Begging comparisons to Tolstoy and Joyce, this "magnificent, sprawling cosmic epic" (Guardian) by Alan Moore--the genre-defying, "groundbreaking, hairy genius of our generation" (NPR)--takes its place among the most notable works of contemporary English literature. In decaying Northampton, eternity loiters between housing projects. Among saints, kings, prostitutes, and derelicts, a timeline unravels: second-century fiends wait in urine-scented stairwells, delinquent specters undermine a century with tunnels, and in upstairs parlors, laborers with golden blood reduce fate to a snooker tournament. Through the labyrinthine streets and pages of Jerusalem tread ghosts singing hymns of wealth and poverty. They celebrate the English language, challenge mortality post-Einstein, and insist upon their slum as Blake's eternal holy city in "Moore's apotheosis, a fourth-dimensional symphony" (Entertainment Weekly). This "brilliant . . . monumentally ambitious" tale from the gutter is "a massive literary achievement for our time--and maybe for all times simultaneously" (Washington Post).
Alan Moore has supplanted my previous favorite author, James Michener, which is astonishing for me.
Published by Joann Fielding , 3 years ago
The first time I read it, I thought it must be the work of a madman. Exquisitely well written, but mad. The second time, I thought it must be written by a genius. The third time I thought that I was beginning to understand how life (and death) may work. The fourth time I thought this guy's right about everything, and it scared the hell outta me. I MUST OWN THIS BOOK!
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