In 1887 however, Haggard issued another novel, She: A History of Adventure, which does rank with King Solomon's Mines as an enduring adventure tale. In She, a young man discovers that he is the lone descendant of an ancient Egyptian priest who had been executed for having loved a princess. The priest's executioner, a beautiful and jealous queen, still reigns in the faraway city of Kor, and so the hero, Leo Vincey, endeavors to find her. Together with an old friend and a servant, Leo undertakes the dangerous journey to Kor. There Leo eventually meets the queen, Ayesha--also known as She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed--who believes him to be the reincarnation of the priest she loved, and killed, centuries earlier. Leo, in turn, is hypnotized by her extraordinary beauty and believes himself in love with her even though he senses her evil nature. The novel builds to a climax replete with a pillar of fire and a harrowing escape across a dangerous chasm. "Where pulp exotica tends to offer images of buried treasure found or ancient powers restored, generic resolutions for artificial problems, She raises real dilemmas and leaves them gapingly unresolved, on a note of unattainable desire and irretrievable loss," observed Geoffrey O'Brien in the Voice Literary Supplement.
At one point in his moody, erotic, and barbarous romance of She, H. Rider Haggard puts into the mouth of his narrator, Horace L. Holly, the observation that her story "sounded like some extraordinary invention of a speculative brain." That, precisely, is what She is: a really marvelously inventive story, combining an amazing variety of what should be utterly implausible ideas into a fabric that constantly feels like truth. Even though we know that there was never a diabolical, immortal, fantastically beautiful white queen ruling over a barbarous tribe of cannibals in the heart of what is now Mozambique, it is hard to resist the impulse to pull up the map and muse about where she might have been hidden.
As we get to know Her, H. Rider Haggard ensures that the mystery only deepens. We see her dispense cruel swift justice; we see her indulge murderous passion; we see her show superhuman devotion; we see her speak from the wisdom gathered in her twenty centuries of life. We can never be sure just who or what she is.
We see Her through the eyes of Haggard's protagonist, Holly, a Cambridge don utterly out of his depth in a wild and savage world, utterly English to the core, which is what sees him through in the end. Bitter, misogynistic, and more than mildly racist, we know he is also a devoted father to his adopted son Leo, who turns out to be the carrier of an incredible fate and an unusually determined survivor. We have no trouble believing in Holly, and thereby we suspend belief and accept his tale.
There was a strong streak of racism and anti-Semitism in Victorian England, and Haggard was not proof against it. We have not altered or omitted such passages, but rather have left them as Haggard wrote them. We do well to remember that, just as Haggard fell prey to such thinking from time to time, so too can we, despite all our modern enlightenment.
At one point in his moody, erotic, and barbarous romance of She, H. Rider Haggard puts into the mouth of his narrator, Horace L. Holly, the observation that her story "sounded like some extraordinary invention of a speculative brain." That, precisely, is what She is: a really marvelously inventive story, combining an amazing variety of what should be utterly implausible ideas into a fabric that constantly feels like truth. Even though we know that there was never a diabolical, immortal, fantastically beautiful white queen ruling over a barbarous tribe of cannibals in the heart of what is now Mozambique, it is hard to resist the impulse to pull up the map and muse about where she might have been hidden.
As we get to know Her, H. Rider Haggard ensures that the mystery only deepens. We see her dispense cruel swift justice; we see her indulge murderous passion; we see her show superhuman devotion; we see her speak from the wisdom gathered in her twenty centuries of life. We can never be sure just who or what she is.
We see Her through the eyes of Haggard's protagonist, Holly, a Cambridge don utterly out of his depth in a wild and savage world, utterly English to the core, which is what sees him through in the end. Bitter, misogynistic, and more than mildly racist, we know he is also a devoted father to his adopted son Leo, who turns out to be the carrier of an incredible fate and an unusually determined survivor. We have no trouble believing in Holly, and thereby we suspend belief and accept his tale.
There was a strong streak of racism and anti-Semitism in Victorian England, and Haggard was not proof against it. We have not altered or omitted such passages, but rather have left them as Haggard wrote them. We do well to remember that, just as Haggard fell prey to such thinking from time to time, so too can we, despite all our modern enlightenment.
