Rating: 
Summary: "The Worm" was a turning point in my life
Review: "The Worm" was the first jolt of adulthood to hit me in an otherwise misspent youth. I don't even recall why I picked it up, perhaps it was the colorful cover of an epic battle of armored knights amid showers of arrows. At the tender age of 17 and preoccupied girls, parties, and carousing, I can honestly say that this book bent me in a new direction. For the first time I actually *pored* over each page of a book, reading many sentences several times as I struggled to come to grips with the unfamiliar prose of Eddison.But unlike many of the opinions above, I loved the dreamlike Lessingham/crow introduction to the main story! I even sorely missed Lessingham and his storytelling crow after the third chapter, and hoped he would reappear later in the book. At any rate, this is a book I read every couple of years to stimulate the "adult" buried somewhere in me.
Rating: 
Summary: A CLASSIC, not to be missed
Review: All readers of prose alike will agree that this is a stunningly constructed chef-d'ouevre, perhaps the best of Eddison's works.
It truly leaves The Lord of the Rings and Tolkien with a lot of questions to answer. The narrative style is ephemeral, and may be appreciated by a reader of almost any ability. DO NOT MISS OUT ON READING THIS... put down any C-grade rags you might be currently enjoying, and turn to Ouroboros: it will be an enjoyable experience no matter what genre you prefer.
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Summary: Beauty at the heart of the world
Review: As a youngster I devoured fantasy greedily, any fantasy (there was not a fantasy-genre industry in those days, and fantasy was hard to come by.) Much of what I liked then I can no longer read: too much bombast and adolescent wish-fulfilment But Eddison improves with each rereading. His prose is beautiful, as everyone remarks. If you don't have the patience for sentences of more than two clauses, or if you have a prim horror of archaic language, you should skip this book. (Or maybe you should re-examine the rewards of patience: but that's another matter). But if you have the capacity to appreciate beautiful English prose, if you can read Sir Thomas Browne or the King James Bible with pleasure, then you have a treat in store. Read this book: there aren't many like it. There's a serious philosophy in this book. Eddison believes in greatness. It's no accident that his literary antecedents are in classical Greece and Iceland: Alkibiades and Grettir would have understood his devotion to the heroic, to the ferocious, doomed attempt to set one's indelible mark on the stream of time. For Eddison the reckless, whole-hearted, passionate life is the only life worth living, and the only life worth writing about. It's not a philosophy I agree with. It lives too close to fascism and machismo for me: it insists upon and glorifies a sense of Self that I think is ultimately nonsense. But it's a philosophy that produced much of the most beautiful literature of the last century: Ezra Pound and William Butler Yeats often wrote from just this standpoint. It may be wrong, but it's not childish. It situates Beauty at the heart of the world: greatness, to Eddison, is beautiful action, and all beautiful things demand worship. And reward it. "What I have promised," says Eddison's Aphrodite, "I will perform." Read this book. Read Mistress of Mistresses too. They're dazzling, magnificent books.
Rating:
Summary: Beauty at the heart of the world
Review: As a youngster I devoured fantasy greedily, any fantasy (there was not a fantasy-genre industry in those days, and fantasy was hard to come by.) Much of what I liked then I can no longer read: too much bombast and adolescent wish-fulfilment But Eddison improves with each rereading. His prose is beautiful, as everyone remarks. If you don't have the patience for sentences of more than two clauses, or if you have a prim horror of archaic language, you should skip this book. (Or maybe you should re-examine the rewards of patience: but that's another matter). But if you have the capacity to appreciate beautiful English prose, if you can read Sir Thomas Browne or the King James Bible with pleasure, then you have a treat in store. Read this book: there aren't many like it. There's a serious philosophy in this book. Eddison believes in greatness. It's no accident that his literary antecedents are in classical Greece and Iceland: Alkibiades and Grettir would have understood his devotion to the heroic, to the ferocious, doomed attempt to set one's indelible mark on the stream of time. For Eddison the reckless, whole-hearted, passionate life is the only life worth living, and the only life worth writing about. It's not a philosophy I agree with. It lives too close to fascism and machismo for me: it insists upon and glorifies a sense of Self that I think is ultimately nonsense. But it's a philosophy that produced much of the most beautiful literature of the last century: Ezra Pound and William Butler Yeats often wrote from just this standpoint. It may be wrong, but it's not childish. It situates Beauty at the heart of the world: greatness, to Eddison, is beautiful action, and all beautiful things demand worship. And reward it. "What I have promised," says Eddison's Aphrodite, "I will perform." Read this book. Read Mistress of Mistresses too. They're dazzling, magnificent books.
