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Gloriana, or The Unfulfill'd Queen
A fable satirizing Spenser's "The Fairie Queen" and reflecting the real life of Elizabeth I, tells of a woman who ascends to the throne upon the death of her debauched and corrupted father, King Hern. Gloriana's reign brings the Empire of Albion into a Golden Age, but her oppressive responsibilities choke her, prohibiting any form of sexual satisfaction, no matter what fetish she tries. Her problem is in fact symbolic of the hypocrisy of her entire court. While her life is meant to mirror that of her nation - an image of purity, virtue, enlightenment and prosperity - the truth is that her peaceful empire is kept secure by her wicked chancellor Monfallcon and his corrupt network of spies and murderers, the most sinister of whom is Captain Quire, who is commissioned to seduce Gloriana and thus bring down Albion and the entire empire.
496 pages, Paperback
First published April 1, 1978
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3,651 people want to read
About the author
Michael Moorcock
1,159Ìýbooks3,607ÌýfollowersMichael John Moorcock is an English writer primarily of science fiction and fantasy who has also published a number of literary novels.
Moorcock has mentioned The Gods of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs, The Apple Cart by George Bernard Shaw and The Constable of St. Nicholas by Edward Lester Arnold as the first three books which captured his imagination. He became editor of Tarzan Adventures in 1956, at the age of sixteen, and later moved on to edit Sexton Blake Library. As editor of the controversial British science fiction magazine New Worlds, from May 1964 until March 1971 and then again from 1976 to 1996, Moorcock fostered the development of the science fiction "New Wave" in the UK and indirectly in the United States. His serialization of Norman Spinrad's Bug Jack Barron was notorious for causing British MPs to condemn in Parliament the Arts Council's funding of the magazine.
During this time, he occasionally wrote under the pseudonym of "James Colvin," a "house pseudonym" used by other critics on New Worlds. A spoof obituary of Colvin appeared in New Worlds #197 (January 1970), written by "William Barclay" (another Moorcock pseudonym). Moorcock, indeed, makes much use of the initials "JC", and not entirely coincidentally these are also the initials of Jesus Christ, the subject of his 1967 Nebula award-winning novella Behold the Man, which tells the story of Karl Glogauer, a time-traveller who takes on the role of Christ. They are also the initials of various "Eternal Champion" Moorcock characters such as Jerry Cornelius, Jerry Cornell and Jherek Carnelian. In more recent years, Moorcock has taken to using "Warwick Colvin, Jr." as yet another pseudonym, particularly in his Second Ether fiction.
Moorcock has mentioned The Gods of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs, The Apple Cart by George Bernard Shaw and The Constable of St. Nicholas by Edward Lester Arnold as the first three books which captured his imagination. He became editor of Tarzan Adventures in 1956, at the age of sixteen, and later moved on to edit Sexton Blake Library. As editor of the controversial British science fiction magazine New Worlds, from May 1964 until March 1971 and then again from 1976 to 1996, Moorcock fostered the development of the science fiction "New Wave" in the UK and indirectly in the United States. His serialization of Norman Spinrad's Bug Jack Barron was notorious for causing British MPs to condemn in Parliament the Arts Council's funding of the magazine.
During this time, he occasionally wrote under the pseudonym of "James Colvin," a "house pseudonym" used by other critics on New Worlds. A spoof obituary of Colvin appeared in New Worlds #197 (January 1970), written by "William Barclay" (another Moorcock pseudonym). Moorcock, indeed, makes much use of the initials "JC", and not entirely coincidentally these are also the initials of Jesus Christ, the subject of his 1967 Nebula award-winning novella Behold the Man, which tells the story of Karl Glogauer, a time-traveller who takes on the role of Christ. They are also the initials of various "Eternal Champion" Moorcock characters such as Jerry Cornelius, Jerry Cornell and Jherek Carnelian. In more recent years, Moorcock has taken to using "Warwick Colvin, Jr." as yet another pseudonym, particularly in his Second Ether fiction.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 138 reviews
November 11, 2015
Moorcock has posited himself as the rebel of fantasy, sapping the high walls built by Howard and Tolkien. He is a of the complete lack of romance in either of these would-be romances, but the love in Gloriana's court is anything but courtly.
There is a delightful Quentin Crisp quote about how innovation is not 'seeing your neighbor to the left has a straight walk and your neighbor to the right a curved and thence making your own diagonal', suffice it to say that contrariness is not the mother of invention.
Moorcock's Elric was, in many ways, written to be contrary; to be the antithesis of the fantasy that came before. However, Moorcock is not being contrary in Gloriana, which in most regards, reads like an abridged Elizabethan take on Peake's Gormenghast books (which, incidentally, are the origin of Crisp's quotation, by way of his introduction).
Gloriana is considered by highfalutin Moorcock fans to be perhaps his most remarkable and original work. It is certainly in no way genre Fantasy, and though the characters may not be easy to empathize with, you certainly won't be stuck resenting them for flimsily facaded archetypes.
Though they are not based upon those same silly cliches, they are still immediately as one-dimensional and unchanging. The book is really nothing so much as an eroticized rewrite of Peake, but Moorcock does not have the capacious wit necessary to evoke Peake. It is more of a fond imitation than a reimagining. That being said, it takes a skilled writer to draw any comparison to Peake, even when that's precisely what they are trying to do.
The book will also teach you the word 'seraglio'; a one which I hope to have more and more a need to use in the future, hopefully in the same sentence as 'odalisque'.
There is a delightful Quentin Crisp quote about how innovation is not 'seeing your neighbor to the left has a straight walk and your neighbor to the right a curved and thence making your own diagonal', suffice it to say that contrariness is not the mother of invention.
Moorcock's Elric was, in many ways, written to be contrary; to be the antithesis of the fantasy that came before. However, Moorcock is not being contrary in Gloriana, which in most regards, reads like an abridged Elizabethan take on Peake's Gormenghast books (which, incidentally, are the origin of Crisp's quotation, by way of his introduction).
Gloriana is considered by highfalutin Moorcock fans to be perhaps his most remarkable and original work. It is certainly in no way genre Fantasy, and though the characters may not be easy to empathize with, you certainly won't be stuck resenting them for flimsily facaded archetypes.
Though they are not based upon those same silly cliches, they are still immediately as one-dimensional and unchanging. The book is really nothing so much as an eroticized rewrite of Peake, but Moorcock does not have the capacious wit necessary to evoke Peake. It is more of a fond imitation than a reimagining. That being said, it takes a skilled writer to draw any comparison to Peake, even when that's precisely what they are trying to do.
The book will also teach you the word 'seraglio'; a one which I hope to have more and more a need to use in the future, hopefully in the same sentence as 'odalisque'.
January 6, 2012
Queen Gloriana rules Albion, an alternate reality British Empire, with the help of her Chancellor, Montfallcon, and his dirty deeds in the name of the throne. Gloriana, as the title indicates, gets no release from sex and grows increasingly distraut. Montfallcon's main henchman, Quire, doesn't like how he's being treated and finds a new patron. His goal: the toppling of Albion...
Like a lot of people, the first thing that drew me to Michael Moorcock was the Elric saga. In my old age, the Moorcock stories I like best are the ones that have little to do with Elric or the Eternal Champion cycle, like Dancers at the End of Time or the Jerry Cornelius stories. Or Gloriana.
As I said before, Gloriana can't have an orgasm no matter what. No man nor woman, ape-man nor robot sheep, nothing can make her climax. Moorcock could easily make this a porno novel but doesn't. Though it takes place in a fantasy universe, it more of a political novel than anything else, with all the court intrigue and backstabbing. The writing is different from Moorcock's other work, more like Mervyn Peake, whom the book is dedicated to. It's easy to see Peake's influence on Moorcock on this one, both in the writing and the labyrinthine halls of Gloriana's palace. Gloriana is a well-written character, as are Una, Wheldrake, Quire, Montfallon, and the rest.
Longtime Moorock readers will note that Una and Wheldrake appear in other Moorcock works as well. Moorcockian gods Arioch and Xiombarg are invoked as curse words and are regarded as old gods. As near as I can tell, those are the only references to the Eternal Champion saga.
I'd recommend this to Moorcock fans with an open mind, as well as Mervyn Peake fans, fans of decadent fantasy, and also readers who like their fantasy to have a political bend.
Like a lot of people, the first thing that drew me to Michael Moorcock was the Elric saga. In my old age, the Moorcock stories I like best are the ones that have little to do with Elric or the Eternal Champion cycle, like Dancers at the End of Time or the Jerry Cornelius stories. Or Gloriana.
As I said before, Gloriana can't have an orgasm no matter what. No man nor woman, ape-man nor robot sheep, nothing can make her climax. Moorcock could easily make this a porno novel but doesn't. Though it takes place in a fantasy universe, it more of a political novel than anything else, with all the court intrigue and backstabbing. The writing is different from Moorcock's other work, more like Mervyn Peake, whom the book is dedicated to. It's easy to see Peake's influence on Moorcock on this one, both in the writing and the labyrinthine halls of Gloriana's palace. Gloriana is a well-written character, as are Una, Wheldrake, Quire, Montfallon, and the rest.
Longtime Moorock readers will note that Una and Wheldrake appear in other Moorcock works as well. Moorcockian gods Arioch and Xiombarg are invoked as curse words and are regarded as old gods. As near as I can tell, those are the only references to the Eternal Champion saga.
I'd recommend this to Moorcock fans with an open mind, as well as Mervyn Peake fans, fans of decadent fantasy, and also readers who like their fantasy to have a political bend.
June 24, 2020
I'm honestly tempted to call this a classic, but with one caveat: it will mostly be a treat for any die-hard fans of Elizabethian court intrigue, also being devoted to subverting the spin on the same.
Wait... is that really a thing?
Yep. I mean, yes, you can read this as a political fantasy intrigue with lots of spycraft and court and great passionate characters and a woman who is unable to get any satisfaction at all, but I prefer to see it as only a single layer to a rather complicated quasi-satire. Oh, and it's absolutely a condemnation of the grand white-washings of the past. :)
Indeed, Mo0rcock even admits he's satirizing the and lionizing Mervyn Peake.
I, personally, only enjoyed it sporadically and more for the overall plot than some of the indulgences, but I was rather fascinated by the extra worldbuilding. It was a real treat. :)
Wait... is that really a thing?
Yep. I mean, yes, you can read this as a political fantasy intrigue with lots of spycraft and court and great passionate characters and a woman who is unable to get any satisfaction at all, but I prefer to see it as only a single layer to a rather complicated quasi-satire. Oh, and it's absolutely a condemnation of the grand white-washings of the past. :)
Indeed, Mo0rcock even admits he's satirizing the and lionizing Mervyn Peake.
I, personally, only enjoyed it sporadically and more for the overall plot than some of the indulgences, but I was rather fascinated by the extra worldbuilding. It was a real treat. :)
August 4, 2019
Michael Moorcock wants to comment on British imperialism so he writes a parody/ pastiche where the Queen can't get off so she isn't a Real Woman but then she gets raped and finally has an orgasm.
Someone publishes this book.
Then Andrea Dworkin yells at Michael Moorcock because apparently it takes Andrea Dworkin to flag this rape thing as a bad idea and then Michael Moorcock writes an alternate ending with less rape that is somehow worse than the original.
He also includes a note that you shouldn't rape people, everybody, sorry if that was unclear.
Someone publishes this book.
Then Andrea Dworkin yells at Michael Moorcock because apparently it takes Andrea Dworkin to flag this rape thing as a bad idea and then Michael Moorcock writes an alternate ending with less rape that is somehow worse than the original.
He also includes a note that you shouldn't rape people, everybody, sorry if that was unclear.
December 4, 2018
A though-provoking, subverted story with very interesting plot, characters and setting (particularly the royal palace, “the haunted palace of the mind�, which plays a role in its own right). This alternate history fantasy is heavily laced with allegory, satire, irony and cynicism; it’s elaborately worded and woven into a tapestry of decadence, ennui, treachery and corruption, but also idealism, philosophy, duty and human misery.
"Gloriana told the story of a woman who personified the State in public but was full of pain, frustration and confusion in private."
Once I fell into the rhythm of the narrative and started to read between the lines, this battle between high morality and low realism, virtue and vice, became very engaging indeed. Most of the characters are truly unlikable –probably with the exception of Gloriana herself, and that’s not saying much-, despicable even, but I was drawn to them with morbid fascination because they felt complex and both the dialogues and the verbal sparring are a thing of wonder.
If this is a testament to Moorcok's writing skills and authority I'll have to look for more of his works, even if such mocking grimness is best served in small portions and far between. As I appreciate some bleak, cold logic and a healthy dose of realism in my books, so I do appreciate redemption, hope, selflessness and all the positive emotions, quieter maybe, that make up the gamut of humanity.
