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I loved this book. Not only did it include invented works of historical fiction about Shakespeare, John Dee, and Giordano Bruno, the present-day "philosophical romance" was perfectly beautiful. For example, a summer night's party harkens back to paradisaical innocence. It's dreamy and a little hard to follow, but that's how it is, isn't it?
And the ideas... as good as any philosophy book. Better, because form and content are so intertwined. What is history? What does it mean that humans are so intent on creating meaning? And how does meaning come to be embodied in tangible ways? Maybe what I love most is the balance the book strikes--no, our fantasies aren't real, but no, they're also not impotent--Somehow the myths we create change the world, somehow Mind is more infinite than we realize. I can't wait to read the rest of the tetrology.