Rating:
Summary: A challenging read where the plot and prose overwhelm.
Review: At first inspection this book might appear as another fantasy read, but within the first pages, the reader realizes that he/she has found something far beyond modern-day standards. The text flows slowly at first, reminiscent of Shakespearean style, but the words are artisticly justified in their own right. The story and characters are fantastic and interesting. A good knowledge of archaic terms and antiquated allusions is helpful, but there is a highly adequate appendix for the many footnotes
Rating:
Summary: A Pre-Tolkein Turning Point in the Genre
Review: By now, fantasy writers who deal with them have, to a large extent, reached a consensus of what dwarves, elves, imps, demons, goblins, etc. are, or at least look like. _The Worm Ouroboros_ challenges the reader's expectations, since it comes from the time before the seminal defining work of fantasy for the next 50 years, Tolkein's _Lord of the Rings_ came out, setting at least the morphology of many of these creatures in stone. In short, none of the characters look, or behave, as we would expect them to, which is a wonderful shift from the "Dwarves hate Elves (Why? well, because they just DO)." reliance on standardized imagery so many fantasy writers are trapped in today. Our Hero, the King of Demonland, battles the Witch-King Gorice XII, of Witchland, for the (albeit short-lived) supremacy over the world. Much wackiness ensues. Coupling a driving plot with fantastic imagery, as well as an unfamiliar epic structure (Eddison replaces the standard "intro-rising action-climax-resolution" structure with a cyclical narrative reminiscent of Norse epics, to great effect) make for a challenging, surprising, fascinating and completely rewarding read. The only thing keeping _The Worm Ouroboros_ from earning that coveted fifth star is the relative weakness of the characterization. Motives, aside from the sheer love of adventure, simply are not deeply explored. While this is consistent with the Nordic epic structure Eddison emulates--after all, nobody asked why Beowulf took off to Herot to help Hrothgar and his buddies--in a modern work, it is a failing. Nevertheless, _The Worm Ouroboros_ remains a gripping work, despite the relative lack of strong characters. _The Worm Ouroboros_ would not be the best introduction to fantasy literature, but fans of the genre should enjoy it, and it is a must-read for anyone interested in the historical development of modern fantasy.
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Summary: In response to the first review
Review: Comparing Tolkein and Eddison is like comparing apples and oranges. True they're both masters of fantasy, but in different respects. You might as well match up Star Wars and the Matrix as two of the best Sci-fi stories. It's hard to see, but the same amount of time went into both books, but in different respects. Whereas Tolkein spent his time writing languages, Eddison spent his time writing in colloquial speech and creating a version of the english language akin to old english. Basically they did the same thing, it's just that Tolkien wrote alphabets and dictionaries that had his new language, while Eddison wrote dialogue. Whereas Tolkein wrote a perfect modern, dark fantasy tale, Eddison wrote a perfect old/romantic light fantasy tale. Basically, as literary works, they're practically equal, when taken for what they are.
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Summary: The Worm Ouroboros brings back 18th century "depth" to story
Review: E. R. Eddison's The Worm Ouroboros is a different sort of book, one that I wouldn't recommend to someone unfamiliar with the fantasy genre. Neither would I recommend this to anyone unprepared to spend some time working out increadibly rich, complex prose. The point is, anyone wishing to read The Worm Ouroboros must be prepared to put some effort into it. For those of you who "skimread," stay away. You'll get lost. In order to enjoy this book, you need to get into it. Enjoy the words and phrases so artfully crafted, a 100 word sentence just flows by, captured indelibly in your imagination. In an age full of hack fiction written for a few lousy bucks from the publishers, The Worm Ouroboros stands as a monument to a time when writing meant something, because the author believed in his (or her) story
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Summary: Ian Myles Slater on: A Favorite, if Not For Everyone
Review: I adore "The Worm Ouroboros." It has flaws, or at least peculiarities, including a fascination with aristocracy and lack of concern for the "lower classes" rarely expressed so clearly in modern English literature -- perhaps not since the Tudors began eliminating "over-mighty subjects," and the Puritans started comparing the godly poor man in his cottage to the ungodly noble in his mansion (or King in his palace!) without regard to the "natural" order of things. By the 1580s, even Sir Philip Sidney's class-conscious "Arcadia" paid lip-service to rustic virtues, as Malory, a century before, had not. But not Eddison, over three centuries later.
