Customer Reviews

Seven Gothic Tales

5 star:		(12)
4 star:		(2)
3 star:		(0)
2 star:		(1)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

Years ago, I wrote a review on Amazon for Karen Blixen's _Winter's Tales_, where I observed that it was the equal of this book. I have no reason to revise that estimate, but feel I should point out that this book is extremely fine, and should not be ignored by people who like good writing and aren't scared off by a bit of melodrama.

The title of this review tries to make a small point: Blixen didn't write her stories with notions of the prevailing literary fashions in mind. She wrote them as she felt them, and she used a style and technique that harken back to earlier writers. In her introduction to the book, Dorothy Canfield, attempting to characterise this style, made reference to an array of writers from E.T.A. Hoffmann to Robert Louis Stevenson and Thomas Mann. Although I think the reference to Mann has merit, the truth is Blixen was genuinely unique. She doesn't really have any real imitators, either, although I've seen a number of writers allude to being influenced by her.

Back to this book: it was her first volume of short stories. Not many writers hit gold on their first book, but Blixen managed it. There was no 'prentice work as prelude, just a stream of mature works of art from this book onward.

And, goodness, she could *write*. The prose is eloquent, forceful, and full of striking phrases, images, and observations. The stories are all set in the 19th Century, and many contains elements of the gothic (hence the title) and sometimes the gruesome, as well as modernist irony and psychological insight. When it comes to characters, plots, and situations, virtually everything in the book seems beyond the ordinary. Clearly, the writer wasn't afraid to take chances. The amazing thing is that she wins most of her fictional gambles.

The first story in the book is "The Deluge at Norderney," where we have a cast of characters that seem out of Hoffmann by way of Byron, put into an extreme situation, and forced to come to terms with questions of illusion and reality in life. This story is my absolute favorite; it may not be the "best." It certainly sets the tone.

Besides "The Deluge...", the stories I'd single out for special praise are "The Monkey," "The Poet," "The Supper at Elsinore," and "The Roads Round Pisa." The remaining 2 stories in the book are a pleasure to read, although I don't feel that "The Dreamers" entirely comes off; Blixen reused the heroine of this story later in ways that lead me to think she was invested with some sort of personal significance for the author; perhaps that's why it seems less well controlled. The shortest story, "The Old Chevalier," is pleasant but feels slighter both in size and content than its companions.

Blixen's other books of stories are interesting-to-fascinating. Each book has its attractions. Admirers of this book might find _Winter's Tales_ worth their time. _Anecdotes of Destiny_, which contains "Babette's Feast" and "Tempests," is a fine collection, too, and has grown on me with the years. It isn't quite at the level of achievement of _Seven Gothic Tales_ or _Winter's Tales_, but then, how many books of stories are?

Why isn't I. Dinesen's work more widely known and accepted in the modernist pantheon? Her reputation seems to have settled into that of oddball literary personality and vehicle for Meryl Streep, however the work itself would have eluded me, despite a decent education in high school and university (for example, I was given Hesse and Camus to read in 10th grade, why not Isak?)had I not been attracted to this title in a dusty library. The work is about as anti-Hollywood as I could possibly imagine. Perhaps the answer is, she is not really a modernist but some sort of high baroque romanticist belonging more in the 19th century world of German prose; the "layering of stories" effect, especially in "Roads to Pisa", reads like she is channeling the world of Jan Potocki, enigmatic author of "The Saragossa Manuscript," who like Casanova moved in that incredible world of the international bohemian intellectual elite that Rexroth describes so well somewhere in one of his essays; that world of post-chaises and midnight rendezvous and military officers with seemingly endless resources of money, brains, education and cunning ... in fact "Saragossa" and Casanova's "Memoirs" were the books that came to my mind as I read her...reading this stuff is like eating a chocolate eclair with a brain more powerful than yours will ever be...why aren't there writers like this anymore? Was it all only a dream?

When I was a teenager, I found a copy of Seven Gothic Tales in my grandparens attic. It was a rather worn hardcover copy and was inscribed to my father, who had recently died by someone who was a stranger to me. I could not ignore the magic of the circumstance and I have been equally unable to forget the magic of the narratives. The grace and cadance of the language still is with me.

