| Title | : | Red Shift |
| Author | : | |
| Rating | : | |
| ISBN | : | 0007127863 |
| ISBN-10 | : | 9780007127863 |
| Language | : | English |
| Format Type | : | Paperback |
| Number of Pages | : | 192 |
| Publication | : | First published January 1, 1973 |
Red Shift Reviews
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(aarrrrg - Goodreads or Chrome just killed and lost my review when I was 5 minutes into it!)
This book came to me by accident from my publishers in a big box of author copies of The Liar's Key. I guess because they both have red covers...
The first thing to say is that I was amazed to see that is was published by HarperCollins Children’s Books. Here’s why:
i) Content: In two of the three threads the main female character is gang-raped or comes extremely close to it. In one of them she is deliberately maimed to stop her running off from her new role as sex-slave. There are also a good number of brutal killings. Given that it was first published in 1973 I was surprised to see it described as a children’s book.
ii) Style: This is a *difficult* book. It’s a dense literary novel (a very short one) that most adults would struggle with. I may be underestimating him but I suspect that 14 year-old me would not have got far with it.
Is it a good book? It is, but not in the way most SF books are. It’s good because you can feel the genius running through it. But it is, as I said, powerful, dense, literary stuff that will not suit everyone. I won’t say I ‘enjoyed’ it exactly. It’s more one of those books I feel challenged by and better for reading.
I recently read Garner’s Boneland, published 50 years after the famous first two books in that trilogy, The Weirdstone of Brisingamen and The Moon of Gomrath. I found the change in style to be vast (though in the context of a 50 year gap, not astonishing). If I had read Red Shift before reading Boneland I would have been far less taken back by the change in style as most of the fundamentals of Boneland are to be found in Red Shift, though the gap between them is still around four decades).
The book has three threads, one in Roman Britain, one in Civil War Britain, one in 1970s Britain, all tied together through the same location, through the presence of the same stone age hand axe, and vaguely through the tormented ‘madness’ of the three main male characters.
There’s no handholding in this book. At all. The locations and situations are not explained. There is little visual/setting description. Much of the book comes in the form of long unattributed conversations with quick-fire back and forth between the protagonists in short ambiguous lines, often using dialect terms or making allusions to events we have to deduce or literary or period references. We never share the characters' thoughts - it could be a stage play for all the use it makes (i.e doesn't) of character point-of-view.
In the Roman case the stray legionaries seem more like WWII or Vietnam soldiers and it’s hard to figure out the local tribes or what’s actually going on.
The ‘present day’ thread concerns a pair of lovers in their late teens – so I guess that could be used as a justification for shelving it as YA literature. To my mind though YA literature is work that is written for Young Adults, making some attempt to shape itself to the brevity and nature of their experience. If it’s an adult book that merely features some young adults … for me it’s not YA.
Anyway. We have three young men with three young women in three separate situations in three different periods. The only connections are the location, the presence of the hand axe, and the tenuous link through the confused minds of the men. Our modern man seems to be having a breakdown with a variety of mental health issues. The other two the same with fits.
So why did I give it 4*?
It’s hard to explain. I have a Physics degree, not an English Literature one. I don’t know the academic way to dissect a thing like this. The fact is though that like many pieces of strong literature there’s a power running through this thing. Garner wields the language and he’s using it to cut away not at a story but at something about people that he understands and wants to show us. It’s not something he can just lay down in simple terms – it’s too ineffable for that – but it’s there in the three stories, in the way they’re woven and linked, in the way that something echoes back and forth through the characters. In a sense it’s to do with timelessness, change, and how we inhabit both a place and ourselves.
So there.
My Goodreads friends give this book an average rating of 2.6 – Goodreads in general 3.57. Try it. Some of you will love it, some will hate it. I can’t wholeheartedly praise it but there’s something here. When other authors call Alan Garner an ‘important’ writer … they’re not wrong.
As a final thought - it's very hard to imagine this book being published in the SF genre today (unless by Garner with 50 years of reputation under his belt). I don't find that comforting.
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"So is it all dialogue then?" asked Mark.
"Well, mostly. A lot of it unattributed, so there's that too," replied Mark.
"Unreadable then?"
"Well, sorta. But no, it's readable. Just a certain kind of readable. For certain kinds of readers. It's not dense and it's not long but it's also not easy. It doesn't let you in easy, into its world. Or worlds. Or, actually, lack of worlds - just one big blending of worlds, in a way. A world of words, bleeding together, these three characters' thoughts across three different time periods and they are maybe the same person essentially but maybe not, the dialogue is all in a modern vernacular but the story skips throughout time. Although time's meaningless too, in a way, and definitely in this book, and the ends these characters meet are all pretty inevitable. Timeless inevitability that's sad and terrible and beautiful and all those things. And maybe hard to grasp too. Different places but similar patterns repeated; different plunges but similar results. Three characters are one character; one place changes but has a similar effect; one axe head, the same axe head. Despair and love and teenage confusion and rape and death and mutilation and teenage angst and people dying and people coming together and people falling apart. Things fall apart too and people return, always. Always the same...
