Jane Gaskell (1) (1941–)
Author of The Serpent
For other authors named Jane Gaskell, see the disambiguation page.
About the Author
Image credit: Books and Bookmen, June 1958
Series
Works by Jane Gaskell
The Fabulous Heroine 1 copy
Associated Works
Tagged
Common Knowledge
- Legal name
- Lynch, Jane Gaskell
- Birthdate
- 1941-07-07
- Gender
- female
- Occupations
- novelist
journalist
astrologer - Awards and honors
- Guest of Honour, Eastercon, UK (1987)
- Relationships
- Gaskell, Elizabeth (great-great-great-aunt)
- Nationality
- UK
- Birthplace
- Grange-over-Sands, Lancashire, England, UK
- Map Location
- England, UK
Members
Reviews
I had no idea what to expect from this, and even a third of the way in I hadn't quite pegged it, primarily because it doesn't fit into our neat little genre boxes.
I thought it was quite Diana Wynne Jonesian to begin: a feisty heroine, saddle by elders with an impossible task, prone to grumbling, and a wonderful, light, contemporary way with dialogue (it's amazing to me to read various writings from the past, whether 50 years ago or hundreds, and see how leaden and unreadable some prose is, show more and how alive and contemporary other prose managed to be).
This quickly changed, as very unpleasant events occurred which DWJ would scarcely have hinted at in middle-grade fiction. My best box for this book would be it's a Fantasy version (and barely fantasy, more like alternate history--there aren't wizards casting spells and such) of the Sexy Historical Lady subgenre (e.g. Angelique, or Forever Amber). I don't know if that's an actual subgenre, but it may as well be.
Gaskell has imagined a world which presumably never existed--a South America not remotely like the one we have together, with extant dinosaurs and other strange beasts, a nearby Atlantis just offshore, and has given us a travelogue from the perspective of her heroine, who starts young and innocent, but grows up quickly due to trials and tribulations.
(If you're ever stuck for an idea for a fantasy novel, really, just grab some other genre and think of a fantasy equivalent: Harry Potter is the fantasy boarding school book, Thraxas is the fantasy detective story, etc. ) So this is fantasy sexy historical lady, and it's terrific.
Note: as some have pointed out, this book--the original book, published oh so long ago in 63, I think--was later split into two copies. If you have this one, you needn't get the second bit, the Dragon--I misunderstood and ordered it through Abe, and it was the second half of this one.
(Note: 5 stars = amazing, wonderful, 4 = very good book, 3 = decent read, 2 = disappointing, 1 = awful, just awful. I'm fairly good at picking for myself so end up with a lot of 4s). I feel a lot of readers automatically render any book they enjoy 5, but I grade on a curve! show less
I thought it was quite Diana Wynne Jonesian to begin: a feisty heroine, saddle by elders with an impossible task, prone to grumbling, and a wonderful, light, contemporary way with dialogue (it's amazing to me to read various writings from the past, whether 50 years ago or hundreds, and see how leaden and unreadable some prose is, show more and how alive and contemporary other prose managed to be).
This quickly changed, as very unpleasant events occurred which DWJ would scarcely have hinted at in middle-grade fiction. My best box for this book would be it's a Fantasy version (and barely fantasy, more like alternate history--there aren't wizards casting spells and such) of the Sexy Historical Lady subgenre (e.g. Angelique, or Forever Amber). I don't know if that's an actual subgenre, but it may as well be.
Gaskell has imagined a world which presumably never existed--a South America not remotely like the one we have together, with extant dinosaurs and other strange beasts, a nearby Atlantis just offshore, and has given us a travelogue from the perspective of her heroine, who starts young and innocent, but grows up quickly due to trials and tribulations.
(If you're ever stuck for an idea for a fantasy novel, really, just grab some other genre and think of a fantasy equivalent: Harry Potter is the fantasy boarding school book, Thraxas is the fantasy detective story, etc. ) So this is fantasy sexy historical lady, and it's terrific.
Note: as some have pointed out, this book--the original book, published oh so long ago in 63, I think--was later split into two copies. If you have this one, you needn't get the second bit, the Dragon--I misunderstood and ordered it through Abe, and it was the second half of this one.
