I already commented on someone else's review of this book. Anyway, the best fantasy novel I've ever read (and the best read I've had this year). Not an easy read, but take it slow and let the beautiful language establish its own pace. Gorgeous prose that reads like poetry.

Fantasy is not my genre. At all. In no way, shape, or form. At around p. 70 I was deeply regretting having cracked The Worm Ouroboros. But I pushed on, and oddly enough, I began to enjoy it, primarily because the language is quite exquisite, baroque, Shakespearean. I won't say the plot pulled me in completely, but I will admit to rooting for the heroes of Demonland in their quest to subdue the warriors of Carcë. And there are bits that are quite humorous:

Brandoch Jaha said in Juss's ear, "Our peacemaking taketh a pretty turn. Heels i' the air: monstrous unladylike!"

Haunting, horrifying, so beautiful it made me weep, in places unreadable. I am in awe.

Other reviewers have observed that the language makes it difficult to get through this book, or that the book will only appeal to linguists due to its archaically stilted language. As it happens, I *am* a linguist with an extensive background in ancient languages, and I devoured it with tears of joy. I don't know who in the world I would recommend it to, but it's as if it was written for me.

The whole book felt to me like a series of "of course" moments, both in terms of plot and language. Of course a wizened old man brings dire portents on the night before a great battle, and of course our brash young hero ignores his warnings to his peril. Of course we switch to Chaucerian Middle English prose when in epistolary mode, and of course the names are spelt differently within the selfsame paragraph (just as Middle English scribes did). I found the ending unsettling, but the fact that it brought everything full-circle and thus became the biggest "of course" moment of all made it uniquely satisfying. And I do mean uniquely. The triumph of this book lies in its ability to be both utterly familiar and yet utterly fresh at the same time. It's archetypal rather than stereotypical, and Eddison pulls it off to masterly perfection. If you like that sort of thing.

I won't comment overmuch on its themes or construction, but because I can't help myself I'm including a few cursory observations on the language for those who might be confused and/or curious. In no particular order:

-- In an older period of the English language, "worm" (also spelled "wyrm") was a rather generic term for a serpent or dragon. A number of common(ish) words are used in this book with their archaic meanings, for instance leech=doctor, loom=tool, weird=spell. You may want to have a dictionary handy for the downright uncommon words like garth, benison, mickle, rede, snell & frore, and so on. Many of these derive from Anglo-Saxon terms that are no longer in use.

-- The conjunction "and" is frequently used with the sense of "if." Shakespeare does this, but he usually shortens it to "an" instead of "and."

-- If you're confused by a stray "a," it's probably standing in for "he."

-- Thou/thee/thy is the old 2nd person singular form of "you." In Shakespeare's time, it was in the process of being replaced by "you," which was originally a plural form for when you're addressing more than one person. It was also the way you'd address someone formally, when you need to show extra respect. If you pay close attention you'll notice that King Gorice is addressed as "you," while all others are addressed as "thou." There is one exception to this late in the book; Gorice becomes angry when he is improperly addressed as "thou," as it doesn't show him adequate respect.

-- Eddison frequently uses archaic past tense forms of verbs, such as "holpen" instead of "helped," "gat" for "got," "brake" for "broke," and so on. In other cases, he uses old verbs that aren't used any more in modern English, notably "wist" instead of know/knew.

-- Eddison makes wonderful use of the subjunctive mood. The practical takeaway from this is that he uses "were" in situations where we speakers of Modern English would say "would be."

-- In my experience, the poetic interludes can be skipped without missing anything. The Middle English letters are more important to the plot, but most of their contents can be surmised from the surrounding narrative if you can't make heads or tails of them. It's largely the spelling that makes them difficult, rather than vocabulary or syntax.

So, I've decided to start writing reviews for the books i've read on here (only some as i am a busy, lazy man and i hate most of you goodreaders anyway). Also, i really dont care to put any effort in the crap i write on this site, so, pardon the shite grammar and structure.

This book... was fucking amazing!

The world is... well, the physical look of the world... it's just beautiful. Eddison takes great pleasure in describing this beautiful world and it's riches. I can just imagine it, full of bright exaggerated colors. Like, i bet this fuckin sky is blue as blue can possibly be. and the marble stone? so smooth and clean. The giant moon. all that good shit. Let's just say, this world of Mercury is a visual orgasm.

Now, the characters. I love em all, even if their names don't have any real world linguistic value. The Demons are the obligatory protagonist, but they are generally morally ambiguous. The witches are just some big old assholes.