So anyway: you like it easy, Mark, so maybe you should skip this one?"
"Sounds like you are talking to a Mark from a different era! This Mark can handle it. He's as good at reading this stuff as college-age Mark was. This Mark likes a challenge and that Mark did too. Who cares if he bought the book because that other Mark, the one in the middle - or maybe it was the third one? - yeah, he may have liked those other sorts of Alan Garner books, those fantasies, but this Mark will be fine. This is Garner's underappreciated masterpiece and it needs to be read. This Mark isn't much different than those other Marks, not that much; I bet all of them would want to read this book and would find something in it."
* LATER *
"So what did you think?"
"It was good. Definitely made me think."
"Would that one Mark have thought it was good too? His kind of book like it's your kind of book?"
"Probably. But he probably wouldn't have cried a bit at the end, like I did. He was more of a shame than a guilt type of guy and crying maybe wouldn't have happened. Crying may have made him feel a little embarrassed, a little ashamed at the naked emotion in himself and in a challenging book like Red Shift. But that Mark had more barriers up. He was the same Mark but probably less vulnerable, especially to himself. This is a good book to read if you like a challenge but also are able to read without those kinds of barriers between yourself and a book and maybe between yourself and who you are. Still, that Mark would have liked it, for sure. Much like Macey and Thomas and Tom, basically only the circumstances are different between this or that Mark. It takes more than a red shift to change a person, or a life." -
This lonely tale deals with non-linear Time, centred round a hill in Cheshire called Mow Cop and three young men linked to it down the centuries (or are they reincarnations of the same man?) in Roman days, in Cromwell’s time, and the 1970s.
The dialogues aren’t realistic, nor meant to be, instead poetically reflecting inner states.
Red Shift is a wonderful yet painful book, like a spiky dead sea urchin on a stony beach, under stars of late autumn. -
Rating: 4.8* of five
The Publisher Says: Collins YA editionA disturbing exploration of the inevitability of life. Under Orion's stars, bluesilver visions torment Tom, Macey and Thomas as they struggle with age-old forces. Distanced from each other in time, and isolated from those they live among, they are yet inextricably bound together by the sacred power of the moon's axe and each seek their own refuge at Mow Cop. Can those they love so intensely keep them clinging to reality? Or is the future evermore destined to reflect the past?
NYRB edition In second-century Britain, Macey and a gang of fellow deserters from the Roman army hunt and are hunted by deadly local tribes. Fifteen centuries later, during the English Civil War, Thomas Rowley hides from the ruthless troops who have encircled his village. And in contemporary Britain, Tom, a precocious, love-struck, mentally unstable teenager, struggles to cope with the imminent departure for London of his girlfriend, Jan.
Three separate stories, three utterly different lives, distant in time and yet strangely linked to a single place, the mysterious, looming outcrop known as Mow Cop, and a single object, the blunt head of a stone axe: all these come together in Alan Garner’s extraordinary Red Shift, a pyrotechnical and deeply moving elaboration on themes of chance and fate, time and eternity, visionary awakening and destructive madness.
My Review: Why didn't I hear about this back in 1973? I'd've lapped it right up with happy warbles and gruntled slurps. But what completely baffles me is how anyone could read this unpunctuated marvel of modernism and say, "YA shelves, next!" or even more utterly inapt, "Fantasy novel incoming!" WHAT. THE. ACTUAL. FUCK. are these people thinking? Teens might get absorbed in the time-travel element, and some goodly percentage of them will like the Cormac McCarthy-esque attributionless dialogue, but the fantasy reader is going away very sorely disappointed. Yes, there's a goddess, and heaven knows we're up to our hips in angsty teens. BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT!
*fantods*
Okay, I've been ungently squawked at for spoilery reviews. (Good lord, grow up people! Don't read reviews of books you want to read if you're phobic about it!) There are three stories here. All of them take place in a very very tight geographical locus. They are separated by 1500 years (earliest to middle) and 300 years (middle to modern). The dialogue is all modern English, and still Alan Garner manages to convey a sense of the temporal location of the story...if you're paying attention!
And all the teens are able to experience each other. It's all psychometric in genesis (go look it up if it's new to you), and Garner handles it *beautifully* by not Explaining it, only making sure you know what happens as a result of the time loops.
I'm not sure what else I can say without giving too much of the game away, so let's cut to the chase: I don't like phauntaisee nawvelles and I'm pretty durned hmmmmm about time travel these post-Outlander days. And this novel, this gem of a McCarthy-writes-The Sound and the Fury-with-Virginia-Woolf novel, hooked me, gaffed me through the gills, landed me in the bottom of the boat and (at the very very end) exploded my teensy ickle brain-like thing with wowee.
So why aren't all sorts of people warbling their lungs out about it? Same reason I didn't until today: Never heard of it. I picked it up, idly, unsuspectingly, from a shelf in the house...looked at the "99¢" Day-Glo orange Jamesway sticker on the silver-foil coated jacket, winced, and then
and then
oh some more and then
And now here I am, warbling about a YA time-travel teen-angsty romantic novel. With me on how weird that is? See the thing that doesn't fit the picture, namely me smiling?
