The Serpent

Atlan #1

by Jane Gaskell

Orbit / Futura, 1985. British mass market paperback, 1st thus. The first book (or the first part of the first book) in the Atlan / Cija series. After first publication, the original novel "The Serpent" was split into two separate novels, The Serpent" and "The Dragon." Set in prehistoric South America and in the mythical world of Atlantis. The books in the series "The Serpent (1963); and "The Dragon" (1963); [both contained in the book offered here], "Atlan" (1965); "The City" (1966); and "Some Summer Lands" (1977).

Genres: Fantasy, Fiction, Science Fiction, Adventure, Science Fiction Fantasy, Literature, Speculative Fiction

317 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1963

About the author

Gaskell was born Jane Gaskell Denvil on 7 July 1941, in Grange-over-Sands, Cumbria, England (previously in the county of Lancashire). She is the great grandniece of the Victorian novelist Elizabeth Gaskell. Her first novel, Strange Evil, was written when she was 14-years-old (published two years later, in 1957). In 1963 Gaskell married truck driver Gerald Lynch; and in 1965 their daughter, Lucy Emma, was born. (Their marriage ended in divorce in 1968.)

In 1970 she received the Somerset Maugham Award for her novel A Sweet, Sweet Summer.

China Miéville lists Strange Evil as one of the top 10 examples of weird fiction.

Wikipedia®

Reviews

[Deb · Rating 4 out of 5]

Want to make certain a teenager reads a book? Put it on a list of titles removed from public school library shelves. Thanks to a group of small minded folk years ago, the Atlan books have been favorites for a long time.

[Amy · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is one of those books that I first read when I was, like, sixteen. It's stuck with me. I know it's, I don't know, overblown, maybe? But it has a strongly written heroine and some great adventures. I still go back and reread it. BTW, do NOT read this book without also reading the second one, "The Dragon." These two books were originally published as one, and they really don't make sense as two separate books.

[Arlene Allen · Rating 3 out of 5]

These were a little strange, and a bit ahead of their time, with its fiesty, independent and sexual heroine. There is an edge to these that most fantasy of the time did not have. If you like Sheri Tepper's feminist science fiction, these are worth tracking down and reading.

[Jean Triceratops · Rating 5 out of 5]

I’ve spent the two days since I finished The Serpent trying to figure out how I can possibly describe this unusual book. The best I can come up with is that it ought to be a book you’re assigned to read in college, but because you’re busy and just not really into it, you squeak by without doing the reading. As years pass, people reference it often enough that when you accidentally stumble across it in a long-forgotten box, you decide to read it, and then you find yourself lying awake at night kicking yourself for not doing the reading when you actually had a platform in which to discuss the nuance of this fascinating and devastating novel.

There are some takeaways I hope you pick up on from this intro:

The Serpent isn’t easy. Sentences can be ponderous and confusing; it’s the sort of novel where I’d find myself reading the words without actually stringing them together into a coherent sentence. When I put my mind to the words, though, they were beautiful and descriptive. Given that The Serpent is told in the form of a girl’s diary, it makes sense that there are going to be some idiosyncrasies in the writing. I grew to love how I could determine the mood of the protagonist based on how her writing flowed.

The Serpent isn’t fun. Well, actually, that’s not entirely true, but at the same time I’ll stand by it. I’m glad I read The Serpent. At times it’s hilarious. Other times it’s joyful. The trajectory of the story, however, isn’t fun. Hell, the back copy mentions that Cija, our protagonist, is raped multiple times, and that’s the part of a book that’s supposed to make us want to read it. Just imagine the brutality that we actually witness.

This seems like a great time to say that if you’re sensitive to depictions of violence, rape, coercive/abusive relationships, systemic violence against women/girls, or similar heavy topics, The Serpent might not be a great book for you. The best part about this is that Jane Gaskell covers these topics honestly. None of it is titillating or sexy, and even though I don’t love reading about super real problems like these, there was an authenticity to her writing that made me feel better.

I know that sounds bizarre.

The best comparison I can come up with is finding out that that one guy who acts inappropriately toward you also acts inappropriately toward a friend. It’s not a good thing, but it also makes you feel better because you know for a fact you’re not making shit up, and you suddenly have a sense of solidarity over this horrible thing in your life.

In that way, the brutality of The Serpent almost felt healing. On the other hand, my one dog who we jokingly refer to as our empath-dog because she knows when you’re upset and will try to make you feel better, well, she was in a constant state of panic while I read The Serpent because apparently my body language or pheromones or some shit was sending out panic-level vibes.