Some, understandably, find this offensive, but it shouldn't be considered political (regardless of the author's own views). E.R. Eddison's narrative fits the Homeric and medieval ethos of the book's characters perfectly; and you can consider their attitude the most realistic feature of the narrative.
And it is quite a story. One of the sub-plots includes riding an unridable beast as a stage in climbing an unclimbable mountain, all of which is part of a side-effort in a struggle to kill an undying enemy.
The book is of a piece; gorgeous language (too much for some tastes), mighty heroes (and their adversaries) in colorful and expensive costumes and decorated armor, spectacular landscapes, weird animals from bestiaries and heraldry, magic gems from lapidaries, and stories from "Mandeville's Travels," all fitted together with correspondingly archaic notions of the Good and the Just. Achilles or Lancelot would be at home. So would medieval Norway's eccentric King Magnus Bare-legs, of Scots garb and sayings like "Kings are made for glory, not for long life," whom I am almost surprised not to find among the minor characters -- despite the book's arbitrary setting on "Mercury" (more of an astrological zone than a planet; Mercury as patron of eloquence), which troubles some readers.
And there are the nations of Witches, Demons, Goblins, Imps, and Pixies; names not related to their characteristics -- save that the lords of Demonland seem to have small horns (not mentioned of anyone else), and the late, unlamented, Ghouls were cannibals. One has to get used to thinking in terms of places: people from "waterish Witchland" and "many-mountained Demonland." There is this difference between the main heroes, the Demons, and the main villains, the Witches; the Demons are seen waging wars in defense of themselves and others, the Witches are out for conquest. But they all enjoy a fight; and, again, some lords of Witchland are perfectly decent to other members of the upper class, while the Demonland nobility doesn't seem to notice much how many common soldiers and seamen perish.
Ordinary farming folk going about their tasks do appear, but briefly, and not without a dignifying classical allusion (the Demon song against Corinius is a version of a Greek drinking song against the tyrant Pittacus); this sequence from daily life also suggests a bit of influence from Eddison's beloved Icelandic sagas, which otherwise contribute omens, pithy sayings, and some artifacts.
If you are sure you can't get over such issues, or won't be able to abide its elevated, frequently archaic, often Shakespearean, or at least Elizabethan or Jacobean, language, you probably shouldn't bother with the book.
If you think that you might enjoy it, for its high adventure and extravagant imagination, there is the question of what edition to read. It used to be that they were all quite similar, and the best answer was "whichever is available." This is no longer true. Both contents and price differ.
Over the years since I first read it 1967, I've become familiar with a number of editions. These include: the 1922 Jonathan Cape edition, the 1952 E.P. Dutton second American edition, with Orville Prescott's Introduction added to that by James Stephens for the 1926 American edition, and the 1962 trade paperback reprint of this in Crown's Xanadu Library (all three identical except the added front-matter); the 1967 Ballantine mass-market paperback, reset from the Dutton edition, with Barbara Remington's charming cover art (and some of its nine later reprintings), plus a 1975 copy of the 1971 Pan/Ballantine British edition, and the 1977 and 1981 Del Rey/Ballantine tenth and twelfth printings, on which the older Ballantine cover was replaced with a less attractive one by Murray Tinkelman (originally in green, later in yellow); and, finally, the 1991 re-set edition from Dell, annotated by Paul Edmund Thomas, with a cover of characters and beasties interpreted by Tim Hildebrandt (typically posed-looking, in studio light).
Although I have some quibbles, and a few major objections, to Thomas's annotations, and to certain omissions, this last is a highly desirable edition, a delight to Eddison's fans, and a resource to those who might be, if they could catch his layered allusions (he often incorporated quotations -- some medieval and adapted, some *literally* sixteenth or seventeenth century English) and follow his frantically rich vocabulary.
If you are a first-timer, though, it should be remembered that a lot of very literate and intelligent people seem to find Eddison unreadable, even with assistance. You might be one of them. With this in mind, a library copy might be the best start, if available, or an inexpensive used copy of the much-reprinted Ballantine edition (or its rather scarcer Del Rey avatar). I will describe third and fourth options at the end.