Buy. Read. Yes.
This work is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. -
I think it should have more than five stars. It's up there with Ulysses, the Waste Land and Briggflatts, or with Gawain and the Green Knight or the Tain or the Mabinogion.
I first read this far too many years ago when i was probably the same age as the protagonist, and liked the book for the usual wrong reasons, but I have reread it on a regular basis ever since. For my money he's the best prose writer in English and the most interesting. This book is the hinge in the sequence, moving away from the fantasy of the earlier books which reached their culmination in 'The Owl Service' (which also needs more than five stars) towards the apparently difficult, more "adult", 'Thursbitch' and 'Strandloper', and for that reason is a good place to start if you're interested in discovering a great writer.
I think the book suffers critically because it was marketed to the "young adult " market, and the protagonist, at least of the modern section, is a very troubled adolescent. Garner's writing career resists easy definition but that hasn't stopped people pigeon holing him to his detriment.
But as more than one critic has pointed out, 'Red Shift' could be regarded as one of the last masterpieces of 20th century modernism and Garner should be seen as a significant figure in 20th century English Prose.
What most readers find difficult about this book, the fact that the story is told in mostly untagged dialogue and shifts between three time periods, is in fact the ultimate compliment Garner can pay his readers. He takes seriously Bunting's "Never explain, your readers are as smart as you are" and presents the story and steps back. -
"This is a 156 page paperback from the '70s, written for teens. How hard can it be?"
"Does the name Samuel Beckett mean anything to you?"
(not a quote from the book - this is my brain speaking to itself.)
Let me start by saying "don't read this book". At least, not yet. Trust me, you're going to need some help here. If I had not heard The Folk Horror Podcast (now defunct, I believe) episode about Red Shift, I don't know that I would have found this book as quickly as I did. I most certainly would NOT have understood what was going on. The gentlemen on that podcast did a great job of analyzing both the novel and the television version of Red Shift. Sure, they spoiled it like a renegade piece of shrimp left under the couch for a month, but, honestly, without spoilers, I don't know that I would have understood half of what was going on.
This is a hard book. Get some help, then read it!
My facetious comment about Beckett was, well, not really all that facetious. In fact, I'd say that most of
Samuel Beckett's short stories are more easily comprehended (though not his "big three," which are among the most challenging works I've ever read). It's okay to have a help, a guide. Dante had his Virgil. I would recommend finding The Folk Horror Podcast episode on Red Shift, then reading
This is a book that will bear re-reading, at least for me. I had glimpses of a psychological and emotional depth that peeked out from between the lines every once in a while, but since I was struggling to "keep up," these were acknowledged and quickly darted away from my conscious mind. Next time I read this, I want to dive in headfirst, even though I know it's going to break my heart even more than it did the first time (thank goodness I didn't read this as a teenager - I don't think I ever would have recovered from that depressive episode). Next time, I'm telling Virgil to stay put. Next time, I'm going at it alone, going in without a crutch, facing this head on, and taking my lumps. -
To quote Steely Dan,
I did not think a girl could be so cruel
And I'm never going back to my old school
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Alan Garner books are a really special reading experience, unlike really anything else. You fly through it, but it's hard work.
Anyway, I know when I'm out of my depth, and
this review by Mark Monday gets to the heart of what makes this book special, and impossible, much better than I could, unattributed dialogue, incomprehensible overlapping worlds of Roman soldiers speaking '60s era dialogue, and all.
And also
this article by the incomparable Jo Walton, who treats the book as a long poem. -
One reviewer said: "There was too much dialog and not enough explanation. It was even hard to keep track of who was saying what."
Now this is true, but it's intentional and it's really effective. You have to be prepared to let the text wash over you, then the meaning seeps right into your unconscious and it has extraordinary power. The nearest equivalent I've seen to this technique is Benjy's stream of consciousness in The Sound & the Fury. It effects a degree of immersion that you can't get with the conventional kind of storytelling where the reader picks the details of meaning out of the author's "lectured" narrative.
I read the last few pages - a deliberately cut-up collision of fragments from the three main story threads - with my heart in my mouth and when I closed the book my hand was shaking. Alan Garner credits his readers with maturity and intelligence. This isn't just a novel for teenagers, it's a novel for anyone who has ever been a teenager. -
The worst book I've read in 2014. This short novel weaves three separate stories from different time periods in England (Roman times, the Commonwealth Interregnum, and modern times.) The last and main story concerns Tom and Jan, young lovers dealing with Tom’s mental instability, his overbearing parents, and Jan’s living in distant London. Most of the book consists of abstruse dialogue, and the book switches back and forth, without exposition, between the different stories. There were only two mildly interesting parts for me, and one quote: "I need to adjust my spectrum ... I could do with a red shift. Galaxies and Rectors have them. Why not me?"
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Alan Garner, along with e.g. Susan Cooper, is an author I knew as a child I was *meant* to like, but who just didn't do it for me at the time. On the evidence of Red Shift, the problem could be that I came to him too young. I can't believe that all of Garner's works can be quite as full-on as this, but the amount of death and rape that occurs, on an almost casual basis, in the historical portions of this novel, makes modern YA fiction seem like it's written for babies by comparison.
