Massive Myth-making Masterpiece
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Surely the most criminally neglected English novel of all time?
This is truly a huge book in all aspects; size - 750 pages of beautifully dense closely scripted prose, but also scope - for Powys attempts a rare and ambitious thesis of describing the very process by which myths are manufactured. In describing events ocurring during just one week in 499A.D.he far exceeds the torpid Fantasy genre that could easily claim this novel as their own. Yes all the names are their (with appropriately alternative spellings, Arthur, Merlin, Taliesin et al) but, most importantly, they form a mythopoetic backdrop for a much more historically specific drama to ripple outwards.
A very easy novel to misjudge by its cover, even its blurb. However for those who would enjoy the meatiest read of an almost Shakespearean scope addled with a Proustian sensitivity, Lawrentian eroticism and an almost Joycean fixation with language this could be the one for you. All four literary giants are namechecked in reviews by much more intelligent readers then myself on the back cover!
Simply the best novel I have encountered this millenium...and then some.
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