I've made a point of buying several Moorcock books in my various trips to library sales. Given his outspokenness about various science fiction and fantasy writers, such as Heinlein and Tolkien, one might think that his own fiction would be a worthy counterpoint to such. Alas, if this book is an example of Moorcock's best work – as some have claimed – then I am loath to read any of the other books that I have picked up. (Though, I will still probably read some of the Elric series...at some point, maybe.)

The story is confused, and somewhat confusing, at least at the beginning. While there are a few clever turns of phrase and droll ironies of clashing culture (some of the historical inaccuracies believed by the characters reminds me of Poe's "Mellonta Tauta"), there is little to motivate the reader to discover what happens to the characters in the story. In fact, had it not been so short of a book – just shy of 150 pages – I likely wouldn't have bothered to finish it. I don't expect to read any of the sequels.

I will say that Moorcock has a way with description. Probably the best aspect of the book is his ability to evoke images, often incredibly fantastic ones.