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The Man with Six Senses
Extra-sensory perception is a unique gift of nature–or is it an affliction? To Hilda, Michael Bristowe's power to perceive forces beyond the limits of the five basic senses offers the promise of some brighter future for humanity, and yet for the bearer himself–dizzied by the threat of sensory bombardment and social exile–the picture is not so clear.
First published in 1927, Muriel Jaeger's second pioneering foray into science fiction is a sensitive and thought-provoking portrait of the struggle for human connection and relationships tested and transformed under the pressures of supernatural influence.
First published in 1927, Muriel Jaeger's second pioneering foray into science fiction is a sensitive and thought-provoking portrait of the struggle for human connection and relationships tested and transformed under the pressures of supernatural influence.
- GenresScience FictionFiction
195 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1927
8 people are currently reading
165 people want to read
About the author
Muriel Jaeger
8 booksThough critical response ultimately led her to stop publishing, Oxford-educated writer Muriel Jaeger (1892-1969) made her mark with dynamic critiques of modern Western civilization. From the paranormal (Hermes Speaks, 1933) to utopia (The Question Mark, 1926) to genetic engineering (Retreat from Armageddon, 1936), Jaeger brought a unique voice to the struggles of subjectivity and scientific reason that shook the post-Victorian mindset. Her works are often referenced and rarely found.
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June 14, 2020
A question of evolution...
Michael Bristowe is a young man with a strange talent – he can sense physical objects even when they are out of sight. It’s rather like the way dowsers can sense water underground only much more powerful. But is it a gift or a curse? It sets him apart from the rest of humanity leaving him as a perpetual outsider, and he has found no way to put it to practical use. But then he meets Hilda, a determined, highly educated young woman who becomes fascinated by his power and helps him to develop it so that he becomes ever more accurate but also more sensitive to all the things that remain unsensed by those around him. Our narrator is Ralph Standring, whose desire to marry Hilda draws him reluctantly into Michael’s life. From the beginning the story has a sense of impending doom – Ralph is leaving England for a long journey, and tells us that he’s writing the history of his knowledge of Michael partly because Hilda has asked him to but mainly as a form of catharsis, to help him work through his experiences...
As in her earlier novel, The Question Mark, and in the best tradition of early science fiction, Jaeger uses her story to examine concerns of her contemporary society. First published in 1920, she draws attention to the generation of men who came back from war to find themselves jobless in a society that had no place for them. She shows how people who are different from the norm are treated, especially when their difference is something others don’t fully understand and are therefore apprehensive about. She touches on questions of class and snobbery, and the increasing decline of the old rich, a process which the war had sped up. Mostly, though, her focus is on the place of women in society; specifically, the new breed of university educated women of whom Jaeger was herself one, and of men’s reaction to them.
All of which makes it sound like a weighty tome indeed, which is highly misleading since it’s actually a very entertaining, well written short novel, thought-provoking and dark at points, but with a delightful strain of wicked humour running through it to lift the tone. Ralph, our narrator, is unconsciously self-revealing as a rather pompous, self-important snob of the first degree, who is quite happy for Hilda to be educated, but purely because he thinks it will be pleasant to have a wife who can provide intelligent conversation when he comes home in the evenings. The humour is so subtle it took me a while to realise what she was doing and I may not have caught it at all if I hadn’t read her earlier book and known that the snobbery and prejudices of Ralph were certainly not an indication of Jaeger’s own viewpoints. Though I frequently wanted to slap him, I grew very fond of poor Ralph as a representative of a class and gender that was already feeling its foundations begin to quiver.
Hilda is a bit of an enigma to the reader because she’s a complete enigma to Ralph. Educated he can accept, but rationality is not a feminine trait in his mind. The emotional responses in their relationship are all on his side, and he feels this is all wrong. Hilda’s lack of enthusiasm at the idea of marriage must surely be merely a sign that she hasn’t yet fully matured. He doesn’t share her fascination with Michael’s abilities: she sees Michael as a possible further step on the evolutionary ladder, someone to be nurtured and helped; Ralph, on the other hand, finds him rather repellent, not just because of his strangeness, but because he breaches the social conventions that are so important to conservative Ralph. Plus he does get in the way of Ralph’s wooing!
