Whilst this is streets ahead of anything else published recently in English, it is clear that the author couldn't wait to be finished and rid of Pyat, the vile central character. It is less dense than the preceding three books of the quartet, runs out of steam, does little to tackle the horrors of the camps, and finishes in an unsatisfactory way. What should have been a shock denoument and ultimate act of betrayal had been flagged so openly earlier in the series that it went off like a damp squib.
You could almost imagine that Mr Moorcock was leaving the way open for a fifth volume covering Pyat's life through the post-war years and up to his death. But I doubt that is the case. He has lived with this character for decades and must surely want to be cleansed of his filth.
Despite the criticism, Moorcock (even in this book) is still, by far, the best novelist in the English language working today. He outstrips the literati with his invention, his assured language, skilled plotting, and willingness to tackle issues that affect us all. His keen political eye spots hypocrisy wherever it is manifest and shreds it with deft words. His humanity gives us characters that are both Dickensian in their portraiture whilst remaining real; characters we can know, love and sympathise with. Even Pyat, vile in so many ways, evokes compassion.
And yes, this is the Michael Moorcock who also wrote science fiction and fantasy. This does not mean he is not a good writer (although many sf and fantasy writers turn out the most atrocious recycled garbage). He is the best and I hope that he has more of his gems to offer us to help us survive in a world that needs insightful interpreters and a world of literature that needs skilled practitioners.