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The Tower of Oblivion
Published 1921
- GenresFiction
446 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1921
About the author
Oliver Onions
157 books58 followersGeorge Oliver Onions (1873–1961), who published under the name Oliver Onions, was an English writer of short stories and novels.
Oliver Onions was born in Bradford in 1873. Although he legally changed his name to George Oliver in 1918, he always published under the name Oliver Onions. Onions originally worked as a commercial artist before turning to writing, and the dust jackets of his earliest works included illustrations painted by Onions himself.
Onions was a prolific writer of short stories and novels and is best remembered today for his ghost stories, the most famous of which is probably ‘The Beckoning Fair One’, originally published in Widdershins (1911). Despite being known today chiefly for his supernatural short fiction, Onions also published more than a dozen novels in a variety of genres, including In Accordance with the Evidence (1912), The Tower of Oblivion (1921), The Hand of Kornelius Voyt (1939), The Story of Ragged Robyn (1945), and Poor Man's Tapestry (1946), which won the prestigious James Tait Black Memorial Prize as the best work of fiction published that year.
Onions was apparently a very private individual, and though admired and well-respected in his time, he appears not to have moved in literary circles, and few personal memoirs of him survive. He spent most of his later life in Wales, where he lived with his wife, Berta Ruck (1878-1978), herself a prolific and popular novelist; they had two sons, Arthur (b. 1912) and William (b. 1913). Oliver Onions died in 1961.
Oliver Onions was born in Bradford in 1873. Although he legally changed his name to George Oliver in 1918, he always published under the name Oliver Onions. Onions originally worked as a commercial artist before turning to writing, and the dust jackets of his earliest works included illustrations painted by Onions himself.
Onions was a prolific writer of short stories and novels and is best remembered today for his ghost stories, the most famous of which is probably ‘The Beckoning Fair One’, originally published in Widdershins (1911). Despite being known today chiefly for his supernatural short fiction, Onions also published more than a dozen novels in a variety of genres, including In Accordance with the Evidence (1912), The Tower of Oblivion (1921), The Hand of Kornelius Voyt (1939), The Story of Ragged Robyn (1945), and Poor Man's Tapestry (1946), which won the prestigious James Tait Black Memorial Prize as the best work of fiction published that year.
Onions was apparently a very private individual, and though admired and well-respected in his time, he appears not to have moved in literary circles, and few personal memoirs of him survive. He spent most of his later life in Wales, where he lived with his wife, Berta Ruck (1878-1978), herself a prolific and popular novelist; they had two sons, Arthur (b. 1912) and William (b. 1913). Oliver Onions died in 1961.
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
July 2, 2026
This book could have been a fascinating addition to the type of gothic fiction created in the late-19th century, but, alas, Onions was not willing to go as far as Wilde or Stevenson when exploring taboo themes in this psycho-sexual tale. The book centers on a man who reaches the age of 45 and then begins regressing to his youth (no real reason given). The narrator is an older bachelor and fellow writer who adores Denny Rose—a man of near physical perfection. He becomes obsessed with him after he is told that Rose is regressing, becoming younger and more beautiful with each day (shades of Dorian Gray). When Rose disappears, the older writer devotes his time to finding Rose and even moves into his apartment in hopes that he will reappear. When the narrator tells Rose’s childhood friend Mrs. Oliphant (a painter!) about his situation, she too becomes obsessed and decides that this is her chance to finally get the man she has always pined for. Onions has set up two possible unconventional lovers and an intriguing theory that as Rose becomes younger his interests also change to those of a much younger man. However, instead of really exploring this, Onions turns this novel into a conventional love story that after the halfway point quickly losses steam.
October 26, 2020
The book is advertised as science-fiction but this might cause potential readers to be be disappointed. The story of one character becoming younger is really just a device for allowing the writer to muse on age and memory, regret and missed opportunities. Additionally, the novel is at its weakest when it attempts to describe the mechanics of, or elicit excitement in, its sci-fi contrivance. It probably would have been better for Onions to cut these sections altogether and simply concentrate on the parallel relationships of two couples, young and middle-aged, in London and Brittany between the wars.
Like its narrator, the book is ponderous and vague; it takes more pleasure from a stroll through the meadow than from action. But the prose is soft, evocative and sometimes almost beautiful. It is best consumed on sick days and lazy Sundays.