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As we get to know Her, H. Rider Haggard ensures that the mystery only deepens. We see her dispense cruel swift justice; we see her indulge murderous passion; we see her show superhuman devotion; we see her speak from the wisdom gathered in her twenty centuries of life. We can never be sure just who or what she is.
We see Her through the eyes of Haggard's protagonist, Holly, a Cambridge don utterly out of his depth in a wild and savage world, utterly English to the core, which is what sees him through in the end. Bitter, misogynistic, and more than mildly racist, we know he is also a devoted father to his adopted son Leo, who turns out to be the carrier of an incredible fate and an unusually determined survivor. We have no trouble believing in Holly, and thereby we suspend belief and accept his tale.
There was a strong streak of racism and anti-Semitism in Victorian England, and Haggard was not proof against it. We have not altered or omitted such passages, but rather have left them as Haggard wrote them. We do well to remember that, just as Haggard fell prey to such thinking from time to time, so too can we, despite all our modern enlightenment.
At one point in his moody, erotic, and barbarous romance of She, H. Rider Haggard puts into the mouth of his narrator, Horace L. Holly, the observation that her story "sounded like some extraordinary invention of a speculative brain." That, precisely, is what She is: a really marvelously inventive story, combining an amazing variety of what should be utterly implausible ideas into a fabric that constantly feels like truth. Even though we know that there was never a diabolical, immortal, fantastically beautiful white queen ruling over a barbarous tribe of cannibals in the heart of what is now Mozambique, it is hard to resist the impulse to pull up the map and muse about where she might have been hidden.
As we get to know Her, H. Rider Haggard ensures that the mystery only deepens. We see her dispense cruel swift justice; we see her indulge murderous passion; we see her show superhuman devotion; we see her speak from the wisdom gathered in her twenty centuries of life. We can never be sure just who or what she is.
We see Her through the eyes of Haggard's protagonist, Holly, a Cambridge don utterly out of his depth in a wild and savage world, utterly English to the core, which is what sees him through in the end. Bitter, misogynistic, and more than mildly racist, we know he is also a devoted father to his adopted son Leo, who turns out to be the carrier of an incredible fate and an unusually determined survivor. We have no trouble believing in Holly, and thereby we suspend belief and accept his tale.
There was a strong streak of racism and anti-Semitism in Victorian England, and Haggard was not proof against it. We have not altered or omitted such passages, but rather have left them as Haggard wrote them. We do well to remember that, just as Haggard fell prey to such thinking from time to time, so too can we, despite all our modern enlightenment.
She: A History of Adventure
At one point in his moody, erotic, and barbarous romance of She, H. Rider Haggard puts into the mouth of his narrator, Horace L. Holly, the observation that her story "sounded like some extraordinary invention of a speculative brain." That, precisely, is what She is: a really marvelously inventive story, combining an amazing variety of what should be utterly implausible ideas into a fabric that constantly feels like truth. Even though we know that there was never a diabolical, immortal, fantastically beautiful white queen ruling over a barbarous tribe of cannibals in the heart of what is now Mozambique, it is hard to resist the impulse to pull up the map and muse about where she might have been hidden.
As we get to know Her, H. Rider Haggard ensures that the mystery only deepens. We see her dispense cruel swift justice; we see her indulge murderous passion; we see her show superhuman devotion; we see her speak from the wisdom gathered in her twenty centuries of life. We can never be sure just who or what she is.
We see Her through the eyes of Haggard's protagonist, Holly, a Cambridge don utterly out of his depth in a wild and savage world, utterly English to the core, which is what sees him through in the end. Bitter, misogynistic, and more than mildly racist, we know he is also a devoted father to his adopted son Leo, who turns out to be the carrier of an incredible fate and an unusually determined survivor. We have no trouble believing in Holly, and thereby we suspend belief and accept his tale.
There was a strong streak of racism and anti-Semitism in Victorian England, and Haggard was not proof against it. We have not altered or omitted such passages, but rather have left them as Haggard wrote them. We do well to remember that, just as Haggard fell prey to such thinking from time to time, so too can we, despite all our modern enlightenment.