I felt that Eddison did a great job of making this book 100% him. what i mean by that is, it reflect some much of how he views the perfect fantasy novel. It is barbaric and harsh in it's characters, yet feminine and awe inspiring in it's environment... if that makes any sense...

In the end, I prefer Eddison to Tolkien. I think he made his world much more tangible than Tolkien did. With tolkien i always feel like a little kid listening to a bedtime stories. With Eddison i feel like a bird watching the events unfold in person.


whelp, there it is. My review. kind of erratic, but hey so am I.

oh, and dont expect long as reviews like some of ya'll be doin all the time. That shit crazy...

The books that inspired J.R.R. Tolkien? Sure I'll read them.

The Worm Ouroboros! It goes around and around and around... and back around again!

This is the story of the Lords of Demonland, their arch-foes the Lords of Witchland, various others (Lords of Goblinland and Impland and Pixyland et al), and their endless conflicts and political maneuverings and deeds of derring-do and black-hearted villainy and mystical quests into the heights of dark mountains and women so awesomely beautiful that it means instant infatuation and fearsome magic that swoops down on both victim & conjurer alike and battles at castle gates and battles at sea and battles, battles, battles. Don't think of "Demons" and "Witches" as, well, demons and witches... those are just words used to describe the superhuman residents of the planet Mercury. The entire book is over the top, larger than life: delirious fantasy pitched to operatic heights, filled with ornate description, stylized dialogue, far-flung dream journeys and dreams of ever more glory. The Worm Ouroboros is an intricately designed relic and a work of strange, byzantine splendor.... This Mortal Coil as a grand and never-ending odyssey of Constant Adventure. I have read nothing like it.

If I were to look at the plot alone, this would be a 3-star book. The narrative is an enjoyably breathless series of scenes full of cliffhangers and courtly intrigue. Fun. But also deeply problematic in a couple ways. The first problem: this book appears to glorify war in the most naive way imaginable: an endless boys' adventure where fighting is always the goal and peace is never the solution. The title and the "ending" in some ways subvert this analysis. I don't know how ironic or critical Eddison intended to be, but the basic idea of endless adventure being an self-perpetuating cycle... that does provide a certain depth as well as an ambiguous response to all of the naivete on display. More problematic is the near complete focus on the aristocrats of the world, enacting their grand battles using thousands upon thousands of common folk as their disposable chess pieces. One aristocrat dies - oh the tragedy! A thousand soldiers die in one minor sally - eh, that was a bad loss but whatever, the game must go on. There is something obviously very wrong about that kind of glorification of battle for battle's sake, no matter the cost. So for an action-packed narrative that is also naively offensive: 3 stars for the fun and 3 stars for the lack of humanity.

But what makes this novel uniquely enjoyable is the language. It truly lifts The Worm Ouroboros to a higher place. It was both a constant delight and a constant challenge. The language itself is highly artificial - archaic even; the descriptive passages are dense, complex, luscious; the heroes and the villains are characterized in the most Olympian terms possible; the Nietzschean morality on display is illustrated with an almost feverish passion; there is a swooningly homoerotic vibe in how the men are depicted; the arch displays of humor and mockery are both sneakily subtle and quaintly broad; a quest by one brother searching for another becomes dreamily transcendent through the author's use of hallucinogenic prose. It is all so intense that it becomes hypnotic. Fully engorged testosterone carefully wrapped up in layer upon layer of dainty filigree and velvety shadow. High Fantasy that is as high as a kite. I smoked it all up; the language often put me to sleep but, just as often, it kept me wide awake with a kind of heady glee. It stimulated parts of my brain that hadn't been stimulated before.

Here is a typically odd, amusing, and rather beautiful passage:

' So speaking, the King was come with Gro into his great bath chamber, walled and floored with green serpentine, with dolphins carved in the same stone to belch water into the baths that were lined with white marble and sunken in the floor, both wide and deep, the hot bath on the left and cold bath, many times greater, on the right as they entered the chamber. The King dismissed his attendants, and made Gro sit on a bench piled with cushions above the hot bath, and drink more wine. And the King stripped off his jerkin of black cowhide and his hose and his shirt of white Beshtrian wool and went down into the steaming bath. Gro looked with wonder on the mighty limbs of Gorice the King, so lean and yet so strong to behold, as if he were built all of iron; and a great marvel it was how the King, when he had put off his raiment and royal apparel and went down stark naked into the bath, yet seemed to have put off not one whit of his kingliness and the majesty and dread which belonged to him.

