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In the 1920s, magnate Zeffer buys his mistress Katya a room decorated with Boschian mosaics of sex and violence and in the 1990s, Todd Pickett decides he needs a face-lift to save his career; both do not know that they have made a decision which risks their lives and their souls. And somehow, sooner or later, everyone from Tammy, the overweight, obsessive, good president of Todd's fan club, to Micky, a dying former child star with a life full of secrets, ends up in the rich cloying jungle that the gardens of Coldheart Canyon have become, finding out things they never wanted to know about sex, madness, courage and generosity.
Barker has always been brilliant at showing us just how bad things can get--the games of sexual power, the corrupting metamorphoses; here he adds something: a genuine conviction of the possibility of human goodness and kindness that saves people. --Roz Kaveney --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
Praise for Clive Barker:
‘An invocation of both magic and the imagination… A majestic maze of mythmaking’
WASHINGTON TIMES
‘Passionate and ingenious… A ride with remarkable views’
TIMES LITERARY SUPPLEMENT
‘A fabulous, engrossing war of the worlds’
PEOPLE MAGAZINE
‘Barker dislocates your mind’
MAIL ON SUNDAY
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Actually, this latest is a little better than some of his other recent output, but its self-indulgent, repetitive and tedious, there isn't a single believable character - indeed the central character is possibly the most annoying creation on the page in some years - the plot lacks drive and Barker seems obsessed with detailed descriptions of sex (for no real reason, they do little to tell us anything about character, situation or plot - they just seem to be there to prove that he can 'do' straight sex in novels). The images he conjures fail to convince - despite the fact that he's raided them from his own back-catalogue (mostly the Books of Blood and Weaveworld).
Perhaps worst of all Barker can't seem to make up his own mind whether or not he likes his characters, and his sympathies roam around haphazardly.
I was really hoping that there would be some return to form with this novel, but I was disappointed. Galilee II is next on the list - which isn't likely to be any more interesting than the first part of that story - along with Abarat (trust me, it's not very good). And then in a few months we finally get the last installment of the Art trilogy - I can only hope that by returning to his earlier mythology he rediscovers something of his strength as a writer.
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