In Michael, Jaeger shows us the psychological effects on a sensitive nature of being different in a world that values conformity above all else. In this society, a man is judged primarily by his earning potential unless he’s fortunate enough to be rich – nothing much changes, eh? Michael’s abilities are hard to market, but leave him psychologically incapable of taking up any kind of normal employment. It’s very well done – convincing and not overplayed. Jaeger seems to be questioning if humanity can continue to evolve at all in a world where difference is shunned.
The book includes a short introduction by Mike Ashley, putting it into the context of other books of the time examining similar questions. It also includes an essay at the end, extracted from Dangerous by Degrees: Women at Oxford and the Somerville College Novelists by Susan J. Leonardi, who analyses the book from a feminist perspective. I often find academic literary analysis destroys the magic for me, and so it began to be in this case, so I only read the first few pages before deciding not to continue. But from the bit I read it looked interesting, perceptive and well written so I’m sure others will find it a real bonus.
I thoroughly enjoyed the book and am only sorry that Jaeger wasn’t more prolific in the science fiction field. I believe she wrote another couple, though, and have my fingers crossed that the British Library may add them to their collection in the future.
NB This book was provided for review by the publisher, the British Library.
www.fictionfanblog.wordpress.com
Michael Bristowe is a young man with a strange talent – he can sense physical objects even when they are out of sight. It’s rather like the way dowsers can sense water underground only much more powerful. But is it a gift or a curse? It sets him apart from the rest of humanity leaving him as a perpetual outsider, and he has found no way to put it to practical use. But then he meets Hilda, a determined, highly educated young woman who becomes fascinated by his power and helps him to develop it so that he becomes ever more accurate but also more sensitive to all the things that remain unsensed by those around him. Our narrator is Ralph Standring, whose desire to marry Hilda draws him reluctantly into Michael’s life. From the beginning the story has a sense of impending doom – Ralph is leaving England for a long journey, and tells us that he’s writing the history of his knowledge of Michael partly because Hilda has asked him to but mainly as a form of catharsis, to help him work through his experiences...
As in her earlier novel, The Question Mark, and in the best tradition of early science fiction, Jaeger uses her story to examine concerns of her contemporary society. First published in 1920, she draws attention to the generation of men who came back from war to find themselves jobless in a society that had no place for them. She shows how people who are different from the norm are treated, especially when their difference is something others don’t fully understand and are therefore apprehensive about. She touches on questions of class and snobbery, and the increasing decline of the old rich, a process which the war had sped up. Mostly, though, her focus is on the place of women in society; specifically, the new breed of university educated women of whom Jaeger was herself one, and of men’s reaction to them.
All of which makes it sound like a weighty tome indeed, which is highly misleading since it’s actually a very entertaining, well written short novel, thought-provoking and dark at points, but with a delightful strain of wicked humour running through it to lift the tone. Ralph, our narrator, is unconsciously self-revealing as a rather pompous, self-important snob of the first degree, who is quite happy for Hilda to be educated, but purely because he thinks it will be pleasant to have a wife who can provide intelligent conversation when he comes home in the evenings. The humour is so subtle it took me a while to realise what she was doing and I may not have caught it at all if I hadn’t read her earlier book and known that the snobbery and prejudices of Ralph were certainly not an indication of Jaeger’s own viewpoints. Though I frequently wanted to slap him, I grew very fond of poor Ralph as a representative of a class and gender that was already feeling its foundations begin to quiver.
Hilda is a bit of an enigma to the reader because she’s a complete enigma to Ralph. Educated he can accept, but rationality is not a feminine trait in his mind. The emotional responses in their relationship are all on his side, and he feels this is all wrong. Hilda’s lack of enthusiasm at the idea of marriage must surely be merely a sign that she hasn’t yet fully matured. He doesn’t share her fascination with Michael’s abilities: she sees Michael as a possible further step on the evolutionary ladder, someone to be nurtured and helped; Ralph, on the other hand, finds him rather repellent, not just because of his strangeness, but because he breaches the social conventions that are so important to conservative Ralph. Plus he does get in the way of Ralph’s wooing!
In Michael, Jaeger shows us the psychological effects on a sensitive nature of being different in a world that values conformity above all else. In this society, a man is judged primarily by his earning potential unless he’s fortunate enough to be rich – nothing much changes, eh? Michael’s abilities are hard to market, but leave him psychologically incapable of taking up any kind of normal employment. It’s very well done – convincing and not overplayed. Jaeger seems to be questioning if humanity can continue to evolve at all in a world where difference is shunned.
