TL;DR
7/10. A historically significant and genuinely effective 1897 short story, a foundational piece of early science fiction from one of the genre’s inventors that imagines a celestial body causing global catastrophe and holds a vast, cosmic idea through compression and a detached perspective. A solid early classic, held to that level by its period style and the small scale of a single-idea story. Distinct from Clarke’s later story of the same title.
The Star by H.G. Wells is a short story from 1897, a compact piece of early science fiction that imagines the arrival of a mysterious celestial body hurtling toward Earth and the global catastrophe it triggers. In a handful of pages, Wells, one of the founding figures of the genre, depicts humanity’s reaction to an approaching cosmic threat and the planetary devastation that follows, with the scientific imagination and cool, sweeping perspective that mark his best work. As a piece of proto-science-fiction from a master, it is historically significant and genuinely effective for its length, earning a solid rating as an important early example of the form. It is, worth noting, a different story from the later, equally famous Arthur C. Clarke tale of the same title.
What makes it remarkable is its perspective: Wells pulls back to an almost cosmic, planetary scale, viewing the catastrophe and humanity’s smallness against the indifferent vastness of space, decades before such a vision was common.
Early science fiction at its best
The story’s value is its place in the genre’s foundations and how well it works on its own terms. Wells helped invent science fiction, and The Star shows why: he takes a scientific premise, a celestial body on a collision course, and follows it through with rigor and imagination, depicting the astronomical and geological consequences and humanity’s response with a plausibility and scope that were genuinely new. In very few pages he achieves a sense of cosmic scale and dread that many longer works never reach, demonstrating the power of the science-fiction idea, the what-if followed honestly to its consequences, that became the genre’s engine. For a reader or writer interested in where the form came from, it is a clear, potent example.
Keep reading
The roots of science fiction and the power of the what-if — Wells’s early cosmic catastrophe, in the craft of the science-fiction idea.
The power of the short form
The story is also a fine demonstration of what the short form can do. Wells conveys a planet-spanning catastrophe and a cosmic perspective in a piece readable in minutes, achieving scope and impact through compression and suggestion rather than length. The detached, almost documentary tone, observing humanity’s panic and the Earth’s upheaval from a great height, produces a chill that a more conventional, character-focused treatment might lose, and the brevity concentrates rather than diminishes the effect. For a writer, it is an instructive example of how a short story can hold a vast idea, using economy and a well-chosen vantage point to deliver something far larger than its page count suggests.
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Short story technique: holding a vast idea in few pages — Wells’s compression and cosmic vantage, in the craft of the short form.
The honest caveats
The caveats are those of a brief, very old work. As an 1897 short story, its prose style, pacing, and conventions are of their period, and a modern reader will find it more formal and detached, less character-driven, than contemporary fiction, with the cool perspective that is its strength also keeping the reader at arm’s length. Its scientific specifics reflect the knowledge of its time. And as a short story, it is a small, single-idea piece rather than a developed work, a potent sketch rather than a full canvas. There is also the simple matter of confusion with Clarke’s later, separate story of the same name. These are the natural characteristics of a historic short work rather than flaws.
Verdict
It is a historically significant and genuinely effective piece of early science fiction, valuable as a foundational example from one of the genre’s inventors and as a demonstration of how a short story can hold a vast, cosmic idea through compression and a well-chosen perspective. It earns a solid rating, held to that level by the natural limits of an 1897 short work: a period style and detached tone that keep a modern reader at a distance, dated scientific specifics, and the small scale of a single-idea story. For a reader or writer interested in the roots of science fiction or the power of the short form, it is a clear, potent, and quick read, and a notable early vision of cosmic catastrophe, distinct from Clarke’s later story of the same title. A small but real classic of the genre’s early days.
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Frequently Asked Questions
What is The Star by H.G. Wells about?
A short story from 1897 imagining the arrival of a mysterious celestial body hurtling toward Earth and the global catastrophe it triggers, depicting humanity’s reaction and the planetary devastation with the scientific imagination and cosmic perspective that mark Wells’s best work.
Is this the same as Arthur C. Clarke’s The Star?
No. This is H.G. Wells’s 1897 story about a celestial body causing a global catastrophe, a different and earlier work from the equally famous Arthur C. Clarke short story of the same title. The shared name causes understandable confusion, but they are separate stories.
Why is it significant?
Because Wells helped invent science fiction, and The Star shows why: he takes a scientific premise and follows it through with rigor and imagination, achieving a sense of cosmic scale and dread that was genuinely new and demonstrating the science-fiction idea that became the genre’s engine.
What can writers learn from it?
How the short form can hold a vast idea. Wells conveys a planet-spanning catastrophe and a cosmic perspective in a piece readable in minutes, using compression, suggestion, and a detached, well-chosen vantage point to deliver something far larger than its page count.
What are its limitations?
As an 1897 short story, its style, pacing, and conventions are of their period, more formal and detached than modern fiction, its scientific specifics reflect the knowledge of its time, and it is a small, single-idea piece rather than a developed work, a potent sketch rather than a full canvas.