An Assessment

Make no mistake, my second reading of Quicksilver was enjoyable. It is imperative to acknowledge the benefit of having recently read Ackroyd's London. That said, while I thought Waterhouse sections of the book would constitute an impressive novel ideas, the other 450 pages were actually rather annoying. Hence my groan when I opened The Confusion to disocver Jack Shaftoe, still, alive and bereft of the pox. His station of being in a slave quarters in Algiers along with a gnostic Jew, a repentant Conquistador, an African linguist and a Japanese Lutheran jatching some plot which would make Lee Marvin wince.
Enough.