The book includes a short introduction by Mike Ashley, putting it into the context of other books of the time examining similar questions. It also includes an essay at the end, extracted from Dangerous by Degrees: Women at Oxford and the Somerville College Novelists by Susan J. Leonardi, who analyses the book from a feminist perspective. I often find academic literary analysis destroys the magic for me, and so it began to be in this case, so I only read the first few pages before deciding not to continue. But from the bit I read it looked interesting, perceptive and well written so I’m sure others will find it a real bonus.
I thoroughly enjoyed the book and am only sorry that Jaeger wasn’t more prolific in the science fiction field. I believe she wrote another couple, though, and have my fingers crossed that the British Library may add them to their collection in the future.
NB This book was provided for review by the publisher, the British Library.
www.fictionfanblog.wordpress.com
March 14, 2020
Labelled as science fiction (and when it was published in 1929 it must have been), I would label this "a study of the human mind". The main character, Michael Bristowe, has ESP. He can "see" things that are in your pocket, he can "see" a dead body buried near him. This book explores the workings of the mind of Michael, how he copes with it (or not), his sanity, the constant bombardment of sensory input; and how it affects the people around him.
September 26, 2017
This is a book I'd been looking for ever since reading Susan Leonardi's Dangerous by Degrees, on the group of women novelists who were all more or less contemporaries at Somerville College in the early C20th. I am not sure whether Jaeger or Doreen Wallace is the most obscure in the present day! Sayers, Holty and Brittain remain wellknown and Margaret Kennedy had a brief Virago revival around the 80s. This is a remarkably good book if you can stand spending time with the patronising and condescending male narrative voice (this is very cleverly done by Jaeger, he is constantly revealing his flaws, but never really gets wise to himself).
Her other novels look extremely hard to come by (hint to ebook publishers?) but I have read her book Before Victoria, which (if I recall correctly) is about the rise of what we now call 'Victorianism' well before the accession of the Queen.
Her other novels look extremely hard to come by (hint to ebook publishers?) but I have read her book Before Victoria, which (if I recall correctly) is about the rise of what we now call 'Victorianism' well before the accession of the Queen.
April 19, 2013
I have an odd desire to say at least something about each of the Singularity and Co released books, but with Six Senses it's a little harder. The entire book is styled as series of remembrances, with most of the dialogue and even the rare bits of action largely summarized. It's a style, certainly, but it's a style that left me feeling so high above the story that it never really connected. My eyes skipped entire paragraphs at a time as pages loaded on my Kindle with no indentations anywhere. I suppose it doesn't help that I disliked the first person narrator, and found no reason to enjoy disliking him. He was an unpleasant seatmate on a cross country flight who wouldn't hush up about the year he's been having being awesome while surrounded by idiots who don't recognize how awesome they are.
In the end I gave it three stars, which typically means one of two things with me. Either I felt the book was middle of the road, or the book failed to stick with me in any real way. This is the latter. Even though I finished it this week, I'd be hard pressed to bring to mind characters or plot. It was a thing I was reading, and now it's a thing I'm not reading anymore.
In the end I gave it three stars, which typically means one of two things with me. Either I felt the book was middle of the road, or the book failed to stick with me in any real way. This is the latter. Even though I finished it this week, I'd be hard pressed to bring to mind characters or plot. It was a thing I was reading, and now it's a thing I'm not reading anymore.
June 25, 2023
I fit the common profile: a person with time totally my own on most Sunday mornings. Beyond that, we can narrow down my classification a bit more - I park myself at the coffee shop some time after 8:30, and open my latest read. There is no set plan for how long I’ll stay, but this morning I had about 200 pages left of The Man With Senses - meaning I had really only just started it - and in most cases where there’s still more than 120 pages to conquer, I’ll get fidgety, or the coffee shop will get crowded or troubling, or I just feel I’ve read enough for one sit-down and it’s perfectly fine to finish the thing later.
But The Man With Six Senses never did let me go until I had turned the last page, that including an Afterword discussing its feminist content, and its odd choice of narrator.
We have a trio of main characters - Hilda, Michael, and Ralph - and Jaeger gives us this story from Ralph’s perspective…the one most likely to wander off in a sulk due to unrequited love and a generally pissy attitude. Ralph is never really on board, when it comes to exploring Michael’s “sixth sense” - under-developed ability to detect various materials underground, what’s in someone’s pockets, the complexity of a snowflake, and perhaps what a person is thinking (seems like the man with about 27 senses to me!) - and Ralph would just like Hilda to marry him, and leave off helping Michael realize his potential and also be a happy human being.