"....'Well,' he said, 'there are only two courses of thought at all seemly to a person of any intelligence. The one is: What am I to do this next moment?--or tonight, or tomorrow? And the other: What did God mean by creating the world, the sea, and the desert, the horse, the winds, woman, amber, fishes, wine? Said thinks of the one or the other.'"

When we read Dinesen, we are thrown into bothe story and "the other."

Isak Dinesen, Seven Gothic Tales

Such melancholy has been portrayed in these stories, so dark, yet exquisitely sweet. The characterisation is incredible, I could feel the emotions of the characters - loss, frustration, hope and fear as I read, the mood of the book enveloped me. The tales are almost timeless, set in a dark and dreary Europe, moving slowly yet they were not laborious, rather they were sensual. I would recommend this book to anyone who wants to curl up by a fire, in the middle of winter, and wants to be alternately delighted and dismayed.

This is a demanding work of seven multilayered and esoteric stories in this, Dinesen's first book.

We know of Dinesen more commonly by way of Meryl Streep, who played Dinesen, or the Baroness Karen Blixen, in "Out of Africa." But the woman we find here as the author of these stories is no easily-understood, Hollywood character. Her stories within stories are rich in symbolism, imagination, and a "long ago and far away" feeling that is carefully, carefully, controlled by the author. Dinesen wrote some of these tales in Africa, and finished others along with ordering the book back home in Denmark, after her farm had failed. She wrote, interestingly, in English (and did her own translations back into Danish later on). Many books follow this one, including LAST TALES and, of course, OUT OF AFRICA. Dinesen, while the heroic, strong, individualist of Streep's portrayal, is also kind of strange, introspective, and fabulously bizarre. She uses her stories' plot lines as a means, one feels, to work out her life philosophies, reshape and recast ideas and symbolic imagery, and impart creative insights. After getting to about the fourth or fifth story, one can see that she uses the same imagery repeatedly and even the same turns of phrase.

I have read this volume at least once before, and wanted to go through it again knowing just that much more literature and biblical references. (It helps to be well read in the classics when reading Dinesen.) Anything is up for her use, and if you don't see it, something will be lost to you as you interpret the stories and what they meant, or even, what happened. She loves Shakespeare (OUT OF AFRICA was written in five sections, after the five-act structure of Shakespearian drama), and Don Giovanni, she has interesting ideas about femininity and independent women, and symbolizes these issues with women who are doll-like, women who seem as if they can fly, women who are witches in some way or another, etc. She likes to toy with the mind of God, as well, having characters pronounce his proclivities, likes and dislikes, etc., quite often. I found these to be some of the most interesting passages, after some of the gender-defining ones, that is. (She chose her pseudonym, "Isak," as it is Hebrew for "He who laughs" and she definitely plays with many ideas here, many humorously.)

Of the seven tales (The Old Chevalier, The Roads Round Pisa, The Monkey, The Supper at Elsinore, The Dreamers, The Poet, and The Deluge at Norderney), The Roads Round Pisa is my favorite, and I have studied it for a graduate class. In the book, a mistake is the central event, and we learn of it only at the end. Our main character, Count Augustus Von Schimmelmann, is writing a letter to a friend, when a carriage accident occurs in front of him. An old woman, who seemed at first to him to be a man, is injured and asks that he go and seek out her granddaughter so that she may forgive her for an estrangement before she dies, as she believes she will do shortly. Augustus sets out for Pisa and in an inn meets a young man, with whom he engages in an interesting conversation. Soon, however, he finds out that this man is a woman, and whereas before he had been asking "him" for help in finding his way into the city, now he offers her his assistance as a gentleman. Their subsequent conversation holds a particularly compelling passage I have never forgotten. In it, Dinesen explicates a concept of women's differences, physically, psychologically and societally, from men through the artful use of the host and guest metaphor.