(Note: 5 stars = amazing, wonderful, 4 = very good book, 3 = decent read, 2 = disappointing, 1 = awful, just awful. I'm fairly good at picking for myself so end up with a lot of 4s). I feel a lot of readers automatically render any book they enjoy 5, but I grade on a curve! show less
Given my subgeneric interests, it's surprising I took so long to discover Jane Gaskell's Atlan books. The Serpent is the first of them, and I just read it in its original US paperback edition (1968), a text which was later broken into two volumes: The Serpent and The Dragon. The novel takes the form of a personal journal kept by the protagonist Cija. She is the "Goddess" of the title for the book as it appeared in German translation: "The Tower of the Goddess." The tower is left behind in show more the first chapter, though, and Cija is rarely treated as the goddess that she had been raised to believe herself to be.
The story is set in an antediluvian civilization hostile to "Atlan" (the home of the "Atlanteans"). There are no clear-cut supernatural events in the course of the story, although Cija becomes haunted and eventually undergoes an exorcism of sorts, and there are some uncanny events involving animals. The general tech level is vaguely medieval, but there are large cities and instances of fantastic materials technology.
A notable feature removing Cija's world from ours is the use of phorusrhacidae (perhaps physornis?) as military mounts--these prehistoric flightless "terror birds" were apex predators, and their domestication for warfare is represented as being a difficult and dodgy business. The military setting is central to the book, as much of it concerns Cija's travels with the army of the Northern Kingdom, which is under the command of General Zerd, himself the "Serpent" of the title. He seems to be descended on one side from reptilian ancestry, giving him a dark, scaled complexion.
Cija is an evidently reliable if occasionally unlikable narrator. There are some strangely contemporary turns of phrase ("OK" e.g.), for which Gaskell apologies in her introduction. She deploys the documentary conceit and actually claims that the novel is a translation of an ancient document. Still, the voice of the diary manages to project the character writing it, and to ring her through some changes of perspective. Besides Cija's native culture, from which she had been sheltered by imprisonment in a tower for her entire childhood, she is introduced to at least four further realms over the course of the book, allowing Gaskell ample room for world-building. The filter of the diary format, however, keeps the protagonist's concerns dominant, with little in the way of heavy-handed exposition about the setting. The preservation of the material diary itself through Cija's numerous captivities, escapes, flights, and mishaps is maybe the unlikeliest feature of the story! show less
The story is set in an antediluvian civilization hostile to "Atlan" (the home of the "Atlanteans"). There are no clear-cut supernatural events in the course of the story, although Cija becomes haunted and eventually undergoes an exorcism of sorts, and there are some uncanny events involving animals. The general tech level is vaguely medieval, but there are large cities and instances of fantastic materials technology.
A notable feature removing Cija's world from ours is the use of phorusrhacidae (perhaps physornis?) as military mounts--these prehistoric flightless "terror birds" were apex predators, and their domestication for warfare is represented as being a difficult and dodgy business. The military setting is central to the book, as much of it concerns Cija's travels with the army of the Northern Kingdom, which is under the command of General Zerd, himself the "Serpent" of the title. He seems to be descended on one side from reptilian ancestry, giving him a dark, scaled complexion.
Cija is an evidently reliable if occasionally unlikable narrator. There are some strangely contemporary turns of phrase ("OK" e.g.), for which Gaskell apologies in her introduction. She deploys the documentary conceit and actually claims that the novel is a translation of an ancient document. Still, the voice of the diary manages to project the character writing it, and to ring her through some changes of perspective. Besides Cija's native culture, from which she had been sheltered by imprisonment in a tower for her entire childhood, she is introduced to at least four further realms over the course of the book, allowing Gaskell ample room for world-building. The filter of the diary format, however, keeps the protagonist's concerns dominant, with little in the way of heavy-handed exposition about the setting. The preservation of the material diary itself through Cija's numerous captivities, escapes, flights, and mishaps is maybe the unlikeliest feature of the story! show less
‘Attic Summer’ is an obscure novella that seems to have been out of print for more than fifty years. Conveniently, however, the National Library of Scotland has a copy. The 1963 edition I read has a photo of a topless girl on the cover, which seems a little risque even now. The narrative follows a 16-year-old girl called Unity as she moves from her family home in Fulham to an attic in Chelsea shared with three flatmates. It is an extraordinarily intense portrait of teenage angst, by show more turns a striking illustration of early 1960s London and a timeless account of growing up. To say this is a book about teenage romance is both technically true and totally inaccurate. Unity’s life is dominated by constant sexual harassment. Sometimes this develops into a brief flirtation or almost-relationship, but usually it just takes the form of relentless threat. A suitable subtitle would be: ‘An anthropological study of fear and excitement in early 1960s female teenage sexuality’. That is far too dry a description, though. I found Gaskell’s writing electrifying. Her insight into the world of a teenage girl still seems shocking now, so was likely more so when it was first published. One scene, in which Unity is nearly raped during a cinema riot, is genuinely terrifying and difficult to read.