So when he had plunged awhile in the swirling waters of the bath, and soaped himself from head to foot and plunged again, the King lay back luxuriously in the water and said to Gro, "Tell me of Corsus and his sons, and of Laxus and Gallandus, and of all my men west over seas, as thou shouldest tell of those whose life or death in our conceit importeth as much as that of a scarab fly. Speak and fear not, keeping nothing back nor glozing over nothing. Only that should make me dreadful to thee if thou shouldn't practise to deceive me." '

A shout-out for Lord Gro: a sinister and devious Goblin Judas, a dainty dandy and a star-struck dreamer as prone to flights of romantic fancy as he is to fits of melancholy and despair, inconstant as Hamlet, destined to forever betray his masters, villain and hero, a gloriously unique creation. Go, Gro, Go!

And So: If thou shalt drink deep of the pleasures of language, if thou dost seek fearsome challenge brimming o'er with fantastickal wonder, dread enchantements and treacherous peril... then thou must hasten to consume this rare delight! A lovely treasure, burning boldly, ever-bright!

Tremenda novela de Fantasía. Ahora comprendo la razón por la cual es mencionada en muchos libros académicos sobre el género y porque la misma Ursula K. Le Guin en su ensayo De Elfland a Poughkeepsie la menciona como un claro ejemplo de lo que debe ser la escritura de la Fantasía: más apegada a la poesía o a lo místico.

E. R. Eddison con un lenguaje arcaico (al menos en inglés debe ser más evidente) subcrea un mundo donde la guerra por el honor y la gloria es lo común, donde los hombres luchan a espada o en lucha grecorromana - pugilato, donde hay dioses interviniendo (no de forma tan directa), hay expediciones a lejanos reinos, maldiciones y profecías; guiado por unas descripciones cargadas de mucha poesía.

Espero poder leerla con más calma en otra ocasión.

When I first found this book, I was intrigued by it. I was in a little book shop at Cape Town International. I read the back and saw that it predated both C.S. Lewis and Tolkien, and yet had a profound influence on their writings. However, I neglected to buy the book and simply left it at that.

Six months later, around July or August, I was walking through Barnes & Noble and I found the book again. Intrigued I bought it and when I read that the language was very floral and ornate (taking on an archaic style befit of a Greek Epic and a Shakespearian Drama) I was a little put off by it. Let's just say that reading it was not on the top of my priority list.

When Winter Break swung around, I found myself thirsting for some fresh reading material (of such subject matter as the intent wasn't to teach me how to program in some obscure language) and finally brought myself to pick up this book and read it. I will lie not when I say that this book has left a deep impression on me.

So here is my review. I will structure it thus: The first section shall deal with the overall style of the book and the "moral" I learned from it. The second section shall deal with the contend, and as such, will contain spoilers. I would highly recommend that the reader of this review stay clear of that section unless they have already read the book or have absolutely no intention of reading it.

First Section: Style and Overall Impression

I must say, that while there were times when I wished that Eddison would just write the bloody thing in plain English, the ornate and archaic language was actually surprisingly easy to read. For instance, in the beginning of the book, when Eddison describes the majesty of Lord Juss' Castle at Galing, the style in which it is written in just goes that extra mile to leave the reader going, "Wow..." Many of the scenes in the book would have lost much of their wonder and beauty had Eddison decided to stick to modern English.

Initially, the characters come across as a little flat, but as the story progresses, they grow in personality. By the time the reader is halfway through the book, the characters just pop out as being unique. The lords Juss, Goldry Bluszco, Spitfire, and Brandoch Daha are noble and good, but each one has their flaws and strengths. Even the main villain of the book, King Gorice XII, isn't the being of pure darkness and evil. Rather, he's just a power-hungry tyrant. He has his noble moments and sometimes even comes across as just.

Not only that, but Eddison was very creative with his naming conventions: Brandoch Daha and Goldry Bluszco sound appropriately heroic while Gorice sounds appropriate for a dark king. However, the once exception, and I'll agree with many of Amazon's reviews, is "Fax Fay Faz". It is indeed corny, but seeing as Eddison is well gone and dead, there is no way to know whether this was intended or not. The one other place that the naming convention failed quite poorly is the naming of the lands and people therein. "Demonland", "Pixyland", and "Impland" and the demons, pixies, and imps just don't quite fit too well, seeing as none of those people even resemble pixies, demons, or imps. I can't but think that the naming of these were but an afterthought when Eddison put this story together.

