For Americans who know London's East End only from Bob Hoskins' movies (e.g., "Mona Lisa") and the BBC (e.g., the "EastEnders" soap opera), Alan Palmer's "The East End: Four Centuries of London Life" interjects needed reality and perspective by surveying the East End since the 1600s.

Now, I would have appreciated more on the first two of those four centuries -- Palmer rushes so fast to the 1800s that his subtitle should be "Two Centuries of London Life." Still, he locates the essence of the East End in its people and public meeting places when much of the private property was on church land. Absentee ownership prevented long-term leases, encouraged short-term hangouts, and deterred investments that could've renovated the area. But through the centuries, Palmer makes plain, the one constant in the East End has been the creative tension produced by generation after generation emigrating from around the world. Thus it's long been more akin to New York City than to the quiet villages or university towns of English novels and their Masterpiece Theater dramatizations.

Palmer is a good writer, with a style at once spirited and blunt -- the two character traits of the archetypal East Ender. I especially appreciate Palmer's treatment of the 1990s, a decade during which the East End's blue-collar pubs and poverty were contrasted by glassy new Thameside skyscrapers and white-collared wine bars.

This book was brought to my attention when Amazon.com listed it under the name of Peter Ackroyd, who wrote its literate introduction. As complements to Palmer's history, Ackroyd's biographies and novels are surely the greatest contemporary writings on the story of London: on East End themes for the 17th century, read Ackroyd's "Hawksmoor"; for the 19th century, "The Trial of Elizabeth Cree" (American title for the British "Dan Leno and the Limehouse Golem"). For the 21st century, read either of these Ackroyd novels, as he typically creates fictions where present-day London fuses with historical London. In this manner, we find agreement with "The East End" because Alan Palmer, too, describes the timelessness by which four centuries' worth of East Enders join in a communal effort to create what Palmer makes feels like the soul of London.

Let's face it, few of us are likely to hack our way through the thickets (some of them rendered in Chinese) of Ezra Pound's Cantos. Even in college, in a course on
modern literature, we didn't actually read the Cantos, instead we read Hugh Kenner's book, The Pound Era. Still, one would like to understand what made
Pound such an important figure in the history of literature and Peter Ackroyd's slender and copiously illustrated biography accomplishes the task quite painlessly.

Besides helping us to understand what Pound was trying to achieve in his own poetry--which seems to have been an attempt to capture all of reality within the
confines of the poetic form--Mr. Ackroyd shows how profoundly Pound influenced other Modernists, in particular T. S. Eliot and James Joyce. I'd not
previously been aware of the degree to which Pound helped sculpt The Waste Land, to the point that Mr. Ackroyd gives him credit as its virtual co-author :

The transformation of The Waste Land effected by Pound is, although not total, nevertheless remarkable. What had been a longer,
more sustained and more elaborately lyrical work was changed into something less personal, tighter and more abrupt. It was precisely
these qualities which were to lend the poem its air of modernity--since, in large part, our notion of what is "modern" is derived from
Pound's work and criticism.

Where Joyce was concerned, Pound appears to have been one of his earliest proselytizers, publishing Portrait of the Artist in serial form in his magazine, The
Egoist, and Ulysses in the magazine, The Little Review. He also reviewed Joyce's work in every publication he could, extolling his virtues to anyone who would
listen. Yet, Pound also had the brutal honesty to assess Finnegan's Wake with the dismissal that it so richly deserved :

Nothing short of divine vision or a new cure for the clapp can possibly be worth all the circumambient peripherization.

Unfortunately for Pound, the harshness of that critique reveals a willingness to speak his mind and a forcefulness of opinion which were to get him in
considerable trouble when they combined with other personality traits to turn him into a Fascist propagandist.

Mr. Ackroyd convincingly locates the appeal of fascism to Pound in the poet's passion for organization and order, his belief in a cultural elite, and his adherence
to the odd economic theory of Social Credit, expounded by a Major C. H. Douglas :

Its doctrine states, quite simply, that once money has lost its natural basis in people's needs and aspirations--when, in other words,
it has been turned into a commodity merely to be bought and sold--then the nation and its culture sour. Money is a complex
measure of man's time and the worth of his labour; when it becomes an anonymous entity to be hoarded and manipulated, all other
human and social values shift downward. But there was also a blindingly simple economic point to be made in this connection:
the bankers control money at the expense of everyone else in the community.

