The blurb atop the cover of this novel suggests "A poet Of Science Fiction" and if that description is to rest in merit it is surely a poetry birthed in the stars. It is true though that Michael Moorcock is a writer at ease in the court of The Faerie Queene, lending veracity to the flattering and deserved claim. Being as shallow as get out I was quite taken with the cover art on this paperback from Star Books( See, I told you, birthed in the stars.)I thought that if Hieronymus Bosch ever painted a Triceratops it would have looked like this. And to further that truth, I have consistantly found Michael Moorcock's stories set at the end of all things to be remeniscent of Bosch's most famous work, his tryptich featuring The Garden Of Earthly Delights, detailing the good and the bad in all and everything.
This lovely wee novel felt to me like a trip to Milliways; The Resturaunt at the end of the universe.As though Michael Moorcock had mixed and matched a table for us that would on first glimpse suggest it was the worst company to be in , in any resturaunt, much less one hovering at the edge of eternity. A table to be avoided if successful digestion were to be achieved. And what a mistake that avoidence would have proved to be as I would have missed a feast of folly, with dishes you would never have contemplated mixing turning out to be a very enjoyable meal.It is a witty and entertaining book that is just short enough to make you wish for more.
On a seperate note, but getting back to the cover art and its possible inspiration, I
would suggest to anyone reading this to check out the hinged doors gaurding the Bosch Tryptich to appreciate what those doors concealed. When at various times the doors would be spread wide and the breath taking vision within would be revealed. Talk about never judging a book by its cover...
