Why this book

In 1872, steamships and railways had just stitched the continents together, and travel timetables became a kind of magic. Verne asked a thrilling question: with these new machines, could a single determined man outrun the calendar around the entire globe?

The Story

In London lived Phileas Fogg, a man so exact he set his clocks to the second and spoke to almost no one. He dismissed his servant that very morning for bringing shaving water two degrees too cold, therefore he needed a replacement at once.

No one knew where Fogg's fortune came from or how he filled his days beyond whist at his club. He seemed less a man than a machine wound to perfect time, therefore all London found him fascinating and utterly unreadable.

Therefore Fogg hired Jean Passepartout, a lively Frenchman weary of adventure who longed for a quiet, orderly household. Passepartout was delighted — but his calm new master would soon drag him across the entire planet before he could unpack.

That evening at the Reform Club, Fogg's friends argued that a robber could never escape now the world had shrunk. Fogg insisted the globe could be circled in eighty days, therefore he staked twenty thousand pounds — half his fortune — that he would do it himself.

But there was no time to lose. Fogg woke Passepartout, told him they left for Dover in ten minutes, and the astonished valet grabbed a carpetbag stuffed with banknotes. Therefore the two men vanished into the night, the clock already running.

Meanwhile a great bank robbery had shaken London, and the thief's description eerily matched Fogg. A dogged detective named Fix believed he had found his man, therefore he shadowed Fogg's every step, waiting only for a warrant to make the arrest.

Remember the shape of this chase: Fogg wants only to beat the clock, Passepartout wants to serve his master, and Fix wants to arrest Fogg the moment they touch British soil. Three men, three purposes, hurtling east together.

The travellers crossed France and Italy, then sailed the Suez Canal and on to Bombay. Fix trailed them, but Passepartout suspected nothing, thinking the detective merely a friendly fellow traveller. In India, Fogg boarded the railway east across the peninsula.

In Bombay, the eager Passepartout wandered into a sacred pagoda still wearing his shoes, a grave offence. Angry priests chased him and he barely escaped, but they filed a complaint — a small misstep that would later snap shut like a trap.

But the railway was not finished. Where the newspapers had promised unbroken track, the line simply ended in the jungle. Undismayed, Fogg bought an elephant and a guide, therefore the little party pressed on through the forest toward the far station.

The elephant, named Kiouni, cost Fogg a small fortune, but he paid without blinking. For two days the beast carried them beneath dripping branches, past temples and tigers, therefore they gained the far railhead and rejoined the iron road east.

In the forest they came upon a grim procession: a young widow named Aouda was being carried, drugged and weeping, to be burned alive upon her dead husband's funeral pyre. Fogg, who never wasted a word, quietly resolved to save her.

They waited for night, but their plan failed as guards closed in. Then Passepartout, hidden among the corpses on the pyre, suddenly rose as if the dead husband lived again. The terrified crowd fell back, therefore the party snatched Aouda and fled.

Aouda now travelled with them, grateful and unwilling to be left behind. But at Calcutta, Fix had Passepartout and Fogg arrested for the earlier temple offence. Fogg calmly paid bail with a fortune in cash, therefore they walked free onto the Hong Kong steamer.

At Hong Kong, Fix grew desperate — beyond this British port his warrant would be useless. Therefore he lured the loyal Passepartout into a den and let him drink drugged wine, so the servant would miss the ship and betray his master's route.

Because Passepartout lay senseless, Fogg reached the harbour to find his steamer gone. But he would not surrender. He hired a small pilot-boat and its captain to brave the China Sea, therefore he and Aouda raced onward through a howling storm toward Shanghai.

They caught the American steamer just in time and crossed to Yokohama. There Passepartout, penniless after waking alone, had joined a troupe of acrobats to earn his passage. Fogg found him mid-performance, therefore master and servant were joyfully reunited for the ocean ahead.

By now Passepartout had learned Fix's true trade and burned with fury at the man who drugged him. But aboard the Pacific steamer the two struck an uneasy truce, since both now needed Fogg to reach London swiftly and safely.

Through every disaster Fogg never raised his voice nor quickened his step. He noted each delay in a little book, spent gold like water, and played whist at sea as if the world were not racing beneath him.

Earlier the train had faced a weakened bridge over a chasm. The engineer chose to charge across at full speed, but the whole party held its breath, therefore they flew over just as the shuddering bridge collapsed behind the final car.

On the American train Fogg met Colonel Proctor, a bully who had once insulted him. A duel was arranged in the baggage car, but before a shot was fired the Sioux attack exploded, therefore the quarrel drowned in a fight for their lives.

A transcontinental train bore them east across the plains. But a war party of Sioux attacked, storming the carriages, and in the chaos they seized Passepartout and carried him off. Fogg would not abandon his servant, therefore he plunged after the raiders with a band of soldiers.

He saved Passepartout, but the train had steamed on without them, and precious hours bled away. A settler offered a sledge rigged with sails, therefore the party skimmed across the frozen prairie on the wind and caught the line again at Omaha.

Passepartout carried a secret shame: his lost day in the opium den had cost them the Yokohama steamer and nearly the whole race. Therefore he swore to guard his master's cause with his life, whatever dangers still waited ahead.

They reached New York only to watch the Liverpool steamer pull away from the dock. But Fogg refused defeat. He chartered a cargo vessel, the Henrietta, and bribed its crew, therefore he set his own course across the wintry Atlantic toward England.

Midway across, the coal ran out. But Fogg simply bought the ship from its captain and ordered the crew to feed her own wooden decks and cabins into the furnace. Therefore the Henrietta burned herself to a bare hull and limped into Ireland.

From Ireland they raced by rail and boat to Liverpool, home soil at last. But there Fix finally produced his warrant and arrested Fogg as the bank robber. Fogg was locked in a cell, therefore the precious final hours drained away behind iron bars.

In that Liverpool cell, Fogg sat perfectly still while the minutes he had chased across the world slipped through his fingers. He had faced storms, savages, and fire — But now a locked door alone seemed set to defeat him.

Hours later Fix burst in, stricken: the true robber had been caught days before. Fogg was innocent and free — But the delay had cost him the wager. He returned to London believing himself ruined, having circled the earth and lost by minutes.

At home, ruined and silent, Fogg found one comfort: Aouda, who had come to love him, asked to become his wife. Moved at last, the cold gentleman accepted, therefore he sent Passepartout to fetch a clergyman for the very next day.

But Passepartout raced back wild with joy: they had gained a whole day travelling always eastward toward the sun, so it was not Sunday but Saturday. The eighty days were not yet spent — therefore Fogg could still win, if he ran this instant.

They hurled Fogg into a cab across London, and he strode into the Reform Club as the clock struck the final second. His astonished friends conceded — he had won. Therefore the impossible wager was answered, the whole earth circled in eighty days.

What it means

So what had Fogg truly gained? He spent nearly his whole fortune to win it back, so in gold he broke even. But he had circled the globe and won a loving wife — and as Verne wrote, 'Truly, would you not for less than that make the tour around the world?'

🎧 Read-along audio is being prepared — text-only for now.