That may have made it sound too horrifying for delicate constitutions already. Which would be a shame, when it's such a beautiful and thoughtful piece of work. The book deals with a pair of teenage lovers, Tom and Jan, in modern-day (that is to say, 1970s) Cheshire, but quickly begins to intercut with the stories of another Thomas at the time of the Civil War and a Macey during the Roman invasion, and their own respective love interests. Little is made fully explicit but it does become clear that in some sense all these superficially different stories may be the same story, linked by sacred ancient places just outside Crewe, by a prehistoric axehead travelling down through the ages, by the boys getting glimpses through each other's eyes when in visionary states.
Of the three different time periods, initially I was very drawn to the Roman one, because of one brilliant stylistic decision on the author's part: to have the soldiers of the Ninth speak "Latin" in the language and jargon of American GIs. A gimmick perhaps but for me it really, really worked, especially when the local tongue remains the familiar speech patterns of Cheshire lads through the ages. Things get pretty nasty in this strand very quickly as the soldiers put to death a village full of civilians, taking only one young girl prisoner to be their comfort woman and "catering corps". Contrastingly the 17th century didn't seem very exciting at first, but that's because the violence and redemption there only erupt towards the end of the novel, and when they do it's just as appalling and heartbreaking.
The main story takes place in the present day, as you'd expect, though. Life and liberty are no longer quite so cheap by 1970s but the dramatic stakes are no lower as we watch Tom and Jan's once-in-a-lifetime love affair burn brightly and then begin to sputter and die. Think Billy Liar or Johnny from (Mike Leigh's film) Naked to get some idea of the character of the brilliant, tormented and probably doomed Northern lad once again embodied in Tom. But nowhere near as cynically drawn as the empty Billy Fisher, and nowhere near as poisonous as Johnny: you're rooting for Tom throughout, even when he screws up as he must. I should also say that the female protagonists in each age aren't mere props for the purpose of illustrating the emotional journey of the men; certainly in the historical segments they are far stronger and more dynamic than their menfolk, and while Jan may initially seem something of an audience to Tom's smart-mouthed intellectual pyrotechnics in 1970 there's a stunning moment when the balance of power shifts and who's losing who suddenly flips. Suffice it to say that Jan is no junior partner in this romance and when it's her turn to give as good as she gets, boy is she up to it.
When time is clearly an illusion, when we keep on meeting our lovers and reenacting our flawed fragile love affairs in every age throughout history, what does it mean to die? I appreciate that I've probably already put people off from reading this book by speaking of the pretty heavy stuff that it lays on in the historical sections, but I actually found it quite optimistic. There's a telling bit in the Roman section where the tribal woman gets casually "maimed" by one of the squaddies and basically looks him in the eye and tells him, you understand nothing, you haven't even hurt me, this is nothing at all. She is a priestess, or perhaps the goddess herself, she knows what's going on before the reader does. Here a life is just a little glimpse of the bigger reality, and death just drawing blinds that will be reopened next morning. I read the final chapters with a lump in my throat as you really do want those kids to somehow make it work. And they might not this time round, but you get the feeling that they will, in some unimaginable future they will.
One last note to say how much I appreciated this being set in and around Crewe - I went to school in Chester myself so it all felt like, if not quite my own childhood stomping grounds, at least just round the corner. Garner has a real understanding of how Cheshire is a place that's neither here nor there, not north or south, not fully England or Wales, relevant to most people only as a part of the map that you travel through on the way to more important places. We've all changed trains at Crewe at some point in our lives, right? I got a big laugh from Tom and Jan describing Crewe as "the last town God made" as they traipsed around it. Alan Moore has put his own "flyover" ("train-through"?) country of Northampton on the map with his own work, but Garner was working with the same visionary English brushes even earlier, it seems. I'm sad his work didn't resonate with me the last time it crossed my path. I think I'll be catching up with what I missed this time around, at least. -
Four or five stars? Originally gave it four stars because of trifling annoyances (the unattributed dialogue can get confusing, if my book didn't have an introduction by the author I am pretty sure I would be very puzzled at what was going on for a while). But no, it's five stars... The way he uses language and crafts dialogue is amazing, it's hard not to have it change the way you think or write. It is, for lack of a better word, a "tight" novel. He is somehow able to use modern language in a way to convey a feeling of ancient strangeness or other-worldliness. This makes me interested in how he'd write actual fantasy.
I say "actual fantasy" because I don't think this is fantasy, even though I see it classified as such. It even has an ugly fantasy-ish cover. It doesn't remind me in the slightest of any fantasy I've ever read. It consists of three stories set in wildly different eras tied together by geographical location and the stone head of an axe. Each story features an outsider who seem to pierce time, make it irrelevant. And I'm pretty sure he is writing about Aspergers or some-such other neurological abnormalities before these diagnoses existed, before we started to cling to them.