This is not a light read for both prose and themes, but this evocative story about fulfillment is a real delight for a reader who likes English history and criticism on several levels; I couldn’t but be utterly impressed with Moorcok’s bravura storytelling and masterful construction.
I don't necessarily agree with nihilistic viewpoints or with Albion's plight resolution, but this was a most surprising “romance� book and I was thoroughly entertained.
“It is the business of war to simplify, Tink. Most men prefer it, when it comes, because their lives are far too complicated. Peace throws men into a kind of confusion few of them have the strength to bear for long—responsibilities blossom. Most of the world is made up of weaklings, Tink—and in war they flourish. Oh, how the weak love to fight!�
"Gloriana told the story of a woman who personified the State in public but was full of pain, frustration and confusion in private."
Once I fell into the rhythm of the narrative and started to read between the lines, this battle between high morality and low realism, virtue and vice, became very engaging indeed. Most of the characters are truly unlikable –probably with the exception of Gloriana herself, and that’s not saying much-, despicable even, but I was drawn to them with morbid fascination because they felt complex and both the dialogues and the verbal sparring are a thing of wonder.
If this is a testament to Moorcok's writing skills and authority I'll have to look for more of his works, even if such mocking grimness is best served in small portions and far between. As I appreciate some bleak, cold logic and a healthy dose of realism in my books, so I do appreciate redemption, hope, selflessness and all the positive emotions, quieter maybe, that make up the gamut of humanity.
This is not a light read for both prose and themes, but this evocative story about fulfillment is a real delight for a reader who likes English history and criticism on several levels; I couldn’t but be utterly impressed with Moorcok’s bravura storytelling and masterful construction.
I don't necessarily agree with nihilistic viewpoints or with Albion's plight resolution, but this was a most surprising “romance� book and I was thoroughly entertained.
“It is the business of war to simplify, Tink. Most men prefer it, when it comes, because their lives are far too complicated. Peace throws men into a kind of confusion few of them have the strength to bear for long—responsibilities blossom. Most of the world is made up of weaklings, Tink—and in war they flourish. Oh, how the weak love to fight!�
January 2, 2009
Another flamboyant cast of decadents from Moorcock. A tribute to Peake’s Titus Groan and tribute/critique of Spenser’s Faerie Queene, this is more of reworking of assumptions and symbols that the myth of the British Empire rests on then an alternative history(though it’s a good one). A fantasy construct, not hinging on an adventure or a quest, filled with madness, political intrigue, travelers from other realms, automatons. Doctor Dee, court rituals, court poetry, and lots of sex. Captain Arcturus Quire is a combination of Steerpike and Iago who guides the plot to its unsettling and ironic(and somewhat controversial) conclusion.
August 5, 2014
When I started reading Gloriana -- maybe even before that, when I read about the premise -- I was very doubtful about whether I'd like it. The way the plot revolves around the fact that Gloriana can't have an orgasm just baffled me: it made it sound like that was the most important thing in life, which... it isn't. Still, actually reading the book, and especially the ending, made me think that aspect of it is actually a metaphor. I understand people who find the ending abhorrent: there's a rape scene which may seem to imply that someone who is anorgasmic just needs to be raped.
Reading both the original and revised endings, though, I don't think that was where Moorcock was going with that. In both, he emphasises that what finally allows Gloriana to find fulfilment is not anything really to do with sex, but that for the first time in her life, she can focus solely and entirely on herself. For the rest of the book -- the rest of Gloriana's life -- she's too concerned with being a queen, with being a country. But here, in both scenarios, whether she takes control of it or not, she becomes an individual in her fear.
Now, why that had to be via sex and sexual violence is a question that's definitely valid to ask, but it is important to read something carefully if you're going to critique it. More immediate to me are the questions about consent concerning children and animals, which are not dealt with critically at all -- rather the opposite.
In any case, all of that aside, I really liked Gloriana. Not so much for individual characters as for the whole idea, the plotting and scheming, the setting. Which is not to say that the individual characters weren't of interest -- they were, in their tangle of motivations and confusion of feelings. Montfallcon, particularly, was interesting because of the way his motivations were unveiled piece by piece, slowly. The labyrinthine world of the court as a whole, though; that, I really liked. I haven't actually read Gormenghast, but from what I know of it, I think Moorcock made a worthy tribute to it in many ways here.
The writing itself was, to my mind, easy to read. He doesn't go for any false archaisms, though the style isn't contemporary, and while he piles on the adjectives and so on, I do feel that's an intentional embarrassment of riches, like the court itself.
I can understand why people dislike this book, or never finish it, but I'm glad I did.
Reading both the original and revised endings, though, I don't think that was where Moorcock was going with that. In both, he emphasises that what finally allows Gloriana to find fulfilment is not anything really to do with sex, but that for the first time in her life, she can focus solely and entirely on herself. For the rest of the book -- the rest of Gloriana's life -- she's too concerned with being a queen, with being a country. But here, in both scenarios, whether she takes control of it or not, she becomes an individual in her fear.
Now, why that had to be via sex and sexual violence is a question that's definitely valid to ask, but it is important to read something carefully if you're going to critique it. More immediate to me are the questions about consent concerning children and animals, which are not dealt with critically at all -- rather the opposite.
In any case, all of that aside, I really liked Gloriana. Not so much for individual characters as for the whole idea, the plotting and scheming, the setting. Which is not to say that the individual characters weren't of interest -- they were, in their tangle of motivations and confusion of feelings. Montfallcon, particularly, was interesting because of the way his motivations were unveiled piece by piece, slowly. The labyrinthine world of the court as a whole, though; that, I really liked. I haven't actually read Gormenghast, but from what I know of it, I think Moorcock made a worthy tribute to it in many ways here.
The writing itself was, to my mind, easy to read. He doesn't go for any false archaisms, though the style isn't contemporary, and while he piles on the adjectives and so on, I do feel that's an intentional embarrassment of riches, like the court itself.
I can understand why people dislike this book, or never finish it, but I'm glad I did.
October 11, 2013
I first read this book as a teenager some thirty five years ago. At that time, I found the haunting atmosphere of Elizabethan sensuality to be extremely arousing and stimulating. Moorcock serves up a rich pageant of decadence, luxury and pleasure, with every variety of sex either shown explicitly or hinted at.
The problem is that Moorcock is the kind of guy who gets all the little things right -- but can't create a big picture story-line to save his life! Tiny episodes are scorchingly erotic, like Queen Gloriana's offhand caressing of Lady Mary, or Captain Quire's hypnotic conquest of pouty-lipped boy Phil Starling.
But the major plot of the book -- Quire ruins Gloriana, then saves her, then seduces her -- just doesn't ring true. Without making any judgments, it's fair to say that Quire is much more convincing as a gay anti-hero than a heterosexual stud for hire. The scenes where he seduces Phil Starling are a lot tighter, more realistic, and more convincing than the scenes where he supposedly beds Gloriana. Moreover, Moorcock never succeeds in establishing Quire as a credible tough guy -- all the rowdies in the wrong part of town are supposedly in awe of this guy, but then he shows up to the big infernal jamboree with a teenage boy as his heavy date! You would think some benighted soul would wonder aloud just how masculine Quire really is. Moorcock carefully shields his hero from such impertinence. And believability goes right out the window!
Speaking of believability . . . Gloriana is supposed to be a great queen, an able statesman, and a woman of high principles, but she comes across much more Marilyn Monroe, all jiggles and weepy quivering. Moorcock really has no insight at all into her character. Seems like she'd fall for a stern father figure like Montfallcon much sooner than a closet queen like Quire. All her love scenes are sexy . . . except for the ones with Quire!
The maddening thing is that after you've read this book you keep thinking about all the other, better characters. There were about a dozen people in this book I actually liked, but where did they go? Countess Una of Scaith, Lady Mary Perrott, Tinkler the snaggle-toothed ruffian, Wheldrake the poet, Lady Lyst, . . .
There were enough characters here for a half dozen good novels, but instead they all got stuck in one bad one!
The problem is that Moorcock is the kind of guy who gets all the little things right -- but can't create a big picture story-line to save his life! Tiny episodes are scorchingly erotic, like Queen Gloriana's offhand caressing of Lady Mary, or Captain Quire's hypnotic conquest of pouty-lipped boy Phil Starling.
But the major plot of the book -- Quire ruins Gloriana, then saves her, then seduces her -- just doesn't ring true. Without making any judgments, it's fair to say that Quire is much more convincing as a gay anti-hero than a heterosexual stud for hire. The scenes where he seduces Phil Starling are a lot tighter, more realistic, and more convincing than the scenes where he supposedly beds Gloriana. Moreover, Moorcock never succeeds in establishing Quire as a credible tough guy -- all the rowdies in the wrong part of town are supposedly in awe of this guy, but then he shows up to the big infernal jamboree with a teenage boy as his heavy date! You would think some benighted soul would wonder aloud just how masculine Quire really is. Moorcock carefully shields his hero from such impertinence. And believability goes right out the window!
Speaking of believability . . . Gloriana is supposed to be a great queen, an able statesman, and a woman of high principles, but she comes across much more Marilyn Monroe, all jiggles and weepy quivering. Moorcock really has no insight at all into her character. Seems like she'd fall for a stern father figure like Montfallcon much sooner than a closet queen like Quire. All her love scenes are sexy . . . except for the ones with Quire!
The maddening thing is that after you've read this book you keep thinking about all the other, better characters. There were about a dozen people in this book I actually liked, but where did they go? Countess Una of Scaith, Lady Mary Perrott, Tinkler the snaggle-toothed ruffian, Wheldrake the poet, Lady Lyst, . . .
There were enough characters here for a half dozen good novels, but instead they all got stuck in one bad one!
September 17, 2012
Michael Moorcock is well known for having strong views on what type of fantasy he likes and what he doesn't. For instance, he doesn't like Tolkien but does like Peake, to whose memory he dedicated this book. It's a long time since I read the Gormenghast trilogy but there are some obvious parallels although I didn't dwell on these; I wanted it to stand up as a story in it's own right. And it certainly did.
The events of this story take place in some kind of alternative version of our history at which the British empire (referred to here as "Albion") is at it's hight and in the midst of an apparent golden age of glory and peace. The focus is on the fictional queen "Gloriana" (who seemed to me some kind of cross between Elizabeth the 1st and Victoria) and the rather large cast of characters who spend much of their time in and around the labyrinthine palace, from the lordly to the lowly, the lords, ladies, ambassadors, spies, soldiers, poets, rogues and the mysterious characters who roam the lost corridors and rooms in the forgotten depths of the palace.
Although the author can't help but weave into the story mention of the multi-verse and hints of characters that one might have read else where from his extensive canon, once the new facts of the situation are accepted, little suspension of disbelief is required. The story is concerned with the intricacies and intrigues of court and political life. Gradually the facade crumbles and the perfect vision of Albion and the Queen are revealed for the myth that they are.
Stylistically, this is quite different from anything else I've read by Moorcock and it proves his versitility as a writer. An engaging storyline and intriguing characters made this a very enjoyable read. Not for younger readers as it contains some very adult themes but I can see why it is regarded by some as a masterwork of fantasy.
The events of this story take place in some kind of alternative version of our history at which the British empire (referred to here as "Albion") is at it's hight and in the midst of an apparent golden age of glory and peace. The focus is on the fictional queen "Gloriana" (who seemed to me some kind of cross between Elizabeth the 1st and Victoria) and the rather large cast of characters who spend much of their time in and around the labyrinthine palace, from the lordly to the lowly, the lords, ladies, ambassadors, spies, soldiers, poets, rogues and the mysterious characters who roam the lost corridors and rooms in the forgotten depths of the palace.
Although the author can't help but weave into the story mention of the multi-verse and hints of characters that one might have read else where from his extensive canon, once the new facts of the situation are accepted, little suspension of disbelief is required. The story is concerned with the intricacies and intrigues of court and political life. Gradually the facade crumbles and the perfect vision of Albion and the Queen are revealed for the myth that they are.
Stylistically, this is quite different from anything else I've read by Moorcock and it proves his versitility as a writer. An engaging storyline and intriguing characters made this a very enjoyable read. Not for younger readers as it contains some very adult themes but I can see why it is regarded by some as a masterwork of fantasy.
March 23, 2008
A book that shows that Moorcock can really write and think.
This Gothic Elizabethan fantasy shows an alternate world (in which Moorcock specialises) which clearly, consciously or not in his successors' cases, is part of the same fantasy complexes of Philip Pullman, Neil Gaiman and the American Tim Powers. This is not steam-punk perhaps but sail-punk.
Hidden within the folds of the story (and Moorcock folds his stories in time and space like the folds of a rose) are some serious ruminations on power and myth, a theme running through so many of his works. In this case, the myth is that of Albion and what it is to be British - things never stated, only entered by stealth into the readers' soul.