His belief in a social hierarchy is a classic enough conservative position, likewise his fear of cultural decline. And the rest of Pound's ideas were probably
harmless in themselves, even if some were bizarre; but it is this last notion, that the problems one perceives in the world are necessarily a product of some kind of
conspiracy, that represents the dangerous spark that all too often ignites hatreds like anti-Semitism. True conservatism requires the recognition that disorder
and decline are natural phenomena, resulting from the debased desires of the masses. Those who are unable to accept this reality and instead try to blame
shadowy conspirators are dangerously deluded.

Sadly, Pound fell prey to just such delusions and ended up making radio broadcasts for Mussolini during WWII. The result of these pro-fascist, anti-American,
anti-Semitic soliloquies was a 1943 indictment for treason and eventual arrest and, following a finding of insanity, confinement to St. Elizabeth's mental
hospital in Washington, DC. He was kept there until the charge of treason was dismissed on April 18, 1958. Upon his release, Pound moved back to Italy where
he lapsed into a depressive silence and spent his final years in and out of clinics, futilely trying to find some way to recapture his creative powers.

If in the end it is not possible for us to feel too much sympathy for a man who betrayed his wife--with a mistress named Olga Rudge by whom he had a daughter
and who eventually became his constant companion--and his country, and who spewed venomous hatred of Jews, perhaps it is still possible to acknowledge his
achievements, or at least his aspirations, as an artist. Here's how Mr. Ackroyd summarizes Pound's own literary legacy :

Pound attempted to recreate the whole world in the image of himself and his poetry--despite the divisive tendencies of the age,
and the obsessive weaknesses of his own character.

Maybe in this sense we can see writ small in him the larger tragedy of the 20th Century, of men trying to prove themselves equal to the Creator, but failing
horribly, and finding it necessary to lash out against others to explain the failure.

GRADE : B+

I thought that this was an entertaining novel, in which Peter Ackroyd weaves together two plots: one based upon the Elizabethan Dr John Dee, the other based upon a modern-day Londoner, Matthew Palmer.

Palmer inherits from his father an old house in Clerkenwell. In the past, the house was owned by the notorious mystic John Dee. As Palmer begins to dig into the house's history, he also uncovers secrets from his and his family's past. Dee, on the other hand, is being drawn into experiments of an ever-more magical or mystic nature as he searches for an ancient, lost London. Dee and Palmer's times begin to overlap.

The is not a new fictional device by Ackroyd - other of his works I've read have a similar feel: Ackroyd seeing London as a conduit through which times past and present mix and influence each other. But as ever, there's lots of interesting sub-plots, and Ackroyd's writing and evocation of times past are convincing.

Thoroughly entertaining.

G Rodgers

This is an excellent annotated version of The Second Book of Samuel of the New English Bible translation supplemented with detailed commentaries and entries based upon historical and archaelogical data. I learned a great deal of ancient history that would not be available to be simply by reading Samuel. this book, and others in the series, are a must for any serious Bible scholar.

The Old Curiosity Shop certainly displays the hallmarks of the unstructured, free-flowing make-it-up-as-you-go-along type of story characteristic of Dickens's early novels. Indeed, it is rather generous to call it a story, and it's difficult now to understand the sensation it caused when it was first published. However, if a page-turning plot was all there was to it, very few of Dickens's novels would be readable at all. As ever with Dickens, the pleasure in reading this book comes from the comedy, diversity and richness of the characters, as well as the sheer mastery of the English language which came so naturally to him.

The central characters are old Trent, his granddaughter Nell, the moneylender Daniel Quilp, young Kit and the wonderful Richard Swiveller. Of these, the spotlessly pure Nell and the irredeemably evil Quilp are the moral opposites around which the book revolves, old Trent is rather a pathetic figure, while Kit's sturdy progress from poverty to respectability makes for happier reading. However, it is the moral journey of Swiveller, which perhaps reflects the geographic journey undertaken by Nell and her grandfather, which is the real joy of this book. He enters the book in the guise of a rogue, involved in dubious intrigues with Nell's no-good brother and also with the repulsive Quilp. However, from the time that Quilp gets him a job as a clerk in the office of Samson Brass and his sister, the awful Miss Brass, Swiveller's basic decency and natural good humour begin to reveal themselves, and his soliloquies and dialogue provide many hilarious moments from that point on. The Dick Swiveller who subsequently meets up with the hapless young girl kept prisoner by Miss Brass is funny, considerate, charming and kind, and a long way from the doubtful type of character that he at first appears to be.

