1. The first story, "The Deluge at Norderney," proceeds largely by way of monologues. It is set in the 1830s at a resort island off the northern coast of Germany, Norderney. A once in a hundred years storm occurs which requires the evacuation of the spa and surrounding farmsteads. Eventually we find ourselves with four characters in the loft of a farmhouse where they must await rescue with the water ever rising. Will they survive until morning when a boat is expected to rescue them? It is in this context that everyone's convoluted history is revealed. Some of the writing here is cryptic, I should say opaque, such as the early musings of Miss Nat-og-Dag, "a maiden lady of great wealth." The old Cardinal, Hamilcar von Sehestedt, a favorite of the pope in his youth, is loaded with wisdom of an all too undoctrinal nature. The two young people in the loft, Calypso and Jonathan, each have their own rich stories to tell, too. 2. "The Old Chevalier" is told by an elderly yet still fashionable gentleman at some evening gathering of a group of younger men. It is the winter of 1874; the chevalier, a young man then, emerges onto a Parisian boulevard in the rain after his lover has tried to poison him. One can guess at his startled and benumbed state of mind. On the street he is approached by a "young drunken woman" who he proceeds to take home, viewing her as some Gift of Providence meant to get him through a rough patch. Slowly he undresses her. As he does so the narrative is interrupted by an ever so elegant disquisition on the changing nature of women during his adult years--not just changes in their dress, which is vividly discussed , that's only the point of departure, but their roles as "keeper of the mystery" that is Woman, too. Beautifully told and my favorite of the two stories so far.3. "The Monkey" is set in the early 1800s in a "Lutheran country of Northern Europe." A young officer, Boris, in trouble with certain ecclesiastics at court for his libertine ways, travels in haste to a cloister run by an aunt to seek her help in getting married. The Prioress recommends a nearby woman, one Athena, daughter of Count Hopballehus. Yes, the intended's name does foreshadow somewhat her athletic rejection of the nephew, but it does not--cannot--prepare us for the wild scenes that follow in which both the aunt and nephew press their suit. The aunt's pet monkey, which has been away from the cloister for some weeks on an annual lark, returns at the height of negotiations to turn matters on their ear. Hints of Ovid.4. "The Roads Round Pisa" This story is hobbled by a baroque circuitousness of plot. What the hell is going on? It doesn't hang together. Most unsatisfying and my least favorite of the stories here.5. In "The Supper at Elsinore" the elderly Madam Bæk, servant to the famous de Coninck family around the time of the Napoleonic wars, recalls the heady times of that family. In particular the lives of the two daughters, Elsie and Fanny, and the son, Morten. The story of the sisters' social success, and the tragic fate of the brother, are recollected in a third-person narrative which is largely a recapitulation of Mme. Bæk's exultant, highly colored, romantic memories. Fanny and Elsie de Coninck were the belles of the balls who could never believe they were genuinely loved by the local men. But Mdm. Bæk knew better "when she saw the swains of Elsinore grow pale and worn, [and] go into exile or become bachelors from love of them." The sisters are skeptics, melancholiacs, whose collective mood swings from desolation to ecstasis and back. Morten's leads a swashbuckling life as a privateer, then when privateering is outlawed he goes rogue, taking up the pirate's life. He disappears from Elsinore on the day of his wedding, jilting his betrothed, and is later reported hanged at Havana. Now in 1840, Mme. Bæk travels by carriage to Copenhagen to report to her ladies that she has seen the long-dead brother, Morten, in the house on several occassions, once staring fixedly at their portraits. The sisters then return to Elsinore for a final encounter with their sibling.