At one point in his moody, erotic, and barbarous romance of She, H. Rider Haggard puts into the mouth of his narrator, Horace L. Holly, the observation that her story "sounded like some extraordinary invention of a speculative brain." That, precisely, is what She is: a really marvelously inventive story, combining an amazing variety of what should be utterly implausible ideas into a fabric that constantly feels like truth. Even though we know that there was never a diabolical, immortal, fantastically beautiful white queen ruling over a barbarous tribe of cannibals in the heart of what is now Mozambique, it is hard to resist the impulse to pull up the map and muse about where she might have been hidden.
As we get to know Her, H. Rider Haggard ensures that the mystery only deepens. We see her dispense cruel swift justice; we see her indulge murderous passion; we see her show superhuman devotion; we see her speak from the wisdom gathered in her twenty centuries of life. We can never be sure just who or what she is.
We see Her through the eyes of Haggard's protagonist, Holly, a Cambridge don utterly out of his depth in a wild and savage world, utterly English to the core, which is what sees him through in the end. Bitter, misogynistic, and more than mildly racist, we know he is also a devoted father to his adopted son Leo, who turns out to be the carrier of an incredible fate and an unusually determined survivor. We have no trouble believing in Holly, and thereby we suspend belief and accept his tale.
There was a strong streak of racism and anti-Semitism in Victorian England, and Haggard was not proof against it. We have not altered or omitted such passages, but rather have left them as Haggard wrote them. We do well to remember that, just as Haggard fell prey to such thinking from time to time, so too can we, despite all our modern enlightenment.
As we get to know Her, H. Rider Haggard ensures that the mystery only deepens. We see her dispense cruel swift justice; we see her indulge murderous passion; we see her show superhuman devotion; we see her speak from the wisdom gathered in her twenty centuries of life. We can never be sure just who or what she is.
We see Her through the eyes of Haggard's protagonist, Holly, a Cambridge don utterly out of his depth in a wild and savage world, utterly English to the core, which is what sees him through in the end. Bitter, misogynistic, and more than mildly racist, we know he is also a devoted father to his adopted son Leo, who turns out to be the carrier of an incredible fate and an unusually determined survivor. We have no trouble believing in Holly, and thereby we suspend belief and accept his tale.
There was a strong streak of racism and anti-Semitism in Victorian England, and Haggard was not proof against it. We have not altered or omitted such passages, but rather have left them as Haggard wrote them. We do well to remember that, just as Haggard fell prey to such thinking from time to time, so too can we, despite all our modern enlightenment.
At one point in his moody, erotic, and barbarous romance of She, H. Rider Haggard puts into the mouth of his narrator, Horace L. Holly, the observation that her story "sounded like some extraordinary invention of a speculative brain." That, precisely, is what She is: a really marvelously inventive story, combining an amazing variety of what should be utterly implausible ideas into a fabric that constantly feels like truth. Even though we know that there was never a diabolical, immortal, fantastically beautiful white queen ruling over a barbarous tribe of cannibals in the heart of what is now Mozambique, it is hard to resist the impulse to pull up the map and muse about where she might have been hidden.
As we get to know Her, H. Rider Haggard ensures that the mystery only deepens. We see her dispense cruel swift justice; we see her indulge murderous passion; we see her show superhuman devotion; we see her speak from the wisdom gathered in her twenty centuries of life. We can never be sure just who or what she is.
We see Her through the eyes of Haggard's protagonist, Holly, a Cambridge don utterly out of his depth in a wild and savage world, utterly English to the core, which is what sees him through in the end. Bitter, misogynistic, and more than mildly racist, we know he is also a devoted father to his adopted son Leo, who turns out to be the carrier of an incredible fate and an unusually determined survivor. We have no trouble believing in Holly, and thereby we suspend belief and accept his tale.
There was a strong streak of racism and anti-Semitism in Victorian England, and Haggard was not proof against it. We have not altered or omitted such passages, but rather have left them as Haggard wrote them. We do well to remember that, just as Haggard fell prey to such thinking from time to time, so too can we, despite all our modern enlightenment.
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Product Details
BN ID: | 2940169998320 |
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Publisher: | Freshwater Seas |
Publication date: | 01/13/2016 |
Edition description: | Unabridged |
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