In his biography of Burgess, Roger Lewis performs an instructive comparison between the prose of Kingsley Amis and that of Anthony Burgess by way of a review Burgess wrote of Amis' 'The Old Devils'. Amis is sharp and funny. Burgess leaden and humourless. I wanted to put this down to Burgess' prolific work rate (it could easily have been one of many reviews he was writing that day not to mention numerous creative efforts he would also have been embarked on, let's say conservatively, at least a novel and a string quartet) but those adjectives apply equally to this novel. Burgess brought Enderby back to life to supposedly write an amusing book about the protagonist's involvement in a musical about Shakespeare. The whole, from the opening chapter involving a painful shuffle through reimagined parts of the life of Shakespeare and Jonson (the subsequent revelation that this is a story written by Enderby redeems it not a jot) to the flaccid conclusion is unspeakably dreadful. ( )

Inventive, original, fluid, and thoroughly enjoyable. ( )