The Last Adventure of Dr. Yngve Hogalum (The Magnetron Chronicles Book 1)

The Last Adventure of Dr. Yngve Hogalum (The Magnetron Chronicles Book 1)

Language: English

Pages: 53


Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

Apocryphal Memoirs Of An Eccentric Genius

Nineteenth Century inventor Phineas Magnetron is a man on a mission in this first volume of The Magnetron Chronicles series, a faithfully executed parody of Victorian Era science fiction adventure tales, blending historical fact with improbable fiction.

Misunderstood, ostracized by his closest associates, Phineas embarks on a daring and unlikely caper to resurrect his dead mentor, the bombastic Dr. Hogalum, mustering all the Steam Age weird science at his disposal. He’ll bend the laws of man, nature, and physics, unearthing a haunting mystery and going boldly where no gentleman has gone before.

A Wattpad Featured Story with over 120,000 Reads!

"brilliant... fantastic... grand... incredible... intriguing... lovely... magnificent... unusual"

These are just some of the comments by Wattpad readers, who have called The Last Adventure of Dr. Yngve Hogalum "pure genius" and "an intriguing premise... heavily influenced by Jules Verne and H.G. Wells." Tens of thousands of readers have already enjoyed this "really compelling... parody of Victorian era pulp-fiction" with "a great sense of style," and praised author D.L. Mackenzie's "bloody superb use of the language." The "language is entirely redolent of the era," and "the writing style is a joy!"

- "I simply adore this story."
- "Love everything about it!"
- "love the classics references..."
- "I enjoyed the victorian-era style, and the wonderfully woven words"
- "It's grand to see something that has obviously had some love lavished on it."
- "I am so glad I found this book!"
- "...really well written and I cannot wait to read the rest of [the series]"

Review by Kira Lerner, Author and Editor-in-Chief of

The Magnetron Chronicles relates the apocryphal tales of The Hogalum Society, a Victorian era club of "great men and great deeds" (of which Phineas Magnetron himself is a member, naturally). Think of a group comprised of Harry Houdini, Thomas Edison, Sherlock Holmes, Nikola Tesla, and other such fictional and real-life Steam Age luminaries with unconventional talents and ideas—all of whom were looked upon as a bit batty—and you'll have a good idea of the Hogalum Society.

Anyway, the conceit of the series is that we are reading Magnetron's journals, and in The Last Adventure of Dr. Yngve Hogalum we thereby learn of the strange events that occur when Phineas takes it upon himself to resurrect the spirit of Dr. Hogalum (the author tells me it's pronounced "HO-ga-lum"), the Society's beloved founder and mentor who has recently died. Phineas' plan (think: zombies) isn't warmly received by his compatriots in the group, who worry that he's lost his marbles. The fact that he tries to perform the necessary tasks himself is admirable but his plans go awry, and after digging up Hogalum's body, he retrieves only the head, which he intends to reanimate with voodoo. Slight problem, because (as his Haitian friend Petión observes) zombies are mindless bodies, and how useful is a mindless head?

As you can probably tell, the series is heavily inspired by the works of H. G. Wells, Jules Verne, and—to a lesser extent—Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. And hey, let's throw in Mark Twain as well, because—despite the fact that the journals are written with utter sincerity and seriousness, this is definitely (and intentionally) funny satire. For example, here's one of Dr. Hogalum's first comments upon his revival:

"I do not wish to appear ungrateful after having been raised from the dead," he said in a beleaguered tone, "but I must ask why you did not see fit to include my body in this enterprise!"

Indeed. D. L. Mackenzie's well-written Last Adventure of Dr. Yngve Hogalum harks back to the earliest days of the science fiction serial, and does a great job evoking the style of those genteel but breathless tales of remarkable discoveries, bizarre inventions and dangerous (mis)adventure

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lines. In the distance, the unmistakable sound of a wagon being drawn by a pair of horses. How on Earth could I possibly explain the bizarre goings-on on my property? “Police!” exclaimed Pung repeatedly. His mouth was wide open and his eyes blinked in fear and disbelief. “Police! Police!” Mrs. Mackenzie slapped her hand over his gaping mouth. “Stuff a sack in it, ye old sod! Yes, it’s the police, but ye don’t have to call them over, do ye!” I opened the valve full on, and a great rippling gust

the strangest of coincidences. On a whim, I had responded to a personal advertisement in the Telegraph, through which the advertiser sought “unconventional thinkers,” a curious qualification for which I hoped my contumacious mental indiscipline would suffice. As I came to find, the advertiser was none other than Dr. Hogalum, who was recruiting a replacement for a Hogalum Society member whose formerly robust nervous constitution had buckled under the strain of his arduous duties and who was

our ranks, and we were six. The years that followed were the happiest of my life. Rarely was there not some stimulating conundrum to be unraveled, and never were we at a loss in the unraveling. Innumerable minor quarrels and the few truly distressing altercations that transpired over the years could in no way diminish the luster of our achievements—or my measureless esteem for these intrepid and effulgent paladins toiling in obscurity for a better world. I shall have much to say about my Hogalum

leave the room when he began to weep once again, his melancholy rejuvenated by my honorific memorial. Tears gushed anew from behind outlandishly thick spectacles, flowing down his flushed, soggy cheeks. Anders re-entered the room and hoisted Pung from the floor, cradling him in his enormous arms, and commenced to carry him from the room. I asked him to deposit Pung on a settee at the far end of the room and leave him be, and also to fetch Mrs. Mackenzie from her kitchen so that all interested

had procured in town. True to form, he did not ask the nature of the unusual implements which we were hoisting onto the ungainly conveyance. I could not resist adding with feigned nonchalance that the items would be the object of a presentation I would be giving at my conference, again, to lend further verisimilitude to my deception. On many past occasions, Anders had served as an attentive—if indifferent—audience as I practiced aloud my delivery of disquisitions on any number of abstruse

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