The 21 Balloons

“The best way of travel, however, if you aren’t in any hurry at all, if you don’t care where you are going, if you don’t like to use your legs, if you want to see everything quite clearly, if you don’t want to be annoyed at all by any choice of directions, is in a balloon. In a balloon you can decide only when to start, and usually when to stop. The rest is left entirely to nature.”

Balloons let people soar through the air, free as a bird. Balloons follow the breeze and provide a largely silent experience. They present the world from above, a novel way to observe life. They offer a sense of serene detachment from the world below. Balloons are the story’s chief method of travel; as such, they bespeak joy and adventure and become a form—literally—of high achievement.

“Half of this story is true and the other half might very well have happened.”

The author humorously describes the essence of historical fiction, especially when it contains scientific speculation, as in this tale. The book wonders what could have existed at a place that disappeared during a disaster. This gives the author plenty of room to make things up, since all the evidence is gone. It’s a perfect premise for a wonderful adventure filled with astonishing possibilities.

“‘[…] I want first of all to thank you three gentlemen for your kind attention. But, gentlemen,’ he exclaimed, ‘as an honorary member of the Western American Explorers’ Club in San Francisco, I feel sincerely that I owe the first accounting of my extraordinary adventure to that illustrious fraternity!’”

With these words, Professor Sherman piques the world’s interest in hearing his extraordinary story. His loyalty to his club generates admiration but also irritation, as everyone is forced to wait for his report. Sherman’s refusal to speak sends a strong message that the story will be remarkable, and that, coming from the lips of an honorable man, it will be true. It’s also a clever literary technique: The author uses it to create an air of tension and drama that compels readers to continue with the story.

“Professor Sherman was a balloonist. San Francisco went balloon crazy. The railroad station was swathed in bunting, flags, and miniature balloons. The avenue from the railroad station to the Western American Explorers’ Club was lined with triumphant Corinthian columns, each surmounted by a brace of bright-colored miniature balloons. Ladies revived the balloon fashions in dresses which had been popular in France a hundred years before. […] Balloons were the decorative scheme in all stores.”

The author has fun with the goofy lengths to which a metropolis can go in expressing their civic spirit. For the moment, Sherman has made a celebrity of his hometown, and it intends to bask in glory as it hails its returning adventurer.

“It is funny that my trip has ended by being such a fast trip around the world. I find myself referred to now as one of the speediest travelers of all times. Speed wasn’t at all what I had in mind when I started out. On the contrary, if all had gone the way I had hoped, I would still be happily floating around in my balloon, drifting anywhere the wind cared to carry me—East, West, North, or South.”

Sherman’s remarkable journey isn’t what he expected; he values the serendipitous aspect of travel and was never intent on getting somewhere fast. Part of the surprise of Sherman’s voyage is the trip’s shortness, but it turns out to be an intensely interesting adventure packed into a relatively brief interval.

“One day I started thinking of a balloon in which I could float around out of everybody’s reach. This was the main idea behind my trip: to be where no one would bother me for perhaps one full year; away from all such boring things in the lives of teachers as daily schedules, having to be in different classrooms at exact times week after week.”

Professor Sherman wants to retire to a life less harried than that of a schoolteacher. His greatest yearning is peace and quiet and solitude, which he can achieve in a balloon floating high in the sky. Had he fulfilled his objective, there might not have been an interesting story to tell. Instead, he speaks to an eager audience about a journey that was anything but quiet.

“[Balloon maker] Higgins notified the press that I had intentions of taking a long trip in a giant balloon which might easily end up in my being the first to fly across the Pacific Ocean. The newspapers carried the story, giving it about half a column on the fourth page. The public wasn’t at all interested in my trip then. I think it was because Higgins told the newspapermen that my balloon wasn’t quite as big as Nadar’s. The public had heard of Nadar’s giant balloon and, I’m sure, would have been curious to see it. But mine, which was just a shade smaller, was looked upon as just a runner-up.”

The public is a fickle audience: It’s only interested in the absolute biggest, strongest, fastest, and otherwise best people, contraptions, and natural phenomena. Second place garners no interest. It’s not until Sherman’s remarkable rescue at sea, coupled with his refusal to talk about it until he gives his report to the Explorers’ Club, that the world becomes engrossed. 

“I knew a little Morse code, so I took a mirror and flashed the message, ‘I am Professor Sherman of San Francisco and all is well.’ The fishing boat, manned evidently by a Japanese crew, slowly flashed back the simple message, ‘No speak English.’ This to me was just right. I wanted to be alone, out of touch with the world. This was the first sign of life I had seen in five days and it couldn’t possibly contact me. All was indeed well.”

