Tony's Review of the Island of Dr. Moreau

Wells’ The Island of Doctor Moreau is a strange, grim exploration of science without ethics and the blurry line between humanity and animal nature. The book follows Edward Prendick, who survives a shipwreck and ends up on a remote island. There he meets Dr. Moreau, a disgraced scientist who performs grotesque surgeries, shaping animals into something approximating humans.

The setup is simple. The island is isolated. The mood is uneasy from the start. And as the truth unfolds, it’s deeply disturbing.

This is more psychological horror than pulp monster story. Yes, there are beasts in the jungle, but the real horror is Moreau’s belief that he is justified, even noble, in what he does. Wells doesn’t shy away from the physical terror or the existential weight. The “Beast Folk” speak in riddled laws and haunting chants, echoing broken religious systems and human attempts at structure. What makes it work is that none of it feels like pure fantasy. You can see threads of vivisection, colonialism, and Victorian superiority stitched into every part of the book.

It’s short but dense. Some of the phrasing is dated, but Wells’ prose holds up. There’s a fevered dream logic to the structure, and by the time it ends, you’re left thinking less about the animals and more about what makes us who we are. Prendick returns to society only to feel alien among men. That hits harder than any jungle chase.

The science is clearly of its era, but the ethical themes remain timeless. There’s no real villain here unless you count humanity’s hubris. That’s where it leans into the cautionary tale side of early science fiction.

Is it perfect? No. The pacing is a little uneven in the middle, and the female presence is nonexistent. But for what it is, a thought experiment wrapped in jungle dread, it delivers.

In contrast, most film versions, especially the 1996 adaptation, lean into camp and spectacle. They exaggerate the physical horror, introduce unnecessary romantic subplots, and often shift the narrative focus from ethical questions to action or shock. The subtle dread and internal unraveling of Prendick’s mind are usually lost. The films tend to miss that the real monster is not the Beast Folk but the man who made them.

A must read if you want your horror with a strong philosophical backbone and are fine with stories that ask questions but don’t give you easy answers.