Okay, with two heads-up and a straight up warning out of the way, it’s time to dig in.

Cija (pronounced KEE-YAH) is the daughter of a dictatress. Raised in isolation and taught that she’s a goddess, the beginning of the book is filled with banal teenaged-girl level tension. She wishes she were tan, she hates to do chores, and when she’s bored she sometimes lashes out at her caretakers. She’s a bit bratty, but (in my opinion) likable. This low-stakes life changes quickly when she’s sent on a quest: she must seduce an enemy general and murder him.

Just like that, she’s thrown into a world where women are only valued so far as they are useful to men.

This is central to one of the biggest themes in the book: a woman’s sexuality is both a liability and an asset.

In a land where women have literally no agency—they’re considered property, nothing more—it makes sense that Cija would wield her sexuality like a weapon. Sometimes it works really well. Sometimes it works until the man gets frustrated and lashes out. Sometimes, it doesn’t work at all, and she finds herself reduced for the unwanted interest of an abusive man. And, well, sometimes the man just isn’t interested, and she has to seek some other position from which to exert influence.

This bigger theme is teased apart into bite-sized pieces that I kept choking on. Perhaps the most gut-wrenching is the quintessential Nice Guy Smahil. He’s a classic abuser: charismatic and seemingly-caring and cruel and selfish. He’s the sort to light a woman’s house on fire just so he can guilt her into caring for him because he helped put it out.

Of all the hard things to read about The Serpent, I think Smahil's wanton realism is the hardest. I’ve known Smahil, and clearly Jane Gaskell has as well. He has the nuance, the personality, and the delicate touches that make him more than archetypal: he could walk out of The Serpent and replace the Smahil in my life, and I’m not sure I’d know the difference.

I urge both men and those women amongst us lucky enough to have lived without a Smahil in their lives to recognize him as a reality, because he is. I fear it's too easy to chalk him up to a trumped-up villain, a gross over-exaggeration, and dismiss him out of hand. Dear cod I wish that were true, but it’s not. Smahil is real and, worse than that, he’s actually pretty common.

Contrasting this intimate look at violence against women is a broad-spectrum overview of the world’s violence against women. Women are property. Women are constantly in danger of sexualized violence from passing armies, cruel leaders, tyrannical politicians. Women die and are killed and Cija can’t let it get to her—lest she lose herself to rage and despair—but at the same time she can’t look away.

It might be tempting to think that women spared from the direct perpetration of violence don’t suffer from it, but that’s not true. I remember the first time I learned about ‘bride kidnapping’—the hideously established tradition of kidnapping a woman or, most-often, a girl, and forcing her into ‘marriage.’ I was 9 when I first learned of this custom. I also learned that girls as young as 11 might be kidnapped, and that even if the girl escapes, sometimes her family will force her to go back to her kidnapper.

I remember lying in bed, being a normal nine-year-old. I was slightly afraid of the dark, of the closet, of the weird shadows coming in through my bedroom window. And then I remember thinking about how if I had been born elsewhere, my current fear would have been vague and ridiculous: I’d have had good reason to lie awake at night staring in horror at the window.

Simply understanding that my gender could be so maligned, so inconsequential, so powerless … the fact that I didn’t experience this hateful derision firsthand didn’t make me feel safe. It made me feel like my relative power and autonomy was tenuous, an accident, and that at any time men could start coming through American girls’ windows, forcing them into a life of rape and degradation.

I almost didn’t realize how much my childhood understanding of how much the world hates women affected me until I watched Cija—16 years old and perceptive as fuck—internalize the same sort of messages. For her there’s no vague feeling of defeat and powerlessness. For her there’s rage and sorrow paired with a powerful resolve to never feel less-than.

Which segues into a complaint I’ve often read about The Serpent: that it’s anti-women. I can kind of see why people take this stance: women are constantly tearing each other down and there are multiple scenes were women fight over the same shitty guy.

At the same time, though, I don’t view this as anti-women—I view this as realistic. Don’t get me wrong, I love The Gate of Ivory’s loving depiction of sisterhood, but The Serpent is too steeped in realism to offer up such an idea and have it read as true. In a world where women have no power, there are two options for them to raise their value in the eyes of men:

1) Band together
2) Knock each other down

Admittedly the former would have the biggest payoff, but it’s also much harder and requires everyone to work together and trust each other.