The book proceeds along two different narrative lines; one which charts the progress of Nell and her grandfather on their long journey, and the other revolving around Swiveller, Quilp and Kit, and to a lesser extent the families of these latter two, as well as "the single gentleman" and the little girl memorably christened "The Marchioness" by Swiveller. One of the big faults I found with this dual structure is that the characters of one plot line have no contact with those in the other plot line for most of the novel, and it is left to the Quilp, Swiveller and Kit to act out most of the drama. Nell and her grandfather spend most of their time journeying through various scenes of early nineteenth century life in England. Nonetheless these all make for enjoyable reading. One particular scene where Nell and her grandfather sleep beside a furnace in the company of a wretched man who watches the flames is particularly memorable.

All in all, it's not exactly a page-turner, and the ending is not a happy one. I would not recommend this book as an introduction to Dickens, and is best read by people, like myself, who have already decided that anything by Dickens is worth reading. Also it focuses less on London than many Dickens novels, and gives an interesting view of rural, village and town life outside London in those times.

The Old Curiosity Shop certainly displays the hallmarks of the unstructured, free-flowing make-it-up-as-you-go-along type of story characteristic of Dickens's early novels. Indeed, it is rather generous to call it a story, and it's difficult now to understand the sensation it caused when it was first published. However, if a page-turning plot was all there was to it, very few of Dickens's novels would be readable at all. As ever with Dickens, the pleasure in reading this book comes from the comedy, diversity and richness of the characters, as well as the sheer mastery of the English language which came so naturally to him.

The central characters are old Trent, his granddaughter Nell, the moneylender Daniel Quilp, young Kit and the wonderful Richard Swiveller. Of these, the spotlessly pure Nell and the irredeemably evil Quilp are the moral opposites around which the book revolves, old Trent is rather a pathetic figure, while Kit's sturdy progress from poverty to respectability makes for happier reading. However, it is the moral journey of Swiveller, which perhaps reflects the geographic journey undertaken by Nell and her grandfather, which is the real joy of this book. He enters the book in the guise of a rogue, involved in dubious intrigues with Nell's no-good brother and also with the repulsive Quilp. However, from the time that Quilp gets him a job as a clerk in the office of Samson Brass and his sister, the awful Miss Brass, Swiveller's basic decency and natural good humour begin to reveal themselves, and his soliloquies and dialogue provide many hilarious moments from that point on. The Dick Swiveller who subsequently meets up with the hapless young girl kept prisoner by Miss Brass is funny, considerate, charming and kind, and a long way from the doubtful type of character that he at first appears to be.

The book proceeds along two different narrative lines; one which charts the progress of Nell and her grandfather on their long journey, and the other revolving around Swiveller, Quilp and Kit, and to a lesser extent the families of these latter two, as well as "the single gentleman" and the little girl memorably christened "The Marchioness" by Swiveller. One of the big faults I found with this dual structure is that the characters of one plot line have no contact with those in the other plot line for most of the novel, and it is left to the Quilp, Swiveller and Kit to act out most of the drama. Nell and her grandfather spend most of their time journeying through various scenes of early nineteenth century life in England. Nonetheless these all make for enjoyable reading. One particular scene where Nell and her grandfather sleep beside a furnace in the company of a wretched man who watches the flames is particularly memorable.

All in all, it's not exactly a page-turner, and the ending is not a happy one. I would not recommend this book as an introduction to Dickens, and is best read by people, like myself, who have already decided that anything by Dickens is worth reading. Also it focuses less on London than many Dickens novels, and gives an interesting view of rural, village and town life outside London in those times.

The only pleasure greater than discovering a new book
is rediscovering an old friend you haven't read for a while.
Many years ago I read all of Charles Dickens novels, but I
recently had occasion to re-read The Old Curiosity Shop, and
it is just as good as I remembered it the first time.

The story, like most of his plots, depends a great deal
on coincidences, so you have to suspend your scepticism to
enjoy it. Dickens begins by introducing us to one of the
most innocent little girls in literature, Little Nell, and
to her most unhappy grand-father. Quickly we discover that
instead of the old man taking care of the child, she is the
one responsible. We then meet one of Dickens' great villains
- the evil, corrupt, mean, and nasty Quilp - a man, if that
term can be used, who has absolutely no redeeming qualities,
one who finds pleasure in inflicting pain on all he meets.

