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Shadow Dance
Carter's heady first novel introduces one of her most enigmatic characters. Honeybuzzard spends his nights scavenging the contents of abandoned buildings and his days seducing and tormenting lovers, enemies, and friends. He and his best friend Morris scoour the backstreets of London, leaving behind a trail of detruction in the broken hearts and dashed hopes of those they love, manipulate, and ultimately discard.
182 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1966
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About the author
Angela Carter
213 books3,742 followersBorn Angela Olive Stalker in Eastbourne, in 1940, Carter was evacuated as a child to live in Yorkshire with her maternal grandmother. As a teenager she battled anorexia. She began work as a journalist on the Croydon Advertiser, following in the footsteps of her father. Carter attended the University of Bristol where she studied English literature.
She married twice, first in 1960 to Paul Carter. They divorced after twelve years. In 1969 Angela Carter used the proceeds of her Somerset Maugham Award to leave her husband and relocate for two years to Tokyo, Japan, where she claims in Nothing Sacred (1982) that she "learnt what it is to be a woman and became radicalised." She wrote about her experiences there in articles for New Society and a collection of short stories, Fireworks: Nine Profane Pieces (1974), and evidence of her experiences in Japan can also be seen in The Infernal Desire Machines of Doctor Hoffman (1972). She was there at the same time as Roland Barthes, who published his experiences in Empire of Signs (1970).
She then explored the United States, Asia, and Europe, helped by her fluency in French and German. She spent much of the late 1970s and 1980s as a writer in residence at universities, including the University of Sheffield, Brown University, the University of Adelaide, and the University of East Anglia. In 1977 Carter married Mark Pearce, with whom she had one son.
As well as being a prolific writer of fiction, Carter contributed many articles to The Guardian, The Independent and New Statesman, collected in Shaking a Leg. She adapted a number of her short stories for radio and wrote two original radio dramas on Richard Dadd and Ronald Firbank. Two of her fictions have been adapted for the silver screen: The Company of Wolves (1984) and The Magic Toyshop (1987). She was actively involved in both film adaptations, her screenplays are published in the collected dramatic writings, The Curious Room, together with her radio scripts, a libretto for an opera of Virginia Wolf's Orlando, an unproduced screenplay entitled The Christchurch Murders (based on the same true story as Peter Jackson's Heavenly Creatures) and other works. These neglected works, as well as her controversial television documentary, The Holy Family Album, are discussed in Charlotte Crofts' book, Anagrams of Desire (2003).
At the time of her death, Carter was embarking on a sequel to Charlotte Brontë's Jane Eyre based on the later life of Jane's stepdaughter, Adèle Varens. However, only a synopsis survives.
Her novel Nights at the Circus won the 1984 James Tait Black Memorial Prize for literature.
Angela Carter died aged 51 in 1992 at her home in London after developing lung cancer. Her obituary published in The Observer said, "She was the opposite of parochial. Nothing, for her, was outside the pale: she wanted to know about everything and everyone, and every place and every word. She relished life and language hugely, and reveled in the diverse."
She married twice, first in 1960 to Paul Carter. They divorced after twelve years. In 1969 Angela Carter used the proceeds of her Somerset Maugham Award to leave her husband and relocate for two years to Tokyo, Japan, where she claims in Nothing Sacred (1982) that she "learnt what it is to be a woman and became radicalised." She wrote about her experiences there in articles for New Society and a collection of short stories, Fireworks: Nine Profane Pieces (1974), and evidence of her experiences in Japan can also be seen in The Infernal Desire Machines of Doctor Hoffman (1972). She was there at the same time as Roland Barthes, who published his experiences in Empire of Signs (1970).
She then explored the United States, Asia, and Europe, helped by her fluency in French and German. She spent much of the late 1970s and 1980s as a writer in residence at universities, including the University of Sheffield, Brown University, the University of Adelaide, and the University of East Anglia. In 1977 Carter married Mark Pearce, with whom she had one son.
As well as being a prolific writer of fiction, Carter contributed many articles to The Guardian, The Independent and New Statesman, collected in Shaking a Leg. She adapted a number of her short stories for radio and wrote two original radio dramas on Richard Dadd and Ronald Firbank. Two of her fictions have been adapted for the silver screen: The Company of Wolves (1984) and The Magic Toyshop (1987). She was actively involved in both film adaptations, her screenplays are published in the collected dramatic writings, The Curious Room, together with her radio scripts, a libretto for an opera of Virginia Wolf's Orlando, an unproduced screenplay entitled The Christchurch Murders (based on the same true story as Peter Jackson's Heavenly Creatures) and other works. These neglected works, as well as her controversial television documentary, The Holy Family Album, are discussed in Charlotte Crofts' book, Anagrams of Desire (2003).
At the time of her death, Carter was embarking on a sequel to Charlotte Brontë's Jane Eyre based on the later life of Jane's stepdaughter, Adèle Varens. However, only a synopsis survives.
Her novel Nights at the Circus won the 1984 James Tait Black Memorial Prize for literature.
Angela Carter died aged 51 in 1992 at her home in London after developing lung cancer. Her obituary published in The Observer said, "She was the opposite of parochial. Nothing, for her, was outside the pale: she wanted to know about everything and everyone, and every place and every word. She relished life and language hugely, and reveled in the diverse."
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February 8, 2019
"A Garland of Wallpaper Flowers on the Grave of Love"
There are only 12 short chapters in this short but engrossing novel about the decline, fall and burial of love.
Each chapter is a fragment that doesn't so much advance the narrative, as capture the domestic environment in which it occurs. Carter's description of the setting and characters is precise and alarming.
There are five main characters and a few additional neighbours and pub-mates. The five are Morris Gray, his wife Edna, his business partner in a small second hand/antique store, Honeybuzzard, and Honeybuzzard's female interests/objects of desire, Ghislaine and Emily.
"Slipping Through Nets of Obligation and Affection"
Most of the novel is narrated from Morris’ perspective or with him on centre stage. We only see the beautiful Ghislaine in the first and last chapters. Both men have had an affair with her, Morris first, who then passed her, chattel-like, to Honey, with the entreaty to “take her and teach her a lesson.” He does so, before the novel commences, by knifing the side of her face, from eye to throat, scarring her permanently.
Before that, Honey had used her to appear in a set of pornographic photos that he sold for just five shillings. Everything he does is calculated to annihilate her innocence and beauty, even if she proves resilient enough to return to him from hospital, in the absence of any reasonable alternative.
These five characters constitute each other's lives. Morris’ life is even more privative: “He began to pretend there was nobody alive but himself and everyone else was dead. The fantasy grew into a conviction.”
In many ways, the novel is a precursor or prequel to “Love", which also features a tragic/calamitous character called Honeybuzzard.
Like that novel, the characters live in vast run-down Georgian mansions that become the centrepiece of a Gothic horror show. All is derelict, including the occupants. Even though Morris is the least vindictive of the two men, “he was filled with revulsion at himself.” We soon concur with him, until we witness what Honey can achieve, this demon who once “slipped like a slim, blond porpoise through potential nets of obligation and affection”.
"A Francis Bacon Horror Painting"
Morris pretends to be a painter. He seems to be the most imaginative of the five. “He could best accommodate the thought of Ghislaine as the subject for a painting, a Francis Bacon horror painting of flesh as a disgusting symbol of the human condition; that way, she became small enough for him to handle, she dwindled through the wrong end of the telescope of art. Yet he could only think in this way, never execute; never paint the painting which would justify treating her as a thing and not a human being.” Instead, the room runs with her imaginary blood. “He wondered if he would drown in it.”
"A Disgusting Symbol of the Human Condition"
Too late, Morris realises “I never meant [Honey] to hurt her...It was a joke, a sort of joke. I'm not responsible for what Honey did. No, surely not.”
“He lived in a state of guilty fear, starting at sudden noises, frightened of shadows. He was tormented by a recurrent dream, a mutation of the nightmare of the first night...[in which] it seemed to him that she was a vampire woman,...and the moment she saw him she would snatch him up and absorb him, threshing, into the chasm in her face.”
The women come between the men (and their shadows), even if they bring diversity and difference to their lives. The women compromise the latent, self-preserving homo-eroticism of their male-centric shadow world. The men feel threatened by the women in their lives, and avenge themselves with horrific violence and disdain.
This is much more than a feminist horror story. It's a portrait of a late capitalist world in which all social relationships have become atomized. There is no love or sympathy, let alone empathy. Society has disintegrated, and the broken individuals who remain in the shadows tear each other apart with brutal efficiency. In “Love", Angela Carter would use this pessimistic framework to critique the hippy subculture that had grown up in the ruins of mid-twentieth century civilisation.
There are only 12 short chapters in this short but engrossing novel about the decline, fall and burial of love.
Each chapter is a fragment that doesn't so much advance the narrative, as capture the domestic environment in which it occurs. Carter's description of the setting and characters is precise and alarming.
There are five main characters and a few additional neighbours and pub-mates. The five are Morris Gray, his wife Edna, his business partner in a small second hand/antique store, Honeybuzzard, and Honeybuzzard's female interests/objects of desire, Ghislaine and Emily.
"Slipping Through Nets of Obligation and Affection"
Most of the novel is narrated from Morris’ perspective or with him on centre stage. We only see the beautiful Ghislaine in the first and last chapters. Both men have had an affair with her, Morris first, who then passed her, chattel-like, to Honey, with the entreaty to “take her and teach her a lesson.” He does so, before the novel commences, by knifing the side of her face, from eye to throat, scarring her permanently.
Before that, Honey had used her to appear in a set of pornographic photos that he sold for just five shillings. Everything he does is calculated to annihilate her innocence and beauty, even if she proves resilient enough to return to him from hospital, in the absence of any reasonable alternative.
These five characters constitute each other's lives. Morris’ life is even more privative: “He began to pretend there was nobody alive but himself and everyone else was dead. The fantasy grew into a conviction.”
In many ways, the novel is a precursor or prequel to “Love", which also features a tragic/calamitous character called Honeybuzzard.
Like that novel, the characters live in vast run-down Georgian mansions that become the centrepiece of a Gothic horror show. All is derelict, including the occupants. Even though Morris is the least vindictive of the two men, “he was filled with revulsion at himself.” We soon concur with him, until we witness what Honey can achieve, this demon who once “slipped like a slim, blond porpoise through potential nets of obligation and affection”.
"A Francis Bacon Horror Painting"
Morris pretends to be a painter. He seems to be the most imaginative of the five. “He could best accommodate the thought of Ghislaine as the subject for a painting, a Francis Bacon horror painting of flesh as a disgusting symbol of the human condition; that way, she became small enough for him to handle, she dwindled through the wrong end of the telescope of art. Yet he could only think in this way, never execute; never paint the painting which would justify treating her as a thing and not a human being.” Instead, the room runs with her imaginary blood. “He wondered if he would drown in it.”
"A Disgusting Symbol of the Human Condition"
Too late, Morris realises “I never meant [Honey] to hurt her...It was a joke, a sort of joke. I'm not responsible for what Honey did. No, surely not.”
“He lived in a state of guilty fear, starting at sudden noises, frightened of shadows. He was tormented by a recurrent dream, a mutation of the nightmare of the first night...[in which] it seemed to him that she was a vampire woman,...and the moment she saw him she would snatch him up and absorb him, threshing, into the chasm in her face.”
The women come between the men (and their shadows), even if they bring diversity and difference to their lives. The women compromise the latent, self-preserving homo-eroticism of their male-centric shadow world. The men feel threatened by the women in their lives, and avenge themselves with horrific violence and disdain.
This is much more than a feminist horror story. It's a portrait of a late capitalist world in which all social relationships have become atomized. There is no love or sympathy, let alone empathy. Society has disintegrated, and the broken individuals who remain in the shadows tear each other apart with brutal efficiency. In “Love", Angela Carter would use this pessimistic framework to critique the hippy subculture that had grown up in the ruins of mid-twentieth century civilisation.
June 15, 2012
A very strange story about a ghastly nymphet called Ghislaine whose beauty verges on the grotesque even before her face gets slashed to pieces by the equally beautiful and androgynous villain Honeybuzzard. I am beginning to see a common theme in Carter's particular stance on the nature of feminine beauty in that she loves to concoct her characters as a delirious mix of sexual depravity in virginal garbs.
'Shadow Dance' is a complex novel where the sexuality of characters are always suspect. The medusa-like Ghislaine (even her name is a monstrosity that smacks of the absinthe-odoured Lautrec ladies) is presented as an insatiable young woman who is forever scarred after a violent sexual attack cruelly orchestrated by two men; Morris, a nondescript antique-dealer who beneath the thin gloss is basically a failure in life and his flamboyant and dangerous sidekick Honeybuzzard.
The two men are very unlikely friends and partners in crime, however the thing drawing the two together is the very thing that makes them incompatible: total incongruity of character. Morris is the total opposite of Honeybuzzard. Where he is all shy and retiring, Honeybuzzard is all knives and sharp corners. Like the title suggests, there is a very subtle shadow dance that occurs between these two men, they are both too much of one thing and not enough of another and it is through this need that they come into close proximity and tolerate each others intolerable acts. Even more subtle is the secual tension between the two and the sense of how they can never truly enact the forbidden sexual desire for one another because they are, in a symbolic sense, each other.
Honeybuzzard and Ghiaslaine were the most interesting characters and I find Carter is at her best when creating the most outrageous personalities. She really does shine as she makes the most incredible habits credible. Ghislaine's magnificent entrance at the beginning of the novel and Carters exquisite description of her will stay with me for a long while. It was nice to see the initial workings of 'The Passion of New Eve' in this, her first novel; as I think Ghislaine and Honeybuzzard may have been test versions of the Tristesse and Evelyn to come.
Carter is also a master of jerking sympathy out of her readership for the most absurd of reasons. As poisonous as Ghislaine is, we cannot help feeling horror and shock at her attack by the hands of Morris, who was the one who planted the demonic seed of thought into the impressionable mind of Honeybuzzard. In roundabout ways we can decide for ourselves who was more or less to blame for the events of that night and how the aftermath affects not just the victim, but many other inncent bystanders who have no more than a fleeting acquaintance with the main people involved.
I adore authors who are not afraid to put their characters through their paces, who are brutal and precise if the story demands it. Carter cares very much for her characters, which is why she is so careless with them. They are not wrapped in cotton and protected by events, they live them out for us and brings us 'the taste of pennies' on our tongue. It's always a pleasure to read Carter, for she belongs in the rare gallery of women writers such as du Maurier, Atwood and Morrison, who boldly go where no others have been and eke out new, savage pastures for readers to lose themselves in. They bring with them their own brand of femininity, one that tries to cleanse itself of the barbie-coloured optimism, and allows us to glance at the depths of our forbidden selves for a few therapeutic minutes - at the overwhelming burden of our dark 'life-giving' gifts and what this means in its terrifying totality.
'Shadow Dance' is a complex novel where the sexuality of characters are always suspect. The medusa-like Ghislaine (even her name is a monstrosity that smacks of the absinthe-odoured Lautrec ladies) is presented as an insatiable young woman who is forever scarred after a violent sexual attack cruelly orchestrated by two men; Morris, a nondescript antique-dealer who beneath the thin gloss is basically a failure in life and his flamboyant and dangerous sidekick Honeybuzzard.
The two men are very unlikely friends and partners in crime, however the thing drawing the two together is the very thing that makes them incompatible: total incongruity of character. Morris is the total opposite of Honeybuzzard. Where he is all shy and retiring, Honeybuzzard is all knives and sharp corners. Like the title suggests, there is a very subtle shadow dance that occurs between these two men, they are both too much of one thing and not enough of another and it is through this need that they come into close proximity and tolerate each others intolerable acts. Even more subtle is the secual tension between the two and the sense of how they can never truly enact the forbidden sexual desire for one another because they are, in a symbolic sense, each other.
Honeybuzzard and Ghiaslaine were the most interesting characters and I find Carter is at her best when creating the most outrageous personalities. She really does shine as she makes the most incredible habits credible. Ghislaine's magnificent entrance at the beginning of the novel and Carters exquisite description of her will stay with me for a long while. It was nice to see the initial workings of 'The Passion of New Eve' in this, her first novel; as I think Ghislaine and Honeybuzzard may have been test versions of the Tristesse and Evelyn to come.
Carter is also a master of jerking sympathy out of her readership for the most absurd of reasons. As poisonous as Ghislaine is, we cannot help feeling horror and shock at her attack by the hands of Morris, who was the one who planted the demonic seed of thought into the impressionable mind of Honeybuzzard. In roundabout ways we can decide for ourselves who was more or less to blame for the events of that night and how the aftermath affects not just the victim, but many other inncent bystanders who have no more than a fleeting acquaintance with the main people involved.
I adore authors who are not afraid to put their characters through their paces, who are brutal and precise if the story demands it. Carter cares very much for her characters, which is why she is so careless with them. They are not wrapped in cotton and protected by events, they live them out for us and brings us 'the taste of pennies' on our tongue. It's always a pleasure to read Carter, for she belongs in the rare gallery of women writers such as du Maurier, Atwood and Morrison, who boldly go where no others have been and eke out new, savage pastures for readers to lose themselves in. They bring with them their own brand of femininity, one that tries to cleanse itself of the barbie-coloured optimism, and allows us to glance at the depths of our forbidden selves for a few therapeutic minutes - at the overwhelming burden of our dark 'life-giving' gifts and what this means in its terrifying totality.
April 17, 2016
Typically dark, this slender book is rather haunting, inhabiting the space between reality and fairy tales, a place Carter returned to over and again. As her first novel it feels a little more perfect, to me, than the likes of 'The Passion of New Eve.' In the character of Honeybuzzard she has created someone even more menacing than Uncle Philip in 'The Magic Toyshop;' you can imagine Honey's urbane and dramatic charm being a (honey) trap. Nearly 50 years after its initial publication, 'Shadow Dance' seems every bit as relevant to the modern age and the horror stories on the news of marginalised communities on the edge of accepted society.
Rich with fairytale motifs, there is little redemption here. Powerfully bleak and beautifully written, there is Carter's customary magic between the lines of cruelty and tragedy.
Rich with fairytale motifs, there is little redemption here. Powerfully bleak and beautifully written, there is Carter's customary magic between the lines of cruelty and tragedy.
July 19, 2020
Angela Carter's debut is a gritty affair cast in neo-gothic and Dickensian shadows. At the heart of this tale are the junk shop co-owners Honeybuzzard and his pal Morris, living in a grimy unnamed city. A terrible fate has befallen a young girl named Ghislaine who had bewitched the both of them and many others in their circle. They are all currently coping with the emotional aftermath of the event itself, and Ghislaine's subsequent return from the hospital. The triangular connection linking Honey, Morris, and Ghislaine drives the plot forward, though that plot is rather thin as this is primarily a character study of Morris and Honey, bolstered by a rich array of minor character sketches as well. Morris is a sensitive soul, serving as the perfect foil to the sadistic narcissist Honey. Though Morris is often repelled by Honey's actions he feels an unbreakable bond of loyalty to his partner and friend. This relationship, above all others in his life, appears likeliest to shape his destiny. While less nuanced and layered than Carter's later work, the book excels in the sheer melancholic beauty of the setting and the characters that inhabit it. As a first novel it is impressive and certainly set the stage well for Carter's future career.
July 22, 2025
6oth book read in 2025
I first read this debut novel by Angela Carter in 2001. I came across it in the library while looking for something else. Due to rave reviews on the dust jacket, I took it home.
According to my reading notes back then, I did not like it much. In fact, I wrote “Two young men, losers, under the spell of a young female waif, a violent gory ending, some humor in an ironic tone.”
When I found the book on my 1966 reading list, I remembered that I read it but not what it was about. So, I read it again. This time in my reading notes I wrote, “Glad I reread it. Understand better what she was doing. Reminded me of Theodora Keough.”
Angela Carter has many rabid fans. I plan to read as many of her novels as I can fit into my reading. She has concerns similar to other authors I love: Joyce Carol Oates, Margaret Atwood in particular. Because it is a debut, I predict her books will get better as she goes. She is not for the faint of heart. She is ruthless with her characters, perceptive about the breakdowns of society in the 1960s, brutally feminist.
I first read this debut novel by Angela Carter in 2001. I came across it in the library while looking for something else. Due to rave reviews on the dust jacket, I took it home.
According to my reading notes back then, I did not like it much. In fact, I wrote “Two young men, losers, under the spell of a young female waif, a violent gory ending, some humor in an ironic tone.”
When I found the book on my 1966 reading list, I remembered that I read it but not what it was about. So, I read it again. This time in my reading notes I wrote, “Glad I reread it. Understand better what she was doing. Reminded me of Theodora Keough.”
Angela Carter has many rabid fans. I plan to read as many of her novels as I can fit into my reading. She has concerns similar to other authors I love: Joyce Carol Oates, Margaret Atwood in particular. Because it is a debut, I predict her books will get better as she goes. She is not for the faint of heart. She is ruthless with her characters, perceptive about the breakdowns of society in the 1960s, brutally feminist.
October 19, 2017
Ero proprio ben predisposto alla lettura di questo libro, pensavo che potesse essere l'inizio di una bella relazione con l'autrice, che mi veniva incontro spesso, in modi diversi, negli ultimi tempi.
Ma devo dire che l'ho trovato un ritratto molto disturbante - cosa che può essere vista come un pregio - ma anche un po’ noioso di un mondo desolante, che dal piano realistico talvolta slitta verso visioni spaventose a occhi aperti, immaginazioni, sogni e intrusioni di altre vite possibili.
L’amicizia e la condivisione di un negozio di antichità (anzi, piuttosto di anticaglie) avviene tra due personaggi apparentemente assai mal assortiti: Honeybuzzard (detto anche Honey: dunque rapace e miele... ambiguo a partire dal nome) è bello, seducente, bugiardo, amorale, egocentrico e un po’ ottuso, genera continua distruzione intorno a sé; Morris, bloccato nell’infelice matrimonio con Edna, pittore fallito, pieno di preoccupazioni e sensi di colpa, angosce e slanci frenati di pietà verso il mondo, è soprattutto un debole, incapace di staccarsi dal demoniaco amico.
Nonostante la focalizzazione della narrazione sia quasi esclusivamente condotta dal punto di vista di Morris non si attivano simpatie nel lettore: risultano diversamente fastidiosi e odiosi entrambi.
Dico apparentemente, però, perché la Danza di ombre, di inganni e di proiezioni, può riferirsi a diverse cose, ma innanzi tutto proprio al rapporto tra Morris e Honey, come rivela in particolare una scena centrale .
Ombre, spaventose o comuni, comunque ridotte a una forma che non possiede i colori e gli spessori, sono anche gli altri personaggi di questo romanzo certo non privo di interesse, ma per me inamabile.
L'ulteriore conoscenza di Angela Carter, a questo punto, non è più così seducente...
Ma devo dire che l'ho trovato un ritratto molto disturbante - cosa che può essere vista come un pregio - ma anche un po’ noioso di un mondo desolante, che dal piano realistico talvolta slitta verso visioni spaventose a occhi aperti, immaginazioni, sogni e intrusioni di altre vite possibili.
L’amicizia e la condivisione di un negozio di antichità (anzi, piuttosto di anticaglie) avviene tra due personaggi apparentemente assai mal assortiti: Honeybuzzard (detto anche Honey: dunque rapace e miele... ambiguo a partire dal nome) è bello, seducente, bugiardo, amorale, egocentrico e un po’ ottuso, genera continua distruzione intorno a sé; Morris, bloccato nell’infelice matrimonio con Edna, pittore fallito, pieno di preoccupazioni e sensi di colpa, angosce e slanci frenati di pietà verso il mondo, è soprattutto un debole, incapace di staccarsi dal demoniaco amico.
Nonostante la focalizzazione della narrazione sia quasi esclusivamente condotta dal punto di vista di Morris non si attivano simpatie nel lettore: risultano diversamente fastidiosi e odiosi entrambi.
Dico apparentemente, però, perché la Danza di ombre, di inganni e di proiezioni, può riferirsi a diverse cose, ma innanzi tutto proprio al rapporto tra Morris e Honey, come rivela in particolare una scena centrale .
Ombre, spaventose o comuni, comunque ridotte a una forma che non possiede i colori e gli spessori, sono anche gli altri personaggi di questo romanzo certo non privo di interesse, ma per me inamabile.
L'ulteriore conoscenza di Angela Carter, a questo punto, non è più così seducente...
October 25, 2019
If I’d discovered Angela Carter via this, the first instalment of an otherwise dazzling oeuvre, I don’t think I would have bothered following her career.
Shadow Dance is dark, spiky and elegantly written, but also incredibly boring. The novel is thematically incoherent and the focus is misapplied; the narrative follows the escapades of delusional Morris and an enigmatic sadist named Honeybuzzard (I know, wtf) as they scour abandoned houses for wares to sell in their unsuccessful junk shop.
All the while, the once beautiful Ghislaine seeks revenge. She’s knifed in the face by Honeybuzzard before the action of the novel (Morris is complicit in this) and never achieves justice. Her disfigurement may be interpreted as a metaphor for Carter’s treatment of the traditional female literary form; she is a fleshly character with a strong sexual identity. But this is undermined by the presentation of the other female characters – I’m sure this novel drew strong words from feminists for the prominence of self-ordained victims.
Disappointing, even though it was advocated by Anthony Burgess. I’m puzzled as to why Carter chose such an agonisingly dull idea for the basis of a debut. Her second novel The Magic Toyshop is an astonishing improvement.
Shadow Dance is dark, spiky and elegantly written, but also incredibly boring. The novel is thematically incoherent and the focus is misapplied; the narrative follows the escapades of delusional Morris and an enigmatic sadist named Honeybuzzard (I know, wtf) as they scour abandoned houses for wares to sell in their unsuccessful junk shop.
All the while, the once beautiful Ghislaine seeks revenge. She’s knifed in the face by Honeybuzzard before the action of the novel (Morris is complicit in this) and never achieves justice. Her disfigurement may be interpreted as a metaphor for Carter’s treatment of the traditional female literary form; she is a fleshly character with a strong sexual identity. But this is undermined by the presentation of the other female characters – I’m sure this novel drew strong words from feminists for the prominence of self-ordained victims.
Disappointing, even though it was advocated by Anthony Burgess. I’m puzzled as to why Carter chose such an agonisingly dull idea for the basis of a debut. Her second novel The Magic Toyshop is an astonishing improvement.
April 13, 2016
This was an interesting change from Carter's other works, given the male protagonist/ anti-hero. While he and his friend, honeybuzzard, wreck havoc on those around them, they really simply act out because they cannot/ don't know how to be emotionally honest with themselves, with each other (a tinge of homoeroticism between them), and with the other people in their lives. This book did a wonderful job of raising my anxiety as the plot moved to its climax and conclusion, and leaves me with a lot to think about i.e. heroism, the transformative power of love, karma & "a life for a life," and the totemic power of discarded objects and people.
December 6, 2008
my first angela carter book & still one of my favorites. fucked up & creepy & wonderful.
April 10, 2016
I first read Shadow Dance aged thirteen, under its American title of Honeybuzzard. At the time I'd concentrated on the symbiotic, homoerotic bond between the two men (as I was just starting to discover my own sexuality, I looked for echoes wherever I could). This time around, as well as understanding fully what I was reading (whatever was my mother thinking?!), I focused on the two women, Ghislaine and Emily. Both are interesting, and granted less 'screentime' than they deserve.
Ghislaine is the sort of girl you find on many a uni campus, or tagging around after bands before they make it big (I always pictured Marianne Faithfull, for some reason). Although she has pretensions to something more, she's aware deep down that her one asset is her body and how to use it; she's been sleeping her way through their circle like a Bristol based succubus. She's not happy unless she's the centre of some spectacle, and likes to say appalling things just to shock people.
Then - she gets knifed. In one stroke, her occupation is gone; she hurtles towards destruction. On rereading, I understood this is really her story, every tragic and pathetic moment of it, and could understand Morris's guilty torment. While Emily isn't as baroque, she's a type you rarely find in fiction: a quiet, no nonsense nice girl, who likes animals more than people, who compartmentalises her life and has the misfortune to fall in love with a monster.
For there's no denying, whatever flabby excuses Morris may make for his friend, that Honey is a monster. I don't know whether this story simply reads differently in the light of characters such as Jimmy Savile and the way he operated, but Honey has a similar MO: hide under a mask of self conscious eccentricity so everyone will think you're a harmless weirdo. If you do anything outré, people will say, "That's So and So, that's just his way." Under this disguise that is not a disguise, they can get away with the worst depravities.
Morris is, if you like, his enabler; although he knows him "better" than anybody else, he still can't believe his friend isn't play acting. Some readers have reacted to him with anger and frustration but that's Carter's point: he's such a torpid, watery personality, sponging shamelessly off his kind and hardworking wife, that he goes to Honey for some vicarious excitement.
While I can't really say it's an enjoyable book, it's still Carter, and worth the read. And it will lurk in your system like a bad acid trip for many years to come.
Ghislaine is the sort of girl you find on many a uni campus, or tagging around after bands before they make it big (I always pictured Marianne Faithfull, for some reason). Although she has pretensions to something more, she's aware deep down that her one asset is her body and how to use it; she's been sleeping her way through their circle like a Bristol based succubus. She's not happy unless she's the centre of some spectacle, and likes to say appalling things just to shock people.
Then - she gets knifed. In one stroke, her occupation is gone; she hurtles towards destruction. On rereading, I understood this is really her story, every tragic and pathetic moment of it, and could understand Morris's guilty torment. While Emily isn't as baroque, she's a type you rarely find in fiction: a quiet, no nonsense nice girl, who likes animals more than people, who compartmentalises her life and has the misfortune to fall in love with a monster.
For there's no denying, whatever flabby excuses Morris may make for his friend, that Honey is a monster. I don't know whether this story simply reads differently in the light of characters such as Jimmy Savile and the way he operated, but Honey has a similar MO: hide under a mask of self conscious eccentricity so everyone will think you're a harmless weirdo. If you do anything outré, people will say, "That's So and So, that's just his way." Under this disguise that is not a disguise, they can get away with the worst depravities.
Morris is, if you like, his enabler; although he knows him "better" than anybody else, he still can't believe his friend isn't play acting. Some readers have reacted to him with anger and frustration but that's Carter's point: he's such a torpid, watery personality, sponging shamelessly off his kind and hardworking wife, that he goes to Honey for some vicarious excitement.
While I can't really say it's an enjoyable book, it's still Carter, and worth the read. And it will lurk in your system like a bad acid trip for many years to come.
February 11, 2016
This book reminded me a bit of "Love", because the characters are similar to the ones on that story though the denouement in this one is a lot more tragic. This is the first novel Carter published and I think that explains a lot, since it's pretty different from most of her books, and a lot harder to digest, not because of her usual complexity, but because the story's so painful and horrific it gave me a stomach ache since the first page.
This is a terrible, terrible book. And Ghîslaine is a dreadful, monstrous, angelical character. She appears in the first pages and then she's absent until the end, yet her overwhelming presence pervades the whole book, every dialogue, each single thought and action of the characters. She is the true monster woman of Carter, free in a non free society, and awfully punished for it, though her revenge is far worst.
So what is the story about?
A beautiful, angelical, liberal girl who does as she pleases and sleeps with whoever she wants gets punished for it by Honeybuzzard, who cuts her face making her disfigured. Morris, Honey's friend and business partner, feels guilty for he thinks he was the one who instigated Honey to do it.
After she leaves the hospital and starts roaming the streets like a revengeful angel, leaving only destruction at her steps, he is faced with his worst fears and gets suffocated in his unhappy apparently conventional life. His only release and that which scares him and seduces him the most, is the time he spends with Honey leaning on a different universe full of darkness and danger.
This is a complex book, as most by Carter, and considering the title and certain lines here and there, most of the time I had the idea that Honey was just Morris Id. He accomplished everything Morris wanted but didn't dare to do and at the end, when he decides to go help Honey, he simply disappears.
As it should be obvious, my favourite characters where Ghîslaine herself, Honey -who though terrible is deadly seductive- and Emily, Honey's plaything at the moment who was incredible, strong and independent. I hated Morris, he reminded me of Lee (Love), whom I despise wholeheartedly. I dislike that kind of characters the most, so lukewarm, coward, self-indulgent, just pathetic! Honey, in all his evilness, is passionate to the core, that alone already redeems him in my eyes.
This is a terrible, terrible book. And Ghîslaine is a dreadful, monstrous, angelical character. She appears in the first pages and then she's absent until the end, yet her overwhelming presence pervades the whole book, every dialogue, each single thought and action of the characters. She is the true monster woman of Carter, free in a non free society, and awfully punished for it, though her revenge is far worst.
So what is the story about?
A beautiful, angelical, liberal girl who does as she pleases and sleeps with whoever she wants gets punished for it by Honeybuzzard, who cuts her face making her disfigured. Morris, Honey's friend and business partner, feels guilty for he thinks he was the one who instigated Honey to do it.
After she leaves the hospital and starts roaming the streets like a revengeful angel, leaving only destruction at her steps, he is faced with his worst fears and gets suffocated in his unhappy apparently conventional life. His only release and that which scares him and seduces him the most, is the time he spends with Honey leaning on a different universe full of darkness and danger.
This is a complex book, as most by Carter, and considering the title and certain lines here and there, most of the time I had the idea that Honey was just Morris Id. He accomplished everything Morris wanted but didn't dare to do and at the end, when he decides to go help Honey, he simply disappears.
As it should be obvious, my favourite characters where Ghîslaine herself, Honey -who though terrible is deadly seductive- and Emily, Honey's plaything at the moment who was incredible, strong and independent. I hated Morris, he reminded me of Lee (Love), whom I despise wholeheartedly. I dislike that kind of characters the most, so lukewarm, coward, self-indulgent, just pathetic! Honey, in all his evilness, is passionate to the core, that alone already redeems him in my eyes.
August 26, 2015
Alternately great and awful on a line by line basis, this is very obviously a first novel, full of all the things that make Angela Carter such an essential author (those disgracefully lush run-on sentences, so inviting as to be require a full-on inquisition; the easy location of the mythic in the everyday) but with none of the rigor or precision of her great works and little of the off-key charm of her other apprentice novels.
For Carter obsessives only.
For Carter obsessives only.
November 19, 2014
Nggg. The good parts: Carter's descriptions of weirdly detailed, creepy urban spaces is always perfect. Honeybuzzard's apartment with its jarred fetuses and weird pictures takes the prize here, but it's all pretty good, and for my money the best parts all involve Honey and Morris's scavenging expeditions. A good description of trespassing repairs much. And the basic plot--centered, as it is, on male violence, the obligations of men to resist male violence, the power women have in the face of male violence--is compelling.
But I hate Morris. I do not buy that he is fundamentally an "El Greco Christ": he's craven, passive, and not really exciting to follow for a very long-seeming 180 pages. Honey is better, but still too much like the Cesar Romero Joker, and the author seems to like writing about him more than anyone could ever like reading about him--there's this kinda dreadful "fanfic" quality to the depiction that goes a long way toward nullifying Honey's essential sociopath horror. "Love"'s Buzz is a lot stronger because a lot more grounded in motivation beyond general malice and clownish murderousness. And jeez HONEY DOES NOT NEED TO MAKE LITERAL PUPPETS OF THE CHARACTERS. We get it. We get what relation he bears to them!
Three of the four female characters, by contrast, are great (the old woman is an object of sentiment, consciously so), but get almost nothing to do. From the first scene, I kept expecting Ghislaine (the h is pronounced, Carter tells us, making her name a cough) to come back and make trouble, but Emily is interesting but doesn't seem to have anything to do at all.
But whatever Angela Carter is great and this gets three stars on eerie atmosphere and potential alone. I've heard that "Love" is essentially a rewrite of this. I can see it. Read "Love" instead. I'm going to try to read as many AC books as I can before I inevitably succumb to curiosity and read "The Passion of New Eve," which I already know about thanx to Imogen B. and which I'm trying to forget the existence of until I can read the rest of her work, I guess. Next up: the one maybe named after a Beach Boys song???
But I hate Morris. I do not buy that he is fundamentally an "El Greco Christ": he's craven, passive, and not really exciting to follow for a very long-seeming 180 pages. Honey is better, but still too much like the Cesar Romero Joker, and the author seems to like writing about him more than anyone could ever like reading about him--there's this kinda dreadful "fanfic" quality to the depiction that goes a long way toward nullifying Honey's essential sociopath horror. "Love"'s Buzz is a lot stronger because a lot more grounded in motivation beyond general malice and clownish murderousness. And jeez HONEY DOES NOT NEED TO MAKE LITERAL PUPPETS OF THE CHARACTERS. We get it. We get what relation he bears to them!
Three of the four female characters, by contrast, are great (the old woman is an object of sentiment, consciously so), but get almost nothing to do. From the first scene, I kept expecting Ghislaine (the h is pronounced, Carter tells us, making her name a cough) to come back and make trouble, but Emily is interesting but doesn't seem to have anything to do at all.
But whatever Angela Carter is great and this gets three stars on eerie atmosphere and potential alone. I've heard that "Love" is essentially a rewrite of this. I can see it. Read "Love" instead. I'm going to try to read as many AC books as I can before I inevitably succumb to curiosity and read "The Passion of New Eve," which I already know about thanx to Imogen B. and which I'm trying to forget the existence of until I can read the rest of her work, I guess. Next up: the one maybe named after a Beach Boys song???
March 12, 2025
Anyone remember V-3, the great band led by Jim Shepherd? Photograph Burns is a tremendous record (Medicine’s Brad Laner, guitarist-fucking-nonpareil, mixed it), and I was lucky enough to see them before Jim killed himself. The best song on the album was always “Bristol Girl,” and I can’t help thinking that Honey, the satanic libertine in Carter’s first novel, would really, really, REALLY relate to the first verse:
“Bristol girl done gave you crap
about this and that
this and that
London girl always giving you crap
about this and that
this and that”
Rest In Peace, Angela and Jim.
“Bristol girl done gave you crap
about this and that
this and that
London girl always giving you crap
about this and that
this and that”
Rest In Peace, Angela and Jim.
September 10, 2022
It was interesting to read Carter’s first novel.
Though it was far from her best it does bear some of the characteristics which made her writing so great.
Firstly, its strangeness. Ghislaine isn’t so much a protagonist or a heroin, but the story does concern here. She is promiscuous and a beauty, but a different sort of one, in that her features border on the grotesque. But then she is facially disfigured in an incident, and her world is turned on it’s head.
And secondly, that sex figures quite highly in the narrative. Ghislaine’s has been attacked and raped by two men in a horrific incident. Carter often portrays her characters as sexually depraved masquerading as virtuous innocents.
Everyone in this story comes into question, they are not who they appear to be initially.
It’s easy to picture it as a sort of farcical outrageous stage play, with none of the characters worse than the obnoxious Honeybuzzard.
I think if she had written this novel later in her career it would have worked better, not such a ridiculous name for the villain, as that is what he is, and his name or nickname suggests humour. Also that it could easily have been far darker, and though this is full of fascinating ideas, I don’t think the balance between humour and immorality is quite right.
Though it was far from her best it does bear some of the characteristics which made her writing so great.
Firstly, its strangeness. Ghislaine isn’t so much a protagonist or a heroin, but the story does concern here. She is promiscuous and a beauty, but a different sort of one, in that her features border on the grotesque. But then she is facially disfigured in an incident, and her world is turned on it’s head.
And secondly, that sex figures quite highly in the narrative. Ghislaine’s has been attacked and raped by two men in a horrific incident. Carter often portrays her characters as sexually depraved masquerading as virtuous innocents.
Everyone in this story comes into question, they are not who they appear to be initially.
It’s easy to picture it as a sort of farcical outrageous stage play, with none of the characters worse than the obnoxious Honeybuzzard.
I think if she had written this novel later in her career it would have worked better, not such a ridiculous name for the villain, as that is what he is, and his name or nickname suggests humour. Also that it could easily have been far darker, and though this is full of fascinating ideas, I don’t think the balance between humour and immorality is quite right.
May 12, 2024
This was something...
I think this is one of those books to be read twice. So much of what happens in the beginning can be explained by what happens at the end, but at the same time, we can see a sort of decaying evolution of the characters. It is like they're dancing with shadows at the beginning, but become the shadows in the end, marginalized from their own lives because they went too far. We know there is manipulation at the beginning, but we don't know how severe it is yet.
I just love how we can sense the guilt while reading it. And then there is Honeybuzzard, who we initially think is just making fun of everything and will end up different but it just gets progressively worse. And Morris knew him and knew what he was capable of all the time, and could not do anything about it because «he just needs help»?
One of my favourite things is how Ghislaine is present throughout the entire book without being in the narrative, just like a shadow, always hovering there alongside Morris and everyone else.
I think this is one of those books to be read twice. So much of what happens in the beginning can be explained by what happens at the end, but at the same time, we can see a sort of decaying evolution of the characters. It is like they're dancing with shadows at the beginning, but become the shadows in the end, marginalized from their own lives because they went too far. We know there is manipulation at the beginning, but we don't know how severe it is yet.
I just love how we can sense the guilt while reading it. And then there is Honeybuzzard, who we initially think is just making fun of everything and will end up different but it just gets progressively worse. And Morris knew him and knew what he was capable of all the time, and could not do anything about it because «he just needs help»?
One of my favourite things is how Ghislaine is present throughout the entire book without being in the narrative, just like a shadow, always hovering there alongside Morris and everyone else.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
June 1, 2023
3.25 stars
My least favorite Angela Carter book thus far on my quest to read everything she ever wrote, and my first Carter novel. A little to be expected given it's her debut and one of her least known novels, I'd say for good reason. While the beginnings of Carter's unmistakable, lush, baroque prose style is germinating in this novel, it's nowhere near as embellished as in The Bloody Chamber, which on the one hand, does make it a little more readable, but on the other hand, I had a much harder time getting swept up and lost and marveling at her language (though marvel at it I still did).
Perhaps this also stems from the fact the main character is a simpering man-child who, in the modern age, would be the self-pitying nice guy type who begins to doubt his niceness. I absolutely see the commentary Carter is making on masculinity and men with his portrayl, but it does hamper the enjoyment of continuing on with the story (it took me four years since I bought the book to actually read it and a few abandoned attempts of read throughs to finally finish it). It's also very hard to discern a plot--things just seem to happen, often off screen and get reported back to the main character--even the catalyst of the entire novel happens before the timeline the story chornicles: the rape and violence perpetuated on Ghislaine that leaves her disfigured and ostracized from the community (read: men now that she isn't a shiny beauty anymore). I usually focus more on the writing than anything else in a novel, especially especially when it's Carter, but the lack of recognizable progression was a little grating with something so sustained when I'm used to reading her shorter work.
I'm glad I read it on my Angela Carter journey fairly earlier on (I first read The Bloody Chamber, then her poetry collection Unicorn, then Fireworks) so I can chart her progress as a writer. There's a slant to the world and a certain level of theatrical absurdity that is textbook Carter (literally anything to do with Honeybuzzard, the chief antagonist/implied lover of Morris) but the novel is technically more realsitc than her fabulism, which is what I come to her work to find.
I'd say read it if you're a fan of Carter, otherwise you can probably go for some of her other, more well known work.
My least favorite Angela Carter book thus far on my quest to read everything she ever wrote, and my first Carter novel. A little to be expected given it's her debut and one of her least known novels, I'd say for good reason. While the beginnings of Carter's unmistakable, lush, baroque prose style is germinating in this novel, it's nowhere near as embellished as in The Bloody Chamber, which on the one hand, does make it a little more readable, but on the other hand, I had a much harder time getting swept up and lost and marveling at her language (though marvel at it I still did).
Perhaps this also stems from the fact the main character is a simpering man-child who, in the modern age, would be the self-pitying nice guy type who begins to doubt his niceness. I absolutely see the commentary Carter is making on masculinity and men with his portrayl, but it does hamper the enjoyment of continuing on with the story (it took me four years since I bought the book to actually read it and a few abandoned attempts of read throughs to finally finish it). It's also very hard to discern a plot--things just seem to happen, often off screen and get reported back to the main character--even the catalyst of the entire novel happens before the timeline the story chornicles: the rape and violence perpetuated on Ghislaine that leaves her disfigured and ostracized from the community (read: men now that she isn't a shiny beauty anymore). I usually focus more on the writing than anything else in a novel, especially especially when it's Carter, but the lack of recognizable progression was a little grating with something so sustained when I'm used to reading her shorter work.
I'm glad I read it on my Angela Carter journey fairly earlier on (I first read The Bloody Chamber, then her poetry collection Unicorn, then Fireworks) so I can chart her progress as a writer. There's a slant to the world and a certain level of theatrical absurdity that is textbook Carter (literally anything to do with Honeybuzzard, the chief antagonist/implied lover of Morris) but the novel is technically more realsitc than her fabulism, which is what I come to her work to find.
I'd say read it if you're a fan of Carter, otherwise you can probably go for some of her other, more well known work.
March 14, 2019
I’m honestly not sure what to think of this book. I’ve just finished it and I’m still in a bit of a daze about it.
I’ll be honest though, I struggled through the first two chapters. Carter has a very different way of writing from anything else I’ve ever read. She is very heavy on description and words. It took me a bit to get used to her style. Once I did though the pace picked up significantly.
Many people describe this book as haunting or magical so I guess I’d go with that. Because I’m not sure how else to describe it. Very little happens and it is definitely a slow burn, yet at the same time you are drawn into this odd world with these odd characters and you find yourself entranced.
None of the characters are very likable, and I’m not sure they are meant to be. This truly is a study on character and relationships, and just how we can get wrapped up into our lives and the lives of those around us, even if we are not happy. Self-destructive behavior definitely comes to mind.
So, while it was definitely different and interesting, I did enjoy it and am eager to read more of Carter’s novels.
I’ll be honest though, I struggled through the first two chapters. Carter has a very different way of writing from anything else I’ve ever read. She is very heavy on description and words. It took me a bit to get used to her style. Once I did though the pace picked up significantly.
Many people describe this book as haunting or magical so I guess I’d go with that. Because I’m not sure how else to describe it. Very little happens and it is definitely a slow burn, yet at the same time you are drawn into this odd world with these odd characters and you find yourself entranced.
None of the characters are very likable, and I’m not sure they are meant to be. This truly is a study on character and relationships, and just how we can get wrapped up into our lives and the lives of those around us, even if we are not happy. Self-destructive behavior definitely comes to mind.
So, while it was definitely different and interesting, I did enjoy it and am eager to read more of Carter’s novels.
June 4, 2020
Right until the last few paragraphs I was set to give this book, my first experience of Angela Carter, 4 or maybe even 5 stars, but the ending left me feeling so dissatisfied that I downgraded it to 3. I loved her style and was full of admiration for the power of her descriptions, which ranged from the romantically poetic through the grotesque to the downright macabre, and I loved the way she creates a special world that presumably does exist in the shadow of what most of us know of it. I was also convinced by the characters, but I felt that, if one takes the story as following the development of Morris into a stronger, more ethical human being, the ending is too ambivalent, especially as it leaves so many loose ends: does he get to Honey before the police? What are the consequences for him (and other potential victims of Honey) either way? Is Carter intending to say more about the human condition in general, or is this just a one-off tale about some very odd people existing in some kind of twilight zone?
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
June 8, 2021
I've decided to read (and/or re-read) everything the one and only Angela Carter has written in chronological order.
The first book she published is Shadow Dance. It tells the story of Morris, Ghislaine and Honeybuzzard; their frienships and loves in a weird, frantic Bristol-esque city. It is dark, it is grotesque filled with forbidden sexual desire.
Morris/Honey could be seen as Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, the "good" and the "filthy" in a obviously more nuanced way.
I enjoyed it more than I thought, for the beautiful writing, the dark atmosphere and for the outrageaous characters.
I gave it 4* and recommend it to people who enjoy books like Frankenstein (but in a more contemporary tone/setting).
The first book she published is Shadow Dance. It tells the story of Morris, Ghislaine and Honeybuzzard; their frienships and loves in a weird, frantic Bristol-esque city. It is dark, it is grotesque filled with forbidden sexual desire.
Morris/Honey could be seen as Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, the "good" and the "filthy" in a obviously more nuanced way.
I enjoyed it more than I thought, for the beautiful writing, the dark atmosphere and for the outrageaous characters.
I gave it 4* and recommend it to people who enjoy books like Frankenstein (but in a more contemporary tone/setting).
September 3, 2014
Although there wasn't much of a strong plot, or a lot in the way of explanation for certain characters' motivations, I didn't really mind. Morris & Honeybuzzard's interactions were delightful & painful to watch, with Morris' everyday stuffiness providing a plain protagonist for what appears to be a very colorful & dangerous carousel that gravitates around him. Like the kind with no safety straps for small children.
& as per usual, Carter's prose drips decadence. I love her lush use of words. Even if you don't find yourself caring about the characters, the lady knows her way around a sentence.
& as per usual, Carter's prose drips decadence. I love her lush use of words. Even if you don't find yourself caring about the characters, the lady knows her way around a sentence.
September 4, 2015
Well, I'm really pleased I've finished this book. I disliked the main characters, Morris and Honeybuzzard intensely. Morris is ineffectual, cruel and constantly feels sorry for himself. Honeybuzzard is cruel, vicious and manipulative. They are both completely self centred. The women are portrayed as victims. Indeed they are victims of rape, murder and exploitation. There is no remorse. Parts of the book are very dated.
However, the quality of the writing is superb. The descriptions are extremely evocative and frequently stunningly beautiful and the atmosphere is hypnotic, especially towards the end.
However, the quality of the writing is superb. The descriptions are extremely evocative and frequently stunningly beautiful and the atmosphere is hypnotic, especially towards the end.
August 24, 2016
Disturbing--enough so that I remember some plot details 8 months after having read it (pretty unusual for me). It fell, however, short of its potential. This novel prods at some interesting issues but doesn't go on to explore them. There's no adequate entryway into the very obviously disturbed psyche of its main characters, which seems to be the point of the novel. Lots of obsession, sex, and violence. An air of the grotesque and gothic--think dark and disfigured.
April 12, 2020
Ghoulishly weird.
June 8, 2024
holy shit i have never read anything like this before. my first angela carter - and a book which seems different from her later work, maybe? but just, wow. thoroughly disturbing and opaque but so interesting, hits on complex and volatile and dangerous forms of misogyny, entitlement, human ugliness, the nasty things that are left after death, the physical and metaphorical, the creepiness of darkness, the darkness of being a man (lol), entitlement to the body, women's complicity in the suffering of others, social reactions to sexual abuse. i need to think more on exactly what this book is trying to say but also it isn't really trying to say a specific thing, it's more like a meditation on the danger and eroticism of misogyny and sexual violence for men. like whoa. honeybuzzard is terrifying and morris is terrifying and they are both also equal parts pathetic and embarrassing. i just have never read a book that writes about sexual violence/control in this way before, and it was so gross and visceral and crazy - and unexpected. i also just am so taken with the way that angela carter writes, like i don't know how to describe her writing style exactly just that it's so lyrical and full and interesting, very unexpected, the way she uses particular words in certain ways. i liked reading her knowing what authors i've read who are influenced by her, to kind of trace the influence backwards. i also am thinking soooo much about the presence of both rosaries/religion/catholicism and orpheus/eurydice in this book. woven in in a way that didn't feel heavy handed at all, and also very topical, and like they're connected enough that i can follow the threads and flesh it out in my head! many contemporary authors could unfortunately not do this! they should read this book! maybe it will be useful for some of them. anyway. i also really loved the particular intersection between fairytale/realism in this book, it was so unique and so cool, especially in the sequences of honeybuzzard and morris going through the abandoned houses. ok last couple things, all the characters are so well rendered, ghislaine, emily, emily you're awesome, anyway - i must read more angela carter now!!!!! and one more thing, the cover is awesome, love it, so my vibe, so rainbow magic vibes.... again many contemporary authors could unfortunately not say the same.......
Read
April 29, 2023Sorry Angela but you lost me with this one.
(But god damn she’s definitely a genius)
(But god damn she’s definitely a genius)
February 18, 2024
I enjoyed reading it, however, for me, Angela Carter’s writing gets so much better in her future books. This book didn’t wow me. It was strange and brutally bleak.
We followed a main character who was downright awful and only saw women from their face to their breasts. Constantly acting like “woe is me , I am a horrible person who doesn’t deserve my saint of a wife” and then continues doing the same thing without ever trying to change.
Honeybuzzard and Ghislaine were the most interesting characters, only cause they were psychotic. If they weren’t there, they’d be no story.
And this is all intentional. I suppose Carter is trying to create a world where love doesn’t truly exist. A stark reality that shows how some men see women ; as constant sexual objects, who when they can’t fulfill that role, are seen as motherly figures.
