Michael Moorcock Books

This novel is now available in a new edition with a foreword by no less than Michael Moorcock, who finds it a work of outstanding humour, a view that enjoys the eminent endorsement of Anthony Burgess. I can see what they mean, but it's not my own kind of humour. I thought I was never going to laugh until near the end, when I managed a wan smile at the description of the waiters in the restaurant, and then, to my own surprise, a genuine laugh during the fight in the pub that takes place on the last few pages.

The book was first published in 1958, and I infer from the references to unrest in Cyprus that the setting must have been around then. The locale has an imaginary name, but it's not some imaginary place, nor is it any `furthest corner of London' as the blurb has it. It is the area adjacent to King's Cross, within walking distance of Mayfair and Belgravia, still exceedingly seedy when I last saw it several years ago. I gladly concede that Fowlers End is a very skilful piece of work. It captures the run-down feel of the area and parodies its sleazy denizens very well indeed. The plot in general is well held together, with a couple of nice surprises to round it off. The characters are memorable and up to a point original, and the writing is polished and has a general feel of `quality'. What gets up my nose is the author's attitude, which is more than slightly patronising and superior.

The book seems to me to improve sharply somewhere around the half-way point, which is precisely where the author stops trying to be so self-consciously funny. At the same point he begins to develop the persona of his narrator, something that the story was beginning to need rather badly as the other characters are all stereotypes and the action is more a string of episodes than a fully architected plot. Too much of the book, particularly the first half of it, consists of Kersh showing us how clever he is. On top of that, he doesn't always seem to me to know how much of a good thing is enough. Even the sharp and witty description of the stately but decrepit waiters goes on just a little too long. What I find downright objectionable is the portrayal of Sam Yudenow - Kersh captures the accent extremely well, and the typical speech-solecisms, but he overdoes it more than somewhat. It all has the feel of an educated man mocking an uneducated one for his lack of education, and Kersh keeps at it with tasteless and tedious persistence over the first couple of chapters. This is the worst instance, but there is a slightly unpleasant atmosphere of de haut en bas that runs through the novel as a whole. I'm not looking for `human sympathy' by any means - that would ruin Swift or Juvenal. What I feel is that if Kersh wants to pose as being as superior as this he needs to actually be a bit more superior in the first place. His narrator doesn't have the real personality or distinctiveness of, say, Kingsley Amis's Jim Dixon or Maurice Allington (to say nothing of, say, Horace Rumpole), and one real oddity is that his alleged facial ugliness is neither here nor there in the plot - nothing in particular is made of it. Kersh's cynicism is rather average too, and in general his phrases and apercus are not as good as he evidently thinks they are. My recollection kept reverting to how that sort of thing is better done elsewhere, and when I came to the bit about the Eccles-cakes it was simply painful to recall the sermon in The Way of All Flesh.

It's a fluent and easy read, although I reached the end without regret. I didn't roll in any aisles but remained slumped with a feeling of slight distaste in my armchair. However the weight of more distinguished opinion is against me, and if you can find the first half of the book more tolerable than I did - particularly if you think it's funny - this may be a book you will enjoy. Have a good second half. If you were beginning to wonder why there is a glossary of rhyming slang at the start, it is needed for one solitary song near the end and nowhere else at all in the entire 300-odd pages.

Tallow is a short, odd man, who goes to find a Golden Barge, and with it, himself. His journey takes him through green women, war, death and other assorted goings on.

The introduction says this was the first thing Moorcock ever wrote, and he has changed it a bit for publication.

Jherek Carnelian has come to understand that he is in love with Amelia Underwood. So much so that he even did some time travelling of his own because of his feelings.

This travelling has caused more problems for both of them, but now Jherek must find a way to travel again.

An earlier edition, there is a later book in a series with the same title, part of Moorcock's horrible reader obfuscation plot, it would seem. There are only three stories in this one.

Legends from the End of Time : Pale Roses - Michael Moorcock
Legends from the End of Time : White Stars - Michael Moorcock
Legends from the End of Time : Ancient Shadows - Michael Moorcock


Werther, a bit down, looks for something new.

3 out of 5


Duelling immortals is perhaps a bit frivolous.

3 out of 5


Luncheon At the End of the Universe?

3 out of 5

Also known as the Transformation of Miss Mavis Ming. When the Fireclown arrives at The End of Time, any problems that the residents there have with boredom and ennui will not be lasting for very long at all.

One thing the Fireclown is very good at is shaking things up and changing the status quo. This is particularly true in the case of the staid Miss Mavis Ming.

The second of the adventures of Jerry Cornell, as written by Michael Moorcock. Again, a humorous light spy satire, and also delving into the world of comics.

Jerry finds a dead agent of his acquaintance, and has no idea why he has a comic strip in his cold dead hand. Jerry sets out to find out why, and enters the world of comics.

You might already own this book, under the title "The Vanishing Tower" - it's generally considered to be the 4th Elric novel in the series..

This is a very poorly done partial reissue of a great anthology which is still available in its complete form. The print here is reduced in size and very hard on the eyes. Several of the stories have been removed, as has the original editors' (Wise and Cerf) introduction. The only new stuff we get is a painting of a werewolf on the cover and Michael Moorcock's delightful new introduction. Skip this ripoff - go for the original entitled "Great Tales of Terror and the Supernatural." Better yet, find the first edition with its beautiful dust jacket.