Alan Moore does similar things in his graphic work and there is a school here of occult trickster nationalism exploiting the global market in a world of paradox and mirrors. John Dee, it would seem, still lives in the darker recesses of Anglo culture.
American capital so often transforms these myths into worldwide phenomena - as we have seen with Angelina Jolie's appearance in Beowulf - but one day somebody clever will expose its quiet influence on why many Britons have come to think so little of their leaders ... and why Americans still do not really understand their closest ally. Paradox and trickery ... a great book.
This Gothic Elizabethan fantasy shows an alternate world (in which Moorcock specialises) which clearly, consciously or not in his successors' cases, is part of the same fantasy complexes of Philip Pullman, Neil Gaiman and the American Tim Powers. This is not steam-punk perhaps but sail-punk.
Hidden within the folds of the story (and Moorcock folds his stories in time and space like the folds of a rose) are some serious ruminations on power and myth, a theme running through so many of his works. In this case, the myth is that of Albion and what it is to be British - things never stated, only entered by stealth into the readers' soul.
Alan Moore does similar things in his graphic work and there is a school here of occult trickster nationalism exploiting the global market in a world of paradox and mirrors. John Dee, it would seem, still lives in the darker recesses of Anglo culture.
American capital so often transforms these myths into worldwide phenomena - as we have seen with Angelina Jolie's appearance in Beowulf - but one day somebody clever will expose its quiet influence on why many Britons have come to think so little of their leaders ... and why Americans still do not really understand their closest ally. Paradox and trickery ... a great book.
April 5, 2011
This was the first rather deviant science fiction book I'd read as a MINOR. My AP lit teacher senior year gave those of us who survived four years of "enriched" English a gift. Only 15 of us made it through to her class. She wasn't kidding when we started as freshmen and she told us to look left, right, front and back. Only one of us would remain and qualify to see her again senior year.
As a gift for making it through, she gave us each a book she felt best represented us. She gave me this book. W.T.F If a teacher gave my underage child a book like this, I'd probably have words with said teacher.
Regardless, I read the book and it was the first time I connected Science Fiction with SM/erotica. So I have her to thank for my deeper dive into deviance.
Mr. Moorcock is a very good writer. This book while odd for a 17 year old, pulled me in and I enjoyed it greatly. His imagery is vivid. Close to 20 years later, I still remember this book with fond memories.
As a gift for making it through, she gave us each a book she felt best represented us. She gave me this book. W.T.F If a teacher gave my underage child a book like this, I'd probably have words with said teacher.
Regardless, I read the book and it was the first time I connected Science Fiction with SM/erotica. So I have her to thank for my deeper dive into deviance.
Mr. Moorcock is a very good writer. This book while odd for a 17 year old, pulled me in and I enjoyed it greatly. His imagery is vivid. Close to 20 years later, I still remember this book with fond memories.
December 5, 2012
Made the mistake of persevering with this. Balderdash, and boring to boot.
September 22, 2016
I feel bad for the person who unknowingly picks this up thinking that its a more realistic historical novel or (bless their innocent hearts) an actual biography of Queen Elizabeth I. Readers who don't do their research beforehand may be mildly surprised to find out that it doesn't really match any kind of history at all, which is intentional, as its basically an alternate history given a fantastic slant, substituting a new version of Elizabeth (here called "Gloriana") and turning her reign into a far more peaceful version of the British Empire, all based in grand Albion. Dropping in on the cast some years after her father's advisors successfully manipulated her crazy king father into not being king anymore (i.e. by dying, take that "Game of Thrones") and then steering the realm into more prosperous times, things have never been grander as everyone seems to be getting along and in agreement that Gloriana is about the most eligible member of royalty ever to wear a crown. Being that the novel is subtitled, "The Unfulfilled Queen", you might say its fair to assume that the book is Moorcock's study of how the royals dated before websites and tabloids, or its some stealth prequel to "The Princess Diaries".
But the key here is the opening dedication to Mervyn Peake, he of the "Gormenghast" novels (which I recommended heartily) and readers of that fine two thirds of a series will find themselves in familiar territory as Moorcock turns this book into basically a full on cover-band level tribute to Peake, doing his best to capture tone and vibe, with much of the action taking place in the enormous castle that just happens to have warrens in the walls filled with entire colonies of people living out their lives, while a commoner worms his way up the ranks, covertly murdering anyone who gets in his way.
That said, that aspect of the plot doesn't seem to start until decently far into the book, with the earlier sections seemingly more interested in detailing the setting and the lengths that the queen's advisors have to do in order to maintain the peace between the various parts of the Empire and the other empires they have to deal with. From the start it seems that Moorcock is setting up an argument over whether a peace is worth the nefarious deeds required to maintain it, with a bit of focus on her chancellor's main operative Captain Quire, a delightful sociopath with a slice of erotic bisexuality on the side (although sexuality seems to just another arrow in his quiver, so to speak). He's quite happy with his job, until he feels insulted by his employer and then decides to spend the rest of the book getting his revenge. Since he aims high, that revenge takes the form of wanting to seduce the queen and bring the whole peaceful empire down. And given that this is all coming from a writer who's presented us with a mopey albino with a soul sucking sword, there's not really any guarantee that the good guys are going to win here. The sound you hear may be the proverbial medieval chickens coming home to roost.
A number of people don't appear to like the writing style here, which is deliberately designed to evoke the time during which the story takes place, coming across as a bit more florid than modern writing. However, Moorcock doesn't completely abandon modern sensibilities and while some of the descriptions were a bit superfluous at times (probably intentionally so), the book wasn't that much of a chore to read on par with other writers I've read who were bent on ensuring that no one born after 1900 would be able to read the book for any length of time without getting a headache (oh "Worm Ouroboros", how I miss you). In fact, I found it read rather quickly despite the fact that the plot does take its time getting going as Moorcock sort of leisurely gives us a tour of the alternate court and how it works, all the while dropping in inside-baseball references to his overarching multiverse concept (its also not impossible the queen's best friend Una is either the same or another version of the Una from the Jerry Cornelius stories, which made me kind of excited that he was going to show up (he doesn't)). We're introduced to the lonely Gloriana, who clearly is no stranger to men (she has nine kids) and a chunk of the book is her weighing alliances through marriage and trying to balance that with her own sexual fulfillment.
And while the focus on royal style getting some may make you wonder if we're heading toward Alan Moore "Lost Girls" territory, fortunately Quire shows up to shift the plot toward honest to goodness to seduction. After spending a good portion of the book threatening to do something, he catches the queen's eyes and the tone of the book gets slightly more sinister, as the queen's advisors have to figure out how to keep things from falling apart before Quire murders them anyway. To me, as much as Quire's seduction techniques livened the book up, the switch from the more sedate political plotting to the deadly court intrigue with a side of bodice ripping felt like a poor copy of Steerpike's plot from "Gormenghast" and while Quire is many things, he is a hundred percent not Steerpike, as people seem to know his game fairly quickly (even if they can't do anything about it) and he lacks the charisma of Peake's character, doing things pretty much with a detached "because I can" attitude that comes from being a committed sociopath. His motivations are half pride and half curiosity, which a heck of a mix but not about to make him a world class villain.
Moorcock does manage to keep this all moving, upping the body count every so often to keep our attention and making us guess exactly how far Quire will make everyone descend into his sexual playland (even if the whole thing seems to happen very quickly). Considering the limited setting he gets a lot of mileage out of it and while its far from the most Gothic castle literature has ever seen, the warrens under the castle and in the wall have a definite atmosphere. What kept my interest was seeing how he played with the notions of history, tweaking past events here and there so he could extrapolate them into this book, giving us a world that exists past its own edges. Its something it shares with George Martin's currently popular series, although Moorcock isn't striving for Martin's brutal realism and take-no-prisoners style of plotting. Moorcock is more constructing a fable of how things could have and why it wouldn't have lasted anyone.
Still, just like the fantasy series dominating cable television, some of the sexual politics may give some readers pause, as the climax of the book turns on a rape that leads to a somewhat unexpected result. Given how dark and topsy-turvy the book has been prior to this, you can read it as just another sign of history gone awry, although I can see where people would have problems with it as even on a metaphorical level its a bit unsettling. Moorcock must have heard the critics because he later wrote a revised ending (my book has both, although the original ending is presented as the actual ending, with the revision as a bonus) that softens the final act a bit, although the end result still doesn't much more sense unless you assume that Moorcock has a pretty dark sense of humor. As such, the book as a whole finds itself a little bit wanting, giving us a fantastic setting but racing through the plot almost because it has to. Its probably miracle enough that Moorcock was able to do this in a single volume but I'm either not enough of a student of British history to get the satirical nuances or I like "Gormenghast" way too much to let that affection transfer to an utterly sincere tribute. Despite the heaps of imagination on hand, and Moorcock's usual wit, this one might be more for people who are already fans and may be more willing to follow him down paths like this. I liked this, but I also don't feel any desire to visit this setting ever again.
But the key here is the opening dedication to Mervyn Peake, he of the "Gormenghast" novels (which I recommended heartily) and readers of that fine two thirds of a series will find themselves in familiar territory as Moorcock turns this book into basically a full on cover-band level tribute to Peake, doing his best to capture tone and vibe, with much of the action taking place in the enormous castle that just happens to have warrens in the walls filled with entire colonies of people living out their lives, while a commoner worms his way up the ranks, covertly murdering anyone who gets in his way.
That said, that aspect of the plot doesn't seem to start until decently far into the book, with the earlier sections seemingly more interested in detailing the setting and the lengths that the queen's advisors have to do in order to maintain the peace between the various parts of the Empire and the other empires they have to deal with. From the start it seems that Moorcock is setting up an argument over whether a peace is worth the nefarious deeds required to maintain it, with a bit of focus on her chancellor's main operative Captain Quire, a delightful sociopath with a slice of erotic bisexuality on the side (although sexuality seems to just another arrow in his quiver, so to speak). He's quite happy with his job, until he feels insulted by his employer and then decides to spend the rest of the book getting his revenge. Since he aims high, that revenge takes the form of wanting to seduce the queen and bring the whole peaceful empire down. And given that this is all coming from a writer who's presented us with a mopey albino with a soul sucking sword, there's not really any guarantee that the good guys are going to win here. The sound you hear may be the proverbial medieval chickens coming home to roost.
A number of people don't appear to like the writing style here, which is deliberately designed to evoke the time during which the story takes place, coming across as a bit more florid than modern writing. However, Moorcock doesn't completely abandon modern sensibilities and while some of the descriptions were a bit superfluous at times (probably intentionally so), the book wasn't that much of a chore to read on par with other writers I've read who were bent on ensuring that no one born after 1900 would be able to read the book for any length of time without getting a headache (oh "Worm Ouroboros", how I miss you). In fact, I found it read rather quickly despite the fact that the plot does take its time getting going as Moorcock sort of leisurely gives us a tour of the alternate court and how it works, all the while dropping in inside-baseball references to his overarching multiverse concept (its also not impossible the queen's best friend Una is either the same or another version of the Una from the Jerry Cornelius stories, which made me kind of excited that he was going to show up (he doesn't)). We're introduced to the lonely Gloriana, who clearly is no stranger to men (she has nine kids) and a chunk of the book is her weighing alliances through marriage and trying to balance that with her own sexual fulfillment.
And while the focus on royal style getting some may make you wonder if we're heading toward Alan Moore "Lost Girls" territory, fortunately Quire shows up to shift the plot toward honest to goodness to seduction. After spending a good portion of the book threatening to do something, he catches the queen's eyes and the tone of the book gets slightly more sinister, as the queen's advisors have to figure out how to keep things from falling apart before Quire murders them anyway. To me, as much as Quire's seduction techniques livened the book up, the switch from the more sedate political plotting to the deadly court intrigue with a side of bodice ripping felt like a poor copy of Steerpike's plot from "Gormenghast" and while Quire is many things, he is a hundred percent not Steerpike, as people seem to know his game fairly quickly (even if they can't do anything about it) and he lacks the charisma of Peake's character, doing things pretty much with a detached "because I can" attitude that comes from being a committed sociopath. His motivations are half pride and half curiosity, which a heck of a mix but not about to make him a world class villain.
Moorcock does manage to keep this all moving, upping the body count every so often to keep our attention and making us guess exactly how far Quire will make everyone descend into his sexual playland (even if the whole thing seems to happen very quickly). Considering the limited setting he gets a lot of mileage out of it and while its far from the most Gothic castle literature has ever seen, the warrens under the castle and in the wall have a definite atmosphere. What kept my interest was seeing how he played with the notions of history, tweaking past events here and there so he could extrapolate them into this book, giving us a world that exists past its own edges. Its something it shares with George Martin's currently popular series, although Moorcock isn't striving for Martin's brutal realism and take-no-prisoners style of plotting. Moorcock is more constructing a fable of how things could have and why it wouldn't have lasted anyone.