But, as I read this, I came to forgive this. The story is well written in such that, if you were to replace the names of the people and the lands they hail from, the quality would me entirely unaffected. The style of the writing just lent an authenticity to this book. The world is beautifully rendered in words and the battles are gloriously violent in their descriptive depiction, so the action does not get bogged down in any way. Many people complained that the ending was terrible, but I liked it quite a bit. If it had been to people's liking, then the entire theme of the book would have been ruined and it would have fallen to cliché.

The other aspect about this book that is quite refreshing is the lack of Christian Allegories. There isn't any obvious Christian themes here, but rather it sticks to what many would consider pagan themes. Rather than seeing a savior come forth and saving everyone, we see many figures that appear almost like Greek demi-gods. We see many themes from Greek, Norse, and other mythologies surface through the story, making it even more apparent that this book was written in the spirit of the old sagas and epics.

I would happily recommend this book to anyone with a soft spot for epic fantasy. Also, an add-on to that recommendation: Don't read this at night or under fatigue; you will hate yourself for doing such.

Second Section: Content Review

***Warning! Spoilers Ahead!***

The one section that I particularly liked was King Gorice XII's summoning of the sending with Lord Gro at his side. Through the descriptive language, the reader gets a very vivid image of this dark room in which King Gorice XII takes part in his studies of necromancy. As the he summons the fell creature from Hell, the way the false dawn spills through all the room's windows and depicts everything in a ghastly hue made me shiver. When ultimately the creature comes forth in his violent laughter then the King's struggling to finish the ritual lest he be rendered the same fate as his predecessor King Gorice VII and how Lord Gro saved them both from a most violent death. Never once was the fell creature ever revealed visually, his entire existence being hinted my his voice, the smell of burning brimstone, and the sound of flapping wings. The entire section just played like a movie in my imagination, something Peter Jackson and his team at WETA Digital would just love to get their hands on.

The part of the book where they focussed on the proceedings in Witchland whilst the lords Juss and Brandoch Daha were in Koshtra Belorn leading up to the invasion of Demonland was a little slow. The pace of the book kind of dribbled here and I started getting a little impatient. But it did paint the cast in Carcë as being human, with their noble qualities and their faults.

The sacking of Krothering made me very sad. The entire scene was foreshadowed by the curse placed on Brandoch Daha by that mystical lady in the castle they rested at one their first expedition into Impland. But during the siege on Krothering, I couldn't help but feel very sorry for the Lady Mevrian. The entire time I hoped she wouldn't be raped by Corinius (as his lust for women is most insatiable).

Now, the ending: many people whined and whined that the ending is terrible. It isn't. It just doesn't quite follow what we would see as an "ending". The entire theme of the book is Ouroboros, the serpent that represents the infinite cycle. Had Gorice XII been defeated into oblivion forever more and the lords of Demonland lived peacefully ever after, then it would have been like every other fantasy tale out there. But instead, Eddison renders that these noble Demons, constantly craving glory, continue to seek battle. And, with the prayer of fosterling of the Gods, King Gorice and Carcë is restored, and the lords of Demonland are granted eternal youth. And the book returns to beginning with an ambassador from Witchland arriving.

Ultimately, once Good triumphed over Evil, then there was nothing to define Good, so instead of wither away their days or sully their glory by casting war on everyone else, the Demons would rather bring back the Evil that they had vanquished. So the book ends with the polarizing effect of the Demons (representing Good) being in constant conflict with the Witches (representing Evil). It makes an interesting metaphor on human nature in that humans always seem to have this need for there to be forces representing good and evil. The ending for this book just further goes to make it unique. There is no happily ever after, but instead has the world returning to the balance that was there before.

Eddison is a master of invention, and does a very good job of creating a secondary world that is believable and consistent. A masterful manichean fairy tale. The book falls short of being an actual faerian story because of its total lack of wonder; it opts to go the Norse warrior route instead, and turns into a kind of Iliad with Broadswords. It suffers for this on two counts: first, it tends to rush very quickly through a lot of story; and second, it dumps detail in favor of plot. I spent most of the book imaging Demonland as a kind of rolling brown wasteland with the occasional flourishing elm stuck on as an afterthought. Overall, excellent.

I'm sure people have been recommending him this book all day. But having read it, I'm afraid there are few useful details concerning technique.

My favorite fantasy book. Only demerit it gets is that it begins as a trip to Mars to observe some happenings and never gets back to that POV. No matter, it is high fantasy of the grandest order.