I bought this book back in the 'nineties, having heard Cecil Lewis on the radio. (Desert Island Discs-available on podcast) He seemed a charming and charismatic person, who had led a wonderfully interesting life. WW1 fighter ace, founder of the BBC, friend of George Bernard Shaw, Hollywood scriptwriter, etc...etc. For some reason, I never got beyond Chapter two at the time, and only now have attempted the whole story.
I can only liken my experience to being in a train carriage with no corridor, with an interesting stranger, who weaves a wonderful story for an hour or so, and then turns to one and says, "by the way, I'm the member of a particular religious cult. Let me tell you all about it." Because for the latter half of this book, Lewis expounds on the teachings of one Gurdjieff-at enormous length, for chapter after chapter! On a train, there would be little alternative to hearing the whole story, politely, and hoping never again to meet the stranger. With a book, at least there is the option of putting it back on the shelf and looking for something more interesting.