comic, I was intrigued enough by it that I sought out the original novels from the library and read them with great enjoyment. The White Mountains remains my favorite of the three, mostly because few of the setting's mysteries are resolved (the existence of the Masters, for example, is unknown, with no one knowing who or what controls the Tripods). However, the revelations of the later books didn't destroy my affection for the whole series, as is often the case with such stories. Likewise, the melancholy resolution of the overall plot is perfect in my opinion and strikes the right balance between naïve optimism and bleak nihilism. Perhaps I should make a point of re-reading them in the coming months.