This passage is a key to the story's mood when toward the end the mistake around which the characters swirl is revealed. But the passage is also an interesting philosophical and societal analogy that provokes thought and discussion. This is, then, quintessential Dinesen.

The other stories deal with identity and loss (The Dreamers), a ghost who is allowed to rise up from hell whenever the sound between Denmark and Sweden freezes over (Supper at Elsinore), the mirage of lost love (The Old Chevalier), poetry and power (The Poet), the societal roles of women (The Monkey), and identity (The Deluge at Norderney), but these are very brief and basic categorizations. One could safely say that all the stories deal with many of the others' main themes. The book as a whole is an excellent study of the power of fiction to suggest and manipulate, with beautiful, evocative writing and deep and stirring underlying meanings. I recommend it.

I loved these stories by an expert storyteller. The way she wove tales inside tales, intertwined and yet clear is simply amazing. There was definitely a mystical side to these stories that left me spellbound. I cannot reccommend this book enough.

If only the fiction writers of the moment displayed as much generosity towards their readers as the Baroness Blixen did, there might be more freshman efforts out there as satisfying and enriching as this. She shared so much of herself in nearly everything she wrote -- a deep, respectful love of literature, of the odd folk of the remoter corners of the world, of Europe's waning aristos, and always with that supremely ironic fundament to her character: one foot (bare) wriggling its toes in the Id's squishy mud, and the other (impeccably shod) pacing the red carpet. "The Dreamer" is especially memorable.

These are strangely compelling stories, all of which evoke a sense of mystery and poetry. Floods and monkeys, skulls and puppet shows, vie with each other and figure here in short works that are too realistic for fables but too bizarre to be mistaken for reality.

Gothic surrealism might be the best way to describe the tone achieved by the author, whose real name was Karen Blixen (made familiar to modern audiences by the film "Out of Africa"). This is a reissue of a volume that first appeared in 1934.

Borrowing the author's phrase, each story is "like an echo in the engulfing darkness." Atmospheric and brooding, these tales are part Poe and part Brothers Grimm. Exotic in characterization as well as setting, we are introduced to a polyglot collection of virgin nuns and wandering n'er do wells, who cling to rooftops and journey on rhino-horn laden dhows.

Escape from the ordinary world is promised and delivered, but somehow, the people in these stories also remind us of people we know and situations that might not be as straightforward as we have assumed. A scarf may not be a scarf. The wind may be more than the wind. A scarf blown in the wind recalls to one character the memory of a little white snake -- madness is hinted at, at every turn.

They are seven distinctive tales. Yet, the evocation of place, the depiction of eccentricity, the precariousness of life, suffuse them all. They are magnetic and memorable. Even so, some readers may find the tales a bit too weird for their tastes.

If you find this review helpful you might want to read some of my other reviews, including those on subjects ranging from biography to architecture, as well as religion and fiction.

I sometimes try to decide which is my favourite Isak Dinesen book and always after a lengthy quandary settle on "Seven Gothic Tales". These long stories, constructed with the most unassuming virtuosity, leave behind the same feeling of mingled enchantment, wisdom and sadness as reading Shakespeare or her countryman Hans Christian Andersen.

The author was Karen Blixen, a coffee-planter in Kenya who wrote the wonderful "Out of Africa", (which has little in common with the movie.) But as Isak Dinesen, she moved through an imaginary but meticulously evoked late-18th century Europe, where the paradoxes of love and fate, innocence and disillusion, order and dream, are played out gracefully and remorselessly.

Where did she get her stories from? I feel as if I never had to read them, as if I have always known them. Artificial and stylised yet almost unbearably true, they linger like music and burn like ice.
I envy anyone who has yet to read them.

dinesen/blixen was a true, living Scheherazade. this is an astounding collection of stories within stories within stories within stories. beautifully, elegantly written and set in various european locales, starring wonderfully alive characters straight out of fairytales, dreams and myth. these are strange, magical narratives (novellas, to be a stickler) with a modern sensibility. brimming with metaphors that will make you pause. kind of a cross between e.t.a. hoffman and a.s. byatt. definitely going to read more of her stuff.