The Title
The title of Verne’s novel is easily confused. Is it “20,000 leagues beneath the sea” or “20,000 leagues under the sea.” If you have ever mistakenly referred to by the former, don’t feel bad; you are not alone. On the surface—no pun intended—there wouldn’t seem to be that much difference between “beneath” and “under” and, indeed, if only utilized as a measurement of depth, both titles would essentially be synonymous. On the other hand, “beneath” carries a definite connotation of depth whereas “under” could just as easily be a measurement of distance. Which is, of course, why the book is not titled Twenty Thousand Leagues Beneath the Sea. The precision of the word choice is the different between imagery and the lack of imagery. The title itself conveys the imagery of great distance as well as great depth; not literally in either case, but then that is what makes it imagery. One senses in the title that the story is about a voyage of a great distance—20,000 leagues is roughly equivalent to 60,000 miles which is a trip longer than sailing around the world twice. So the title actually conveys imagery about not just distance, but time and, implicitly, the astonishing amount of adventure one could pack into such a trip.
Math and Science
Part of what makes the novel so enjoyable so timeless is that its fantasy is rooted in science. While that science has not necessarily withstood the test of time or is put to an effect that remain as fantastical today as when it was written, the sheer volume of figures, numbers, statistics and scientific rendering of information is enough to create a tapestry of imagery that creates enough suspension of disbelief to introduce a remarkable amount of realistic detail—or seemingly realistic, at any rate—into what is for the most part a story given to exceptional fantasy.
The Fantastical
Standing in direct opposition to the statistical figures which lend a sense of realism are examples of imagery which create a sense of the otherworldly, bizarre or just plain ridiculous. For instance, a bed of oysters large enough for each to provide thirty pounds of meat or elsewhere in the ocean, pearls which are “larger than a pigeon's egg.” Interestingly, figures are used to enhance the fantastical with as much as breathless sense of authenticity as they are used to enhance the more believable descriptions.
The Politics of Rebellion
Captain Nemo is primarily a mystery. Although more of his background is revealed in the sequel, what can be gathered about his prickly personality in this volume is at best a product of weaved impressions. That he is misanthropic is perhaps beyond argument; that his misanthropy is well-founded may be less so. As he himself finally admits near the end when he cries out “I am the oppressed, and there is the oppressor! Through him I have lost all that I loved, cherished, and venerated—country, wife, children, father, and mother. I saw all perish! All that I hate is there! Say no more!" does not just arrive out of nowhere like a deus ex machina to describe his hatred of society. Throughout are planted little nuggets of evidence in the form of easily overlooked imagery which adds a small but vital contribution to the impressionist portrait of a man driven to rebel against society not for reasons of mental degradation, but political rebellion.
