Brilliant
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I got this for Christmas and had finished it the day after Boxing Day. What a trip! One long rush of words and ideas that makes all the Will Selfs and Nick Hornbys look like witless amateurs. I wish I'd know about this book sooner. I enjoyed Mother London enormously. It is a warm, generous, deep and moving book. King of the City reads as if that generous heart has finally taken all it can stand. Its clever understanding of Blair's arrogance and dreams, its description of the Royal Family, its anger over Rwanda and Bosnia anticipate the worse that was to come. Yet that love of London -- for all that this London is mainly invented (though very credible) -- shines through and the coda in the bleak seaside town reminds you of every bad British holiday you've ever taken. I can't recommend King of the City enough.
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Doesn't Michael Moorcock ever get fed up with it
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Fed up with these brilliant literary novels being described, even here, as 'science fiction and fantasy' ? I enjoy a very wide range of fiction and am no snob about sf, finding much of it as good as the best literary fiction, but those who don't like sf (and there are many who simply don't find it to their taste) are missing out on some of the best contemporary fiction if they assume Michael Moorcock only writes generic fiction. I have now read The Brothel in Rosenstrasse, Byzantium Endures, The Laughter of Carthage, Jerusalem Commands, London Bone, Mother London and now King of the City. That's seven rich and ambitious literary works which, had they been written by a writer not known for his fantasy (and I would add Gloriana as a literary novel, rather than a fantasy) would without doubt be regarded as 'one of our leading British novelists' as more than one critic has described him. King of the City is a wonderful, warm, sardonic tale of our times, written from the viewpoint of a tabloid newsman who wrong foots a story and finds himself driven out into the media wasteland. He looks back on a life of news photography and rock and roll, especially in relation to his benign cousin Rosie (a charity professional) and his wicked cousin Barbican, who becomes one of the richest men in the world. There are dozens and dozens of other memorable characters, some extraordinary scenes, some wonderful invented parts of London (Moorcock's own borough is the fictitious Brookgate, squeezed between Holborn and Clerkenwell) and language which the likes of Martin Amis would die to be able to emulate. Yet though this novel obviously got brilliant reviews, it can only be bought easily via Amazon and is hardly present in any shops. Hooray for Amazon, of course, where I have been able to buy several of the novels mentioned above, but it how is it possible such a fine, intelligent novelist is hardly present in any lists when someone who is nowhere as good, such as Mr Amis,
is virtually a household word. I know this is a bit of a rant, but I would earnestly recommend anyone who has not picked up a Michael Moorcock novel to have a look at this one, or possibly
Mother London, or even London Bone (which is short stories) and give him a try! This work will last when more fashionable fiction is dead and gone. Invest in him now!!
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Fast, furious, funny
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-- and even more up to the moment than when it was written.
Denny Dover, photo-journalists, gets mixed up in some bent
corporate politics which is destroying the section of London
he grew up in. He loves Rosie Beck, who seems to be attracted
to the power of big business in theperson of Barbican Begg, a
kind of composite of every villainous corporate adventurer you've ever read about (and you're probably reading about a lot of them
now). How he and Rosie ultimately turn the tables on corporate
corruption and live happily ever after (maybe) is the story. A cast of fabulous characters -- some of them from real life -- and a good insight into the Stiff period of rock and roll, when
idealistic rockers like Elvis Costello, Graham Parker, Wreckless Eric and Ian Dury pounded the air waves. Moorcock was there and
he can capture the feel of what it's like to perform at a rock
concert because he did perform in rock concerts! I started this book over again the minute I finished it and I never, ever do that normally. Great, great reading!
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Sex, Drugs, Rock and Roll in London
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This book is brilliant. It captures the mood of seventies and eightees London, all the way up to the near future. It's full of great sex, terrible and copious drugs, and ROCK AND ROLL. If you love real rock and roll, from Chuck Berry to the Pistols, this book is for you. It isn't in the
Easy Listening section, that's for sure. A blast, in every sense of the word! What energy!
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A reaction to me-ism and the selfish nineties
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He's a slippery old bugger, this Moorcock. As soon as you think you've got him pinned down, he's off again doing something totally unexpected. I thought this would be another 'Mother London' and was looking forward to it a lot. In fact it's not much like 'Mother London' at all -- it's almost the opposite. Mother London was a celebration.
King of the City is an elegy. But because Moorcock's optimism is maybe his only consistent trait from book to book, even this grim fable gradually becomes ebullient, positive, ultimately thoroughly, unreservedly optimistic. But this optimism, it seems to say, doesn't come free. You need to pay in, to trust your community, to identify your interest with that of the bricks and mortar (and concrete) of the modern city and, ultimately, the moral responsibility is all yours. Some people thought this book attacked capitalism. For me it celebrates capitalism and democracy -- but not the ersatz versions or the aggressive versions -- this celebrates honest trade and tolerant cosmopolitanism and doesn't go for easy targets at all. It's always unwise to identify too much with a Moorcock narrator -- or to believe that Moorcock identifies with his narrator... Hasn't anyone noticed yet how consistently good and interesting Moorcock has been over a forty year career ?
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