Though sociable and gentlemanly, Sherman really wants to be left alone. Despite his effort to communicate with a fishing vessel, he’d rather that the effort fail and is glad when it does. It’s an ironic moment that the author uses in a dryly humorous manner. Dry or whimsical humor is a constant feature of the book.

“There was a man kneeling over me. As I sat up he stood up. He was handing me some clothes, and he was dressed in a most unusual manner. This man wasn’t a native, and didn’t suggest an explorer or a traveler. He looked like an overdressed aristocrat, sort of a misplaced boulevardier, lost on this seemingly desolate volcanic island.”

On waking after his crash-landing, the first person Sherman meets is dressed in the manner of an upper-class European. This completely unexpected sight on a remote jungle island foreshadows a story with one whimsical surprise after another.

“‘That’s the peculiar thing about nature,’ explained Mr. F., ‘it guards its rarest treasures with greatest care.’”

On Krakatoa, Mr. F. stands calmly during one of the island’s frequent earthquakes. Sherman becomes sick from it and realizes why no one wants to live there. Mr. F., though, knows that the place hides an immense fortune in diamonds. To obtain life’s jewel’s, a person must brave obstacles and search beyond where most others give up. This is literally what the Krakatoans have done.

“I waded around in the diamonds, picked up great handfuls of the jewels letting the smaller ones slip through my fingers. I juggled with two heavy diamonds the size of baseballs. I suddenly felt like a small child let loose in a candy shop.”

Given unlimited resources, people’s ambitions quickly expand to enormous size. Sherman experiences this intense feeling as he imagines what he might do with diamonds much larger than any the rest of the world has ever seen. Such emotions can make normal people greedy and jealous, which often leads to trouble.

“Diamonds are priced as high as they are because they are extremely rare jewels in other countries. Unloading a boat-load of diamonds in any other port of the world would cause the diamond market to crash; the price of diamonds would drop to next to nothing; and your cargo would scarcely be worth more than a shipload of broken glass.”

Mr. F. explains to Sherman how too much of a resource can dilute its value. The Krakatoans thus carefully guard the secret of their gigantic diamond mine. For the author, this is a clever way to explain why such a grand stash could have been hidden from the world for so long. That Krakatoa explodes, taking its diamond mines with it, also conveniently removes the diamond mountain from history, so that its effect on the world disappears after the story ends.

“COAT OF ARMS OF KRAKATOA Diamond-shaped emblem in tropical setting representing frying pan heated over volcano, symbolic of the Island’s Gourmet Government. Motto: ‘Non Nova, sed Nove’—‘Not New Things, but New Ways.’”

The caption of one of the book’s illustrations describes part of the philosophy of Krakatoa’s islanders. The key to their innovative lifestyle is to see the same old things in new ways. Thus, they focus on inventing ingenious, if sometimes goofy, solutions to the problems that face them. It’s a society that makes inventiveness a fundamental value of the culture.

“‘The Bible tells us to build our houses on foundations of stone,’ he said; ‘on Krakatoa we have found it necessary to use an even stronger foundation. Our houses are built on a substructure of solid diamond boulders.’”

The ancient advice to build solidly refers not merely to constructing a shelter but to anchoring one’s life securely. The Krakatoans use solid boulders of diamond as foundations for their beautiful homes, but they also plan carefully every aspect of their island colony. Though their life there is extraordinary, it’s not thereby safe from harm. The residents know that the most marvelous resources mustn’t be taken for granted.

“We made it a law here that every family shall go to a different restaurant every night of the month, around the village square in rotation. In this way no family of Krakatoa has to work more than once every twenty days, and every family is assured a great variety of food.”

The essence of Krakatoan government is contained in this quote. The law ends feuding over the distribution of the island’s wealth and a fair division of labor. Each family’s duties are defined and limited, and the result is a system that makes for a peaceful society that also enjoys fine dining at all times. It’s all part of a culture that rewards inventiveness and simple solutions.

“You wouldn't want to be called Mr. U. Everytime somebody said, ‘Hey, you!’ you would have to turn around. If someone asked you who you are, you would have to answer, ‘I am ‘U.’ You would keep overhearing snatches of conversation which would bother you. If someone were to tell a friend, ‘I want to see you tonight,’ you would wonder what was meant by ‘you.’ You would keep asking yourself, ‘Does “you” in this case mean “you” or “U”? If “you” means “U” and “U” is me, then that lady wants to see me tonight.’ And then you would wonder why. I tell you, Professor Sherman, ‘U’ is a bad name.”