Still, just like the fantasy series dominating cable television, some of the sexual politics may give some readers pause, as the climax of the book turns on a rape that leads to a somewhat unexpected result. Given how dark and topsy-turvy the book has been prior to this, you can read it as just another sign of history gone awry, although I can see where people would have problems with it as even on a metaphorical level its a bit unsettling. Moorcock must have heard the critics because he later wrote a revised ending (my book has both, although the original ending is presented as the actual ending, with the revision as a bonus) that softens the final act a bit, although the end result still doesn't much more sense unless you assume that Moorcock has a pretty dark sense of humor. As such, the book as a whole finds itself a little bit wanting, giving us a fantastic setting but racing through the plot almost because it has to. Its probably miracle enough that Moorcock was able to do this in a single volume but I'm either not enough of a student of British history to get the satirical nuances or I like "Gormenghast" way too much to let that affection transfer to an utterly sincere tribute. Despite the heaps of imagination on hand, and Moorcock's usual wit, this one might be more for people who are already fans and may be more willing to follow him down paths like this. I liked this, but I also don't feel any desire to visit this setting ever again.
December 2, 2017
In the Afterword, Moorcock reduces Gloriana to a pretty straightforward idea: an anti-imperialist counterpoint to Faerie Queene, in the style of Gormenghast. Which could be a cool project, and it has some mixed successes, but it ends up kind of tripping over the stuff it has to say while it's trying to say it. The thematic material is overtly written into the narration but coexists awkwardly with the plot, an odd blend of telling where most books would show and wasting time instead on stupid symbolist pageants and verse (remnants, seemingly, of an unfathomably misguided origin as a play script). So while it has all the ingredients of a good fantasy intrigue, with strong characters in interesting relationships with responsibility and principle and politics, thematic unity, and a compelling adventure subplot in the hidden society within the walls, it just ends up feeling blunted and confused.
The plot takes an unusual and ultimately ineffective structure. Most of the initial POV characters are abandoned only to emerge much later as flat pawns, with no real indication of why they needed to be POVs in the first place. We see the main villain/protagonist set up his whole scheme and then disappear while the rest of the cast is baffled by the unexplained series of events he orchestrates. It's like he's going for some kind of high-tragedy sensation, watching helplessly as an Inevitable Fate unfolds but if it only achieves that inevitability by closing its eyes when characters are exerting agency, does it really count? The ending in particular drives home just how oddly the plot has played out, how inadequately certain dramatic elements have been established. It makes a strong case for the benefits of a traditional narrative presentation.
The worldbuilding has some interesting aspects, but doesn't seem sure of what to do with them. It bears more than a passing similarity to the world of His Dark Materials, with an alternate history world map populated with minor variant names like Tatary and Cathay and Iberia, and a multiple-worlds travel mechanic. Maybe? The ability to meet people from parallel worlds is mentioned constantly but many are skeptical and the subplot has no resolution at all. Ditto the automata, or the people in the walls. The guilty repression of history and responsibility are bluntly metaphorized by both the walls and the seraglio and the way they're kind of submerged in the text, constantly mentioned by never addressed, but on top of the rest it feels like the book is robbed of any potentially interesting flavor. As Moorcock notes in the Afterword, he's basing this aspect on Gormenghast, whose giant castle is he argues a metaphor for the elements of the human psyche. But Peake spent the whole book diving into the innards of that psyche, while Moorcock is content to use it as a symbolic black box.
Moorcock is one of the original Leftist voices in fantasy, one of the first and most prominent people who articulated the anti-royalist case against Lord of the Rings and its imitators, and that definitely shows here. Though Gloriana came out in 1978, it feels closer to the progressive fantasy of this decade than anything else of its age. It's an alternate history that doesn't take much of an interest in world affairs but still drastically curtails the extent of colonialism, placing western Native American nations on the same footing as the small American colony on the East Coast. It took me almost two thirds of the book to note the absence of the church, right before a character made explicit reference to the universe's disdain for religion.
But these are all just minor details; the progressive/transgressive element that matters to this book is sexuality. It's an utterly bloodless fixation--it's not a horny book at all, no sex scenes--but sex is the primary currency of character arcs and plot beats. The queen has an elaborate sex dungeon full of all sorts of debauchery (so elaborate that a whole community of volunteer sex slaves and bastard children just live there). On the one hand Moorcock's casual treatment of fetishes and homosexuality and crossdressing feel utterly modern, but on the other. . . well, pedophilia and child rape are rolled right up in there with no more comment. There's a kind of weird balance here, where the book doesn't find any of this objectionable, and neither do most of the characters (they all share in some form of deviance or another) but there's the implication that most of the world outside the insular castle would object on some grounds. It dials the social censure against open sexuality open and down inconsistently to meet the needs of the plot, which is confusing in an alternate history with distinct and poorly established values.
The weird and ultimately damning thing about Gloriana is that it fulfills its major character arcs on a . In the afterword, Moorcock notes that Andrea Dworkin called him out for the way this scene is depicted, so he rewrote it to clarify that it was rape and a crime and such, but like. . . it still reads Very Badly? To say nothing of the unremarked prevalence of child rape throughout the text. Hmm. It's not clear why this scene is so crucial. It's the climax of the whole book and represents something about how both characters have changed, but also must fit in somewhere important in the thematic dialogue.
It's just hard to see what any of it is supposed to mean. The justice of secret state violence in preserving internal and global peace is posed explicitly by characters many times over, but it exists in this garbled context that makes it feel like a distraction to the story rather than a supportive throughline. It's implicitly linked to this question of sexual promiscuity and "Romance" but the plot stakes are so distant and shift with such casual ambiguity even toward the end that any links are impossible to parse.
All that said, I enjoyed reading it most of the time. I didn't realize how much it had going against it until I tallied it all up. It's supported by a generally strong few characters who come through even though there aren't enough actual dramatic dialogue scenes to develop them. The prose starts out utterly impenetrable for some reason but quickly backs down into a unique and off-kilter but very readable prose that mostly pulls off the Peake-alike stylization it's going for. Moorcock himself notes that his anti-imperialist stance at the twilight of the British Empire led him to repeatedly create these same scenarios, and I recognize this commonality with Elric, where the whole book has this air of limp, decadent ennui. The overall effect of the telling-not-showing and the distancing of all the interesting bits and the abstract focus on Gloriana's bedroom woes paired with an even more abstract link to actual policy is a hazy, sleepy feel that leaves a dreamlike impression I enjoy; I think Gloriana pulls that off better than Elric did.
The plot takes an unusual and ultimately ineffective structure. Most of the initial POV characters are abandoned only to emerge much later as flat pawns, with no real indication of why they needed to be POVs in the first place. We see the main villain/protagonist set up his whole scheme and then disappear while the rest of the cast is baffled by the unexplained series of events he orchestrates. It's like he's going for some kind of high-tragedy sensation, watching helplessly as an Inevitable Fate unfolds but if it only achieves that inevitability by closing its eyes when characters are exerting agency, does it really count? The ending in particular drives home just how oddly the plot has played out, how inadequately certain dramatic elements have been established. It makes a strong case for the benefits of a traditional narrative presentation.
The worldbuilding has some interesting aspects, but doesn't seem sure of what to do with them. It bears more than a passing similarity to the world of His Dark Materials, with an alternate history world map populated with minor variant names like Tatary and Cathay and Iberia, and a multiple-worlds travel mechanic. Maybe? The ability to meet people from parallel worlds is mentioned constantly but many are skeptical and the subplot has no resolution at all. Ditto the automata, or the people in the walls. The guilty repression of history and responsibility are bluntly metaphorized by both the walls and the seraglio and the way they're kind of submerged in the text, constantly mentioned by never addressed, but on top of the rest it feels like the book is robbed of any potentially interesting flavor. As Moorcock notes in the Afterword, he's basing this aspect on Gormenghast, whose giant castle is he argues a metaphor for the elements of the human psyche. But Peake spent the whole book diving into the innards of that psyche, while Moorcock is content to use it as a symbolic black box.
Moorcock is one of the original Leftist voices in fantasy, one of the first and most prominent people who articulated the anti-royalist case against Lord of the Rings and its imitators, and that definitely shows here. Though Gloriana came out in 1978, it feels closer to the progressive fantasy of this decade than anything else of its age. It's an alternate history that doesn't take much of an interest in world affairs but still drastically curtails the extent of colonialism, placing western Native American nations on the same footing as the small American colony on the East Coast. It took me almost two thirds of the book to note the absence of the church, right before a character made explicit reference to the universe's disdain for religion.
But these are all just minor details; the progressive/transgressive element that matters to this book is sexuality. It's an utterly bloodless fixation--it's not a horny book at all, no sex scenes--but sex is the primary currency of character arcs and plot beats. The queen has an elaborate sex dungeon full of all sorts of debauchery (so elaborate that a whole community of volunteer sex slaves and bastard children just live there). On the one hand Moorcock's casual treatment of fetishes and homosexuality and crossdressing feel utterly modern, but on the other. . . well, pedophilia and child rape are rolled right up in there with no more comment. There's a kind of weird balance here, where the book doesn't find any of this objectionable, and neither do most of the characters (they all share in some form of deviance or another) but there's the implication that most of the world outside the insular castle would object on some grounds. It dials the social censure against open sexuality open and down inconsistently to meet the needs of the plot, which is confusing in an alternate history with distinct and poorly established values.
The weird and ultimately damning thing about Gloriana is that it fulfills its major character arcs on a . In the afterword, Moorcock notes that Andrea Dworkin called him out for the way this scene is depicted, so he rewrote it to clarify that it was rape and a crime and such, but like. . . it still reads Very Badly? To say nothing of the unremarked prevalence of child rape throughout the text. Hmm. It's not clear why this scene is so crucial. It's the climax of the whole book and represents something about how both characters have changed, but also must fit in somewhere important in the thematic dialogue.
It's just hard to see what any of it is supposed to mean. The justice of secret state violence in preserving internal and global peace is posed explicitly by characters many times over, but it exists in this garbled context that makes it feel like a distraction to the story rather than a supportive throughline. It's implicitly linked to this question of sexual promiscuity and "Romance" but the plot stakes are so distant and shift with such casual ambiguity even toward the end that any links are impossible to parse.
All that said, I enjoyed reading it most of the time. I didn't realize how much it had going against it until I tallied it all up. It's supported by a generally strong few characters who come through even though there aren't enough actual dramatic dialogue scenes to develop them. The prose starts out utterly impenetrable for some reason but quickly backs down into a unique and off-kilter but very readable prose that mostly pulls off the Peake-alike stylization it's going for. Moorcock himself notes that his anti-imperialist stance at the twilight of the British Empire led him to repeatedly create these same scenarios, and I recognize this commonality with Elric, where the whole book has this air of limp, decadent ennui. The overall effect of the telling-not-showing and the distancing of all the interesting bits and the abstract focus on Gloriana's bedroom woes paired with an even more abstract link to actual policy is a hazy, sleepy feel that leaves a dreamlike impression I enjoy; I think Gloriana pulls that off better than Elric did.
November 17, 2020
It's impossible to discuss this book in anything but the most superficial manner without talking in detail about its highly controvercial ending, so spoilers for the conclusion of the book immediately ahead:
Glorianna is Queen of Albion, a possibly fantastical alternative British Empire of distinctly Elizabethan tone and culture. She's the firgurehead and symbol of a Golden Age of peace. She also can't have an orgasm, no matter what, or whom, she tries. Until, with global war and personal disaster looming, she is raped by a former lover, that is. So there you have it. I think Moorcock wanted this crisis and the bizarre upshot that saves Albion and the world from war to feel supremely ironical and show that the whole concept of a living symbol of an entirely unrealistic, illusory, Golden Age is absurd and doomed to failure. Instead, many just felt extreme outrage. I am told that, to his (limited) credit, at some point he altered the ending to remove the astoundingly unempathetic rape/orgasm. Alarmingly, I can name two other SF&F authors of the same era (60s-70s) on the record with similarly disgusting and unsympathetic attitudes to rape: Brian Aldiss and James Blish. Never meet your heroes. Just how common was this attitude, then? Is it actually better now or are people just silent because they know they will be villified and likely suffer personal consequences if they betray their real attitudes?
When I first read this, I was expecting another in Moorcock's seemingly endless sequence of Sword and Sorcery adventures and was too young for what I got, a distinctly more adult and demanding book, with themes I only really understood in retrospect. I wanted to re-read it in order to ensure my grasp of the book was not weakened by distant memory and initial incomprehension. I don't know exactly when the altered ending replaced the original and was, through-out my re-reading, curious as to which ending my copy had. I read the hardback 1st Edition back in the day. This appears to be the first paperback printing - and it has the original ending. I still don't know how the 2nd version's ending plays out, other than knowing it eliminates the horrific error of judgement that angered so many. I am strongly tempted to try to obtain a later copy that will have the altered text, to find out. Because as it stands, the original text tackles some interesting themes about global and national politics, "statecraft", deception, cult of personality and democracy and monarchy that are worth the effort to get through the initially slow scene setting and placing of all the pieces on the board, ruined by a horrendous failure to understand women's desire for autonomy and authority over their bodies, as clearly expressed at least as far back in literary history as Chaucer. Good grief, man! What were you thinking?!