If Cija fell viciously and unrepentantly into the foray of tearing other women down, then I’d chalk The Serpent up as anti-women, but she doesn’t. She does hate a few women along the way, but it’s never to gain the favor of a man. As a girl raised in a country that is ruled by women, too, Cija has a certain amount of outside perspective that these women raised in a society that actively oppresses women lack. I almost got the feeling that Cija is so reviled by most girls/women because she—unlike them—doesn’t believe that she’s inferior.

Even with all of this realism, The Serpent would have left a bad taste in my mouth had all of Cija’s relationship with women been awful. Thankfully, they aren’t. She respects, and is seemingly respected by, the general’s mistress. She is mothered by a kindly villager, and reciprocates that kindness. She takes a young slave under her wing, and regularly remarks about her with genuine fondness.

Perhaps most unexpectedly, considering The Serpent was published in 1966, she also befriends a trans woman. Lel is misgendered and berated by her brother and her village for any signs of traditional femininity. Cija has no such qualms, and their friendship is a safe place for Lel to live authentically.

This is kind of a trend of Cija’s: she befriends those of the least stature. Not from any sort of savior complex or egotism—it feels like she can’t deal with the political and societal posturing of the middle and upper classes and is most comfortable surrounded by those with a similarly pragmatic outlook on life.

This, paired with the fact that she takes her fall from grace with surprising aplomb, makes this goddess-princess surprisingly sympathetic and relatable. If she has to plow fields to survive—well, there are others who have it worse.

This book is real, y’all, and sugarcoating this fact would be lame. But, as real as it is, it’s also delightful at unexpected intervals. Her time in the tower was comedic gold. The tone and the writing was so fresh and clean and unexpected I’d have never, ever, ever guessed it were written in the 1960s, and even when Cija’s world gets bleak, little moments shined in such a way that I’d have to take a moment for the beauty of them.

Honestly, if I had read this review, I’d have never picked up The Serpent. There’s no way to make The Serpent not sound like too much. And yet I’m extremely glad I did read it—much like The Seven Citadels series, it’s the sort of novel you find yourself chewing on long after you finish it. And then, again, you find yourself wishing you could have discussed The Serpent with your English Lit class.

Warning: Apparently The Serpent was split into two books at some point, with the first book still being called The Serpent and the second book being called The Dragon. The full-length Serpent is something like 460 pages long, so keep an eye out when shopping, lest you reach the end of the book without having reached the end of the story.

[I read old fantasy and sci-fi novels written by women authors in search of forgotten gems. See more at forfemfan.com]

[Darrell · Rating 2 out of 5]

When we first meet Cija, she is a teenager trapped in a tower like Rapunzel, albeit with many servants to complain to. She doesn't know about the existence of men. Like the Biblical Judith, she is then given the task of seducing the leader of an invading army and killing him once his guard is down. The man she is sent to kill is actually a reptile who appears human for the most part, except he has a snake's tongue and scaly skin which changes color. Oh, and he sparkles in the sun.

Cija finds it difficult to get close to the leader. She spends most of her time traveling with the army as a hostage, in constant danger of being raped, so it's not exactly a fun read. I did find it interesting that one of the characters she befriends turns out to be a woman trapped in a man's body.

There are some interesting things about this novel. The people ride giant birds instead of horses. There are giant snails whose shells are used as helmets. They eat a dinosaur at one point. Unfortunately, many interesting possibilities are raised without being fully explored. There is a group known as the Changeless that we learn next to nothing about. We're told of a group of half human freaks without learning much about them.

This book has a very slow pace. It takes place in ancient South America, but character use modern slang. I know this is the first book in a series, but it ends rather abruptly. It didn't really seem to be setting up the next book, just meandering off into the weeds.

[Ikonopeiston · Rating 4 out of 5]

Lovely beginning to one of my favourite trilogies.

[Chris · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 . First fantasy would continue series because I’ve gotten to know characters in a tv show way not that attached. fun change of pace . You know classic riding giant birds and unexpected cross dressing always a plus .

[Gary Reger · Rating 5 out of 5]

Jane Gaskell's Atlan series seems rather forgotten today. My copy bears a blurb comparing it to "Lord of the Rings", but while Tolkien's books remain popular (and in print), Gaskell's are available only as used copies, or as pristine ones offered for outrageous prices. (Look at Amazon and shudder.)

