I was prepared to stretch my credulity considering this was a book written in the mid 1970s and there was plenty of off wack new age stuff floating around at that time. However, I cannot forgive some of the stiled and cringemaking writing inside it. It's a really nice idea, it's fairly well constructed, but I get the impression that Mr Matheson ran out of ideas or steam or something and ended up taking the focus away from the very thing that made me pick the book up in the first place. It's not Shakespeare, or if it is, then it's cymbeline.