A disheveled British import about a teen-age girl with a fantasy fixation on Shelley (Percy Bysshe, that is), an ability to raise the dead, and a passel of family problems. Jennifer is a bookish, quiet sort--like her father, historian Edward, who's writing the biography of a Renaissance writer, Aphra Behn. Mother Sarah, on the other hand, is one hot potato: she's eagerly ravished by lovers on the after-hours tables of her restaurant, she has a ""full frontal portrait"" of herself on the wall of the drawing room, and her latest lust object is young architect Paul. But Paul is mysteriously attracted also to Jennifer, who discovers she's sexually ready even though she continues her rich daydream life with Shelley: ""She felt Shelley was an extension of her. . . . She'd never met anyone who had his vitality."" And then, together with fat little spiritualist Mr. Davidson, Jennifer causes the appearance of a deceased friend, and of Edward's Aphra Behn: ""'Look behind you,' said Jennifer. 'Oh my God,' said Mr. Davidson, nearly falling off his chair."" Also bumping along in all this muddle is a murder trail which Edward is observing and which involves a former mad girlfriend of Paul's--who sends him her confession letter. Finally, however, Sarah leaves Edward for Good Works with Paul in India, and Jennifer fixes Edward up with a nice lady, just before the big sÃ‰ance in which a Certain Poet is supposed to show. . . . A clumsy jumble--couched in immature blabbermouth prose.