The main down side of the Dell trade paperback edition (besides it being out of print) is that it was the first I know of not to contain the full set of illustrations and chapter decorations by Keith Henderson. Although these vary in quality (and Ballantine's less than intense printing of sharp blacks was not helpful), they were approved by the author, and form a part of his image of the book. (They also have a fascinating resemblance to Henderson's roughly contemporary illustrations to a lavish edition of another story of exotic adventure, Prescott's "Conquest of Mexico.") In what may have been a production oversight, rather than an editorial decision, it also lacks the ballad excerpt that should serve as an epigram (see under the Kessinger reprint, below).
Some of the later reprintings by other firms seem to have followed the same assumption that the illustrations could be partly or completely eliminated; a circumstance that makes the 1999 Replica Books edition (hardcover and trade paperback), based directly on the British first edition, particularly attractive. The (British) Millennium Fantasy Masterworks edition of 2002, although possibly reset, and also lacking the American multiple introductions, MAY have ALL the art, and, if available, should be less expensive. I also have yet to see the 2004 American edition from Wildside.
At the opposite extreme from the Replica edition in hardcover is the similarly-priced (!) Kessinger reprint (and its very inexpensive E-Book version, with the same pagination), which not only drops the illustrations -- and the layers of introductions to the American editions -- but in resetting the text also drops the opening epigram, and the appended material Eddison provided for the reader. A mood-setting selection from the ballad of "Thomas the Rhymer" should open the book; it is missing from the Kessinger text, as in the Dell edition, for no apparent reason. (Copyright infringement on Sir Walter Scott's version of the text is unlikely to be a problem!)
Eddison's main appendix, the "Argument with Dates" organizes the considerable amount of back-story offered in widely scattered places throughout the book, and incidentally demonstrates how Eddison had worked out travel times, relative ages of characters, and other details, all in a few pages. It too is gone, which is sure to give some readers the impression that Eddison's "art that conceals art" is actually just confusion.
The "Bibliographical Note on the Verses," which identifies most (not quite all) of Eddison's wide-ranging borrowings of English and Greek verse literature (and specifies the translation of the Icelandic saga read aloud in the "Induction," but not the many echoes of other prose) may not be missed by some, but being able to find some of the (mainly) sixteenth and seventeenth century poetry he incorporated into his created world is helpful, and it is likewise gone without a trace. Even worse, this may give some better-informed readers the impression that Eddison was trying to claim credit for literary borrowings he in fact carefully acknowledged. Indeed, Eddison was more than ordinarily scrupulous; he went so far as to specify the variant readings he used in one of the poems.
The Kessinger E-Book is also littered with new and original misprints, which sometimes make Eddison's classical allusions rather difficult to recognize; I assume that this was generated from the same digital version used for the publisher's hard copy edition, which should have the same flaws. However, the e-book is so inexpensive, and the digital form so convenient for searches, that, for now, I am as delighted with it as child with a new toy. *IF* you don't mind reading a computer screen for long stretches (I do), this may not be a bad place to start. (You will need Adobe Reader 6.x to view it; and, even aside from the length, forget about printing it; the file is locked.)
Finally, if you are (as is most likely) reading this on-line, you can check a hypertext version of the 1922 edition on the web -- see the Internet Sacred Text Archive, under Tolkien-related material. This is admirable, but, again, hundreds of pages on a monitor are a more than a bit hard to read (at least for me), and connection speed could be a problem. You can certainly use it as a sampler, to determine if you are interested. Also, the site offers a CD-ROM of a huge collection of material, including "Worm," and many texts relevant to it (particularly Norse and alchemical), at an extremely attractive price. (Its new 4.0 edition should eventually be available through Amazon.) The site itself includes helpful links.
I am classing the e-book and hypertext versions as third and fourth convenient ways to find out if you like this long book, which some find impossible to read, and others rewarding enough to read over and over.
Rating:
Summary: A CLASSIC, not to be missed
Review: I first read this book about twenty years ago for a class called "Philosophy of Fantasy and Science Fiction." I talked with the professor a few years later and he said that he'd dropped the book because a lot of the students complained that the language was too difficult. If you're looking for a quick and easy read, look elsewhere. That said, "The Worm Oroborous" is heroic fantasy at its best, and it's told in language befitting the subject matter. The heros are truly heroic, and the villains are truly villainous, but worthy adversaries. And it does as good a job as I've seen of presenting the classical warrior ethic. It's a somewhat difficult book, but well worth the effort. On the down side, the names of the characters and the places tend to be silly and to detract from the overall presentation. It also probably wouldn't be a bad idea to start at chapter 2.
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