Such was the richness of Unity’s inner life compared to the pests, bores, and idiots who hit on her that I experienced ‘Attic Summer’ as the diametric opposite of reading Hemingway. Whilst good old Ernest clearly did not consider women to be people, from Unity’s perspective boys hardly seem more than monsters. Her fascination, repulsion, fear, and attraction are conveyed with wonderful subtlety. The boys and men she encounters are also very convincing in their self-absorption, heedless cruelty, and predatory behaviour. Feminism has not yet manifested in Unity’s world and even the less awful boys say things like, “You don’t have to let me. I could just do it - only I’d sooner you let me.” She has to be constantly on the defensive, aware of her vulnerability and inability to rely on anyone to save her. Revealingly, she instinctively distrusts the police even when they interrupt her near-rape.
In addition to the emotional power of the book, the historically specific details are very interesting. London still has plenty of bombed out buildings; gangs of Mods and Teds maraud about on motor scooters armed with knives; cinemas are the main form of entertainment. Unity mentions going on a march to Aldermaston and is taken to a ‘dope den’. I enjoyed the details of slang and fashion, such as, ‘Prissy went out with her supermarket smiff,’ and ‘Nearly every girl here was wearing an extremely tight short skirt and shoes not a foot but about 12 inches long.’ There is also a strong sense of class differences across London boroughs. Unity, from Fulham, is a ‘suburban girl’ to her sometime-boyfriend, an amateur criminal known as Shredder. The settings are vivid, especially Unity’s stuffy and overcrowded attic, in which her flatmates intend to throw parties but never do. The whole subdivided building shares a single bathroom and telephone, with no electric lighting on the stairs between floors. Nonetheless, she could afford to live in Chelsea! Can you imagine that now.
Overall, ‘Attic Summer’ is distinctive, sharp, and atmospheric. The quality of the writing deserves five stars; I am arbitrarily deducting one as the constant sexual harassment Unity suffers is so depressing. I wonder what the rest of Jane Gaskell’s work is like. Hopefully I can find out without needing to spend the whole afternoon in a legal deposit library’s reading room. Much as I enjoy that, I don’t have time for it when I’m not on strike. show less
Such was the richness of Unity’s inner life compared to the pests, bores, and idiots who hit on her that I experienced ‘Attic Summer’ as the diametric opposite of reading Hemingway. Whilst good old Ernest clearly did not consider women to be people, from Unity’s perspective boys hardly seem more than monsters. Her fascination, repulsion, fear, and attraction are conveyed with wonderful subtlety. The boys and men she encounters are also very convincing in their self-absorption, heedless cruelty, and predatory behaviour. Feminism has not yet manifested in Unity’s world and even the less awful boys say things like, “You don’t have to let me. I could just do it - only I’d sooner you let me.” She has to be constantly on the defensive, aware of her vulnerability and inability to rely on anyone to save her. Revealingly, she instinctively distrusts the police even when they interrupt her near-rape.
In addition to the emotional power of the book, the historically specific details are very interesting. London still has plenty of bombed out buildings; gangs of Mods and Teds maraud about on motor scooters armed with knives; cinemas are the main form of entertainment. Unity mentions going on a march to Aldermaston and is taken to a ‘dope den’. I enjoyed the details of slang and fashion, such as, ‘Prissy went out with her supermarket smiff,’ and ‘Nearly every girl here was wearing an extremely tight short skirt and shoes not a foot but about 12 inches long.’ There is also a strong sense of class differences across London boroughs. Unity, from Fulham, is a ‘suburban girl’ to her sometime-boyfriend, an amateur criminal known as Shredder. The settings are vivid, especially Unity’s stuffy and overcrowded attic, in which her flatmates intend to throw parties but never do. The whole subdivided building shares a single bathroom and telephone, with no electric lighting on the stairs between floors. Nonetheless, she could afford to live in Chelsea! Can you imagine that now.
