In Chapter 5, Newt Hoenikker reaches for an evocative pair of similes as he reflects on a memory of his father:
His pores looked as big as craters on the moon. His ears and nostrils were stuffed with hair. Cigar smoke made him smell like the mouth of Hell. So close up, my father was the ugliest thing I had ever seen. I dream about it all the time.
Newt’s letter turns the stereotype of the etherealized genius on its head. Its descriptions assemble an unearthly impression of Dr. Frank Hoenikker, remaking awe into physical disgust. The scientist’s pores are “as big as craters on the moon,” a flight of imaginative fancy that creates a decidedly unappealing image of his skin. Newt suggests that Dr. Hoenikker’s face is as pocked and bumpy as the lunar surface, ugly and crude.
Newt’s second simile supplements these horrific features. Dr. Hoenikker, who “smells like the mouth of Hell,” may well be its resident, too. The infernal comparison associates the scientist with the Devil through its figurative and fragrant link. In doing so, the simile articulates the underbelly of human ingenuity more explicitly than almost any other point in the novel. Newt’s descriptions—the pores, hairy ears, and cigarette smoke—culminate in a portrait that suggests the darker side of scientific progress. For a brief moment, the glamor and fame of the novel’s preeminent scientist devolves into something more deformed and devilish.