I read this book out of curiousity. Harold Bloom is undoubtedly one of the great literary critics of recent times--what would his own fiction read like?Ugh. This book is cast in the mythological prose of a Dungeons and Dragons enthusiast. This is low quality fantasy. The real star of the book is Bloom's eccentric philosophy of Gnosticism and no thought at all is given to characterization or euphony of language. I think Bloom is trying to write a new testament here, not a novel. He fails. This is an embarrassing piece of work.Do try his criticism, though. When Bloom is on his home court, he's engaging.