I did get quite a ways along with this “lonely super-human pariah” story before I inevitably stopped to think how different this book would be if the guy with the powers - Michael - told the story. The Invisible Man by H. G. Wells came to mind, as did The Dead Zone by Stephen King; people like gods ending up in a right mess, partly due to how the world reacts, worships, rejects - the whole sad combo plate. I confess it was the Afterword to this book included in my edition - with its focus on what Ralph would like Hilda to be to satisfy him, versus her non-sexual and unromantic dedication to a withering and yet immensely powerful Michael, perhaps a sign of the future of humankind - that got me thinking of Hilda as narrator.
As the Afterword wrapped up, and I thought about how choosing the ‘wrong’ narrator can at least create a unique narrative with an angle that would be missed if the most self-centred, pouty, and quite frankly absent, member of the trio had not ended up writing up the complete journal of events, I even thought of other narrative options not chosen. What if the narration bounced from Ralph, to Hilda, to Michael? I tend to dislike novels that switch narrator and then spend many pages retelling the same events, even if filtered through another perspective. I then moved on to wondering if the ‘perfect’ version of this story would have been a simple swapping of narrator but without the backtracking to earlier scenes (I think the “backtracking/new perspective” structure came into my head, because it would have been fun to see Michael “in the lab” honing his sixth sense - and since we’re stuck in Ralph’s somewhat narrow mind, even when he has wandered off in disgust at the whole situation, it’s easy to feel that, from an SF Novel perspective, we’re “skipping some of best bits, not getting the full superpowers fix”). If the narrating duties had been divvied up between all three of these people, each with a very different outlook on what’s happening, maybe it can be said it would have been a fuller, more satisfying reading experience, the first bonus being more of Michael being the 1920s SF version of Daredevil.
But what’s on offer is all there is. We do get quite an interesting look at Michael’s heightened powers of perception, and it’s never obvious where this will take the story. Suddenly we’re in a supremely ahead-of-its-time Crime novel with Horror elements, as Michael unexpectedly detects a corpse under ground, which brings in Scotland Yard eyeing him as the prime suspect, and massive press coverage glamorizing and mislabeling Michael, and expecting a greatness and an infallibility he may not be able to deliver. As this section of the book quietens down, supernatural suppositions give way to the original scientific theorizing, Michael seems more and more damaged and alone, but not alone enough for Michael who just wants Hilda for himself…
It’s all very…strange. I did enjoy this one more Jaeger’s The Question Mark, but it’s definitely an understated affair if you’re looking a “mutant powers” story. It’s definitely a wonderful read to come out of 1927.
But The Man With Six Senses never did let me go until I had turned the last page, that including an Afterword discussing its feminist content, and its odd choice of narrator.
We have a trio of main characters - Hilda, Michael, and Ralph - and Jaeger gives us this story from Ralph’s perspective…the one most likely to wander off in a sulk due to unrequited love and a generally pissy attitude. Ralph is never really on board, when it comes to exploring Michael’s “sixth sense” - under-developed ability to detect various materials underground, what’s in someone’s pockets, the complexity of a snowflake, and perhaps what a person is thinking (seems like the man with about 27 senses to me!) - and Ralph would just like Hilda to marry him, and leave off helping Michael realize his potential and also be a happy human being.
I did get quite a ways along with this “lonely super-human pariah” story before I inevitably stopped to think how different this book would be if the guy with the powers - Michael - told the story. The Invisible Man by H. G. Wells came to mind, as did The Dead Zone by Stephen King; people like gods ending up in a right mess, partly due to how the world reacts, worships, rejects - the whole sad combo plate. I confess it was the Afterword to this book included in my edition - with its focus on what Ralph would like Hilda to be to satisfy him, versus her non-sexual and unromantic dedication to a withering and yet immensely powerful Michael, perhaps a sign of the future of humankind - that got me thinking of Hilda as narrator.