A very strange and beautiful book. -
"Do you believe in confusion at first sight?" (p.110)
Or second sight (in either sense), or third? And what if you could see a future, or a past, or both—even in glimpses, all unknowing and out of control: wouldn't that make you more than a little lonely? Make you go a bit badly, as they say?
British author
Alan Garner is better known, perhaps, for the fantasy trilogy he just recently completed after a fifty-year hiatus, the one starting with
The Weirdstone of Brisingamen (one of the most memorable titles I've ever run across, by the way). He wrote this novel—which as far as I know has nothing to do with weirdstones or Brisingamen—back in 1973, but it doesn't seem dated, probably because most of it is set in times that are already centuries past.
But it is confusing.
Red Shift is built from fragments, constructed out of banter and brief flashes of description. Its tripartite plot threads get woven together without firm demarcation, united by geography and separated mostly by dialect and incidental details. Tom and Jan are young lovers in the late 1960s; Logan, Macey and a few others have become separated from the lost Ninth Legion of Roman occupiers in the 2nd Century A.D. and are "going tribal"; and Thomas Rowley and the Puritan townspeople of Barthomley must face Royalist soldiers in the 17th Century. There are connections among the three, but they're deep and subtle ones. The whole book resounds in the head like a radio play, the clank of iron against stone clearer than any visual sense of the windswept summit of Mow Cop in Cheshire, where much of the action takes place.
All this makes
Red Shift a book that despite its brevity is hard to read quickly or in pieces. Which doesn't make it a bad book, but does mean you have to be paying attention. This slim, handsome reissue of
Alan Garner's novel comes with a new introduction by the author that clears up some of the murk—I do recommend reading it before starting the novel.
The book ends with a cipher—and not one that's casually unraveled. Much like the rest of the book. You've been warned; this isn't quick escapism. But it is a work that rewards scrutiny, after all is said and done. -
Unusual, to say the least. And more difficult to decode without better knowledge of British slang. But, oh, what a concept!--similar voices switching at a jump between similar stories on the same British landscape, separated by hundreds of years.
It doesn't quite stick the landing in intelligibility or meaning. Still, extra points for attempting such a complex weave of storylines. -
I would be lying if I said Red Shift was a boring book. In fact, this was one of the most intriguing books I have read so far this year, and that is not a light statement for me to make considering I have been reading some excellent material this year.
The story is like an intertwining poem, composing the voices of three intriguing individuals residing in wildly dark different periods of time: yet they are tied by one similar object and possessing similar wants, needs, and interactions until the book finishes with the consummation of their narratives and acting as one whole, unique voice. The book reads simple, but it carries with it so much beauty and complexity I can’t really say this is an easy one to read.
I think my main gripe with the story is that the characters, themselves weren’t very fleshed out or interesting. Tom, a teenage boy and one of the main characters in the story, comes off a pretty pompous and pretentious instead of thoughtful and intelligent. I also found him to be a bit of a jerk, but maybe that’s just because he’s a teenage boy. However, that also made his character very inconsistent, and I found myself sighing in frustration as I read some of his dialogue with his parents or his girlfriend. I won’t even get into the other two characters this plot surrounds, as they are not very interesting...until a couple scenes near the end, which in some ways redeemed this book for being rated less than I gave it.
In the end: Red Shift is a very complicated book to rate. The book is rich in metaphor and near-brilliant writing that at times made me shiver with just how simple descriptions can carry so much weight in them. I don’t recommend this book as simple entertainment reading, but rather as a way to explore how a narrative of different times and individuals can unite as one entity. I could imagine Mow Cop. I could smell the mustiness of the refectory. I could sense a feeling of absolute wonder yet insignificance compared to the macrocosm of the Universe. I felt so much in this book’s narrative, part of me is frustrated that the characters, themselves had been different of spoke very little. -
Much to think about!!! So much! My brain aches. So extremely up my alley that I knew from the start I would love it, a story about a teenager experiencing a heartbreak so bad that it resonates backwards across time into a second story that takes place in the same village in the 2nd century where the main character’s maybe-ancestor is alive and tortured by visions of a future he doesn’t understand, and then continues to resonate into a 3rd story in the same village in the 17th century where another character keeps having epileptic fits and seeing a face of someone who he feels like he knows but can’t pinpoint whose face it is. Time isn’t a straight line and all these characters are indirectly influencing each other’s lives and one thing that happens to Macey in the 2nd century will immediately find a mirror in what’s happening to Tom and his girlfriend Jan in 1973. I love it— mysterious and poetic and warm and emotional and just like so complex I would need to read it at least once more to grasp it all. Gorgeous weirdo lit!!!
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I see in my mind’s eye an exposed cliff which has been riven by some past cataclysm: strata from different periods composed of contrasting materials now sit side by side, yet they belong to the same cliff face. In such a way Alan Garner’s Red Shift presents to my imagination: three stories from different eras cleaving together in one extraordinary narrative.
Shifting from the present (Cheshire in the seventies) to the English Civil War in the same part of the world, or to a remnant of the Ninth Legion trying to go native among the Cornovii tribe in the second century CE, the novel slowly reveals how different people in different timelines can somehow be linked by a number of strands: topographical sites, artefact, geology, astronomy, a mythic tale.