Thinking that the old man has secret riches, Quilp
advances him money to support his gambling habit.
Unfortunately Nell's grandfather never wins, and the debt
grows ever larger. Finally Quilp forecloses on the curiosity
shop that the old man owns (thus the name of the book) and
tries to keep the two captive in order to discover the money
that he still believes is hidden somewhere. While the
household is asleep, however, Nell and her grandfather
escape and begin wandering across England in a search for
sanctuary.

On that journey, Dickens introduces us to a series of
minor characters who either befriend or try to take
advantage of our heroine. He's in no hurry to continue the
main story, so just sit back and enjoy the vivid
characterizations that are typical of any good Dickens
novel.

In the meantime, we follow the adventures of young Kit,
a boy who was one of Nell's best friends until Quilp turned
her grandfather against him. Here we find one of Dickens'
favorite sub-plots, the poor but honest boy who supports his
widowed mother and younger brother. Thanks to his honesty,
Kit finds a good position, but then evil Quilp enters the
picture and has him arrested as a thief!

Of course, we have the kind and mysterious elderly
gentlemen who take an interest in Kit and Nell for reasons
that we don't fully understand until the end of the book. We
are certain, however, that they will help ensure that
justice prevails in the end.

This is not a book for those in a hurry. Dickens tells
his stories in a meandering fashion, and the stops along the
way are just as important for your enjoyment as the journey itself. That can be frustrating at time, especially as you enter the second half and are anxious to see how things turn out. I try never to cheat by reading the end of a book before I finish, but it is tempting with Dickens. At times I wanted to tell him, "I don't want to meet anyone else; tell me what happens to Nell and Kit!" But I know the side journeys will prove rewarding, so I just have to be patient. Anyway, I am in better shape than his first readers; he wrote in weekly installments, so
they had to wait!

If you have and enjoyed other Dickens' novels, you will enjoy this one as well. If this is your first time (or perhaps the first time since you were in high school), you are in for a treat.

Hard Times feels like a book that Dickens did not polish nearly as much as the many classics associated with his name. It's the story of the unhappy lives of two children of a father who raised them to speak and appreciate only "facts." Imagination, fantasy, passion, and the like were all forbidden in their household.

Their lives are unhappy, as you'd expect. But they also lack much narrative interest. The usual twists and turns of fate that Dickens invests into his characters' lives are mostly absent. As a result the book drags on. Hard Times also lacks the humor found in other Dickens books, his pithy observations of different persona of his time. So, in reading the uninspiring narrative, you find yourself wishing for something, anything of the old Dickensian magic. Alas, it does not show up.

If you have other Dickens titles you're set on reading, read them first. You're likely to enjoy them more.

If you read Hard Times for the sole purpose of being entertained you will probably be highly disappointed. However, if you understand what was happening during this time period, you will realize that Hard Times is in reality, a long commentary. The Industrial Revolution was starting to show its down side. There was rampant poverty and disease, from the overcrowding of the cities. Children of the poor had to work long hours in unsafe factories rather than go to school. The gulf between the haves and the have-nots was very wide. The middle class was only beginning to be a distinct group.
This then was the backdrop of Hard Times. Dickens is making a social and political statement. This is a statement against the mechanizing of society. It starts with Dickens repeated use of the word fact. It is facts that have meaning. Human conventions like feeling, compassion or passion have no meaning or looked down upon as an inconvienent waste of time. If a situation cannot be put down on paper as in an accounting ledger it should not be considered.
This is where the conflict of the book comes in. Which helps humanity more compassion or fact. Is Bounderby a better person than Blackpool? Bounderby, who by his own admission was a self-made man. Untrue as this was he said it enough to make it his own reality. Or Blackpool, a weaver with an alcoholic wife, who was in love with another woman. Facts made Bounderby rich, compassion made Blackpool human.
Louisa presents another conflict. Louisa was educated only by fact. No wonder or inquisitiveness was ever allowed. She was the perfect robot. Doing what she was told when she was told. Just another piece of the machine, however, the piece broke, emotions came out, and they broke down the wall of fact that Mr. Gradgrind had so carefully constructed. Because the feelings have finally been acknowledged things really break down. She finds that not only has she married the wrong man but also the man she did marry is a buffoon whom she cannot respect nor live with.
The reader is left wondering if there is no one who will not be ruined by all the worship to fact. The whelp has certainly been ruined to the point he feels no responsibility to anyone but himself. If a situation can not be used to his advantage then he has no use for it, as a matter of course, he will run when he believes he will have to take responsibility for his own actions.
The gypsies have not been ruined by fact. But only because they live outside of society, they do not conform to the rules of society. These are the people who value character over social status. The gypsies do not value Bounderby and Bitzer with all their pomp and egomania. Rather they value Stephen Blackpool and Cecilia whom can show compassion and kindness no matter a person's station in life.
Hard Times can be used to look at today's society. Are we, as a society more worried about our computers, cell phones, faxes, and other gadgets than our neighbor's well being? Do we only get involved to help others when there is a personal benefit? Or, are we like the gypsies who can look into the character of the person and not worry about the socio-economic status? While Dickens' wrote Hard Times about 19th century England the moral can easily fit into 21st century America