This disappearance is terribly unfortunate. Gaskell was an excellent writer; open her book at random and you will find vivid description, original and striking metaphor, and carefully constructed, varying sentences that deploy a wide-ranging and sophisticated vocabulary. Her approach to characterization depends on the telling detail: a prostitute who's been invited unexpectedly to a high-class dinner reacted to this elevation by "put[ting] on her sandals"--beautifully observed.

The first person narrator of the tale is a young girl (17 at its start), Cija; Gaskell's conceit is that she's keeping a diary of her adventures. Gaskell never violates the narrative position; we only get what Cija sees, hears, feels, and knows. But despite her age and cramped upbringing, Cija is smart, observant, and reflective. She also freely admits her own mistakes and naiveté. She's a charming companion, whom you want to follow through almost 500 pp of text.

There are some disturbing elements for today's reader. Cija's virginity is stolen in a rape; she doees exact revenge by killing her assailant. Her other sexual encounters are also rapes, the last of which she enjoys. This is the only issue I have, though, aside from trivialities like whether Cija could actually have found the time to write so much! No doubt the rape trope should be attributed to the time Gaskell wrote; "The Serpent" appeared originally in 1963.

This is an intelligent fantasy for intelligent readers. It is far from the sword-and-sorcery glop that is churned out today for a mass audience. Gaskell deserves to be rediscovered.

Addendum: when some paperback editions of the series were published, the first volume was divided into two books: "The Serpent" and "The Dragon." The edition I read and reviewed here is the original, with both volumes together. As an aid to others, the separate edition of "The Dragon" contains the last 4 chapters of the original: I (=6), The Bed in Southern City; II (=7), The Palace; III (=8), Escape; and IV (=9), The Possession. I take this information from a 1975 edition of 206 pp published by Tandem Publishing, Ltd.

[Kaila · Rating 3 out of 5]

Strangely anti-woman. Cija hates every woman she comes across, but thinks she herself is pretty awesome. Somehow, this became endearing as she was painted quite well as both ignorant and innocent. Basically everyone in the novel, women included, are constantly telling her she needs to wise up, and she blissfully ignores them.

For some unknown reason, somewhere along the line, this first book was divided into two volumes. It's easy to come across the entire book as it was originally published, or the first half, but the second half, published as The Serpent, Part 2: The Dragon, is incredibly difficult to track down.

This is the last line of my copy, the DIVIDED version. If this is also the last line of your copy, I have bad news for you.

"His eyes were not fixed, staring glassily into space as the governor's had been; Smahil's eyes sought mine, and his were vivid with life, triumphant, tender, mocking."

Hopefully this will help your search, as I couldn't figure out for a long time whether the copy I had was divided or not.

[Joseph · Rating 4 out of 5]

(n.b. This edition takes the first volume of Gaskell's series (confusingly also called The Serpent in its original publication) and splits it into two volumes -- The Serpent and The Dragon)

I'm not entirely sure what first drew me to these books back in ... high school? maybe even junior high? I'm guessing that it was just seeing Atlan on the public library shelf, thinking, "Atlantis, huh? OK, that's cool," and working my way back to the first in the series. I'm also not sure, across these vast gulfs of time, how far in the series I actually got back in the day; and there's a whole lot of stuff in these books that would have just whizzed right above my 14 year old head.

But anyway. Regardless of how much I did or didn't actually read back in the day, parts of the story have always stuck with me, so I decided that it was time for a revisit.

The series is presented as a diary written by one Cija, daughter of the Dictatress of a small nation (city-state?) on the eastern seaboard what would be the present-day continent of South America, although the story takes place in a distant, mythical prehistory when, amongst other things, there was a small continent called Atlan out in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean; and those Atlanteans, clever buggers that they were, had sealed their island off from the rest of the world behind a mile-wide shell of vacuum.

Cija has been raised in isolation her entire life, living in a tower on the seacoast, tended only by women, and told (slight fib) that the men of the species had become extinct. She is also, perhaps unsurprisingly, kind of a brat and a terror. Then at the age of 17 or so, she discovers that her mother hasn't been entirely truthful with her; and that not only do men still exist, but that she, Cija, is going to be given as part of a party of hostages to the notorious general Zerd (a northerner whose skin is blue and finely scaled like that of a serpent), who is passing through the area on his way to cement an alliance with the Southern Kingdom, with the ultimate intention of breaching the vacuum barrier and conquering Atlan; but Cija's mother the Dictatress has a secret mission for her daughter -- seduce Zerd and then kill him. Easy-peasey!

