Phoenix in Obsidian by Michael Moircock

.

This is the second in Moorcock’s Eternal Champion and, if rather less unified in its structure than the previous novel, is a very interesting- and, in my experience, very fast- read.

There are lots of ideas here- a dying, frozen future Earth where humanity has become decadent, knowing that there is no future. Threre are some nice touches in describing such a culture: the visual arts and the prose of this society are absurdly over-complex, as is the architecture. Less fortunate is the kink-shaming description of their somewhat adventurous and painful sexual habits as a sign of decadence, but this is 1970.

We have a Moon that has long since crashed to Earth and become a mountain range, We have a scarlet fjord. We have long-lost technologies. We have a baddie who is a most worldly bishop and makes me think of those popes of the time of the Borgias. We have tantalising habits of the Eternal Champion's many existences and his ultimate backstory.

Yet the ideas here are all brilliantly imaginative rather than the sorts of ideas than may raise a novella of science fantasy weirdness to aspire to the literary. Unlike its predecessor, I don't think Phoenix in Obsidian does that.

That, however, is no crime. This is a hugely enjoyable piece of pulp fiction that can be read by a time-poor reader in the space of four or five days. We do not need to ask for more.

Right. One more Moorcock to go, then something else...