Overall, ‘Attic Summer’ is distinctive, sharp, and atmospheric. The quality of the writing deserves five stars; I am arbitrarily deducting one as the constant sexual harassment Unity suffers is so depressing. I wonder what the rest of Jane Gaskell’s work is like. Hopefully I can find out without needing to spend the whole afternoon in a legal deposit library’s reading room. Much as I enjoy that, I don’t have time for it when I’m not on strike. show less
This is the second Jane Gaskell novel I've read. The first, [b:Attic Summer|18632795|Attic Summer|Jane Gaskell|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1381142454l/18632795._SX50_.jpg|26427366], was published in the early 1960s and followed a 16 year old girl leaving home. 'Summer Coming' was published ten years later and follows a woman in her thirties. Both have the same striking prose style and intensity of feeling, but 'Summer Coming' is harsher to read. The show more first person narrator (whose name I can neither remember nor find in the book) recounts a period of chaotic days in diary format. She seems to be in a manic state throughout, fixated upon getting her ex-husband back, seemingly as an escape from her abusive and dysfunctional family. In between pursuit of the ex, she quits her job, decides to write a novel, drinks heavily, shoplifts, darts around London in taxis, and has bitingly sharp conversations with everyone she meets. Her narrative voice is brilliant, yet quite exhausting to read:
While trying to find a point of comparison, Muriel Spark popped into my head. While the length and events of the book would not be entirely out of place in Spark's oeuvre, the style is utterly different. Spark lets you observe from a distance; Gaskell plunges you into the disorientating maelstrom of the narrator's life without space to breathe. There is a theme of the family flat flooding, overflowing with water as it does with people (and a pet monkey). The narrative is full of impetuous decisions, off-hand cruelties, and memorably peculiar details dropped into acerbic conversations:
I didn't notice the Edgar Alan Poe reference in that exchange before! Very sly. Events culminate with the dramatic return of the narrator's father, and her exit from the family home. In these final few pages, it becomes clear just how abusive the household was and still is. For all the picaresque details and witticisms, this is essentially a grim story of a disabled woman and her children in a dangerous and unstable living situation. The narrator keeps moving, talking, drinking, and generally doing things because there is nowhere safe for her to stop. 'Summer Coming' is elegantly written, with particularly striking dialogue, but paints a deeply unsettling portrait of family life. show less
I wrote and wrote. I got a lot of prose done and it is glorious. I really go at things once I decide to start on them. It's because I'm a precipitate break-neck Gemini. Timon of course is Leo, strong and king-like. Whereas Digory has Pisces rising, like damp. I love to be alone, to write like fire, to happily split infinitives. Every now and then, when I really do feel I need the sound of a human voice, I cough.
As Coco Chanel once said (she invented those jackets) he who does not enjoy his own company is usually right.
While trying to find a point of comparison, Muriel Spark popped into my head. While the length and events of the book would not be entirely out of place in Spark's oeuvre, the style is utterly different. Spark lets you observe from a distance; Gaskell plunges you into the disorientating maelstrom of the narrator's life without space to breathe. There is a theme of the family flat flooding, overflowing with water as it does with people (and a pet monkey). The narrative is full of impetuous decisions, off-hand cruelties, and memorably peculiar details dropped into acerbic conversations:
"Did I choose you," he asked, after taking a deep-ish breath, "because I wanted to cherish you? I know I always said so. Are you now telling me that was my mistake?"
"People who want to cherish," I said, "are basically sadists, I think. No, hold on a moment, Timon. I don't mean you. I don't think you did want to cherish me. Just my beastly leg made you think so, it often forces people into mistaking their own true reactions to me as a person." I held my refilled glass to the simulated firelight, and knew it cast interesting shadows forever amber on my face.
"You mean," Timon intently watched me, "that Digory is a sadist?"
"I don't know," I said. "He's very weak. He likes to feel needed, and God knows a crippled girl-friend is no challenge to a man, now is she?"
"What's that noise?" Timon asked. "A clicking noise. As of someone gently rapping..."
"The children's jumping beans," I said, "friendly little things, wakened by fire."
I went on: "Digory drinks so much. And he's promiscuous."
"Embarrassing for you," Timon said.
Be careful, I thought to myself, or he'll want me fumigated. And all this, he'll be thinking, in the shadow of Harrods.
I didn't notice the Edgar Alan Poe reference in that exchange before! Very sly. Events culminate with the dramatic return of the narrator's father, and her exit from the family home. In these final few pages, it becomes clear just how abusive the household was and still is. For all the picaresque details and witticisms, this is essentially a grim story of a disabled woman and her children in a dangerous and unstable living situation. The narrator keeps moving, talking, drinking, and generally doing things because there is nowhere safe for her to stop. 'Summer Coming' is elegantly written, with particularly striking dialogue, but paints a deeply unsettling portrait of family life. show less
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