Perhaps the altered version saves the book's many interesting discussions from being lost in the (entirely justified) outrage - I won't know unless I read it.
Glorianna is Queen of Albion, a possibly fantastical alternative British Empire of distinctly Elizabethan tone and culture. She's the firgurehead and symbol of a Golden Age of peace. She also can't have an orgasm, no matter what, or whom, she tries. Until, with global war and personal disaster looming, she is raped by a former lover, that is. So there you have it. I think Moorcock wanted this crisis and the bizarre upshot that saves Albion and the world from war to feel supremely ironical and show that the whole concept of a living symbol of an entirely unrealistic, illusory, Golden Age is absurd and doomed to failure. Instead, many just felt extreme outrage. I am told that, to his (limited) credit, at some point he altered the ending to remove the astoundingly unempathetic rape/orgasm. Alarmingly, I can name two other SF&F authors of the same era (60s-70s) on the record with similarly disgusting and unsympathetic attitudes to rape: Brian Aldiss and James Blish. Never meet your heroes. Just how common was this attitude, then? Is it actually better now or are people just silent because they know they will be villified and likely suffer personal consequences if they betray their real attitudes?
When I first read this, I was expecting another in Moorcock's seemingly endless sequence of Sword and Sorcery adventures and was too young for what I got, a distinctly more adult and demanding book, with themes I only really understood in retrospect. I wanted to re-read it in order to ensure my grasp of the book was not weakened by distant memory and initial incomprehension. I don't know exactly when the altered ending replaced the original and was, through-out my re-reading, curious as to which ending my copy had. I read the hardback 1st Edition back in the day. This appears to be the first paperback printing - and it has the original ending. I still don't know how the 2nd version's ending plays out, other than knowing it eliminates the horrific error of judgement that angered so many. I am strongly tempted to try to obtain a later copy that will have the altered text, to find out. Because as it stands, the original text tackles some interesting themes about global and national politics, "statecraft", deception, cult of personality and democracy and monarchy that are worth the effort to get through the initially slow scene setting and placing of all the pieces on the board, ruined by a horrendous failure to understand women's desire for autonomy and authority over their bodies, as clearly expressed at least as far back in literary history as Chaucer. Good grief, man! What were you thinking?!
Perhaps the altered version saves the book's many interesting discussions from being lost in the (entirely justified) outrage - I won't know unless I read it.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 15, 2016
in a far more lush and gothic olde england, a decidedly NOT virgin queen rules over a golden age of expansion, exploration, and harmony. a secret population of those who have slipped into disfavor or diminished in fame live in between the walls of her sprawling palace. her gorgeous reign of peace and prosperity is built upon the blood and misery of her unlamented insane father. she keeps a seraglio of willing creatures of every sort because she loves them too much to ever turn anyone out of her household. court intrigues abound and formal costumed ceremonies usher in every season.
it's a lush, thick, dense sort of gothic sort of stuff here.
prose is overabundantly bursting with descriptions of fabrics that courtiers wear and lists of types of buildings that can be found in the city square; sentences curl baroquely across half a page at a time. it's dedicated to (and, i'm given to understand, a pastiche of) , so perhaps if i'd read , i'd be more in love with the heavy silken texture. as it is, when a nefarious plot feels the need to show up halfway through the book, i couldn't decide if it was good to get things moving along, or merely a distraction from all the overwrought wordsmithing. it's a strange lovely book, but .
eat this one in small bites, perhaps with some very light-reading sort of short stories handy as a palate cleanser every few chapters.
it's a lush, thick, dense sort of gothic sort of stuff here.
prose is overabundantly bursting with descriptions of fabrics that courtiers wear and lists of types of buildings that can be found in the city square; sentences curl baroquely across half a page at a time. it's dedicated to (and, i'm given to understand, a pastiche of) , so perhaps if i'd read , i'd be more in love with the heavy silken texture. as it is, when a nefarious plot feels the need to show up halfway through the book, i couldn't decide if it was good to get things moving along, or merely a distraction from all the overwrought wordsmithing. it's a strange lovely book, but .
eat this one in small bites, perhaps with some very light-reading sort of short stories handy as a palate cleanser every few chapters.
March 8, 2009
This has what we could call *highly problematic* sexual themes. The conceit is that an alternate fantasy Queen Elizabeth runs a world-spanning and semi-Utopian Empire, and has only one problem -- she can't find sexual satisfaction. Well, it's Mr. Moorcock, and he wrote it in the 70s, so what can you do. Worth reading, but incoherent, and with a pretty appalling ending, even given the conceit.
February 20, 2011
I slogged through the first half of this book with little interest. There was so much exposition with so little action, and characters were piled on. An interesting setting - within the walls of the palace - was introduced, but it didn't really go anywhere.
Finally, almost two-thirds of the way through, plots started to thicken, irrelevant characters started to show up, THINGS HAPPENED.
So the book went from a total loss to a 'meh'. Looking back on the book, I'm mostly disappointed by what could have been. The idea of a subterranean between the walls second city is awesome, but is merely used as a plot device, barely explored. A cave of a seraglio, treated the same. A mad woman with ties to the story that come up in the last 20 pages? Wasted. A denizen of the hidden city who observes everything and has a cute cat for a sidekick? I want a whole book about him! Two minor chracters betrayed, corrupted, and then some betrayal of their own. But again, mere plot devices that enter and exit as needed with little exposition.
Ultimately I found myself interested in the world that wasn't addressed by this book. The court intrigue and the queen were boring. The climax (haha) of the book that tied everything together was practically independent of the rest of the story. It felt tacked on and rushed.
My edition (the Kindle) had an afterword by Moorcock describing his influences and nods to classic literature. Maybe if I had read those books I would've seen the subtle satire he is apparently working with. His afterword also addresses the last chapter and its rape scene that was later rewritten. I found it interesting that this edition included both endings but kept the original (offensive) while adding the rewrite as an appendix. Odd. I did find the original rather obnoxious, but found the rewrite just as condescending in its own way.
I know this is something of a modern classic, but the descriptions of it set the stage for a much more exciting book than it really is. It's a clever idea with potential for sexy, opulent writing about grimy underworld characters mixing with the strait-laced and proper court with a dark streak. But it falls pathetically flat with long-winded writing and little action for 200 pages.
Finally, almost two-thirds of the way through, plots started to thicken, irrelevant characters started to show up, THINGS HAPPENED.
So the book went from a total loss to a 'meh'. Looking back on the book, I'm mostly disappointed by what could have been. The idea of a subterranean between the walls second city is awesome, but is merely used as a plot device, barely explored. A cave of a seraglio, treated the same. A mad woman with ties to the story that come up in the last 20 pages? Wasted. A denizen of the hidden city who observes everything and has a cute cat for a sidekick? I want a whole book about him! Two minor chracters betrayed, corrupted, and then some betrayal of their own. But again, mere plot devices that enter and exit as needed with little exposition.
Ultimately I found myself interested in the world that wasn't addressed by this book. The court intrigue and the queen were boring. The climax (haha) of the book that tied everything together was practically independent of the rest of the story. It felt tacked on and rushed.
My edition (the Kindle) had an afterword by Moorcock describing his influences and nods to classic literature. Maybe if I had read those books I would've seen the subtle satire he is apparently working with. His afterword also addresses the last chapter and its rape scene that was later rewritten. I found it interesting that this edition included both endings but kept the original (offensive) while adding the rewrite as an appendix. Odd. I did find the original rather obnoxious, but found the rewrite just as condescending in its own way.
I know this is something of a modern classic, but the descriptions of it set the stage for a much more exciting book than it really is. It's a clever idea with potential for sexy, opulent writing about grimy underworld characters mixing with the strait-laced and proper court with a dark streak. But it falls pathetically flat with long-winded writing and little action for 200 pages.
November 10, 2022
A weird one.
I had heard about Moorcock and his reputation of a, well, not quite an anti-tolkienist but someone who wanted to move things forward. Or away. To explore the darker aspects of fantasy. Yet, despite having flagged up "Elric of Melnibone" and circling around for a few years, I had kept putting Moorcock off.
"Gloriana" has been there on my shelf for over a year. And yet, I somehow doubted. Wasn't quite sure what to expect. On one hand, the cover and the synopsis promised a fairy-tale. On the other...
And so it was. A not-quite-a-fairy-tale.
For a book boasting "Winner of the World Fantasy Award" on its cover, there is surprising little fantasy in this one. There are inferences and allusions to that but that's about it. No magic, no dragons. There are references and allusions to real, historical personalities - for one, the character after whom the book is named - is a blend of Elisabeth the First and Queen Victoria. With the setting being more Elizabethan in some ways and more Victorian in others. And yet it is not really historic. An alternative reality, one could say, except for it reads like a fairy-tale. Or a play. A bit Victorian, a bit Shakespearian. Somewhat dreamy, something you could see played out in a scene.
I can totally see this re-interpreted as a play. And don't think it would make the story worse - so playful it is.
Although the story is most surely based on something else, the plot, at least to me, felt like a somewhat unique interpretation of "Tartuffe" in places. With some unique twists and additions.
You do have a court of Queen Gloriana. The (hopefully) eternal monarch, the ruler of a so called Golden Age in Albion - some echo of the Imperial Britain. Basically, an idyllic fairy-tale Victoria with the looks of Elizabeth the First. Contrary to the Virgin Queen, though, and the embodiment of hypocrytical purity, virtue, etc. of this Elizabeth's distant successor, Gloriana could be an embodiment of a modern female in exploration of her own sexuality. Or self. Just like half her court. And a significant portion of the story revolves around that - liberation and a search for one's sexual and overall self. Therefore, lavish feasts, orgies, mild erotics in a sexually fluid world. A fairy-tale indeed! While on one hand, this is quite intriguing, on the other, at some point it starts to tire the reader out. Although despite the fact that the reader can quite empathise with the explorations of the characters, and the fact that Moorcock somehow manages to avoid the phenomenon of "and then she boobily breasted down the stairs" (not mine, a borrowed saying) at times the story is a bit too focused on sexual (or general) fulfilment. Gloriana is somewhat obsessed. And I feel for her. it's not wrong to party extensively to forget yourself or feel unfulfilled as a human. And yes, no matter how many ways you can fulfill yourself, this one is important, too. And how! But sometimes it's a bit too much, and, as a reader, you may want other factors to drive the plot also.
And these factors are there. But they are not immediate or always present. I felt like the first third of the book was quite dragged out. Maybe even the first half. And as a reader I was semi-annoyed but when the shit finally hit the fan, I had already been captivated in other ways.
For one thing, this book does quite a lot of worldbuilding. Immensely. It re-creates - both in terms of replicating and creating anew - London. But not the London we know. That other London, the London of stories, fairy-tales and histories. And not only that. The Queen's court too. Probably more that than anything else. The characters (in a broad sense), set-up, costumes, intrigues, balls, masques, plays, feast, festivals and celebrations, chambers, halls and courtrooms, private audience rooms and ante-rooms. All with theatrical flavour. And that is outright beautiful. Firstly, visual. Colours, materials, details, scene set-ups. Secondly - the guesswork. Guess the place. The reference to a historical person, a book, a play, a poem, historical event. A country.
Like I said, it's beautiful.
And then - my favourite since Tolkien's mines of Moriah - the ruins. Moorcock masterfully uses the secret chambers, tunnels, passages and crumbles of secrets within for worldbuilding. With more promise of secrets. And that is exciting.
And so, although sometimes somewhat bored, at the same time you are captivated by those details. And you do not want to let it go, even if wishing the plot to wriggle-up more at the same time.
When it finally hits it off, things develop rapidly. But even so - underwater for a large part. Like in a real court. Nothing on the surface, intrigues and dramas within. Especially when Tartuffe strikes. Murders, political plots, even nightmares. What pushes a leg under one's feet, though, is that uneven pace. Sudden cliffhangers followed by lavish feasts and lazying of the rich great. Sudden excitement, followed by a lull. And then more lull. Until things hit off again. And the end, partly unexpectedly dramatic and dark, despite the expected sunshines ("only an Englishman can write such horrors"), partly unexpectedly cleansing, but not as absolving as one would like.
So I am somewhat at a loss. On one hand, got plenty to think about, especially relationship-, bed-, life- and self-wise, but just like Gloriana, I can't quite say I got there. The ending was a bit rushed, the events that led to it a bit underwater and I never built up to the level of the expected doom, so the emotional release did not quite happen. And I am not sure, story-wise, if that was intended or not.
