It soon becomes apparent that Dee is not the only student of the occult who has been attracted to Prague. The city seems infested with astrologers, charlatans and other students of the hermetic arts, including such notable contemporaries as Michael Sendivogius, Mamugna, and the Scottish alchemist, Alexander Seton. Everyone seems to sense that something important is about to happen in Prague, that the ancient city is the nexus for some impending and arcane event. Nor has Dee been successful in escaping his demon, which all too soon manifests itself, warning of dire consequences. And Dee has begun to question his assistant's motives, only to find himself betrayed and incarcerated by the King. Driven by force of need and circumstance, he soon joins in an at times uneasy alliance with Judah Loew, setting out to rid himself not only of the demon, but a greater danger that spirit's presence may pose. For Dee has dabbled in magics whose true nature is only now beginning to become known.

While full of historical anecdote and alchemical reference tailored to titillate interest, the storyline to The Alchemist's Door tends to wander, threatening to become a travelogue of hermetic interests, despite its grounding in Dee's actual travels in Europe. The stay at Prince Laski's estate seems to serve little narrative purpose, other than to confirm Dee's itinerary during his visit to Poland in the early 1580's. The episodes at King István's castle in Transylvania appear predicated solely upon providing an excuse to encounter the infamous Blood Countess, Erzsébet Báthory (whose atrocities did not begin until long after Dee had returned to England), and seems similarly digressive, as in part does the later stay with Count Vilém, regardless of any accuracy or reference to historical fact or incidence. In her adherence to the alchemist's recorded and chronological travels, the author risks diverting the reader from the central impetus of her narrative, with the end result appearing pendulous to the development of her plot.

As suggested by Clute, Ms Goldstein's themes and use of metaphor here tend to be understated. In her exploration of the union of opposites, alienation, spiritual belief, or the speculations into the nature of existence and identity as represented by Loew's creation and interaction with the golem, the author wields a light touch -- some might say too light. There is almost an impression of voyeurism in the manner with which the author touches upon certain themes, such as the sins of the father, sexual inequality or the transmigration of the soul, glimpsed briefly only to be as quickly led away, leaving one feeling like a window shopper looking in upon the author's world, or a tourist taking in the sights, the latter impression only further heightened by the incidental wandering of the narrative's superficial plot.

While in certain respects well-crafted, in the final analysis The Alchemist's Door seems somewhat attenuated and adrift in terms of its own intentions, neither serving as mere entertainment, nor completely succeeding as metaphor. Instead, the novel appears as but a brief excursion, a potentially intriguing exercise and excuse to play with historical anecdote that becomes all too fleeting in its rewards. One needs only to look to John Crowley's ongoing Aegypt Quartet, and his use of similar motifs, to view what could have been accomplished.