Like its narrator, the book is ponderous and vague; it takes more pleasure from a stroll through the meadow than from action. But the prose is soft, evocative and sometimes almost beautiful. It is best consumed on sick days and lazy Sundays.
November 21, 2023
good gothic novel till the final stretch when it turns into a sappy love story
May 5, 2016
Oliver must have been off his onion!
At least that's my opinion after reading this infuriatingly naff Benjamin Button style story of age recession by an author whose silly name should told me all I needed to know.
And yet according to Hellnotes.com 'Oliver Onions was a master of the supernatural tale. His ghost stories were elegantly written and well plotted, and his characters were fully fleshed.'
I can only presume that whoever came to that conclusion hadn't read The Tower of Oblivion. It's not a ghost story, fair enough, nor is it a short story, but a (bafflingly long) novel; still I fail to believe that anyone who could have written this inebriated tosh could have been lucid elsewhere.
Derwent Rose is the subject of this bandy-legged 'Widdershins Walk', moving backwards in random jerks between the ages of forty-five and sixteen, when he feels certain he will die (like everything else I mention about the plot, don't bother to ask why).
As the reason his life starts going backwards in the first place, there was mention of some nonsense about the pineal gland which was quickly dismissed, then some equally lame attempt to connect his reversal to a literary feud.(?!?)
Julia Oliphant, a woman from his past who had always loved him, likes what she sees and decides that 'she too would have her summer twice.' Unfortunately for her, not knowing Rose's secret (who does?) she can be young again by dressing slutty and acting like an airhead.
At one stage she shags him and he loses eleven years over night. Like I said, don't ask.
Our narrator is Sir George Coverham, a knight of the realm, a successful novelist, a man with no more brains than particularly dense sloth. He had an annoying habit of sketching out lists of comparative facts and assumptions, the contents of which were scarcely worth the effort, not to mention occasionally inane.
At one stage the narrator, after another senseless episode of twittering, confessed 'I hardly know why I write all this,' which mirrored my thoughts exactly. I can't remember having felt compelled to shake my head in bemusement quite as often as this for some time.
If you being polite you could describe the narrative as an eccentric take on its theme, if you were being harsh - though perhaps hitting nearer the mark - a thoroughly inept attempt at it.
Almost so bad it was good.
But not quite.
At least that's my opinion after reading this infuriatingly naff Benjamin Button style story of age recession by an author whose silly name should told me all I needed to know.
And yet according to Hellnotes.com 'Oliver Onions was a master of the supernatural tale. His ghost stories were elegantly written and well plotted, and his characters were fully fleshed.'
I can only presume that whoever came to that conclusion hadn't read The Tower of Oblivion. It's not a ghost story, fair enough, nor is it a short story, but a (bafflingly long) novel; still I fail to believe that anyone who could have written this inebriated tosh could have been lucid elsewhere.
Derwent Rose is the subject of this bandy-legged 'Widdershins Walk', moving backwards in random jerks between the ages of forty-five and sixteen, when he feels certain he will die (like everything else I mention about the plot, don't bother to ask why).
As the reason his life starts going backwards in the first place, there was mention of some nonsense about the pineal gland which was quickly dismissed, then some equally lame attempt to connect his reversal to a literary feud.(?!?)
Julia Oliphant, a woman from his past who had always loved him, likes what she sees and decides that 'she too would have her summer twice.' Unfortunately for her, not knowing Rose's secret (who does?) she can be young again by dressing slutty and acting like an airhead.
At one stage she shags him and he loses eleven years over night. Like I said, don't ask.
Our narrator is Sir George Coverham, a knight of the realm, a successful novelist, a man with no more brains than particularly dense sloth. He had an annoying habit of sketching out lists of comparative facts and assumptions, the contents of which were scarcely worth the effort, not to mention occasionally inane.
At one stage the narrator, after another senseless episode of twittering, confessed 'I hardly know why I write all this,' which mirrored my thoughts exactly. I can't remember having felt compelled to shake my head in bemusement quite as often as this for some time.
If you being polite you could describe the narrative as an eccentric take on its theme, if you were being harsh - though perhaps hitting nearer the mark - a thoroughly inept attempt at it.
Almost so bad it was good.
But not quite.
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews