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The White Goddess: An Encounter
The White Goddess: An Encounter is a mesmerising tale of sex, lies and divided loyalties. Set between the magic of a bohemian Majorca and the horror of Franco's Madrid, it is a haunting evocation of a lost time and place, dominated by the extraordinary power of Robert Graves, one of the 20th century’s greatest writers.
When 10-year-old Simon Gough went to Majorca in 1953 he thought he had landed in paradise. Far from the misery of his English boarding school and his parent’s divorce, he fell in love – with the tiny village of Deya, with his wild cousin Juan and most of all with his beloved ”Grand-Uncle” Robert Graves.
When he returned in 1960, paradise had been overrun by beatniks and marijuana – and Simon liked it all the more. But soon he fell for the enchanting Margot Callas, Robert Graves' muse. He found himself entangled in a web of lies and deceit and playing a game whose rules he didn’t understand. The repercussions would haunt him for the rest of his life.
When 10-year-old Simon Gough went to Majorca in 1953 he thought he had landed in paradise. Far from the misery of his English boarding school and his parent’s divorce, he fell in love – with the tiny village of Deya, with his wild cousin Juan and most of all with his beloved ”Grand-Uncle” Robert Graves.
When he returned in 1960, paradise had been overrun by beatniks and marijuana – and Simon liked it all the more. But soon he fell for the enchanting Margot Callas, Robert Graves' muse. He found himself entangled in a web of lies and deceit and playing a game whose rules he didn’t understand. The repercussions would haunt him for the rest of his life.
450 pages, Paperback
First published August 25, 2012
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January 24, 2017
The White Goddess: An Encounter, by Simon Gough, was the first book published, in 2012, by the newly created Galley Beggar Press. It is quite different from their subsequent offerings. Introduced as “a fragment of autobiography written in narrative form” the author states that his memories “should not be distorted or contaminated by the opinions of others”. What follows is a series of recollections of two defining periods in his life – when he was ten years old in 1953 and spent a seminal month in Majorca, and then seven years later when he enrolled at a university in Franco’s Madrid and visited the island for the second time. Although brutal in places the memories are dreamlike in quality. The privileged lives of the artistic elites with whom he consorted are laid bare.
The author was raised in boarding homes and schools until he was fifteen years old. His actor parents divorced when he was ten and it was during this summer that he was first summoned to the tiny village of Deya in Majorca where his mother was recovering from one of her many illnesses. They stayed with Simon’s Grand-uncle, the poet and author Robert Graves. Robert relished his assumed role as patriarch of the village, handing out favours to those who were loyal to his whims and banishment to any who failed to pander to his desires.
Simon was smitten both by the power of Robert’s personality and by the beauty of his adopted home. The lovelorn and brutally controlled schoolboy enjoyed a month long sojourn wreaking havoc alongside Robert’s eight year old son, the out of control Juan. Their escapades would have been enough to condemn a modern child to criminal incarceration. On the island in 1953, amidst the community created by his Grand-uncle, they were tolerated as irritating high jinks.
Simon’s mother appears vain and capricious. At times over-protective, she willingly abandons her son to schools where she knows he is suffering stating that others survived and it made them what they are. She appears intent on imposing her values on her child rather than furnishing him with the tools to enable him to discover his own. Although typical of a certain parenting style, this read as limiting and insensitive to me.
Simon reluctantly returns to his miserable life in England until he can revisit Deya, aged seventeen, before moving to study in Madrid. He discovers that the sixty-five year old Robert has a new muse, the beautiful twenty-four year old Margot. Simon is instantly besotted and struggles to deal with the intense emotions she evokes. He becomes embroiled in passionate intrigues whilst in Madrid, the outcome of which will affect him for life.
The writing is intense and in places ethereal but I felt discomfited by the portrayal of the many gilded people, expats living their lives disconnected from the natives of their adopted homes. Robert’s belief in his intellectual superiority was fanned by those around him, his creativity held in such esteem by them that he was granted leave to ‘own’ his devotees and demand that they bow to his will. It is not only poets who “live so deeply in their own worlds, among their own obsessions”, yet it is hardly admirable however talented they may be. Many of Robert’s personal habits were repugnant yet as nothing to the emotional trauma he was capable of inflicting. I had much sympathy for his children, although the author does not draw them too deeply into this tale.
Simon was amongst many in thrall to his Grand-uncle. When he attempts to seduce Margot and she says no he desists and then feels unmanned for not forcing himself on her as he feels others would have done. I found this disturbing, especially as it may be typical of the attitudes of such men.
There is little attempt at justification in these recollections although it is hard not to sympathise with an eighteen year old caught up in a rarefied world. There are echoes of Hartley’s ‘The Go-Between’ in both Simon’s passion and naivity. The esteem in which he held his Grand-uncle, the beauty of Majorca before multiple tourists despoiled the island with their presence, the impact of his family’s associates tasked with looking out for the boy who considers himself a man, are all well evoked.
I cannot fault the quality of the writing or the construction of the story yet I did not enjoy reading this tale. The world conjured reminded me that those who consider themselves superior, either through wealth or popular accomplishment, are still granted leave to use our world as their personal playground. Simon’s experiences are presented competently and with feeling, but in looking through his offered window I was left feeling only despondency.
The author was raised in boarding homes and schools until he was fifteen years old. His actor parents divorced when he was ten and it was during this summer that he was first summoned to the tiny village of Deya in Majorca where his mother was recovering from one of her many illnesses. They stayed with Simon’s Grand-uncle, the poet and author Robert Graves. Robert relished his assumed role as patriarch of the village, handing out favours to those who were loyal to his whims and banishment to any who failed to pander to his desires.
Simon was smitten both by the power of Robert’s personality and by the beauty of his adopted home. The lovelorn and brutally controlled schoolboy enjoyed a month long sojourn wreaking havoc alongside Robert’s eight year old son, the out of control Juan. Their escapades would have been enough to condemn a modern child to criminal incarceration. On the island in 1953, amidst the community created by his Grand-uncle, they were tolerated as irritating high jinks.
Simon’s mother appears vain and capricious. At times over-protective, she willingly abandons her son to schools where she knows he is suffering stating that others survived and it made them what they are. She appears intent on imposing her values on her child rather than furnishing him with the tools to enable him to discover his own. Although typical of a certain parenting style, this read as limiting and insensitive to me.
Simon reluctantly returns to his miserable life in England until he can revisit Deya, aged seventeen, before moving to study in Madrid. He discovers that the sixty-five year old Robert has a new muse, the beautiful twenty-four year old Margot. Simon is instantly besotted and struggles to deal with the intense emotions she evokes. He becomes embroiled in passionate intrigues whilst in Madrid, the outcome of which will affect him for life.
The writing is intense and in places ethereal but I felt discomfited by the portrayal of the many gilded people, expats living their lives disconnected from the natives of their adopted homes. Robert’s belief in his intellectual superiority was fanned by those around him, his creativity held in such esteem by them that he was granted leave to ‘own’ his devotees and demand that they bow to his will. It is not only poets who “live so deeply in their own worlds, among their own obsessions”, yet it is hardly admirable however talented they may be. Many of Robert’s personal habits were repugnant yet as nothing to the emotional trauma he was capable of inflicting. I had much sympathy for his children, although the author does not draw them too deeply into this tale.
Simon was amongst many in thrall to his Grand-uncle. When he attempts to seduce Margot and she says no he desists and then feels unmanned for not forcing himself on her as he feels others would have done. I found this disturbing, especially as it may be typical of the attitudes of such men.
There is little attempt at justification in these recollections although it is hard not to sympathise with an eighteen year old caught up in a rarefied world. There are echoes of Hartley’s ‘The Go-Between’ in both Simon’s passion and naivity. The esteem in which he held his Grand-uncle, the beauty of Majorca before multiple tourists despoiled the island with their presence, the impact of his family’s associates tasked with looking out for the boy who considers himself a man, are all well evoked.
I cannot fault the quality of the writing or the construction of the story yet I did not enjoy reading this tale. The world conjured reminded me that those who consider themselves superior, either through wealth or popular accomplishment, are still granted leave to use our world as their personal playground. Simon’s experiences are presented competently and with feeling, but in looking through his offered window I was left feeling only despondency.
September 26, 2012
A Mythic View of the Later Life of the Poet Robert Graves
I have sometimes thought that all fiction of merit contains elements of fantasy and Simon Gough’s The White Goddess: An Encounter is no exception. The author, a grandnephew of the writer Robert Graves, calls his book an “auto-bi-fantasy,” a term that makes for an accurate description. The plot is autobiographical, but it also inhabits fantasy worlds.
Graves was foremost a Poet with a capital P, but he was also a novelist and a classical scholar, writing what I consider to be the essential distillation of Greek myth, entitled (appropriately) The Greek Myths. He also wrote his own White Goddess, a book of poetic theory in which he details how poetry and myth are related (and I sympathize with Simon’s attempts to read that book: he writes, “It’s a bit like fighting one’s way through an impenetrable Welsh forest in pitch darkness.” Personally, I’ve never managed to fight my way all the way through; I’ve mostly just dipped into it.)
In both works, Graves sets forth his personal, quirky views of poetry and myth. First, the poet must have a Muse, who can be a human woman who incarnates the White Goddess (the ancient female principle whose worship Graves believed to have preceded Zeus worship) and inspires him to great feats (he states that all genuine poetry is about the Goddess). Second, he develops the concept of the death of the year as embodied in the myth of the Twin Kings, one of whom is killed at the Goddess’s whim at the winter solstice and replaced by the other.
Gough’s White Goddess contains two fantasy worlds that arise straight from Graves’ familiarity with and personal view of Greek myth. The Island of Majorca and specifically the region around Deya where Graves lived for the greater part of his life, palpably embodies the Golden Age of Greece, when gods and spirits walked the Earth in harmony, permeated by the archaic worship of the Triple Goddess but presided over by Zeus. In this case Zeus is the mighty Graves himself, who emerges as an Olympian figure – intellectually and physically all-powerful, yet rife with the brutish nature of humanity, even as were the Greek gods: he farts, sneezes and hacks, blows his nose on his fingers, takes out his false teeth at the table in order to clear out pips that are hurting his gums (in a memorable scene). Graves is larger than life, overwhelmingly charming, straightforward, and supportive toward the ten-year-old Simon, yet always dangerous, ready to fling lightning bolts. If one were to novelize Greek myth, Zeus might be endowed with those very same qualities. On a darker note, Graves also becomes the Minotaur, in the climactic chapter entitled the same.
The golden world of Deya dominates up to the point where the 18-year-old Simon leaves for Franco’s Madrid of the 1960’s. This is the second, contrasting fantasy world – a dystopian cityscape of horrors – an underworld presided over by an unseen Hades (Franco?) with his legions of demon guards, and inhabited by grotesques whom Simon encounters when he first arrives alone in the city. Is the porter of the pensión Cerberus, rattling keys to the underworld? Is the legless beggar in his cart, whom Simon placates with coins, Charon conducting the spirits across the Styx? There is even the requisite descent into the Underworld in the visit to the catacombs, complete with guide (Alastair), and Simon brings back a token from that place to prove he has completed the anabasis. Of course, no exact correlations can be drawn here between myth and reality, but for me these implications add mightily to the weight and suggestiveness of the book.
Strangely, while Simon’s vision of Margot Callas (the incarnation of the White Goddess herself – or is she, too, only a metaphor, a wish fulfillment?) is often erotic, there is no explicit sex in the book. One is not sure with whom Margot has had sex, or even whether she has ever had sex with anyone. Just what aspect of the Triple Goddess is she? Aphrodite or Athena Parthenos? Or is she the Crone, the Death-Giver? Most likely, you could call her Hecate, the Triple Goddess, embodying all three aspects.
As to style, it’s florid in the extreme, loaded with similes and metaphors which are highly effective but which gush out at a breathless pace that can be exhausting. The book also exists at a high emotional stress level. The characters never do anything halfway or with restraint. Part of this is the point of view – Simon is so young and so full of raging hormones, expected to behave with a maturity he couldn’t possibly possess. And the author makes heavy and obvious metaphorical use of the weather – the violent lightning storm in Madrid at a moment of intense passion, the sirocco in Deya near the end when the Golden World is falling apart.
Lastly, I should mention a major oversight in the Kindle formatting of this book: the lack of a linked table of contents. It doesn’t even have an unlinked ToC to show the reader the shape of the book before she begins to read. It’s a long book (450 pages in the paperback version), so if you lose your place, there is no easy way to find where you left off, and going back to look at a particular chapter is impossible. It would be helpful to future readers if the publisher republished the Kindle version with a linked ToC added.
Altogether, I’m going to give this book 5 stars, because it’s a work with unforgettable impact. I will certainly read the promised sequel, and I strongly recommend this book, particularly for anyone familiar with Robert Graves or interested in the interconnection of myth and literature.
I have sometimes thought that all fiction of merit contains elements of fantasy and Simon Gough’s The White Goddess: An Encounter is no exception. The author, a grandnephew of the writer Robert Graves, calls his book an “auto-bi-fantasy,” a term that makes for an accurate description. The plot is autobiographical, but it also inhabits fantasy worlds.
Graves was foremost a Poet with a capital P, but he was also a novelist and a classical scholar, writing what I consider to be the essential distillation of Greek myth, entitled (appropriately) The Greek Myths. He also wrote his own White Goddess, a book of poetic theory in which he details how poetry and myth are related (and I sympathize with Simon’s attempts to read that book: he writes, “It’s a bit like fighting one’s way through an impenetrable Welsh forest in pitch darkness.” Personally, I’ve never managed to fight my way all the way through; I’ve mostly just dipped into it.)
In both works, Graves sets forth his personal, quirky views of poetry and myth. First, the poet must have a Muse, who can be a human woman who incarnates the White Goddess (the ancient female principle whose worship Graves believed to have preceded Zeus worship) and inspires him to great feats (he states that all genuine poetry is about the Goddess). Second, he develops the concept of the death of the year as embodied in the myth of the Twin Kings, one of whom is killed at the Goddess’s whim at the winter solstice and replaced by the other.
Gough’s White Goddess contains two fantasy worlds that arise straight from Graves’ familiarity with and personal view of Greek myth. The Island of Majorca and specifically the region around Deya where Graves lived for the greater part of his life, palpably embodies the Golden Age of Greece, when gods and spirits walked the Earth in harmony, permeated by the archaic worship of the Triple Goddess but presided over by Zeus. In this case Zeus is the mighty Graves himself, who emerges as an Olympian figure – intellectually and physically all-powerful, yet rife with the brutish nature of humanity, even as were the Greek gods: he farts, sneezes and hacks, blows his nose on his fingers, takes out his false teeth at the table in order to clear out pips that are hurting his gums (in a memorable scene). Graves is larger than life, overwhelmingly charming, straightforward, and supportive toward the ten-year-old Simon, yet always dangerous, ready to fling lightning bolts. If one were to novelize Greek myth, Zeus might be endowed with those very same qualities. On a darker note, Graves also becomes the Minotaur, in the climactic chapter entitled the same.
The golden world of Deya dominates up to the point where the 18-year-old Simon leaves for Franco’s Madrid of the 1960’s. This is the second, contrasting fantasy world – a dystopian cityscape of horrors – an underworld presided over by an unseen Hades (Franco?) with his legions of demon guards, and inhabited by grotesques whom Simon encounters when he first arrives alone in the city. Is the porter of the pensión Cerberus, rattling keys to the underworld? Is the legless beggar in his cart, whom Simon placates with coins, Charon conducting the spirits across the Styx? There is even the requisite descent into the Underworld in the visit to the catacombs, complete with guide (Alastair), and Simon brings back a token from that place to prove he has completed the anabasis. Of course, no exact correlations can be drawn here between myth and reality, but for me these implications add mightily to the weight and suggestiveness of the book.
Strangely, while Simon’s vision of Margot Callas (the incarnation of the White Goddess herself – or is she, too, only a metaphor, a wish fulfillment?) is often erotic, there is no explicit sex in the book. One is not sure with whom Margot has had sex, or even whether she has ever had sex with anyone. Just what aspect of the Triple Goddess is she? Aphrodite or Athena Parthenos? Or is she the Crone, the Death-Giver? Most likely, you could call her Hecate, the Triple Goddess, embodying all three aspects.
As to style, it’s florid in the extreme, loaded with similes and metaphors which are highly effective but which gush out at a breathless pace that can be exhausting. The book also exists at a high emotional stress level. The characters never do anything halfway or with restraint. Part of this is the point of view – Simon is so young and so full of raging hormones, expected to behave with a maturity he couldn’t possibly possess. And the author makes heavy and obvious metaphorical use of the weather – the violent lightning storm in Madrid at a moment of intense passion, the sirocco in Deya near the end when the Golden World is falling apart.
Lastly, I should mention a major oversight in the Kindle formatting of this book: the lack of a linked table of contents. It doesn’t even have an unlinked ToC to show the reader the shape of the book before she begins to read. It’s a long book (450 pages in the paperback version), so if you lose your place, there is no easy way to find where you left off, and going back to look at a particular chapter is impossible. It would be helpful to future readers if the publisher republished the Kindle version with a linked ToC added.
Altogether, I’m going to give this book 5 stars, because it’s a work with unforgettable impact. I will certainly read the promised sequel, and I strongly recommend this book, particularly for anyone familiar with Robert Graves or interested in the interconnection of myth and literature.
April 23, 2023
I was attracted to this book having read Lucia Graves’ sympathetic account of her life in Mallorca, and also having visited Mallorca recently. It was good being able to visualise the landscape and the village of Deià.
Simon Gough describes the book as an auto-bi-fantasy, so I guess we shouldn’t take everything here as the gospel truth. I enjoyed the ten-year-old Simon’s awe and delight during the first summer he spent in Deià with his grand-uncle Robert Graves, forming a daredevil destructive duo with Robert’s wild son Juan.
He visits again when he’s seventeen, meets and falls in love with Robert’s muse Margot, and then leaves to study at university in Madrid, where Margot has also moved. I have to say I found this section rather tiresomely melodramatic, with the drama ratcheted up even more when he returns to Deià. The whole thing takes on an air of Greek drama and mythology, obviously intended, and cleverly done, but it all got a bit wearing. Not much British stiff upper lip in evidence among these privileged expats. I would hope that nowadays Graves’ brutal and domineering behaviour would be found less admirable — excused because he was a genius.
All in all, definitely a different picture of Mallorca from that in Lucia’s book!
Simon Gough describes the book as an auto-bi-fantasy, so I guess we shouldn’t take everything here as the gospel truth. I enjoyed the ten-year-old Simon’s awe and delight during the first summer he spent in Deià with his grand-uncle Robert Graves, forming a daredevil destructive duo with Robert’s wild son Juan.
He visits again when he’s seventeen, meets and falls in love with Robert’s muse Margot, and then leaves to study at university in Madrid, where Margot has also moved. I have to say I found this section rather tiresomely melodramatic, with the drama ratcheted up even more when he returns to Deià. The whole thing takes on an air of Greek drama and mythology, obviously intended, and cleverly done, but it all got a bit wearing. Not much British stiff upper lip in evidence among these privileged expats. I would hope that nowadays Graves’ brutal and domineering behaviour would be found less admirable — excused because he was a genius.
All in all, definitely a different picture of Mallorca from that in Lucia’s book!
February 26, 2019
I absolutely adored this book - literary fiction at its finest for me; a stunning setting, multi-layered & deeply flawed characters & a healthy dose of myth mixed with realism.
5 stunning shining stars 🌟
5 stunning shining stars 🌟
April 28, 2025
I really enjoyed the first half of this book, Simon's magical childhood trip to Mallorca to stay with his larger than life relatives. However, by the end of the book I pretty much hated everyone in it. All of the men were so pathetic about Margot, including Simon. Robert Graves was a total maniac about how much he expected from Margot, and he and his wife were ridiculous with the amount of pressure and blame that they put on a teenage boy for not betraying the trust of a friend to them. And Margot was a nob, sunbathing topless next to Simon and telling him to keep his face turned away.... what a bunch.
May 6, 2025
I chose this book while looking for inspiration on the website of the Norwich Book Hive. I read the sample on my Kindle and the book hooked me in its evocation of place and time. It reminded me of Fowles’ classic The Magus, and Polly Samson’s A Theatre for Dreamers. The narrative is a first person account by the author at ages approximately 10, 20 and 50. The book switches between times, beginning around 1950. I feel it’s not a spoiler to say it ends with a poem of Graves about love. The promise of the beginning of the book continued throughout for me.
September 17, 2020
Very evocative of time and place with such forceful characters, I really felt them live.
November 21, 2012
‘What was I frightened of? Of memories. Of the past – Of going back.’
The precise nature of this book is best summed up using the author’s own words in his introductory note: ‘This is a fragment of autobiography written in narrative form in order to breathe new life into a remarkable story which occurred over fifty years ago.’ So we have a combination of autobiographical events and real people yet with an element of fictional writing.
The very first sentence is incredibly striking. We are introduced to the spark behind the book being written. Then we are taken back to 1953, when Simon Gough went to Majorca in 1953 as a ten-year-old boy embarking on an adventure. There, in Deya, a place which is evoked so well here, he will encounter his ‘Grand-Uncle’ Robert, who we know as the author and poet Robert Graves. A picture builds of his reaction to and relationship with him, and with other compelling characters he spends his days with. He returns in 1960 and finds the place changed, liking it even more. In later years we learn of his falling in love with Margot Callas, Robert’s muse. This is a long book, one that I took my time in reading, but it is certainly one that keeps you interested.
The prose is absolutely beautiful, and there were so many times I paused to re-read a certain passage, to mark it in order that I could return to it. Here is one such passage:
‘Memory – so innocent and naïve in itself, so potentially fatal when stirred, like the coiled snake that it was in its pluperfect lair. The past was not to be trifled with; while the present and future move d at their own irrevocable speeds, the past was time spent, time-without-energy, which could be moulded or stretched into infinite versions of remembered truth.’
I feel there is so much self-awareness and insight into how our lives are lived through the way the author looks back on his own life, reflecting on his younger days. There is a need to divulge his story, before it is too late. ‘I had a story to tell – a love story; a true love story. No one else would tell it now.’
The White Goddess: An Encounter is the first of two books from this author about his relationship with his great-uncle Robert Graves and the related events in his life.
This is the first book from a new publishing company, Galley Beggar Press, based in Norfolk.
The precise nature of this book is best summed up using the author’s own words in his introductory note: ‘This is a fragment of autobiography written in narrative form in order to breathe new life into a remarkable story which occurred over fifty years ago.’ So we have a combination of autobiographical events and real people yet with an element of fictional writing.
The very first sentence is incredibly striking. We are introduced to the spark behind the book being written. Then we are taken back to 1953, when Simon Gough went to Majorca in 1953 as a ten-year-old boy embarking on an adventure. There, in Deya, a place which is evoked so well here, he will encounter his ‘Grand-Uncle’ Robert, who we know as the author and poet Robert Graves. A picture builds of his reaction to and relationship with him, and with other compelling characters he spends his days with. He returns in 1960 and finds the place changed, liking it even more. In later years we learn of his falling in love with Margot Callas, Robert’s muse. This is a long book, one that I took my time in reading, but it is certainly one that keeps you interested.
The prose is absolutely beautiful, and there were so many times I paused to re-read a certain passage, to mark it in order that I could return to it. Here is one such passage:
‘Memory – so innocent and naïve in itself, so potentially fatal when stirred, like the coiled snake that it was in its pluperfect lair. The past was not to be trifled with; while the present and future move d at their own irrevocable speeds, the past was time spent, time-without-energy, which could be moulded or stretched into infinite versions of remembered truth.’
I feel there is so much self-awareness and insight into how our lives are lived through the way the author looks back on his own life, reflecting on his younger days. There is a need to divulge his story, before it is too late. ‘I had a story to tell – a love story; a true love story. No one else would tell it now.’
The White Goddess: An Encounter is the first of two books from this author about his relationship with his great-uncle Robert Graves and the related events in his life.
This is the first book from a new publishing company, Galley Beggar Press, based in Norfolk.
October 8, 2014
Can you give a book 0 stars? This wasn't my taste at all. Was hoping for more about Deia and Madrid in the 1960s. Only got self indulgent and overlong novel/autobiography. Not clear which it is. Wanted to tell all the characters to grow up and get over themselves. Read Lucia, William and Tomas Graves' books instead.
October 6, 2012
I reviewed this at
Necessary Fiction
.
October 11, 2014
All that rubbish about the Goddess was hard to take....most of these people were just self-absorbed and badly behaved..but it was an interesting read!
July 28, 2016
This is how it goes: my great grand whatever uncle was very famous and eccentric. I was young, naive and mesmerized by beautiful women. Wow! Really? So what?
July 17, 2019
Loved the beginning, the rest was kinda painful and boring, hence the mere 3... Robert Graves was pretty wild lol
Displaying 1 - 13 of 13 reviews