Coketown is "the inner-most fortifications of that ugly citadel where Nature was as strongly bricked out as killing airs and gases were bricked in at the heart of the labyrinth of narrow courts upon courts, and close streets upon streets, which had come into existence."

Hard Times takes place in 1854, six years after Karl Marx first published his ideas in the Communist Manifesto. Marx revolutionized the way people looked at history. His historical science was a radically new way of looking at human history, our past, our present, and our future. Marxist themes are plentiful in Hard Times, everything from the Bourgeoisie to the Proletariat are represented in this account of the industrial revolution.

Dickens provides an excellent portrayal of real-life people faced with hard times amidst an economic boom. This is a touching story, giving names and faces to the people who are creating, being replaced by, and being abused by the industrial revolution. The Communist Manifesto is not complete until you have read Hard Times.

The plot in a nutshell: A recent fire in rural Dorset reveals the contours of what is believed to be, and turns out to be, an ancient burial mound. A group of archeologists descend upon the site and begin to uncover the secrets of the tumulus; but as they do so, events in their own lives, and those of an increasingly involved village population, curiously reveal themselves in a parallel, synchronic, and meaningful way.

Mr. Ackroyd displays an inventiveness of character, a timely sense of suspense, and a characteristically smart retelling of observation; but his preoccupation with the ideas of a unity and congruence of life and the universe is sometimes tedious and feels dated. (Think of the Uncertainty Principle, fractals, and the butterfly wing that flooded China - all recently faddish.) The story does, however, contain some wonderful scenes: the most memorable perhaps are the string of interactions between the charmingly backwards Mint clan, father and "Boy", and lesbian socialite, Evageline Tupper.

In this, his latest novel Peter Ackroyd returns to a by now fascinating theme of original forms and repeating patterns in which the individual holds but a brief tenure before relinquishment to the next generation in human kinship. This novel develops a much-loved theme of awe and inspiration in the workings of a tale of ancient beings, cosmic forces, love and madness. To reiterate, repeated patterns over time form a familiar concept to Ackroyd admirers, and can be found in his earlier works, such as Hawksmoor. Where First Light differs from the latter is in the move away from an ancient, pervasive if imperfect evil, depicted in the most sinister way through human sacrifice, as embodied by the fate of Little St Hugh. First Light offers a juxtaposition to the vacuum of evil in Hawksmoor and sacrifice in this latest novel is portrayed in various forms as part of a general, metaphysical good. In comparing Ackroyd's novels, it is worth mentioning the music hall motif, which stands as a literal backdrop to chilling murder in (UK edition) Dan Leno and the Limehouse Golem, known to USA readers as the less successfully entitled The Trial of Elizabeth Cree etc. Here the music hall is brilliantly reintroduced into this novel as a glorious celebration of poignant and hilarious bathos, with the reminder that its absurd and often grotesque characterisation is more often eclipsed by the antics and eccentricities of the so-called 'ordinary person'. Peter Ackroyd's reputation as an exceptional author whose ability to weave a powerful and haunting tale hardly requires further testimony. Ackroyd however, always demands a good deal of work by the reader and is not in the business of providing glib answers and conclusions. There is always far more to his novels than can be found by a desire for the easy gratification of titillated curiosity and consequently any criticism of his ability as 'whodunit' manque, completely miss the mark

The historical detail in this book is fabulous - I work opposite Christ Church in Spitalfields and I am intrigued to know more about the real Nicholas Hawksmoor. What interests me is where Ackroyd had the idea to make Hawksmoor a Satanist and to interpret the architecture of these churches so as to see occult references everywhere.

The story itself, though, was heavy-going and I almost did not finish the book. The book, whilst interesting, was somewhat disappointing compared to Ackroyd's other works.