Apart from the plot, the characters were not fully exploited. Some were (mostly) great. Quire, for instance. Despite him being the antagonist or anti-hero, I found him enjoyable. Chapters revolving around him, especially, in the first half of the book were the most lively. His presence despite him being absent in some places, was also great. But not some hiccups at the end - to me, something was missing. It was a bit difficult to believe his feelings and motivations in the end. Montfallcon, and his flaws, were lovely, or those of Mr Dee. But then, some Montfallcon's developments were again almost too rapid - not logically, but emotionally. And I did not keep up. Lady Lyst and Wheldrake - totally loveable but then I almost wanted them more. Countess of Scaith - had to grow on me, and just when I began to like her, Moorcock retracted her. Worse, Sir Thomasin Ffynne - a fine, highly potent character, but severely underexploited. Why such detailed and quite powerful introduction when he ends up not really doing much throughout the book, other than revealing some plot twists that may have been revealed through other, insignificant characters?
So yes, a bit of an imbalance.
But that is expected when you have a 300-something page book with so many characters.
My major disappointment, however, was the Queen. Perhaps too much based on sniffly, dreamy, whiney, moany Victorian ladies with their inner Romantic monologues, maybe one or two Elisabethan reflections and soul-spillouts too many. And some lack of potency, despite empathy with her position, situation and lack of fulfilment, self-wise, especially. I just somehow lost her in her explorations and when she picked up, I was still in my low. And I haven't caught-up. At the end, especially.
And yet, despite the flaws, there is something very unique and quite magic (despite its lack per se) in this book. Mostly in the construction of its world. But there is also something beyond the surface. Or maybe it just stroke some personal note self-exploration-wise, however it manifests in my life.
So make of "Gloriana" what you like. It's very English and a bit like marmite. To enjoy it, especially worldbuilding, it definitely helps to be familiar with their culture and thinking. And it's a treat. But not a guarantee for satisfaction on its own. So 4 stars but that's with a little bit of an advance. Just that tiny, little bit that makes everything so close and yet so punishingly far.
I had heard about Moorcock and his reputation of a, well, not quite an anti-tolkienist but someone who wanted to move things forward. Or away. To explore the darker aspects of fantasy. Yet, despite having flagged up "Elric of Melnibone" and circling around for a few years, I had kept putting Moorcock off.
"Gloriana" has been there on my shelf for over a year. And yet, I somehow doubted. Wasn't quite sure what to expect. On one hand, the cover and the synopsis promised a fairy-tale. On the other...
And so it was. A not-quite-a-fairy-tale.
For a book boasting "Winner of the World Fantasy Award" on its cover, there is surprising little fantasy in this one. There are inferences and allusions to that but that's about it. No magic, no dragons. There are references and allusions to real, historical personalities - for one, the character after whom the book is named - is a blend of Elisabeth the First and Queen Victoria. With the setting being more Elizabethan in some ways and more Victorian in others. And yet it is not really historic. An alternative reality, one could say, except for it reads like a fairy-tale. Or a play. A bit Victorian, a bit Shakespearian. Somewhat dreamy, something you could see played out in a scene.
I can totally see this re-interpreted as a play. And don't think it would make the story worse - so playful it is.
Although the story is most surely based on something else, the plot, at least to me, felt like a somewhat unique interpretation of "Tartuffe" in places. With some unique twists and additions.
You do have a court of Queen Gloriana. The (hopefully) eternal monarch, the ruler of a so called Golden Age in Albion - some echo of the Imperial Britain. Basically, an idyllic fairy-tale Victoria with the looks of Elizabeth the First. Contrary to the Virgin Queen, though, and the embodiment of hypocrytical purity, virtue, etc. of this Elizabeth's distant successor, Gloriana could be an embodiment of a modern female in exploration of her own sexuality. Or self. Just like half her court. And a significant portion of the story revolves around that - liberation and a search for one's sexual and overall self. Therefore, lavish feasts, orgies, mild erotics in a sexually fluid world. A fairy-tale indeed! While on one hand, this is quite intriguing, on the other, at some point it starts to tire the reader out. Although despite the fact that the reader can quite empathise with the explorations of the characters, and the fact that Moorcock somehow manages to avoid the phenomenon of "and then she boobily breasted down the stairs" (not mine, a borrowed saying) at times the story is a bit too focused on sexual (or general) fulfilment. Gloriana is somewhat obsessed. And I feel for her. it's not wrong to party extensively to forget yourself or feel unfulfilled as a human. And yes, no matter how many ways you can fulfill yourself, this one is important, too. And how! But sometimes it's a bit too much, and, as a reader, you may want other factors to drive the plot also.
And these factors are there. But they are not immediate or always present. I felt like the first third of the book was quite dragged out. Maybe even the first half. And as a reader I was semi-annoyed but when the shit finally hit the fan, I had already been captivated in other ways.
For one thing, this book does quite a lot of worldbuilding. Immensely. It re-creates - both in terms of replicating and creating anew - London. But not the London we know. That other London, the London of stories, fairy-tales and histories. And not only that. The Queen's court too. Probably more that than anything else. The characters (in a broad sense), set-up, costumes, intrigues, balls, masques, plays, feast, festivals and celebrations, chambers, halls and courtrooms, private audience rooms and ante-rooms. All with theatrical flavour. And that is outright beautiful. Firstly, visual. Colours, materials, details, scene set-ups. Secondly - the guesswork. Guess the place. The reference to a historical person, a book, a play, a poem, historical event. A country.
Like I said, it's beautiful.
And then - my favourite since Tolkien's mines of Moriah - the ruins. Moorcock masterfully uses the secret chambers, tunnels, passages and crumbles of secrets within for worldbuilding. With more promise of secrets. And that is exciting.
And so, although sometimes somewhat bored, at the same time you are captivated by those details. And you do not want to let it go, even if wishing the plot to wriggle-up more at the same time.
When it finally hits it off, things develop rapidly. But even so - underwater for a large part. Like in a real court. Nothing on the surface, intrigues and dramas within. Especially when Tartuffe strikes. Murders, political plots, even nightmares. What pushes a leg under one's feet, though, is that uneven pace. Sudden cliffhangers followed by lavish feasts and lazying of the rich great. Sudden excitement, followed by a lull. And then more lull. Until things hit off again. And the end, partly unexpectedly dramatic and dark, despite the expected sunshines ("only an Englishman can write such horrors"), partly unexpectedly cleansing, but not as absolving as one would like.
So I am somewhat at a loss. On one hand, got plenty to think about, especially relationship-, bed-, life- and self-wise, but just like Gloriana, I can't quite say I got there. The ending was a bit rushed, the events that led to it a bit underwater and I never built up to the level of the expected doom, so the emotional release did not quite happen. And I am not sure, story-wise, if that was intended or not.
Apart from the plot, the characters were not fully exploited. Some were (mostly) great. Quire, for instance. Despite him being the antagonist or anti-hero, I found him enjoyable. Chapters revolving around him, especially, in the first half of the book were the most lively. His presence despite him being absent in some places, was also great. But not some hiccups at the end - to me, something was missing. It was a bit difficult to believe his feelings and motivations in the end. Montfallcon, and his flaws, were lovely, or those of Mr Dee. But then, some Montfallcon's developments were again almost too rapid - not logically, but emotionally. And I did not keep up. Lady Lyst and Wheldrake - totally loveable but then I almost wanted them more. Countess of Scaith - had to grow on me, and just when I began to like her, Moorcock retracted her. Worse, Sir Thomasin Ffynne - a fine, highly potent character, but severely underexploited. Why such detailed and quite powerful introduction when he ends up not really doing much throughout the book, other than revealing some plot twists that may have been revealed through other, insignificant characters?
So yes, a bit of an imbalance.
But that is expected when you have a 300-something page book with so many characters.
My major disappointment, however, was the Queen. Perhaps too much based on sniffly, dreamy, whiney, moany Victorian ladies with their inner Romantic monologues, maybe one or two Elisabethan reflections and soul-spillouts too many. And some lack of potency, despite empathy with her position, situation and lack of fulfilment, self-wise, especially. I just somehow lost her in her explorations and when she picked up, I was still in my low. And I haven't caught-up. At the end, especially.
And yet, despite the flaws, there is something very unique and quite magic (despite its lack per se) in this book. Mostly in the construction of its world. But there is also something beyond the surface. Or maybe it just stroke some personal note self-exploration-wise, however it manifests in my life.
So make of "Gloriana" what you like. It's very English and a bit like marmite. To enjoy it, especially worldbuilding, it definitely helps to be familiar with their culture and thinking. And it's a treat. But not a guarantee for satisfaction on its own. So 4 stars but that's with a little bit of an advance. Just that tiny, little bit that makes everything so close and yet so punishingly far.
May 19, 2014
This review contains spoilers.
Gloriana cannot be described as historical fiction or even an alternate history. However, the Albion that Gloriana rules will be very familiar to most readers.
Gloriana is a fantasy novel, set in a fantasy world during a Golden Age of chivalry, prosperity, science, culture and art. Gloriana presides over Albion and it's colonies / protectorates with a rule that solves difference amicably, that does not permit execution or violence and promotes justice. Of course, there is a seedy underbelly to Albion, one which Gloriana is barely aware of and there is political intrigue and Gloriana's chancellor Montfallcon carries out dirty work unbeknownst to her to ensure her reign is peaceful. Montfallcon has hired help - the mysterious Quire who can aid Albion through murder, kidnap and manipulation to achieve his aims.
Montfallcon's desire for 'peace' is based on his being one of the few survivors of Gloriana's father's reign - King Hern. Hern ruled by cruelty and terror. Montfallcon's family was slaughtered by Hern and he saw his life work to protect Gloriana. A central theme of the book is not returning to those 'bad days'.
Gloriana despite presiding over a Golden Age is filled with a sadness and a yearning - for she cannot achieve orgasm. Gloriana engages in a range of sexual practices to seek 'fulfilment' which she never get despite her nightly efforts.
In political intrigue other powers seek to control Albion and seek it's wealth and power. A couple of suitors are in the frame and Gloriana seeks not to offend them but to hold them off in a combination of statehood, diplomacy and espionage.
Whilst the court of Albion is interesting and the world is vivid and recognisable, one problem I have with the book is that nothing really happens for the first half of the book. The plot is pedestrian at times.
Moorcock acknowledges that this book is a homage to two works he greatly admires. The first is Mervyn Peake's Gormeghast series and the second is Edmund Spenser's The Faerie Queene.
I've read and loved (well, at least the first two) Gormenghast books. Moorcock was a friend of Peake's and the influence of Gormenghast is clear in this work. When I read the early chapters I felt I was in for a real treat. The description of Gloriana's castle and it's denizens does evoke Gormenghast strongly. Like Gormenghast, Gloriana's castle is vast as buildings are built near existing buildings and then roofed and then building work takes place over old building work. What we have is a vast warren of corridors and rooms, most closed off to the Court (indeed, most of the official residents of the Castle know little of what is behind the walls, despite the sounds of despair of an 'unfulfilled' Queen carrying around the building). Inside the walls live disgraced nobles, criminals, former lovers, people in hiding and various misfits. The two worlds co-exist but eventually collide.
Much has been written of Moorcock's characterisation, in particular the character of Quire. If the reader is familiar with the Gormenghast series then Quire is recognisable as Steerpike. However, Quire is not a patch on Steerpike. Both can be equally despicable and commit barbarous acts but I feel Quire has none of the charm of Steerpike who is a real rags to riches story - an individual motivated by passion. Quire is cunning and cruel but again, can't hold a candle to Steerpike's cunning. For me, Steerpike is an anti-hero whereas Quire has no redeeming features and isn't even that interesting. In terms of characterisation, I remember the inhabitants of Gormenghast really well and think of them fondly still. With the exception of Una, Countess of Scaith, (the Queen's best friend and lover) the character's are pretty forgettable.
The other work that this book is based on is Spenser's 'The Faerie Queene'. This unfinished epic poem was written in the Elizabethan era and although there is no evidence Elizabeth I ever read the poem she did publically support it. In 'The Faerie Queene' Gloriana is the queen of 'Fairyland'. I have not read this book but I understand the book was intended to be viewed allegorically for Elizabethan audiences and Gloriana was intended to be read as Queen Elizabeth. The intention of The Faerie Queene was to 'fashion a gentleman or noble person in virtuous and gentle discipline'. Therefore 'Gloriana' does promote virtues within the Court of Gloriana but this is really on a surface level. Perhaps this is a nod to Spenser's glorious opinion of Elizabethan society was very different in reality?