Or, perhaps, not. This is, as mentioned above, just the first half of the original first volume, and follows Cija on any number of scrapes and escapades as she keeps escaping, being captured by some other party, being kept as a concubine or a plaything, escaping again, being recaptured again, etc., etc. (And oh, yeah, this is one of those books that kind of plays fast and loose with the whole idea of consent, and takes a certain amount of sexual assault as just kind of par for the course; so if that's not your thing, then steer clear.)

This is a series that seems to have kind of fallen by the wayside over the years, and that's a bit of a shame. I know that Michael Moorcock regards it highly, and it was influential on Tanith Lee, amongst others. Cija has a very breezy narrative style (which presumably Gaskell was "translating" into 1960s vernacular) and everything is filtered through her (often naïve) perceptions. The world is just kind of sketched in -- in fairness, most of it is unfamiliar to Cija, who's often kind of just along for the ride -- but fascinating nonetheless, filled with cavalry riding large (now extinct) flightless terror birds and the like.

Worth a look if you can accept a few infelicities.

[Kim Cowie · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was written some time ago and is now out of print, though the five paperback volumes of the Atlan series can easily be found from secondhand book resellers. Some of Jane Gaskell's non-fantasy work is hard to obtain and surviving copies change hands for fancy prices. Jane Gaskell's work was widely admired in the 1970's but she has faded from view. I rediscovered her recently because she was included in a list of '100 Best Fantasy Novels'.
The Atlan novels are set in a kind of prehistory where warriors ride giant flightless birds, civilisations battle, and the fauna include man-apes. Volcanoes erupt, damsels are carried off. Cities are described in luxuriant and exotic detail. 'Atlan' is of course Atlantis.
The heroine, Cija, is a princess who is brought up in an isolated tower before enduring a series of varied and often humiliating adventures, being at different times enslaved, made pregnant and married to a conquering half-lizard warlord. The story is narrated by Cija herself in a resolutely cheerful tone as though written down in her diary which she carries with her.
Cija's general lack of agency may not chime with more modern tastes, but this is a true original and well worth tracking down, as it's better than a lot of the fantasy currently available on Amazon.

[Aaron Meyer · Rating 4 out of 5]

A pretty good book. Going in to this I really didn't know what to expect from it so I was pleasantly surprised with it. Cija's situation is definitely an interesting one, and seeing how she grows throughout all the stuff that happens to her is cool. It is obvious that the author definitely intended this to be a much longer work considering the cliff hanging and abrupt ending.

[Rebecca Ives · Rating 1 out of 5]

I spent most of the time while reading this book hoping that the heroine would die, thus fulfilling the "survival of the fittest" concept. The character's behavior largely ran from stupid to self-centered oblivion. Bleh - I rooted for the antagonist.

[Victoria Sadler · Rating 4 out of 5]

When I was a teenager, I thought this was wonderful. A strange, emotional fantasy sci-fi epic that just gripped me.

[Jed Mayer · Rating 3 out of 5]

More pulp madness from the irrepressible Gaskell, this would be a great read if at least 100 pages were cut. It seems a crime that no sensitive editor ever helped to shape this potentially delightful but deeply flawed novel. The gender politics are about as fascinating as anything I've ever encountered in SF, and the way Gaskell turns fantasy and SF conventions on their head has earned my unending admiration. If all were as good as the first and last 100 pages, this would easily warrant four or five stars.

[Chris Duval · Rating 4 out of 5]

This review covers the original 'The Serpent,' separated in this printing into two volumes, the second called 'The Dragon.'

This is a fantasy* adventure told by a woman, Cija, in the first person** that has five-star aspects (particularly when one considers it was first published in 1963) and three-star flaws. Instead of talking about either of these, I'm going to talk first about what I found most uncomfortable: Cija's mixed reactions to being raped.

All of the directly described first sexual intercourses she has with various men are rapes; her longest relationship prior to the epilogue is consensual after the first time, but in a context of coerced confinement and emotional abuse. Cija speaks of arousal,*** sometimes of pleasure, during several of these rapes--and doesn't categorize them all in her mind as rapes. I found this disturbing. My mind wandered back over some other SFF books that dealt non-trivially with rape. I'd recommend comparing it with: Octavia Butler's 'Parable of the Talents' (empathic victim); Gwyneth Jones's 'Life' (rape by a colleague); and either Jo Walton's 'The King’s Peace' or Mary Gentle's 'A Secret History' (trauma's relation to magic).

