Behold the Man | ||||||||
Michael Moorcock | ||||||||
Orion Millennium, 124 pages | ||||||||
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A review by Neil Walsh
If one of the aims of Millennium's SF Masterworks is to bring into focus high-quality works of SF
that are almost entirely overlooked today, then Behold the Man is right on target for the series. First
published in 1969 by one of SF's more prolific talents, today this book is largely forgotten. And that's a shame, really.
Unlike the majority of Moorcock's work, Behold the Man has a very mainstream feel to it. Sure, it begins
with a time machine, and the story, after all, is about a guy who travels back to 28 AD to meet Jesus, but the
flashbacks of that guy are to his previous life in England -- from the time of his childhood in the late 40s to
his thoroughly mixed up adult life into the early 70s. The character of Karl Glogauer, the time traveller, is
extremely realistic -- complex, contradictory, multi-layered, and both emotionally and psychologically messed up big-time.
Although born of a Jewish mother, Glogauer doesn't really consider himself to be Jewish. Or Christian, for that
matter. But he does become, from an early age, obsessed with the idea of Christ, the crucifixion and crosses.
When the opportunity arises to travel back to meet the historical Jesus, Glogauer doesn't think twice. What he
finds, however, is not at all what he expects. In this cleverly engineered plot, Moorcock uses what is now an
old paradigm of the self-fulfilling paradox of time travel stories. Far from changing history, Glogauer's
presence in the past actually fulfills an historical role in a way that he never would have dreamed
possible -- despite his having been accused of harbouring a slight messiah complex.
Glogauer is not really a very likeable character. He is, however, sympathetic. And interesting. And, in some
ways, even admirable. His time travel experience is so radical and life-changing (to him personally, I mean)
that he begins to lose track of when and even who he really is. Under the circumstances, this is
understandable. But it also serves to undermine his credibility. Is he really a time traveller? Or has he
finally severed all connections to reality, living out his days in a scenario created in his own very rich,
but obviously very disturbed, imagination?
I don't mean to suggest that this isn't really science fiction; only that it could be read as something
more... twisted. It's a masterfully written book, working on many levels, encouraging the reader to do some
independent brain-bending. The author offers quite a bit in such a short space; the reader may choose to
take away what she or he will.
But it's certainly amusing to imagine that Karl Glogauer died for your sins.
Neil Walsh is the Reviews Editor for the SF Site. He lives in contentment, surrounded by books, in Ottawa, Canada. |
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