As the Afterword wrapped up, and I thought about how choosing the ‘wrong’ narrator can at least create a unique narrative with an angle that would be missed if the most self-centred, pouty, and quite frankly absent, member of the trio had not ended up writing up the complete journal of events, I even thought of other narrative options not chosen. What if the narration bounced from Ralph, to Hilda, to Michael? I tend to dislike novels that switch narrator and then spend many pages retelling the same events, even if filtered through another perspective. I then moved on to wondering if the ‘perfect’ version of this story would have been a simple swapping of narrator but without the backtracking to earlier scenes (I think the “backtracking/new perspective” structure came into my head, because it would have been fun to see Michael “in the lab” honing his sixth sense - and since we’re stuck in Ralph’s somewhat narrow mind, even when he has wandered off in disgust at the whole situation, it’s easy to feel that, from an SF Novel perspective, we’re “skipping some of best bits, not getting the full superpowers fix”). If the narrating duties had been divvied up between all three of these people, each with a very different outlook on what’s happening, maybe it can be said it would have been a fuller, more satisfying reading experience, the first bonus being more of Michael being the 1920s SF version of Daredevil.
But what’s on offer is all there is. We do get quite an interesting look at Michael’s heightened powers of perception, and it’s never obvious where this will take the story. Suddenly we’re in a supremely ahead-of-its-time Crime novel with Horror elements, as Michael unexpectedly detects a corpse under ground, which brings in Scotland Yard eyeing him as the prime suspect, and massive press coverage glamorizing and mislabeling Michael, and expecting a greatness and an infallibility he may not be able to deliver. As this section of the book quietens down, supernatural suppositions give way to the original scientific theorizing, Michael seems more and more damaged and alone, but not alone enough for Michael who just wants Hilda for himself…
It’s all very…strange. I did enjoy this one more Jaeger’s The Question Mark, but it’s definitely an understated affair if you’re looking a “mutant powers” story. It’s definitely a wonderful read to come out of 1927.
June 13, 2023
I recently picked up The Man With Six Senses by Muriel Jaegar with high hopes and anticipation, drawn in by the intriguing premise and the promise of a unique and thrilling story. However, I must admit that I found myself sorely disappointed by the execution and overall delivery of this novel.
One of the main issues I had with the book was its pacing. The story starts off with a promising concept: a man who possesses six senses beyond the normal five. However, instead of capitalizing on this fascinating idea, the narrative seemed to meander and lose focus. The pacing felt uneven, with long stretches of tedious and unnecessary details, followed by sudden bursts of rushed action. This inconsistency made it difficult for me to fully engage with the plot.
Additionally, I found the characterization lacking depth and development. The protagonist, despite his extraordinary abilities, remained one-dimensional and lacked the emotional complexity that would have made him relatable. The supporting characters, too, fell flat, often serving as mere plot devices rather than fully fleshed-out individuals. As a result, I struggled to form any meaningful connections with the cast, which ultimately hindered my investment in their struggles and triumphs.
Moreover, the writing style itself left much to be desired. While the prose was serviceable, it lacked the elegance and finesse that I usually look for in a novel. Descriptions were often verbose and overly detailed, leading to a sense of tedium rather than painting vivid imagery. Dialogues felt stilted and unnatural, failing to capture the nuances of genuine human interaction. These stylistic shortcomings detracted from the overall reading experience and further weakened my connection with the story.
On a positive note, I appreciated the initial concept and the potential it held. The idea of exploring a protagonist with heightened senses had great potential for creating a captivating and thought-provoking narrative. Additionally, there were a few moments of genuine suspense and intrigue scattered throughout the book, giving glimmers of what could have been.
However, despite these glimpses of promise, The Man With Six Senses ultimately fell short of my expectations. The lackluster pacing, underdeveloped characters, and uninspiring writing style made it difficult for me to fully immerse myself in the story. While it may appeal to readers with a strong interest in the concept, I would hesitate to recommend it to those seeking a truly engaging and memorable read.
One of the main issues I had with the book was its pacing. The story starts off with a promising concept: a man who possesses six senses beyond the normal five. However, instead of capitalizing on this fascinating idea, the narrative seemed to meander and lose focus. The pacing felt uneven, with long stretches of tedious and unnecessary details, followed by sudden bursts of rushed action. This inconsistency made it difficult for me to fully engage with the plot.
Additionally, I found the characterization lacking depth and development. The protagonist, despite his extraordinary abilities, remained one-dimensional and lacked the emotional complexity that would have made him relatable. The supporting characters, too, fell flat, often serving as mere plot devices rather than fully fleshed-out individuals. As a result, I struggled to form any meaningful connections with the cast, which ultimately hindered my investment in their struggles and triumphs.