So onto the sex of the book. For a novel about sex and filled with sex this book is pretty unerotic. I saw this book described as an 'erotic fantasy romp' and realistically it's anything but. Gloriana has a seraglio where various people and misfits live. On one level it a home for the dispossessed (like those who live in the walls), on another it's an area of the castle where every possible sexual activity can and is engaged in. Moorcock makes it abundantly clear everyone in the seraglio loves the Queen and wants to be there. Despite the sexual activity being very much on the 'extreme' end it's made clear all activity is consensual. And this is my big problem with the book. I consider myself broad minded and as a libertarian think people should be able to engage in any consensual activity between adults. I don't particularly enjoy reading about the S&M and sexual degradation in the book but I accept people can and do engage in this behaviour and lead normal happy lives. What I have a problem with is the casual nature of paedophilia in the book and the fact that it is mostly consensual. I'm aware of the practice in ancient Greece of men engaging in sex with pre-pubescent boys and I'm aware that the concept of when a girl / woman matures isn't viewed the same around the world today - let alone in the past. It just seems that there is a lot of consensual sex with children alluded to in the book and on one level I felt the book promoted this. Aside from any philosophical argument of consent the fact is this practice worldwide does not 'seek' consent. Maybe it's a product of the time but it felt wrong reading this today.
The second 'sexual' problem is that of bestiality - Gloriana has 'ape-men' to please her. They seem sub-human, like some kind of missing link and are more animal than man. Animals have feelings and emotions but until a dog can bark once for yes and twice for no this is another 'consent' issue. An argument could be made that these creatures are more man than animal - if that's the case then Moorcock is treading on dangerous ground - probably with some racist assumptions.
The third and most important and famous 'sex' problem is that of the ending. Gloriana is raped by Quire and at last achieves sexual satisfaction. So that's it - even if Moorcock didn't mean it there is a message in here that women can get off whilst being raped. Even though that may not be the central message I'm not sure what the message is. One reading suggests Gloriana achieves sexual satisfaction by having her 'power' and 'control' taken off her and finally being 'her'. What a cop out! She can't cope with statehood and the 'responsibility' of being Queen and Quire 'taking' her sets her free?
Moorcock re-wrote the ending which I have also read. Gloriana says 'no' and achieves orgasm by asserting her 'power'. Stopping an attempted rape gets you off does it? I'm sure there are deeper messages but they were lost on me in the unsettling ending.
Gloriana cannot be described as historical fiction or even an alternate history. However, the Albion that Gloriana rules will be very familiar to most readers.
Gloriana is a fantasy novel, set in a fantasy world during a Golden Age of chivalry, prosperity, science, culture and art. Gloriana presides over Albion and it's colonies / protectorates with a rule that solves difference amicably, that does not permit execution or violence and promotes justice. Of course, there is a seedy underbelly to Albion, one which Gloriana is barely aware of and there is political intrigue and Gloriana's chancellor Montfallcon carries out dirty work unbeknownst to her to ensure her reign is peaceful. Montfallcon has hired help - the mysterious Quire who can aid Albion through murder, kidnap and manipulation to achieve his aims.
Montfallcon's desire for 'peace' is based on his being one of the few survivors of Gloriana's father's reign - King Hern. Hern ruled by cruelty and terror. Montfallcon's family was slaughtered by Hern and he saw his life work to protect Gloriana. A central theme of the book is not returning to those 'bad days'.
Gloriana despite presiding over a Golden Age is filled with a sadness and a yearning - for she cannot achieve orgasm. Gloriana engages in a range of sexual practices to seek 'fulfilment' which she never get despite her nightly efforts.
In political intrigue other powers seek to control Albion and seek it's wealth and power. A couple of suitors are in the frame and Gloriana seeks not to offend them but to hold them off in a combination of statehood, diplomacy and espionage.
Whilst the court of Albion is interesting and the world is vivid and recognisable, one problem I have with the book is that nothing really happens for the first half of the book. The plot is pedestrian at times.
Moorcock acknowledges that this book is a homage to two works he greatly admires. The first is Mervyn Peake's Gormeghast series and the second is Edmund Spenser's The Faerie Queene.
I've read and loved (well, at least the first two) Gormenghast books. Moorcock was a friend of Peake's and the influence of Gormenghast is clear in this work. When I read the early chapters I felt I was in for a real treat. The description of Gloriana's castle and it's denizens does evoke Gormenghast strongly. Like Gormenghast, Gloriana's castle is vast as buildings are built near existing buildings and then roofed and then building work takes place over old building work. What we have is a vast warren of corridors and rooms, most closed off to the Court (indeed, most of the official residents of the Castle know little of what is behind the walls, despite the sounds of despair of an 'unfulfilled' Queen carrying around the building). Inside the walls live disgraced nobles, criminals, former lovers, people in hiding and various misfits. The two worlds co-exist but eventually collide.
Much has been written of Moorcock's characterisation, in particular the character of Quire. If the reader is familiar with the Gormenghast series then Quire is recognisable as Steerpike. However, Quire is not a patch on Steerpike. Both can be equally despicable and commit barbarous acts but I feel Quire has none of the charm of Steerpike who is a real rags to riches story - an individual motivated by passion. Quire is cunning and cruel but again, can't hold a candle to Steerpike's cunning. For me, Steerpike is an anti-hero whereas Quire has no redeeming features and isn't even that interesting. In terms of characterisation, I remember the inhabitants of Gormenghast really well and think of them fondly still. With the exception of Una, Countess of Scaith, (the Queen's best friend and lover) the character's are pretty forgettable.
The other work that this book is based on is Spenser's 'The Faerie Queene'. This unfinished epic poem was written in the Elizabethan era and although there is no evidence Elizabeth I ever read the poem she did publically support it. In 'The Faerie Queene' Gloriana is the queen of 'Fairyland'. I have not read this book but I understand the book was intended to be viewed allegorically for Elizabethan audiences and Gloriana was intended to be read as Queen Elizabeth. The intention of The Faerie Queene was to 'fashion a gentleman or noble person in virtuous and gentle discipline'. Therefore 'Gloriana' does promote virtues within the Court of Gloriana but this is really on a surface level. Perhaps this is a nod to Spenser's glorious opinion of Elizabethan society was very different in reality?
So onto the sex of the book. For a novel about sex and filled with sex this book is pretty unerotic. I saw this book described as an 'erotic fantasy romp' and realistically it's anything but. Gloriana has a seraglio where various people and misfits live. On one level it a home for the dispossessed (like those who live in the walls), on another it's an area of the castle where every possible sexual activity can and is engaged in. Moorcock makes it abundantly clear everyone in the seraglio loves the Queen and wants to be there. Despite the sexual activity being very much on the 'extreme' end it's made clear all activity is consensual. And this is my big problem with the book. I consider myself broad minded and as a libertarian think people should be able to engage in any consensual activity between adults. I don't particularly enjoy reading about the S&M and sexual degradation in the book but I accept people can and do engage in this behaviour and lead normal happy lives. What I have a problem with is the casual nature of paedophilia in the book and the fact that it is mostly consensual. I'm aware of the practice in ancient Greece of men engaging in sex with pre-pubescent boys and I'm aware that the concept of when a girl / woman matures isn't viewed the same around the world today - let alone in the past. It just seems that there is a lot of consensual sex with children alluded to in the book and on one level I felt the book promoted this. Aside from any philosophical argument of consent the fact is this practice worldwide does not 'seek' consent. Maybe it's a product of the time but it felt wrong reading this today.
The second 'sexual' problem is that of bestiality - Gloriana has 'ape-men' to please her. They seem sub-human, like some kind of missing link and are more animal than man. Animals have feelings and emotions but until a dog can bark once for yes and twice for no this is another 'consent' issue. An argument could be made that these creatures are more man than animal - if that's the case then Moorcock is treading on dangerous ground - probably with some racist assumptions.
The third and most important and famous 'sex' problem is that of the ending. Gloriana is raped by Quire and at last achieves sexual satisfaction. So that's it - even if Moorcock didn't mean it there is a message in here that women can get off whilst being raped. Even though that may not be the central message I'm not sure what the message is. One reading suggests Gloriana achieves sexual satisfaction by having her 'power' and 'control' taken off her and finally being 'her'. What a cop out! She can't cope with statehood and the 'responsibility' of being Queen and Quire 'taking' her sets her free?
Moorcock re-wrote the ending which I have also read. Gloriana says 'no' and achieves orgasm by asserting her 'power'. Stopping an attempted rape gets you off does it? I'm sure there are deeper messages but they were lost on me in the unsettling ending.
May 15, 2022
In Which an Account Is Given of How the Reviewer Encountered the Novel and of the Frequent Comparisons and Contrasts To Mervyn Peake's Gormenghast To Follow
Though the following account contains, hopefully to a thorough and elucidative extent, descriptions of many aspects of the aforementioned novel, all efforts will be made to avoiding plundering or "spoiling" any twists or events of plot, bar where hidden from view (be warned ye who click on spoilers).
Okay, so I shan't keep up trying to construct sentences like that for the entirety of the review (not least because I begin to have a conniption trying to determine which words should and should not be capitalized in a title), but that is how the chapter titles are structured throughout Gloriana, and gives an idea of the more baroque, older style in which the novel's written.
I don't know strictly where I first heard of or was recommended Gloriana, but I have no doubt it was on a thread about Gormenghast; Gloriana is dedicated to memory of Peake, and it is a clear homage and love letter to Gormenghast. I will, inevitably, be referencing Gormenghast frequently through this review, both in comparison and contrast, but it's worth saying this initially: while it is clearly inspired by Gormenghast, it doesn't merely copy Peake's books, and it does much differently and in addition to being an homage; and, despite many differences, I think it is the closest thing to Gormenghast I've yet read.
I'm going to wear out the G on my keyboard.
In Which The Reviewer Outlines the Premise of Gloriana
Gloriana is primarily a pastiche of Elizabethan romances, plastered on a framework of a dialogue between Mervyn Peake's Gormenghast and Edmund Spenser's The Faerie Queene, as strange and yet not inconceivable bedfellows as that might seem. It is very much a Fantasy of Manners novel, in the London of an alternate/approximate British Empire. And, as one may gather from "erotic fantasia" and the fate of the realm lying on one man's lovemaking skill, it is also a book rather involved with sex- The Unfullfill'd Queen in the title being, as opposed to the historical Virgin Queen, a queen no one has been able to satisfy. It isn't erotica or even steamy, but it involves a lot of often quite strange (and sometimes dubiously consensual, from a modern perspective) sexual acts- it reminds me a little of Dhalgren in that regard, for a reference frame.
In Which the Novel is Described in Contents and Style
Gloriana fits quite neatly into the classification of Fantasy of Manners- the basic events of the novel, underneath Peake and Spenser, sex and Romance (the genre), are of plots and schemes, court politics and character interactions. Most of the novel takes place inside the palace, a huge, rambling, labyrinthine structure worthy of comparison to Gormenghast.
The novel is written in a very fun, almost baroque prose style. It doesn't have the density or complexity of someone like Peake or Wolfe, but it is very stylized nonetheless. Complex compound sentences abound, be it with lists, clauses which are, even nestedly at time, subordinated, or semicolon splices. Not every sentence is long, but many are.
One very large divergence from Gormenghast is the focus- while Gormenghast is very much a setting and atmosphere driven novel, Gloriana is focused on characters and their interactions. There are plots and schemes, politics (domestic and international), shifting alliances and betrayals and perceived betrayals.
The novel primarily revolves around Captain Quire and his scheming and plots. We're introduced with him working for the Realm, and we see his skills and efficacy. But, well, alliances can shift... Quire is an amazing Machiavellian hero? Anti-hero? Villain? Well up in that literary realm alongside Gormenghast's eminent Steerpike. He's a bit of a bastard, and very amoral, but very understandable too, and even honourable, for a given value of honour.
In Which a Resident Pachyderm is Finally Acknowledged, and Explanations Given to Some Extent
So, in the next paragraph I will, spoilering where apt, discuss a portion towards the very end of the novel. But I'll initially just say this- there are two versions of chapter 34 of Gloriana. With the initial version, I would have knocked off at least a star of my rating. The relevant event of that chapter, while making sense with regards to the characters, made everything that followed both make much less sense and feel worse on a moral/meta level. I think the change that was made, while still having that section be weaker than the rest of the novel for me, made the results make far more sense and saved the novel.
Heavy spoilers here: I still think the ending portion wasn't as good as it could have been, but as I said: the change saved the novel for me.
I'll let Moorcock describe the change in his own words (I put one portion in spoilers, but it isn't really a spoiler imo; it describes a theme, not an event):
You're dead on about Gloriana, but it wasnt public outcry made me change it, just my own thinking about it. I was upset that John Clute in the SF Encyclopedia ascribed my changes to some sort of knee-jerk 'feminism'. That wasn't the case. but I'd never been entirely happy with the original end. No point in saying 'women don't like this or don't like that' -- different women have different views. I just wasn't happy with the implications, as you say, so changed it to give what I thought was a better, clearer message.