Here the author indulges a love for puns. The Krakatoan calendar and naming convention—Mr. A, Mr. B, Mr. C, and Day A, Day B, Day C—is itself an interesting invention that adds a note of fun to the story. The author appears to be saying, “Don’t take all of this too seriously. It’s just a quirky fantasy.”

“Our only work now, besides cooking, is in trying to make life more pleasant for ourselves and for each other.”

The people of Krakatoa get past the excitement of sudden wealth and learn to cooperate. They discover that one of life’s greatest pleasures—which can’t be bought but must be created in the moment—is doing good things for others. With all financial concerns removed, the biggest challenge for the islanders is finding interesting ways for everyone to enjoy life together.

“It seems strange to me that mechanical progress always seems to leave the slower demands of elegance far behind.”

Though the story is filled with inventions and innovations, it does not promote technology for its own sake. For Sherman, only gadgets that make life more pleasurable seem worthwhile. His is a comment on the hurry-up modern world, where the latest techno-devices get used to create a faster, bigger, louder, more hurried lifestyle. Instead, Sherman prefers the unrushed pleasure of a good meal or a walk on the beach, and, of course, the serenity of balloons.

“A little over a month ago, I was an insignificant arithmetic teacher who would have found it almost impossible to get to see either one of you. Now you are waiting on me like a pair of well-trained valets. I thank you for your kind attention. It goes to show how wonderful ballooning can be.”

The author pokes fun at stuffy politicians whose deepest interest in other people is whether they can add to the politicians’ prestige. The mayor’s and chief surgeon’s fawning attention to Sherman isn’t heartfelt but calculated strictly on account of his fame. They want nothing to interfere with the adventurer’s ability to tell his story. For example, if the professor faints from exhaustion and is unable to complete his account, it would be a social and political disaster for the two civic leaders.

“Why do tycoons with several millions of dollars try to make a billion, a sum so huge they couldn’t possibly spend it in a lifetime? As long as our diamond mines are kept secret here we, the twenty families of Krakatoa, match the rest of the world in wealth. The diamond mines have a peculiar magnetic effect on us. We couldn’t live happily in any other country, we would be haunted with the unbelievable dream of this unheard of wealth back on the Island. But we can’t take our diamonds, that is all of our diamonds, to another country without destroying their value. We are slaves of our own piggishness, we have locked ourselves in a diamond prison. On the other hand, we’re very happy here.”

Mr. F. explains why the residents don’t simply leave Krakatoa and its constant, noisy rumblings. They must protect their diamond mine, and they enjoy being the richest families on Earth, even if it’s unknown to the rest of the world. It’s a peculiar trap, to be so wealthy yet so tied to an unstable part of the planet. Their situation is a strange allegory about the price of avarice and the costs of human obsessions.

“The idea of the lives of eighty people being entrusted to such fickle and unpredictable traveling companions as balloons was quite frightening but thoroughly enjoyable.”

The Krakatoans’ flying platform, powered by balloons, can lift all 80 residents with 10 minutes’ warning. This is the island’s escape system in case the volcano threatens to erupt. Sherman’s thoughts about the thrilling nature of the plan speak to an underlying current in the story: that part of the thrill of life comes from its dangers. The Krakatoans have a plan to save themselves from the inherent risk of living on an active volcano, a scheme that itself is fairly dangerous. This makes the entire enterprise even more attractive to the professor, for whom risk simply adds spice to the challenge.

“A little while back I was starting to think of Krakatoans as being greedy, calculating, and traditionally dull billionaires. Now I find you are incurable romantics.”

On learning that the Krakatoans have a volcano escape platform powered by balloons, Sherman chides Mr. F. for what he sees as a foolishly romantic getaway plan. Mr. F. assures him that the plan is foolproof, but Sherman has put his finger on a deeper truth: The true purpose of the Krakatoans isn’t to hide away in wealthy splendor but to have a tremendous group adventure. They’re fabulously rich and spend lavishly on their comforts, yet they live on one of the most dangerous specks of land on the planet. They enjoy the cultures of the world—in their architecture, art, and cuisine—but never get to show off their fine lifestyle to the outside world. Instead, they put their efforts into community projects, such as group dining and playful soaring and boating. Money from the diamonds simply makes this grand project possible.

“I suppose one doesn’t think of one’s home town in terms of streets and buildings as much as one does of personal associations, friends, and relatives.”

As he informs Mr. F. of the latest doings in San Francisco, Sherman notices that what matters in a city is its people. What happens there happens to people; the buildings are there for people; things good and bad occur to people. If a bridge falls in an empty city, there’s no one to care. Sherman’s remark touches on one of the main themes of the book: that community is what matters, and that money is best spent on shared experiences with others.