A theme of the book was accommodation to captors, conquerors, and rough types that Cija took as companions due to demanding circumstances. This also made me think of other books that dealt with the moral wilderness of the occupied, and their sometimes collaboration, sometimes rebellion. Outside of SFF I thought of an introductory history about the Philippines that spoke of the ambiguity of Ferdinand Marcos's acts during the Japanese occupation. Within SFF I thought of: Carol Emshwiller's 'The Mount'; Gordon Dickson's 'The Way of the Pilgrim'; and Harry Harrisons' 'West of Eden.'

* There are allusions to super-technology, but these are remote from the character. Generally, transport, weaponry, agricultural implements, kitchen tools, and urban amenities are all pre-modern.

** Told as diary entries, although emotional immediacy is generally present.

*** I remember reading for a class the testimony of a victim of the rapist called 'Stinky.' She testified that the humiliation was worsened by the arousal that eventually came with the prolonged attack.

[Ashley Lambert-Maberly · Rating 5 out of 5]

I had no idea what to expect from this, and even a third of the way in I hadn't quite pegged it, primarily because it doesn't fit into our neat little genre boxes.

I thought it was quite Diana Wynne Jonesian to begin: a feisty heroine, saddled by elders with an impossible task, prone to grumbling, and a wonderful, light, contemporary way with dialogue (it's amazing to me to read various writings from the past, whether 50 years ago or hundreds, and see how leaden and unreadable some prose is, and how alive and contemporary other prose managed to be).

This quickly changed, as very unpleasant events occurred which DWJ would scarcely have hinted at in middle-grade fiction. My best box for this book would be it's a Fantasy version (and barely fantasy, more like alternate history--there aren't wizards casting spells and such) of the Sexy Historical Lady subgenre (e.g. Angelique, or Forever Amber). I don't know if that's an actual subgenre, but it may as well be.

Gaskell has imagined a world which presumably never existed--a South America not remotely like the one we have together, with extant dinosaurs and other strange beasts, a nearby Atlantis just offshore, and has given us a travelogue from the perspective of her heroine, who starts young and innocent, but grows up quickly due to trials and tribulations.

(If you're ever stuck for an idea for a fantasy novel, really, just grab some other genre and think of a fantasy equivalent: Harry Potter is the fantasy boarding school book, Thraxas is the fantasy detective story, etc. ) So this is fantasy sexy historical lady, and it's terrific.

Note: as some have pointed out, this book--the original book, published oh so long ago in 63, I think--was later split into two copies. If you have this one, you needn't get the second bit, the Dragon--I misunderstood and ordered it through Abe, and it was the second half of this one.

(Note: 5 stars = amazing, wonderful, 4 = very good book, 3 = decent read, 2 = disappointing, 1 = awful, just awful. I'm fairly good at picking for myself so end up with a lot of 4s). I feel a lot of readers automatically render any book they enjoy 5, but I grade on a curve!

[Strix · Rating 4 out of 5]

Content warnings: Rape, emotional abuse, abuse, violence, etc.

This is a feminist novel par excellence: the Serpent is a novel exploring the growth of a girl into a woman in a land that views women as possessions. It attempts to sell itself as a vivid adventure story, and it is that, but it's more - Cija's biography, and her long journey to attempt to find a home, stability and safety.

The book takes place in the first person POV, and it presents itself as the written diary of the protagonist. This is a delightful conceit, as while it's not precisely the most natural diary, it lends a personal flourish to Cija. The way she writes out her encounters, and the detail she gives them (less or more) lends insight into who she is.

The plot: Cija has been raised in a tower for seventeen years and taught that she's a Goddess, and that men are extinct. Almost immediately in the novel this is revealed to be false: she's traded to a foreign General as a hostage (surprise, it's a dude!) and so she's thrust into society in a strange, precarious social situation. She's ordered by her mother to seduce and murder this General, and this drives the plot for at least half of the novel - Cija's attempts to seduce him (boy, is she naive about it) and her back and forth over if she can kill him.

What you quickly learn is that this isn't a typical novel, with a straightforward plot. Instead, it's a biography. It covers the slice of life of Cija's life, and the episodes of excitement. How she befriends and makes enemies of her fellow hostages, what she does later on when she's not with the army, etc. Things do not stay still for long at any given time - the army is moving, and when she's without it she's on the move.