As with many Garner novels the book is intensely personal. A native of Cheshire with local family roots stretching back centuries, he sets great store by a sense of place and by objects suffused with age, tradition or ritual. But he also features troubled characters in protagonist roles, a reflection of his own mental struggles over the years, all of which go towards ensuring his narratives have a firm substratum of authenticity and truth.
The three timelines which, conjoined by a chronological fault, we follow concern sweethearts Tom and Jan, both of whose families are itinerant due to backgrounds in the army or medicine, currently living near Crewe; a Roman soldier (here known as Macey, perhaps from his association with a prehistoric axe head), four other survivors from the ‘lost’ Legio IX Hispana, and a native priestess, who end up on Mow Cop, a hill now crowned by a folly and ruined cottages; and Thomas Rowley, his wife Madge, and sundry villagers from Barthomley who are besieged in the parish church by marauding Royalists under the command of a ruthless murdering officer.
At first all these lives are presented as distinct and different but pretty soon we begin to sense some commonalities: armed forces, violence, blood-letting, and psychological games; succour, stability and maternity represented by the women; mental disturbances affecting the two Toms and Macey; and the physical presence of the axe head in all three strands. But, like the strata in that buckled cliff, the text is disconcerting, much of it consisting of snatches of conversations, points of view meshing, even the same incident presented from the several viewpoints of those taking part in it.
The reader’s confusion is matched in how Macey, Thomas and Tom behave at moments of heightened tension: visions, vivid colours, preternatural strength, apparent fits or seemingly random flights of fancy. These too are like geological faults interrupting strata, with responses from different causes aligning in the narrative, blinding blues and silvers common to all three with red, often from blood, being an accent colour. The intensity of these episodes results from Garner’s approach to his craft, in which myth and temperament play key roles.
In a 1975 lecture Garner is specific about how he believes his fiction resides in myth: “the feeling is less that I choose a myth than that the myth chooses me; less that I write than that I am written.” In the case of Red Shift he identifies the myth as a ballad, “the story of Tamlain [Tam Lin] and Burd Janet and the Queen of Elfland.” Catherine Butler, then writing as Charles Butler, discussed how Garner’s treatment of the Tam Lin story varies from other modern fictional interpretations in that the focus is more on the Tam character’s distress than on the Burd Janet equivalents (though these are also integral to the plot).
The source of that distress was, I suppose, the personification of the Queen of Elfland: she it was who could turn humans mad, or turn their heads, who could deliver fairy strokes or alienate them from society. In another lecture, ‘Fierce Fires & Shramming Cold’ from 1996, Garner discusses suffering from manic-depression, only later diagnosed and accepted, and its relation to his being and his creativity. His description of highs and lows is akin in some ways to the violent mood swings exhibited (though in different ways) by Tom, Thomas and Macey in his 1975 novel, and suggest to me that the fairy queen role is indeed the part played by their individual malaises.
Red Shift is a disturbing novel, with explicit violence such as rape, maiming, psychological abuse and cold-blooded murder; this is a story that pulls few punches in bringing home the horror of past wars and present-day emotional betryayals. Yet it also offers examples of loyalty, succour and support for and from those who are otherwise victims. The Civil War strand is based on a true incident in Barthomley, the Roman episode extrapolates from a more distant historical mystery, while the 1970s strand makes the reader a fly on the wall observing a real relationship trying to weather familial and personal storms. I was drawn, mesmerised, into all three stories in a way that I just wasn’t capable of appreciating nearly half a century ago. This is an outstanding piece of fiction that really should be better known and regarded.
All through the novel we’re aware of a physical object counterbalancing the emotional seesaws, the stone axe head — perhaps originating from the Bronze Age — which holds meaning for each of the Tam Lin figures, a symbol of violence but also something to cradle. But Tam Lin would be lost if it wasn’t for the pregnant Burd Janet, however she came to be with child; and so it is that a Celtic priestess, Madge Rowley and Jan each provide nurture but also sustain a pragmatic approach to life. -
My bro studied this book in creative writing and gave it to me to read. Had no idea what was happening 90% of the time and think it went completely over my head. I had to read the whole plot on Wikipedia to get more of a clue! The dialogues were so difficult to follow, the time periods were not clear and the names were so similar it was confusing. Basically skim read because it was short but otherwise would have had to DNF.
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I was given this slim paperback novel at the age of nine (or perhaps on my tenth birthday), after having enjoyed Elidor by the same author. I must have given up on it after 3 pages as, at that age, I found it totally inpenetrable (I preferred stuff like HHGTTG at the time). I have since periodically given it another try, assuming that as my tastes matured I would finally find something to induce me into continuing it - but with the same result.
I picked it up again recently, after having picked up a few boxes of my old books that had been mouldering in my parents' attic, and decided I would give it one last try (at ~150 pages, I thought it would be a quick win for my 2015 Challenge quota!). 2 days later, I have my verdict.
Plot summary: Three mentally ill young men in three different time periods (the Roman occupation, the Civil War, the 1970s) have things happen to them in the vicinity of Mow Cop hill in Cheshire.