I found this book in a box of books I picked up at a garage sale. The author, Michael Moorcock has a wonderful way of captivating the mind and taking the reader on a journey of excitment. I enjoyed the way he introduced you to the main character,Michael Kane. Through the eyes of a reporter who you felt also began to be lured into the story. The author paints pictures of Mars as a futuristic city with marbel buildings and wonderful strange animals rooming through forest of nearly the same but different plants then earth. In this past the martians are far more advanced than we earth people but can not fix their own machinery. Tecnology seems to be a thing of it's past. When it is gone the machine is junked. The beautiful characters become a partner in creating the atmosphere. They go about with what I gather very little clothing. Each holstering a sword or old musket of sorts. I wanted to stay in this world as did Kane. I hope I can find the other two books of this trilogy. Warriors of Mars

This co-authored book is sort of an adjunct to Michael Moorcock's Multiverse. I think it was written with a computer game in mind, or something like that. Constantine took Moorcock's notes and input and finished off the novel.

The hero of the piece is Max Silverskin, a dodgy bloke who has to remove a magical mark, or he will cark it.

Society is divided by an allegiance to a particular metal, and Lady Rose Iron will be an ally of Max's. This makes him an enemy of her clan's security guy, who has the hots for Rose.

Questing ensues.

As a longtime sci-fi fan, I realized that I had never actually read any Moorcock besides Gloriana (which I didn't enjoy). Saw this and thought I'd try it. It was pleasant surprise - sucked me into the story, and I couldn't stop reading once it hit the end. A bit predictable in parts, but done well; the world was very well developed, and the mythos interesting. I find scenes from the book stick into my head now, and keep popping up when I'm trying to work. I'd read it again.

A fascinating setting marred by dull characterizations and a tiredly familiar rpg-cliche storyline make this book a profound disappointment. Silverheart is an ode to the typically unusual Moorcockian genre with none of the charm or the lyricism that infects the pages of an actual Moorcock novel. One gets the idea while ploughing through the pages that Moorcock's contribution to the book consisted solely of a few notes scrawled on the back of a napkin, giving the finished product the necessary decor yet none of the necessary structure.

Fortunately, its publication is immediately followed by a true-written Moorcock novel, "The White Wolf's Son".

Initially this story posed some interesting characterisations and settings, hinting at the typicaly Moorcockian underlying brooding nature of the realm, its history and the background of the characters. However as the plot unfolds you might begin to feel that opportunities for the usual intrigue and depth, common in other Moorcock tales, are missed out on and the characters fail to achieve their potential. Not only that, the overall plot seems to suffer from a common problem found in a lot of 'trash fantasies' - things just happen for no apparent reason other than to satisfy some weak twist in the story. And as for the conclusion? what weak nauseating trash!

Having ready this directly after reading 'The Dreamthiefs Daughter', a true-blooded Moorcock novel, its plain to me where the weak link lies: Storm Constantine.

If you're a Moorcock fan then don't waste your money, borrow it from a library.
If on the other hand you're a Storm Constantine fan or like 'trash-fantasy' endings and plot twists then go ahead and buy - after all it may lead you to read further into the Moorcock multiverse and uncover some worthwhile and skillful writing.

I do not believe it is accurate to blame the failings (if so they are) of this book entirely on Storm Constantine. This was a collaborative effort. While Constantine may have essentially written the story, she was in liaison with Moorcock for its conception through to its completion, and Moorcock would have undoubtedly read all the drafts and given his approval, seeing as it has his name on the cover. I doubt Moorcock would have blindly allowed Constantine to write what ever she wanted, at the sake of his own reputation.

As for my opinion of the story, I found it a tad laboured and in places quite boring. Conversely, I found it in places unusual and interesting. In other words, it is an uneven story and thus difficult to review or to describe. I will however say that there are much worse examples of fantasy on the market. Silverheart is just unremarkable, but passable. I found Silverheart more enjoyable a second time. There is a lot of detail to absorb - possibly too much, as Storm backfills at every opportunity she gets, laying it on a little too thickly. Probably it could have used some slimming down.

I am not a Moorcock fan, but it seems Moorcock fans are not thrilled with this book. As a former Constantine reader (I've gone off her a bit since the mid-nineties), I can say I am disappointed though not surprised at the outcome.

The plot: In six days Max Silverskin, thief and trickster, must discover the secrets of his heritage or perish from the witch mark - the Silverheart - on his chest which will devour his heart. Lady Rose Iron, daughter of the leader of the mighty Clan Iron in Karadur, city of metal, steam and ancient secrets, is thrown into an uneasy alliance with Max as she searches out the secrets which may save the city's future. Captain Cornelius Coffin, head of the clans' security forces, is in love with Lady Rose and obsessed with capturing Max. And there are others, in Shriltasi, Karadur's underworld twin, who know the prophecy which says that only Max Silverskin can save both realms.

And a note to Amazon: Silverheart is a COLLABORATION between Michael Moorcock AND Storm Constantine. For reasons unknown Amazon omitted Ms Constantine below the title of this book. Not very fair considering she is responsible for fleshing out the story - you know, the difficult bit.