In Which a Conclusion is Reached and Final Impressions Related
Overall, I really enjoyed Gloriana. It ended as 5/5 for me. It was a very fun court politics, schemey, Fantasy of Manners novel with a nice historical veneer. It was influenced by and homaged Gormenghast very well, the best I've seen done, and is the closest I've read, despite the differences- romantic vs gothic, characters vs setting. If it hadn't been for the very end, which despite saving the book after the change, still fell just a bit flat for me, it would have even been a new favourite.
Though the following account contains, hopefully to a thorough and elucidative extent, descriptions of many aspects of the aforementioned novel, all efforts will be made to avoiding plundering or "spoiling" any twists or events of plot, bar where hidden from view (be warned ye who click on spoilers).
Okay, so I shan't keep up trying to construct sentences like that for the entirety of the review (not least because I begin to have a conniption trying to determine which words should and should not be capitalized in a title), but that is how the chapter titles are structured throughout Gloriana, and gives an idea of the more baroque, older style in which the novel's written.
I don't know strictly where I first heard of or was recommended Gloriana, but I have no doubt it was on a thread about Gormenghast; Gloriana is dedicated to memory of Peake, and it is a clear homage and love letter to Gormenghast. I will, inevitably, be referencing Gormenghast frequently through this review, both in comparison and contrast, but it's worth saying this initially: while it is clearly inspired by Gormenghast, it doesn't merely copy Peake's books, and it does much differently and in addition to being an homage; and, despite many differences, I think it is the closest thing to Gormenghast I've yet read.
I'm going to wear out the G on my keyboard.
In Which The Reviewer Outlines the Premise of Gloriana
Gloriana is primarily a pastiche of Elizabethan romances, plastered on a framework of a dialogue between Mervyn Peake's Gormenghast and Edmund Spenser's The Faerie Queene, as strange and yet not inconceivable bedfellows as that might seem. It is very much a Fantasy of Manners novel, in the London of an alternate/approximate British Empire. And, as one may gather from "erotic fantasia" and the fate of the realm lying on one man's lovemaking skill, it is also a book rather involved with sex- The Unfullfill'd Queen in the title being, as opposed to the historical Virgin Queen, a queen no one has been able to satisfy. It isn't erotica or even steamy, but it involves a lot of often quite strange (and sometimes dubiously consensual, from a modern perspective) sexual acts- it reminds me a little of Dhalgren in that regard, for a reference frame.
In Which the Novel is Described in Contents and Style
Gloriana fits quite neatly into the classification of Fantasy of Manners- the basic events of the novel, underneath Peake and Spenser, sex and Romance (the genre), are of plots and schemes, court politics and character interactions. Most of the novel takes place inside the palace, a huge, rambling, labyrinthine structure worthy of comparison to Gormenghast.
The novel is written in a very fun, almost baroque prose style. It doesn't have the density or complexity of someone like Peake or Wolfe, but it is very stylized nonetheless. Complex compound sentences abound, be it with lists, clauses which are, even nestedly at time, subordinated, or semicolon splices. Not every sentence is long, but many are.
One very large divergence from Gormenghast is the focus- while Gormenghast is very much a setting and atmosphere driven novel, Gloriana is focused on characters and their interactions. There are plots and schemes, politics (domestic and international), shifting alliances and betrayals and perceived betrayals.
The novel primarily revolves around Captain Quire and his scheming and plots. We're introduced with him working for the Realm, and we see his skills and efficacy. But, well, alliances can shift... Quire is an amazing Machiavellian hero? Anti-hero? Villain? Well up in that literary realm alongside Gormenghast's eminent Steerpike. He's a bit of a bastard, and very amoral, but very understandable too, and even honourable, for a given value of honour.
In Which a Resident Pachyderm is Finally Acknowledged, and Explanations Given to Some Extent
So, in the next paragraph I will, spoilering where apt, discuss a portion towards the very end of the novel. But I'll initially just say this- there are two versions of chapter 34 of Gloriana. With the initial version, I would have knocked off at least a star of my rating. The relevant event of that chapter, while making sense with regards to the characters, made everything that followed both make much less sense and feel worse on a moral/meta level. I think the change that was made, while still having that section be weaker than the rest of the novel for me, made the results make far more sense and saved the novel.
Heavy spoilers here: I still think the ending portion wasn't as good as it could have been, but as I said: the change saved the novel for me.
I'll let Moorcock describe the change in his own words (I put one portion in spoilers, but it isn't really a spoiler imo; it describes a theme, not an event):
You're dead on about Gloriana, but it wasnt public outcry made me change it, just my own thinking about it. I was upset that John Clute in the SF Encyclopedia ascribed my changes to some sort of knee-jerk 'feminism'. That wasn't the case. but I'd never been entirely happy with the original end. No point in saying 'women don't like this or don't like that' -- different women have different views. I just wasn't happy with the implications, as you say, so changed it to give what I thought was a better, clearer message.
In Which a Conclusion is Reached and Final Impressions Related
Overall, I really enjoyed Gloriana. It ended as 5/5 for me. It was a very fun court politics, schemey, Fantasy of Manners novel with a nice historical veneer. It was influenced by and homaged Gormenghast very well, the best I've seen done, and is the closest I've read, despite the differences- romantic vs gothic, characters vs setting. If it hadn't been for the very end, which despite saving the book after the change, still fell just a bit flat for me, it would have even been a new favourite.
March 30, 2017
2.5 stars review to come :)
April 27, 2022
There’s a character called Dr Dee and he has a big ol dick. 5 stars truly ahead of its time
March 14, 2021
Let's play a guessing game, everyone: what do Gloriana and Perdido Street Station have in common? Apart from both being written by Tolkien separatists.
Any ideas? No?
It's very simple: (trigger warning)
Any ideas? No?
It's very simple: (trigger warning)
August 4, 2019
I am not convinced it is as successful as Thor: Ragnarok, which has similar meditations on the provenance of empire and power and its propagation to following generations. Moorcock has ambitions above and beyond his typical Eternal Champions stories, and while aspiring for Spenser's The Faerie Queene and Peake's Titus Groan with elements of Elizabeth I, the layers of irony and alternating light (Romance) and darkness (realpolitik and real disturbing grimdark) eventually traps him into a forced happy ending when the pure tragedy would either be more poignant or more natural.
I don't buy the ending, and I don't buy how he gets to the ending. And I'm reading the post-2016 revision removing a rape scene that, if I understand how it originally stitched together, would be even worse, something repugnant instead of unnaturally forced and kind of silly.
Still, one watches this story in motion, watches it fold transgressive and countercultural elements into this structured Romance, watching the Romance strip away to realpolitik machinations and eventually some truly dark events and material. Horrors underpin this Chivalry and Romance and those horrors claw their way to the surface just as a series of intricate plans collide and annihilate one another.
The sprawling, overwritten style infected with lists and enumeration of detail, it lulls the reader into complacency before smashing with the transgressive, extravagant sensuality and driving a spike with the darkness underneath.
I don't buy the ending, and I don't buy how he gets to the ending. And I'm reading the post-2016 revision removing a rape scene that, if I understand how it originally stitched together, would be even worse, something repugnant instead of unnaturally forced and kind of silly.
Still, one watches this story in motion, watches it fold transgressive and countercultural elements into this structured Romance, watching the Romance strip away to realpolitik machinations and eventually some truly dark events and material. Horrors underpin this Chivalry and Romance and those horrors claw their way to the surface just as a series of intricate plans collide and annihilate one another.
The sprawling, overwritten style infected with lists and enumeration of detail, it lulls the reader into complacency before smashing with the transgressive, extravagant sensuality and driving a spike with the darkness underneath.
May 15, 2013
‘Gloriana� is Michael Moorcock’s tribute to the incomparable Mervyn Peake. The young Moorcock was a great admirer of Peake’s work when it was little known, became a friend in his tragic last illness and assisted in the publication of ‘Titus Alone�.
Structurally, Moorcock’s book has many similarities to the Gormenghast books: the sprawling castle with its worlds-within-worlds, the large and quirky cast of fancifully named characters, the elaborate and ceremonial descriptions � although it is all filtered through a ‘seventies� sensibility, very far from Peake’s. This is most apparent in the suggestion that rape might be ‘liberating�. Given Moorcock’s subsequent close association with Andrea Dworkin, this must have become deeply embarrassing for him, and I believe that later editions do some serious back-pedalling. Whether this improves the book, I do not know.
There is much to enjoy in ‘Gloriana�. It overflows with good things. It can also be seen as a precursor of Moorcock’s later ‘mainstream� sequence, the ‘Pyat Quartet�, in its length (most of Moorcock’s early works are short and seem to have been knocked off in a fortnight at white heat, whereas 'Gloriana' shows signs of unusual care), its seriousness and its avoidance of standard fantasy tropes. Indeed, it is interesting to contemplate how it might have been if Moorcock had written the book later in his career...
Structurally, Moorcock’s book has many similarities to the Gormenghast books: the sprawling castle with its worlds-within-worlds, the large and quirky cast of fancifully named characters, the elaborate and ceremonial descriptions � although it is all filtered through a ‘seventies� sensibility, very far from Peake’s. This is most apparent in the suggestion that rape might be ‘liberating�. Given Moorcock’s subsequent close association with Andrea Dworkin, this must have become deeply embarrassing for him, and I believe that later editions do some serious back-pedalling. Whether this improves the book, I do not know.
There is much to enjoy in ‘Gloriana�. It overflows with good things. It can also be seen as a precursor of Moorcock’s later ‘mainstream� sequence, the ‘Pyat Quartet�, in its length (most of Moorcock’s early works are short and seem to have been knocked off in a fortnight at white heat, whereas 'Gloriana' shows signs of unusual care), its seriousness and its avoidance of standard fantasy tropes. Indeed, it is interesting to contemplate how it might have been if Moorcock had written the book later in his career...
December 6, 2019
El tema de la insatisfacción de la reina se trata de manera secundaria. Pero el final (tanto el original como el reescrito) lo utilizan como broche. Aprovechando, no se cual de los dos finales prefiero menos.
Expongo esto porque en primera instancia supuse que la historia girarÃa en torno a un personaje femenino con una problemática poco tratada. Y no fue asÃ. Gloriana se asemeja a un personaje ambiental completamente pasivo. Puede ser que esté en concordancia con una reina joven que se ha alienado del mundo producto de una sobreprotección de su canciller, pero desilusiona.
Si bien abundan las descripciones con enumeraciones innecesarias (memorable el recitar todos los materiales que pisa la reina en un camino), la narración es agradable. Y el abanico de personajes interesantes fue lo que no me permitió dejar el libro a medias. Lamentablemente, todo esto se pierde por el énfasis que se hace en dos personajes masculinos antagónicos, su relación y sus estrategias.
La redención final no se sostiene y termina por diluir los puntos rescatables. Puede que sea demasiado inglés para mi gusto.
Expongo esto porque en primera instancia supuse que la historia girarÃa en torno a un personaje femenino con una problemática poco tratada. Y no fue asÃ. Gloriana se asemeja a un personaje ambiental completamente pasivo. Puede ser que esté en concordancia con una reina joven que se ha alienado del mundo producto de una sobreprotección de su canciller, pero desilusiona.
Si bien abundan las descripciones con enumeraciones innecesarias (memorable el recitar todos los materiales que pisa la reina en un camino), la narración es agradable. Y el abanico de personajes interesantes fue lo que no me permitió dejar el libro a medias. Lamentablemente, todo esto se pierde por el énfasis que se hace en dos personajes masculinos antagónicos, su relación y sus estrategias.
La redención final no se sostiene y termina por diluir los puntos rescatables. Puede que sea demasiado inglés para mi gusto.
July 27, 2011
I read this becuase my husband's a devoted Moorcock fan (they're on first name terms- isn't this internet thing amazing?) I'll diplomatically say it's just not my cup of tea - there are just too many lists of fabrics, metals, walls that makes the prose unwieldy. I did love the fact that the most powerful character was a woman - exaggerated, but still human and I can't actively dislike a book that concludes that a really good orgasm is good for queen and country. So much SF/ fantasy (especially back when this was written) seemed to be written by men who'd never actually met a real live woman, so I'm impressed by 'Mike's' fem cred.
December 9, 2009
I have tried reading this blasted book three times. I know it's me. Moorcock does a wonderful job of creating an alternate England. But, for me, something is missing. I'm not sure. Maybe its the whole take on Elizabeth. I don't know. Moorcock does write an excellent Dr. Dee, however.
January 5, 2014
What turns out to be a comical almost farcical theme (a Queen, modelling on the Virgin Queen, struggling for "release") turns out to be deftly spun and extraordinarily written novel, marking it as one of Fantasy's most searing triumphs.
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