I didn’t mind all of this. Carter’s writing hadn’t become full fleshed and rich in detail in this first book of hers. While all her other books can make real life feel like a fairytale, this was one of her most bleak, and meandering written stories ever. But while Angela Carter is my favorite writer, and this is one of my least favorite books of hers because I didn’t feel the magic; what really made this book 2 stars for me is that, I’ll assume this is just a me problem, but I never had a steady grasp on the plot. And by the end, it almost feels like the story cuts off randomly. No character or plot development.
But this is why I say it’s a me thing, because I understand that the entire point of the book was to show how Morris and Honeybuzzard felt threatened by Ghislaines beauty, promiscuity, and strong personality, that they found any way they could to take those things away from her and defile her to the best of their abilities. That’s the horror and the point.
I can admire Carter’s thought process and creativity, since it is one hell of a creative story, but the outcome didn’t stir me as much as I would have liked.
We followed a main character who was downright awful and only saw women from their face to their breasts. Constantly acting like “woe is me , I am a horrible person who doesn’t deserve my saint of a wife” and then continues doing the same thing without ever trying to change.
Honeybuzzard and Ghislaine were the most interesting characters, only cause they were psychotic. If they weren’t there, they’d be no story.
And this is all intentional. I suppose Carter is trying to create a world where love doesn’t truly exist. A stark reality that shows how some men see women ; as constant sexual objects, who when they can’t fulfill that role, are seen as motherly figures.
I didn’t mind all of this. Carter’s writing hadn’t become full fleshed and rich in detail in this first book of hers. While all her other books can make real life feel like a fairytale, this was one of her most bleak, and meandering written stories ever. But while Angela Carter is my favorite writer, and this is one of my least favorite books of hers because I didn’t feel the magic; what really made this book 2 stars for me is that, I’ll assume this is just a me problem, but I never had a steady grasp on the plot. And by the end, it almost feels like the story cuts off randomly. No character or plot development.
But this is why I say it’s a me thing, because I understand that the entire point of the book was to show how Morris and Honeybuzzard felt threatened by Ghislaines beauty, promiscuity, and strong personality, that they found any way they could to take those things away from her and defile her to the best of their abilities. That’s the horror and the point.
I can admire Carter’s thought process and creativity, since it is one hell of a creative story, but the outcome didn’t stir me as much as I would have liked.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
March 16, 2025
It's hard for me to believe that this was Angela Carter's first novel. It is so much more full of her stylized prose, rich and multifaceted characters, and trippy situations than the ones that came immediately after (Heroes and Villians and Love)
It is primarily the story of a man named Morris and his complicated relationships with his wife and the exciting, dangerous man called Honeybuzzard, with whom he co-owns a junk shop. There is a very well drawn cast of supporting characters, and Carter gives them all voluptuous description without making any of them truly sympathetic. I loved reading this book despite the fact that I didn't like any of these people, and most of the action is on a scale from infuriating to horrific. Even when long passages didn't seem like they were going anywhere, the pure pleasure of her prose kept me engaged.
I don't recommend this as an introduction to Carter, but if you are on board it is well worth your time.
It is primarily the story of a man named Morris and his complicated relationships with his wife and the exciting, dangerous man called Honeybuzzard, with whom he co-owns a junk shop. There is a very well drawn cast of supporting characters, and Carter gives them all voluptuous description without making any of them truly sympathetic. I loved reading this book despite the fact that I didn't like any of these people, and most of the action is on a scale from infuriating to horrific. Even when long passages didn't seem like they were going anywhere, the pure pleasure of her prose kept me engaged.
I don't recommend this as an introduction to Carter, but if you are on board it is well worth your time.
August 13, 2019
Wow, what a curious story! How does one dream up a story like Shadow Dance? What’s intriguing to me is that Shadow Dance appears to be sui generis, a proper one-off, with no precedent or ready-made paradigm on which to base this novel’s strange set of relations and the sadly comic and grisly outcomes.
Carter conveys this contemporary story in a vague romanticism, one remove from full immersion in the nuts and bolts of the quotidian, in the process keeping all of its characters elemental in their relations with one another, suggestive of myth or fairy tale. But what tale is being told? Aye, my lovely, beware the Honeybuzzard… Or some such? Again, there’s the sense that with this unique blend of elements there will be no simple moral with a general application.
So what is this weird stew composed of characters commingled with the eerily attractive Honeybuzzard? Around this cruel and mercurial cynosure all the novel’s principal, quotidian characters orbit: Morris the flailing artist and absent husband finds comfort in Honeybuzzard’s general approbation; the free-loving sylph Ghislaine’s fate lies in Honeybuzzard’s hands, and she is drawn into his orbit by chance and proclivity; and opportunistic Emily finds in Honeybuzzard the next best thing, a means to escape her current subjugation as family drudge.
No one leaves Honeybuzzard’s orbit without damage, and even Honeybuzzard falls, apparently out of his mind and on the verge of arrest. There is no simple resolution to the mayhem that has been perpetrated on the characters in this short, quirky novel, other than to suggest that life lived to the dregs leaves its mark. It’s a curious and unsettling story, with lively writing that is at turns earnest, comic, and sad.
Carter conveys this contemporary story in a vague romanticism, one remove from full immersion in the nuts and bolts of the quotidian, in the process keeping all of its characters elemental in their relations with one another, suggestive of myth or fairy tale. But what tale is being told? Aye, my lovely, beware the Honeybuzzard… Or some such? Again, there’s the sense that with this unique blend of elements there will be no simple moral with a general application.
So what is this weird stew composed of characters commingled with the eerily attractive Honeybuzzard? Around this cruel and mercurial cynosure all the novel’s principal, quotidian characters orbit: Morris the flailing artist and absent husband finds comfort in Honeybuzzard’s general approbation; the free-loving sylph Ghislaine’s fate lies in Honeybuzzard’s hands, and she is drawn into his orbit by chance and proclivity; and opportunistic Emily finds in Honeybuzzard the next best thing, a means to escape her current subjugation as family drudge.
No one leaves Honeybuzzard’s orbit without damage, and even Honeybuzzard falls, apparently out of his mind and on the verge of arrest. There is no simple resolution to the mayhem that has been perpetrated on the characters in this short, quirky novel, other than to suggest that life lived to the dregs leaves its mark. It’s a curious and unsettling story, with lively writing that is at turns earnest, comic, and sad.
June 6, 2019
The first and, probably, the least of Carter's 'mainstream' novels, this one fails to catch fire in the way 'The Magic Toyshop', 'Several Perceptions' and 'Love' do but its shortcomings are themselves interesting. Choosing to focus on the repulsive little sadist, 'Honeybuzzard', and his even more repulsive sycophant, Morris, rather than on their victim, the scarred and contradictory Ghislaine, makes it an artefact from the prefeminist age. But Carter was no fool: the apparent sympathy shown to the subhuman males is, I choose to believe, deeply ironic. Nor am I entirely certain that what's going on here, filtered as it is through Morris' delusional point of view, isn't a 'Fight Club' or maybe 'Wizard of Earthsea'-like scenario in which Honeybuzzard is really a projection of Morris' desires and evils - and does not really exist. The cover of this Virago edition strongly suggests as much, but this might have been a more effective novel if these Jungian undertones had been more explicit.
Where it does score is as a period-piece: I can't think of another novel that makes the early-to-mid sixties feel so scarred and so specifically post-war. Dilapidated relics of the Age of Empire seem to have been everywhere. 'Please Please Me' might have been out a couple of years by the time 'Shadow Dance' was published but, spiritually, its characters exist in the era of Henry Hall and Victor Sylvester.
Where it does score is as a period-piece: I can't think of another novel that makes the early-to-mid sixties feel so scarred and so specifically post-war. Dilapidated relics of the Age of Empire seem to have been everywhere. 'Please Please Me' might have been out a couple of years by the time 'Shadow Dance' was published but, spiritually, its characters exist in the era of Henry Hall and Victor Sylvester.
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