Inside this novel is an interesting story trying to get out. However, I found the lack of descriptive passages (the novel is told virtually in its entirety via the utterances of the characters) gave me no way to anchor myself in the story, and thus I found that it flowed past me without really hooking my interest. This might be my fault as a reader - perhaps I am not sophisticated enough to get excited by all the nuance.
I suspect that part of my problem in engaging with the novel is the key male protagonist from the 1970s portion of the book. Like Holden Caulfield from Catcher in the Rye or DBC Pierre's Vernon Little, Tom is an entirely self-absorbed teenager with too much contempt for those immediately around him. I took an immediate dislike to the character, which intensified as the book continued. Contrast that with the character of Jan, his girlfriend and the other protagonist from the '70s scenes, who is far more interesting and well balanced character, albeit a little needy.
The other time periods don't really have an impact on the story other than to give occasional bloody and confused interludes to Jan and Tom's tale. (There are narrative problems with these sections, too: in the Roman sections the names of the characters are too easy to get confused, and the spoken stream-of-consciousness writing style gives insufficient means to flag who said what to whom; in the Civil War sections the protagonist character babbles incoherently, and there are altogether too many characters called Thomas.) Indeed, in the Civil War section's climax there is a massacre, but it all passes incoherently like a fever dream due to the lack of descriptive sentences. I appreciate that this was probably authorial intent, but I didn't find it satisfying.
One word review: Disappointing -
Redshift (1973) is a literary pseudo-fantasy novella, which will appeal to fans of Peter Ackroyd and the more literary aspects of Alan Moore. It's very similar to Garner's Boneland (2013), and in some ways feels like a successful practice run for that later book.
It's structured as three interwoven stories set at three very different moments in British history (Roman occupation, Civil War, Contemporary), but in the same locations. Each features a troubled young man and the woman he loves. To say more than that would require spoilers.
The novel's meaning is oblique, but to me it seemed clear that Garner was talking about the interplay between Nietzschean ideas of eternal recurrence, and scientific idea of the anthropic/illusory nature of time itself. He uses both to make a statement about the connectedness of everything. The characters' situations and dialogue reflect each other and ultimately blur, and Garner minimises hand holding in order to maximise this effect. If you've read Hawksmoor by Peter Ackroyd, you'll recognise the territory. There's a lot of colour symbolism (and colour punning), all of which revolve around the red shift, blue-silver shift paradigm, simultaneously referring to how light carries information through time, and the moment when things start moving together/apart.
You can tell why it took six years to write: The prose is outstanding. Red Shift is written like a poem in the sense that every word has been chosen with as much care. It's a great reminder of what poetic writing actually looks at a time when landfill genre fantasy often gets awarded the accolade.
For a book written in 1973 the only aspect of it which hasn't dated well is how the remnants of the ninth legion, trapped behind enemy lines, use the idiom of American special forces troops. That would have made perfect sense at the time of publication (the back end of the Vietnam War), but is unlikely to resonate strongly with younger readers today (by which I mean the under 40s).
And that's worth a final mention.This was published as, but is in no way a children's book. The theme and content could not be more adult. I'd say 18 is probably the minimum realistic reading age, and only the most precocious youth is going to get most of the emotions and ideas contained within. -
So earlier this year, I read a couple of books by Mark Fisher which referenced this book. As a teen I had always wanted to read Garner, so I decided this would be a good time to start. Weird, eerie, etc.
And now...I don't really know what to make of this book. I've never read anything quite like it. I don't really understand much of what happened. Parts of the narrative passed through my mind without latching on, so I couldn't even tell much about them at all.
What I do know is that this book made me feel. The main narrative is tragic for reasons I can't really describe. Some of this book affected me deeply.
I can't recommend or not-recommend this one. It's complex, dense, and sad. It's also a demanding read, as so there is so little description, and long stretches of dialogue that might - but not always - drop a hint that time has passed. It really takes a lot to keep on track with this, and I have a feeling that each time you read it, the experience will be a bit different.
It doesn't matter. Not really now not any more. -
Thrilled to've finally bought this, to've finally read it. (It hit my radar back in 2012, if Goodreads is any indication, although I knew Garner's work from
The Weirdstone of Brisingamen as a kid.) It's very strange, very modern in its way -- this book doesn't feel too far off from some of the wilder experiments being translated into English from the more adventurous of the Latinx writers working today. It's three strands, barely (and yet also inevitably and inexorably) entwined -- and some of them work better than others, for sure, but they're all fascinating. I found the English Civil War stuff the hardest to work through, while the others were easier-going for me. I kept thinking of Paul Kingsnorth's Buccmaster trilogy too.
Lots of food for thought, even if things felt somewhat lost by the end. -
A story about this, first. I was in my local independent book store (Book Soup) and I saw this on the shelf, in a
typically striking New York Review of Books cover. It glowed for some reason, so I bought it. I wasn't looking for it.
I knew nothing about it. I saw on the back that Emma Donoghue, whose ROOM I haven't read, blurbed it. I said:
why not? And even as I write these words, I realize that the words "Why not?" are endangered these days. Maybe by
"Why not?" I also mean a life with the element of surprise, of happy collision, of chance.