Clearly, the negative reviews in these pages are the product of individuals whose literary appreciation would best be confined to those works readily available in airport newsagents. Hawksmoor is one of the few truly great metaphysical works of the 20th century. The linguistic style employed by Ackroyd is not "pompous" as thus described by some halfwit from Idaho elsewhere in these reviews, but a peerless example of how to represent the richness and fluidity of the spoken word of the period. The language underpins a work which is multi-layered and largely allegorical and has been structured in such a way so as to intertwine with those same aspects as employed within the fabric of Hawksmoor's architecture itself. The novel is not a conventional narrative and should not be approached as such. If there exists a central and recurring theme then it is the precience and indivisibility of evil within the world. The juxtaposition of people and events within the text is achieved merely to highlight this theme. Those who see this work as a rather confusing ghost story would probably interpret "Ulysses" as a travel guide to Dublin. If you have a genuine love for literature and language then you will treasure this work. I guarantee that it will still be read long after the churches themselves have crumbled.

This was the first Ackroyd novel I read and I was hooked. The ability to bring together past and present, to suggest how a city lives us, is superb. But even more so is his ability to fascinate us with things like architectural details. True, the plot didn't make a lot of sense. It was not until I read his biography of More that I realized that the true protagonist of all Ackroyd's works is the City of London and Westminster and the true theme of all his novels is how place defines and shapes us. By the time he published London: A Biography, I was half expecting the work given all his previous books. But I wonder what he makes of Thatcher's and Blair's destruction of London through a combination of market fundametalism and Disneyland. I suppose, given the last chapter of London, he thinks London will simply absorb and transform them.
If nothing else, readers of this novel will never look upon the places in which they live in the same way again.

This book aspires to cleverness by having a character from the future named "Plato" whose life bears some similarities to the lives of the historical Plato and Socrates: "Plato" is an orator prone to confusing his audience who urges each person to "know thyself," he's put on trial for corrupting the young, etc. Yet Ackroyd's "Plato" lacks personality and philosophical depth. Unlike the Socrates of Plato's dialogs, whose wit, intelligence, and force of personality grab you immediately, this "Plato" gives us only ponderous and pretentious twaddle. And unlike Plato's dialogs, the dreary dialogs in this novel go nowhere and involve indistinguishable people with names like "Sparkler" and "Madrigal."

The future world of this novel never comes to life -- a distinct drawback for a fantasy novel.

Part of the humor of the novel is supposed to be "Plato's" mistaken interpretations of our age, based upon his examination of the archeological record, but Ackroyd overreaches by often making "Plato" give far-fetched interpretations when more plausible ones easily are at hand. (He even misinterprets what a bird in a film is. What, they don't have birds in the 38th century?) There are times when the misinterpretations are humorous (as in attributing The Origin of the Species to Charles Dickens), which is what saves this novel from one-star status.

One further point: don't let the length fool you. If this were an average hardback and didn't start every chapter (some of which are only a few lines long) on a new page, this "novel" might run to 35 pages.

Rather than argue with other reviewers, I would suggest that the reader of The Plato Papers relax, and read this work, not as a novel (which in the classic sense it is not, conforming neither to plot nor character development) but a poet experience akin to the best in modern dance. The work is evocative, and summons, rather then explicates. A few pages a night refreshes, and provokes thought. I recommend it.

I can think of no real words to describe this novel, but I was drawn to the depth of the writing. Even the shortest sentence would provoke a kind of moral battle of the mind. When some say it was confusing, they are right in a way, but beyound the confusion there was really a simpicity to all the philosophy being said. When you thought about it, suddenly the world would seem clearer. I highly reccommend this novel to anyone.

Dennis Severs restored 18 Folgate Street to an 18th-century time-warp. In this book, he takes the reader through a room-by-room tour of the house, peopled with imaginary characters.
It's a strange experience, very original and yet somehow frustrating. There's alot of suggestion verging on manipulation: "you close your eyes", etc. (or words to that effect) and somehow the author rather arrogantly pulls the strings with his "Now you see it, now you don't" (or, as Tim from Big Brother might have put it - "comprende?") Some readers might find their sensibilities a little insulted.

Having said that, it's creative and clever and there are some enjoyable aspects, particularly, for example, Severs's analysis of seeing the world in two's and three's. Some of the numerology is fascinating - I only wish the rest of the book had lived up to that standard.