Conan Doyle's The Lost World First Edition: An Early *In Universe* Book

There's been a move in the film and TV tie-in publishing world in recent years towards 'In Universe' books. That is to say, instead of non-fiction 'making of' or 'episode guide' titles (which have to fight to justify their existence these days alongside websites and DVD extras), a book is put together which presents itself as coming from within the world (or, yes, universe) of the story.

This recent Dark Knight Manual, full of 'documents from the Batcave', is a good example, as is this tie-in to the TV series Fringe — a book which is utterly impenetrable to non-fans, but endlessly fascinating and genuinely illuminating to those who followed all five seasons of the show. Then there are books which mix the 'behind the scenes' and 'in universe' approaches, like this Sherlock companion which peppers John Watson's 'Casefiles' (complete with snarky post-it notes from Sherlock himself) amongst the non-fiction stuff.

What's this got to do with The Lost World? Well, leafing through the copy of the rather wonderful Large Paper first edition Withnail Books currently has on eBay, it's evident that dear old Sir Arthur was playing the 'In Universe' game a century ago. The book was as much of a 'blockbuster' in its day as the film which nicked its name many decades later (the Michael Crichton one; by then there had already been several 'official' adaptations, including this one), and the 'Large Paper' edition was the 'Director's Cut/Special Edition' version of the novel, in a larger format, and with more illustrations than the standard trade edition. These images, a mixture of drawings, maps and photographs, are presented as documents sourced directly from 'the expedition', to go alongside the text, which is of course straight-facedly subtitled 'An account of the recent amazing adventures of Prof. George E. Challenger' et al.

What's really fun about the illustrations is that Conan Doyle himself got in on the act: that's him under a frankly outrageous false beard, pretending to be Professor Challenger. As well as the 'group photo' above, there's a Frontispiece and portrait photo of him as the Prof. Put those with the various other maps and 'photos', plus the stunning binding, featuring Iguanodon footprints, and you have a book which has that irresistible appeal of something which has been put together for fans, by fans. There were Conan Doyle and Dino geeks back in 1912, and this was for them. It's still very cool today.

Here it is in all its glory:

A Maltese ABEwhack, NICE Paintings, Giant Whiskers and their link to British Fascism. Now there's a sentence you've not read before.

This unassuming little book came across my desk a few days ago:

Description of the Governor's Palaces in Malta, of Valletta, St. Antonio and Verdala, and Catalogue of the Pictures, By Blanch Lintorn Simmons. Second edition, Malta Government Printing Office, 1895.

Its title is self-explanatory: a book with a very narrow remit, and no illustrations, bar a few vignettes 'from old blocks belonging to the Printing Office of the Order of St John'. A very rare volume it appears: there's no google ebook, and no copies — not even Print on Demand ones — on ABE. (I know technically 'ABEwhack' should mean a book with one hit/copy on ABE, but I've invented the term and I say it should mean no copies. So there.) Several libraries do have it however, so it's not a completely 'lost' title.

The copy I have has pages which are mostly uncut, so in all its 118 year life, during its long journey from Malta to Cumbria via who knows where, no one ever bothered to actually read it. Sad really, though this link to an entry from the National Inventory of Continental European Paintings (and yes, rather wonderfully, they call themselves NICE Paintings) does at least point out that:

The value of this work lies in it being an accurate record of paintings in the old palaces of the Order, 'found' by the British after the French surrender. A large number of these paintings are now in the National Museum of Fine Arts in Malta, so Blanch's catalogue helps fill in the gaps between the tenancy of the islands by the Order of St John, the French invasion, the British Protectorate, and the current independent State of Malta.

Good for Blanch. When she wrote the book, her Dad, Sir John Lintorn Simmons, was the Governor of Malta. He looked like this:

And in case you think that's a 'caricature' that's overplaying his frankly alarming facial hair, it isn't. Here's a photo of him.

Terrifying. How did he eat?

Anyway. All this is apropos of nothing, other than as an example of stuff you find out on google within a few minutes of looking up a book. I'd love to think there's someone out there who reads this and triumphantly shouts, "Finally! A copy of Description of the Governor's Palaces in Malta, of Valletta, St. Antonio and Verdala, and Catalogue of the Pictures! I've been after one for years!" But let's face it folks, that probably isn't going to happen.

I promised you Fascism, so here goes. Blanch had a daughter, and she turned out to be a bad egg. Rotha Lintorn-Orman was a founding member of The British Fascists (not to be confused with The British Union of Fascists, oh no. Rotha considered Oswald Moseley of the BUF "to be a near-communist").

Here's a photo of her. She's even more terrifying than her Grandpa's whiskers...

... I want that coat though.