Before I proceed, I need to emphasize: this is a feminist novel. Not merely because of its insightful look into a heroine, but because of how she does so dang much within the strictures of her life. Her life is constant social mobility through the grace of others, and so much of that is propelled by her manipulation (intended or not) of others. She moves from hostage to a lady's servant. She moves from servant to captive slave, from slave to wanderer, from wanderer to soup-cooker, and on and on. Her life is a whirlwind and it rarely feels like she's in control of it or where it's going - bad things happen to her, as do good things (but alas, not in equal measure for a long time.) A lot of the novel is her coping with this and learning to be better about controlling her destiny. (If I have to explain how this is feminist - society is not kind, and lord, if Cija had acted like a man - well. She learns how to do that, in part. But it's about learning when it's safe to do that, and when it's safe to be a woman.)

I need to make it clear how deeply unpleasant this book can be: Cija is raped multiple times throughout the book. Men treat her like a possession, and at times she wants it and other times she doesn't. She grows and learns how to handle this emotionally. The first rape is probably the worst, because it came from a man she thought was her friend - and she protects him, afterwards.

But to this book's credit, it always, always treats this subject maturely. It's never for the sake of shocking the reader, it's because - again, this reads like a biography. This is what happens to Cija, because her world is cruel and unfair and she does her best within it.

I spent a lot of this book in dread of reading on, because I knew it would be awful, when it came. But I plunged on, and between the tragedies good things happened, and when good things didn't happen insightful things happened, that made me think and feel. A collection: Cija rescues a priest from being sentenced to death, and in the process saves a bandit. Cija becomes soup-maker for the General's wife while she's pregnant, and learns the pulse of a city. Cija spends weeks in the wilderness alone but for her wild bird-mount, and the description of the wilds are vivid. There is a magical white puma, perhaps.

The birds, the birds in this book are great. They're based off of real dinosaur-esque birds that really existed! Like giant ostriches, but rideable and with great fluffy necks and curved beaks. Cija gets her own bird, and he's a major character for a lot of the novel. Ums is big and one-eyed and black feathered and violent and yet he loves Cija completely. Why yes, he's thematically appropriate.

Cija meets a transgender woman named Lel, who suffers because in her small farming community they of course don't accept this. Cija - unfortunately she never changes her pronouns in her diary concerning Lel, but she befriends and understands Lel quite well - it's honestly a touching and as accurate a portrayal of gender dysphoria you could get from someone writing in the 1960s.

Another note: Cija spends a lot of time at the bottom of society, befriending the poorest and weakest. She's kind, and naive, and she learns a lot from them and I love this - how she never becomes quite a wilting noblewoman. In the sequence where she literally is a wilting noblewoman in a Court, she befriends a prisoner. Even at the top she finds the bottom and has - empathy for whoever's down there.

A nasty note: there is a sequence that I hate. It's one of the lowest points in the book: Cija gets captured by someone she once trusted, and he treats her literally as a possession. He rapes her, owns her, and she's so depressed at this point that - I don't want to say she lets it happen. He's stronger than her, and things are very bad for her. You may see other reviewers misreading the book and claiming that he's her "lover" - no. It's an accurate portrayal of emotional abuse mixed with rape, and it sucks. It's very well-written. I promise she escapes him, and gets a chance to reject him once and for all later.

So, so so: the Serpent keeps twisting in my mind, because it's violent and awful but it's so vivid, with so many interesting encounters and developments. And it has a mostly happy ending, even!

I really don't know if I could recommend it, but... I don't know. I love it. I never want to read it again, and I don't know if I have the stomach for the sequels, what with Cija ending up in a good place and the sequels promising more wild adventures.

If you want to read vivid, pulpy fantasy set in a prehistoric world, this is your book. Read carefully, however!

[Lisa (Harmonybites) · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is the first book in the Atlan Saga. If your book seems to end abruptly there's a reason for that not the fault of the author. First published in 1963, in later editions it was split in half with the second half published as The Dragon. I first read this--and loved this--in my teens. I'm rather afraid to reread them and find my memory of them doesn't hold. I do remember them as even then striking me as beyond weird yet irresistible. Just from what I remember, let alone what I've been reminded of by reviews makes me rather embarrassed to have loved them. They are utterly bizarre. This is framed as a diary of a princess who lived on an Earth before there was a moon, in a land of ape men and dinosaur men. One of those scaled men, Zerd, is the "serpent" of the title. Our diarist, Cija, is the clumsiest heroine you'd ever want to meet--a precursor of Bella in that way except she does overachieve on ego. She's a princess raised in a tower and told she was hatched from an egg and men are extinct--until she's told she'll have to seduce Zerd and assassinate him. Okay! The thing is the writing and the world Gaskell creates is so lush it's addictive.