Moreover, the writing style itself left much to be desired. While the prose was serviceable, it lacked the elegance and finesse that I usually look for in a novel. Descriptions were often verbose and overly detailed, leading to a sense of tedium rather than painting vivid imagery. Dialogues felt stilted and unnatural, failing to capture the nuances of genuine human interaction. These stylistic shortcomings detracted from the overall reading experience and further weakened my connection with the story.
On a positive note, I appreciated the initial concept and the potential it held. The idea of exploring a protagonist with heightened senses had great potential for creating a captivating and thought-provoking narrative. Additionally, there were a few moments of genuine suspense and intrigue scattered throughout the book, giving glimmers of what could have been.
However, despite these glimpses of promise, The Man With Six Senses ultimately fell short of my expectations. The lackluster pacing, underdeveloped characters, and uninspiring writing style made it difficult for me to fully immerse myself in the story. While it may appeal to readers with a strong interest in the concept, I would hesitate to recommend it to those seeking a truly engaging and memorable read.
November 1, 2025
I enjoyed the way this book confounded my expectations. The title led me to expect a tale of the strange, in the tradition of H. G. Wells. The Introduction to this edition, by Mike Ashley, seemed to confirm that this would tell of a young man “isolated by his own natural abilities”. Thus, I didn’t grasp the full import of what the narrator wrote in the opening sentence of the first chapter: “This is not the account of Michael Bristowe’s strange career that Hilda asked me to write.” Only gradually did I come to realize that the narrator, Ralph Standridge, despite his avowed modern and enlightened views, is stodgily conventional. The most honest sentence he writes comes toward the end of his narrative: he “was just a normal man who wanted the ordinary pleasant life of my country and my birth.” His innate distaste for Michael grows in step with the deepening devotion Hilda Torrington, whom Ralph had always assumed would become his wife, to Michael and his gift.
Ralph duly reports Michael’s experiences with a sensitivity in his hands akin to that of water dowsers, but developed (with Hilda’s patient coaching) to a higher degree. Yet, after a brief flare of public acknowledgement at about the midpoint of the book, Michael recedes from the narrative, and I became aware that this book is really about Hilda, seen through Ralph’s paternalistic eyes. To him, she is “still a child, though an obstinate one, and there was no one to look after her.” This is after Hilda had a sterling academic career at Cambridge (something Ralph claims he approves of) and has a responsible job in London.
Hilda is a paradox. She is the modern, independent, educated woman who rejects Ralph’s marriage proposal to retain her freedom, only to sacrifice that freedom to care for Michael. She doesn’t love either man, nor does she believe she is capable of love. Her decision is what she perceives as a response to a higher calling for the future good of humanity.
Thus, not only does this book switch genres, but it also subverts the typical love triangle story.
After congratulating myself on my insight, I was mildly irritated when I read the Afterword to this edition, an essay by Susan J. Leonardi that confirmed my discovery and added several apt details to support it. Above all, she makes an observation that had escaped me: this tale is a modern, secular nativity narrative. All in all, this novel was an enjoyable read.
Ralph duly reports Michael’s experiences with a sensitivity in his hands akin to that of water dowsers, but developed (with Hilda’s patient coaching) to a higher degree. Yet, after a brief flare of public acknowledgement at about the midpoint of the book, Michael recedes from the narrative, and I became aware that this book is really about Hilda, seen through Ralph’s paternalistic eyes. To him, she is “still a child, though an obstinate one, and there was no one to look after her.” This is after Hilda had a sterling academic career at Cambridge (something Ralph claims he approves of) and has a responsible job in London.
Hilda is a paradox. She is the modern, independent, educated woman who rejects Ralph’s marriage proposal to retain her freedom, only to sacrifice that freedom to care for Michael. She doesn’t love either man, nor does she believe she is capable of love. Her decision is what she perceives as a response to a higher calling for the future good of humanity.
Thus, not only does this book switch genres, but it also subverts the typical love triangle story.
After congratulating myself on my insight, I was mildly irritated when I read the Afterword to this edition, an essay by Susan J. Leonardi that confirmed my discovery and added several apt details to support it. Above all, she makes an observation that had escaped me: this tale is a modern, secular nativity narrative. All in all, this novel was an enjoyable read.