I'd like to say RED SHIFT rewarded my "courage" by being one of the Best Books I've Ever Read. I don't know about that;
let's say it isn't. But it challenged me. It changed me, I think. I didn't "get" it, a lot of the time, but that became all right,
in the experience of reading it. It's set, in Cheshire, England, in three different time periods -- the present (which would have been
the early 70's, when the book was written), the 2nd Century, and the 17th Century, during the Civil Wars. Each section has
a damaged, visionary young hero who turns out to be connected to the others from the other times, although I'm not sure
I fully understand how. Which is, again, all right. The book is mostly dialogue, and pages go by during which the author doesn't
let the reader who is speaking. Again, somehow: all right. I followed Alan Garner; he made me willing to do that; there's magic here,
rough magic, sad magic.
This is something rich and strange. Why not? Yes. I hope my year is about tha. -
Time loops, the physics of which are currently poorly understood, forms the basis for this novel - and if you approach it with a strong emotional belief in linear time, you'll have a hard time following it.
"Red Shift" is based on the eerie ancient ballad "Tam Lin", and the usual hyperdimensional mechanics apply: the magic of the fairy-world parallels (but doesn't quite match) the logic of our own world, and there are occasional intersections. In this case, three stories match and intersect: a group of 2nd century Roman Army deserters, an English Civil War scenario, and a 1970's teenage couple.
A Neolithic axe-head retains certain tragic memories, and these are re-enacted each time with those who possess it. The axe-head is thus the nexus for a time-loop - while being also a magnet for those already fated to possess it because they're on the brink of re-enacting the old tragic interplay of events: the story of Tam Lin's rescue by Janet. Except that, of course, the rescue doesn't always occur - especially in the modern scenario, where the central characters are cut off from each other by something worse than warfare: poverty, the denial of a teenager's independence and responsibility by its thick-headed parents, the supreme difficulty of truth-speaking in modern British culture.
There you are: enchanted axe-heads. Told you they were dangerous. -
I picked this one up hoping there'd be hijinks with space pirates. Or astronomy. No luck there.
I read the whole thing, went back to the start, flipped through the pages again, and realised that I still had no idea what was going on. Strange, strange book.
I didn't really care about understanding when I was reading -- the words just flowed through me, and I grasped at the bits I did understand (teenage angst and long-distance relationships and hanging on to the things that are familiar) with some wonder. It's when I put down the book and try to make sense about what it was I had just read, I couldn't.
I think I said something about Garner's elliptic prose when I read
The Owl Service -- it's probably even elliptical here; half of the time I had no idea who was saying what.
Strange, strange book. -
I picked up this book because of Philip Pullman’s comment printed on the back that Alan Garner was the most important British writer of fantasy since Tolkein.
It’s entirely possible that this is a work of genius that went completely over my head, but I found it absolutely unreadable. I forced myself to read through to the end, convinced the story would eventually form some kind of cohesive structure. If there was such a structure I wasn’t able to decipher it.
I think I need to read a trashy crime thriller next to get over this ordeal. -
I didn't follow the story very well. I didn't like the way it was written. There was too much dialog and not enough explanation. It was even hard to keep track of who was saying what.
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A very strange book -- in a career characterized by the strangeness of his work, Red Shift might be Garner's strangest. The novel is concerned with the interconnections between past and present: characters from the 17th century experience the pain and trauma of a character from the 20th century, a Roman soldier sees a train from a station at Crewe. Told mostly in dialogue, it's hard for the reader to understand the exact details of the narrative, to pin each character down, but it's not hard to follow what people are saying, or to catch the depth of emotion they experience. It's easy to understand the broad themes of this book: loss, dislocation, fear. It's much harder to capture the fine details, but it's worth reading and rereading in order to fully witness the nuances of Garner's work.
I found reading the wikipedia article also helped, particulalry as it includes the decoded version of the message at the end:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Red_Shi... -
Ugh! I read this as a teenager many years ago, didn't understand it at all, but loved it in a "Wow! Far out! Psychedelic, man!" kind of way. (Yes, we actually did say things like that back then.) I've been putting off re-reading it for years on the grounds that I feared my adult mind is less easily blown, and boy, was I right!
I spent the first few pages wanting to slap Tom for being a smug, patronising, irritating, narcissistic little drama queen. But it was when we moved to the "Roman" section and I discovered everyone talks in kind of mock American army slang - distance in "clicks" etc - that I realised the truth... this is worse than going to the dentist!
Abandoned at 14% - put it down to my age. I still have no idea what it's about, but my adult self couldn't care less... -
Most folk, I suspect will read Red Shift as the story of Tom, Thomas, and Macey rather than Jan, Margery, and the unnamed girl. The men are certainly the link between the the arcs, but the story? Familiarly with Garner, place is a major character, and it is so here more accessibly and transparently than the books that follow. Yet relationships overflow in Red Shift along with their consequences. The balance between the two is perhaps the best of his here; more so because it doesn't rely on myth. It's an outstanding novel.