[Matt · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is a rocky start to the Atlan Saga. Coming out almost twenty years before Gene Wolfe’s Book of the New Sun series, Gaskell’s molds an innovative prehistory that now seems like a precursor for Wolfe. The setting and hints at political underpinnings intrigued and kept me going despite the faltering first half. I’m sure this will be the story of Cija coming into her own, and the second half starts to demonstrate that, but the first 150 pages seemed like a teenage diary. Her crushes and insecurities. Fortunately, things take a turn and the story starts feeling less a like a Young Adult as things progress.

I’m cautiously optimistic and will stay on this trail with Gaskell to Atlan.

[Scheherazade · Rating 5 out of 5]

The Serpent was first published in 1963. It is the first part of the Atlan series, a set of four (or five*) fantasy novels set in prehistoric times. The following novels are Atlan , The City and Some Summer Lands . The stories are set in Atlantis and South America.

* The Serpent was also published split into two books, titled The Serpent and The Dragon , hence the confusion over the numbering of the volumes.

I read this series in my teens and have just recently reread them. Great plot and execution of storyline. Enjoyed the swashbuckling otherworldly feel and the sexy themes are not OTT.
Different, dynamic and worth the effort.

[Julie Long gallegos · Rating 5 out of 5]

I read this series as a young teenager - perfect YA reading and adult reading. Swinging 60s filtered through a most vivid realization of Atlantis and pre-history - and told in diary first-person. What could possibly not be to love? Style to burn, and wickedly great characters, lust, humor, adventure.

[Matthew Pennell · Rating 3 out of 5]

An interesting read, this 1963 fantasy novel (the first in a series of five loosely written about the lost continent of Atlantis) has a handful of fun ideas and engaging characters, but is let down by some occasional leaps in logic and clumsy phrasing.

[Kevin Kovacs · Rating 4 out of 5]

The book felt a little different from what I wanted when beginning, it really picked up and I enjoyed it thoroughly. I felt like I rushed the beginning but I went back after I got to the end. I believe I will retrieve the second book.

[Deb Southerland · Rating 3 out of 5]

I loved this book at the time I read it. I must dig it up and read it again, and if I like it as much now, give it a better rating.

[Katy Lohman · Rating 3 out of 5]

I remember it being very surreal.

[Sophie Gale · Rating 4 out of 5]

first read in June 1969. Surprised how well it has held up!

[Pollymoore3 · Rating 4 out of 5]

Book I of the Atlan saga. These stories are brilliantly imagined and told, vastly better than most fantasy writing. Sexy and humorous, too.

[Kars · Rating 3 out of 5]

A romantic drama told in the first person from a young women’s POV, dressed up as a pulp fantasy adventure story. The world-building is actually quite interesting, and when Gaskell narrates action she’s pretty good at it, too. But the amount of agonizing over all varieties of relationships just got a little bit boring after a while. I admit I was drawn to this for its controversial reputation, and I can see how in the early 60ies some of the book’s sexual politics may have been pushing the envelope, but from today’s perspective a lot of it is perhaps less liberatory and more problematic. Although who am I to judge as a white cis het male? Anyway, I’ve gotten used to pulp fantasy contemporaneous with this that covered the amount of action in this book in a fraction of the page count. Sure, those may lack the romance and drama, and be more straightforwardly masculine in their outlook, but they tend to make up for it in pure escapist fun.

[Alex · Rating 1 out of 5]

Written with the aplomb of a small child who can't even structure a sentence yet. It's interesting to a point, but there's no need to force myself through a book that slipped out of memory for an obvious reason. Cija has led a sheltered upbringing and never met men before and been told they don't exist, yet is ultimately tasked by her mother to couple with and kill a man who may or may not be interested in doing such. It's the lack of soul-seacrhing around any of these things and the paltry world-building that ultimately led me to abandon this as we just get tiresome diary updates of "this happened" and "this happened" when the internal psychology and setting could both be quite fascinating. It's a frustrating experience particularly as this was an opportunity to establish female perspectives in fantasy narratives early on - I'll be interested to see how that develops throughout the 60s though as I have plenty more women's writing to come (probably as much as the males)