October 26, 2021
Early science fiction is something I feel I should read more of. This could also be labelled as speculative fiction and that is also something I should read more of.
This did probably lose a star from the rating due to the narrator. I understand why the author told the story from his point of view but if it was, at least in part, told from Hilda's point of view then I feel it would have been a more interesting story.
The title character is an interesting study. If a character was introduced like him in modern fiction there would be pages devoted to diagnosing him. I am glad there wasn't the demand for that back in the 1920s.
This book was published in 1927 but there are certain things that still relate to the modern world. Especially the behaviour of the media. That hasn't changed.
I am not going to recommend this book. Not because I don't think it should be read but because I am not sure who to recommend it to. It is worth seeking out if you have an interest in speculative fiction but I wouldn't limit it to just that audience.
This did probably lose a star from the rating due to the narrator. I understand why the author told the story from his point of view but if it was, at least in part, told from Hilda's point of view then I feel it would have been a more interesting story.
The title character is an interesting study. If a character was introduced like him in modern fiction there would be pages devoted to diagnosing him. I am glad there wasn't the demand for that back in the 1920s.
This book was published in 1927 but there are certain things that still relate to the modern world. Especially the behaviour of the media. That hasn't changed.
I am not going to recommend this book. Not because I don't think it should be read but because I am not sure who to recommend it to. It is worth seeking out if you have an interest in speculative fiction but I wouldn't limit it to just that audience.
April 24, 2023
I went into this one having no idea what to expect: would it be like the literary version of Corman's THE MAN WITH THE X-RAY EYES, or something more apocalyptic, or maybe Wellsian in turn? Well, it's about as far away from any of those things as you can imagine. Instead, Jaeger's is a feminist novel disguised as science fiction; the latter is only incidental to the story. It tells of a love triangle between the narrator, a journalist, the woman he loves, and the ailing 'clairvoyant' (for want of a better word) that she cares for. Although the story isn't action-packed, it's filled with incredibly detailed thought, feeling and philosophy, shining a light on the human condition in the kind of grippingly realistic way that the best authors do. And in terms of feminism, the choice of the unreliable narrator and the climactic events are quite brilliantly handled. I only wish Jaeger had found better success as a writer as I absolutely loved this surprising short novel.
August 24, 2025
Quite a quaint little England feel to this story. The narrators perspective I thought would take away from it, but in a way it gave it a bit more of a sense of reality. The different motives, aims and abilities of the three main characters at times complement and at other times conflict with each other. We learn in the end that perhaps the real super heroes of the story is not the man with six senses, but the narrator for his patience and supportive attitude in the face of losing the love of his life in front of his eyes to his rival, and the woman for her committed devotion to protecting and supporting the hoped for genius and humanity-changing man with six senses.
June 28, 2021
Michael Bristowe has an amazing latent talent for finding water, identifying minerals buried deep in the earth and it is almost as if he can read minds. Could he be the next stage in human evolution?
Jaeger's short novel is interesting in that Bristowe is weak, pliable and ineffectual. Bearing in mind that the narrative is filtered through Michael's rival, Ralph, it is nonetheless important that the future lies in the sacrifices that women make to save the world.
Jaeger's short novel is interesting in that Bristowe is weak, pliable and ineffectual. Bearing in mind that the narrative is filtered through Michael's rival, Ralph, it is nonetheless important that the future lies in the sacrifices that women make to save the world.
July 3, 2023
A different take on the can humans have extra "powers" question as this is someone looking from the outside. Who is very sceptical, and sees the whole situation as a nuisance to his life rather than a potential evolutionary phenomenon for the human race.
March 25, 2025
Not sure that I would classify this as science fiction. A probably unreliable narrator who was rather patronizing towards both Hilda and Michael. An interesting take on being different - Michael - and the expectations of others on Hilda - educated and independent woman in the early 20th century.
May 11, 2025
Ambles along nicely, three main protagonists Hilda, Michael Bristowe and Ralph. I love how Hilda has a strong character, in charge of her own destination not having to rely on the weak character of Ralph.
May 12, 2021
Full review here: https://dearstrangethings.substack.co...
January 3, 2024
Lots of really cool ideas and a strong explanation of Modernism, but the style is so dry and pompous that it's hard to stay focused.