Seven Gothic Tales by Isak Dinesen (Karen Blixen) has been a very difficult read for me. Gothic novels are not, by rights, my usual reading fare but I was drawn to this book by the very intriguing Introduction written by Dorothy Canfield. So, I grabbed it right up at the Friends of the Library Booksale. And then, when I gave into temptation and signed up for the Gothic Reading Challenge, it seemed only natural to add this one to the list. My goodness, I didn't know what I was letting myself in for.The seven tales are very uneven. The first, "The Deluge at Norderney," is brilliant. The descriptions of the flood and the plight of the people along the coast are very striking. The tales told by the small group left to their fate in the old barn draw the reader in and hold her captive. I was completely taken in by the final twist."The Monkey" is one of the tales that I would say is more gothic than most. It reminds me of some of Poe's best work. And there is an element of the supernatural involved. More spine-tingling than the others.And then there is "The Supper at Elsinore"--a true ghost story that tells the tale of a lost brother and the two sisters who essential died when he did. The meeting of the three siblings is a very interesting take on the standard visit from the departed.The final story that held any interest for me was "The Dreamers." Following the storyline was a bit rough...it was almost, but not quite like stream of consciousness writing. Lincoln would just start telling his tale and then he'd insert little asides. A more straight-forward telling would have been more to my taste, but the central nugget--who the mysterious woman was and what finally happened to her was worth a bit of wading in the "stream."Dinesen is a very descriptive author. Sometimes too much so. But in the stories mentioned, she does her best job and the descriptions serve the tales well. The descriptions did not, however, produce quite the gothic feel that I was expecting--and this was particularly true in the remaining stories from the collection. She also is at her best when telling the story straight rather than following little side-stories as happens more often than necessary. I would love to be able to say more about this one, but I have been reading it off and on for so long that I've lost some of my earliest thoughts (that'll teach me to take notes). Not quite my cup of tea...three stars overall, with most of that rating being due to the four stories highlighted.
What do You think about Seven Gothic Tales (1991)?
Who has not been charmed and haunted by the opening line of Isak Dinesen’s Out of Africa: “I had a farm in Africa, at the foot of the Ngong hills…”? That was the only work of Dinesen (the pseudonym of Karen Blixen) that I had previously read, and I was interested to read her earlier work, Seven Gothic Tales, which has long languished on my bookshelf. The latter is a collection of several long short stories, or short novellas, each with a surprising and even disconcerting twist. Each is well written and engaging, although for me not all were equally memorable; all are probing explorations of mood and psyche and are unlike Out of Africa in tone and atmosphere. Dinesen is obviously an author of great versatility, and I would like to read more of her work.
—Bruce
Any book that feels like it was "worth it in the end" isn't a good read during the actual reading. This was too layered for my taste: inset stories were everywhere; extraneous details and plots made my head spin; melodrama abounded. Potentially, these are hall,arks of the era in which Dinesen (Karen Blixen, she of _Out of Africa_ fame) was writing. Am I glad I read it? Do I feel accomplished? Sure. Would I have been able to complete it on my own, if I didn't have a grade and a discussion for class hingeing on it? Highly, highly doubtful. That said, if you're looking for some truly Gothic tales with twisty turns bits, this might be your cuppa. But if you're looking for "Gothic" and you mean "horror," skip it.
—Yi
There is no other writer quite like Karen Blixen. Publishing under the pseudonym of Isak Dinesen, her reputation rests mostly on her on famous memoir Out of Africa and several books of elegantly-written, enigmatic stories. As a Dane writing in English, her prose has a formal, somewhat mannered, tone. The stories themselves are beautiful and strange, like fairy tales for grownups. Blixen’s first book of stories Seven Gothic Tales was published in 1934. The author does not use the term ‘Gothic’ in its modern connotation of horror (though the stories are not without a touch of the macabre). The ‘Gothic’ in these stories refers more to the author’s dream-like Romanticism. Dinesen’s fascination with the act of storytelling is very much apparent in this collection. The characters of Seven Gothic Tales all seem to be either telling a story (often a memory), or listening to one. This technique creates a recurring “story within a story” structure, not unlike a hall of mirrors, a peculiar effect which I am not certain any other writer could use so skillfully. The passage of time is perhaps the most important theme of the book, though it often creates a gulf between the old and the young. Blixen is acutely aware of time, and plays with it. Her characters seem to effortlessly drift backwards and forwards between past, present, and future. In the splendid ghost story, “The Supper at Elsinore”, two sisters, belles of Danish society, bloom into youth and fade into spinsterhood in just a few well-chosen sentences. But Blixen is not sentimental. Though the stories themselves are usually set in the past, the ultimate effect is of an eerie timelessness. Her happiest characters live mostly to suit themselves, but do so with an awareness of the passing of time and the inevitability of death. It is this sensibility which makes them seem very old and very modern at the same time. As a reader, I find Blixen’s stories can be both enchanting and obscure at the same time. Eccentric and beguiling, Seven Gothic Tales may be challenging to some readers. This collection will most likely appeal to readers who appreciate strange stories, beautifully told.
—Uncle