April 18, 2015
A sharp and engaging meditation on what would happen if a superhuman was to appear in post-WWI Britain - how a rigid class-based society would react to someone who had no place in the hierarchy but was in many ways "superior" to his "superiors." With this premise, Jaeger could be in danger of veering into Ayn Randian Objectivism - you now, the poor misunderstood genius whom the lesser people will stop at nothing to bring down - but Jaeger does a fine job of building a morally complex story around three well-developed characters whose conflicting desires trap them in a loveless love-triangle.
Michael, our super-human in question, is a kind of super-dowser - sensitive not only to water, but to pretty much any elements or molecules he can imagine. While capable of brilliant feats, Michael is also bit of a self-involved asshole, a kind of super-teenager - hypersensitive and often depressed because no one, literally, can understand what he feels. He has an amazing ability but his hypersensitive personality, low status, and lack of resources hamper every attempt at making a living. The shadow of the recently completed WWI looms over the narrative as Michael is often compared to returning soldiers who find themselves out of place and with no one to truly understand their experiences (aside from their fellow soldiers). Only, in Michael's case, there's no one like him. His only hope of true human connection is an old dowser named Naylor who never fully developed his gift and managed to fit himself into society by never taking more than was offered to him.
Michael is pursued by Hilda, not out of love but out of an earnest humanist belief in what he represents - a possible path of transcendence for humankind that she might shepherd and bring to fruition. While she eventually marries Michael and has his child, she's never actually interested him as a person - only in the hopeful possibility of what he (and his child could represent).
Hilda is pursued by Ralph (when it suits him), the book's upper class snob and condescending narrator. A big proponent and perpetuator of the status quo, Ralph feels that Hilda is sort of his by right and, having always felt they would eventually be together, he takes his sweet time getting around to finally asking her to marry him. By the time he does, it's already too late as the Hilda he grew up with has, alarmingly, developed ideas of her own and latched on to what Michael represents. Ralph realizes he's in trouble early on and works to undermine her faith in Michael, for her sake (and his), not understanding that her faith is really a faith in life and it's potential. The three characters are perfectly set up for movingly bitter and tragic ending.
Michael, our super-human in question, is a kind of super-dowser - sensitive not only to water, but to pretty much any elements or molecules he can imagine. While capable of brilliant feats, Michael is also bit of a self-involved asshole, a kind of super-teenager - hypersensitive and often depressed because no one, literally, can understand what he feels. He has an amazing ability but his hypersensitive personality, low status, and lack of resources hamper every attempt at making a living. The shadow of the recently completed WWI looms over the narrative as Michael is often compared to returning soldiers who find themselves out of place and with no one to truly understand their experiences (aside from their fellow soldiers). Only, in Michael's case, there's no one like him. His only hope of true human connection is an old dowser named Naylor who never fully developed his gift and managed to fit himself into society by never taking more than was offered to him.
Michael is pursued by Hilda, not out of love but out of an earnest humanist belief in what he represents - a possible path of transcendence for humankind that she might shepherd and bring to fruition. While she eventually marries Michael and has his child, she's never actually interested him as a person - only in the hopeful possibility of what he (and his child could represent).
Hilda is pursued by Ralph (when it suits him), the book's upper class snob and condescending narrator. A big proponent and perpetuator of the status quo, Ralph feels that Hilda is sort of his by right and, having always felt they would eventually be together, he takes his sweet time getting around to finally asking her to marry him. By the time he does, it's already too late as the Hilda he grew up with has, alarmingly, developed ideas of her own and latched on to what Michael represents. Ralph realizes he's in trouble early on and works to undermine her faith in Michael, for her sake (and his), not understanding that her faith is really a faith in life and it's potential. The three characters are perfectly set up for movingly bitter and tragic ending.
June 25, 2014
This novel tells how the narrator sees and feels about a man with an extraordinary almost undefinable extra sensitivity. The problem is that the narrator is an unlikable and unsympathetic snob. I'm really not sure how we're supposed to see him. But, on the other hand, none of the three main characters is very likable, because they all seem to lack any human warmth, which becomes apparent early on. Since all events are filtered through the eyes of someone I don't care for, it was an interesting read, but not a satisfying one.
July 25, 2015
The narrator is quite snob and though the story gets intriguing at times, it's never really exciting. The ending is open and does not satisfy curiosity. Still interesting and good if you think of when it came out. Wish I could hear the story from the lady's point of view!
March 17, 2014
An enjoyable speculative fiction novel narrated by an Edwardian snob. Worth checking out.
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