There's an old story about about Michael Moorcock, which I may have said before - as a young writer, he decided that he could routinely produce 15,000 words a day without it causing him undue strain. And so he did. Even taking weekends off (or possibly using them to edit New Worlds or hang out with Hawkwind) that translates into three modestly-sized novels every fortnight.
Moorcock's workrate, when you put it like that, is impressive enough, but it's only when you look at the 'by the same author' list at the front of a recent edition of one of his books and see the immense number of works recorded there that it really strikes home that this man is a cottage industry as much as a literary figure. We can disagree about the actual quality of much of his early work, or indeed about whether some of his more self-consciously literary output isn't just pretentious bibble-bobble (The Condition of Muzak and Entropy Tango, I'm looking at you), but what's certain is that this is a huge body of work. One doesn't so much read Moorcock's books as travel through his world.
And every now and then you find yourself unexpected and disconcerting. Which brings me to the collected edition of Von Bek, which I had the pleasure of reading just recently. The edition I picked up contained two novels and a short story, and was billed as the first volume in the Eternal Champion sequence - this despite the fact that the novels involved are mid-to-late period Moorcock and the title of the Champion is never used in the body of the texts.
The first novel, The War Hound and the World's Pain, is recognisably a Moorcock fantasy in the archetypal vein - the protagonist is a lone warrior, cynical, dangerous, on an ominous but still noble quest, accompanied by a loyal subordinate. In this instance he is von Bek, a German mercenary late of the Thirty Year War, who finds himself retained by Lucifer to find the Holy Grail and make possible the creation of a better world. (His first name is 'Ulrich', which in itself is enough to make Moorcock-savvy readers go 'Ahh,' and nod sagely.)
Moorcock's quest-fantasies are ultimately all so samey that it's easy to see why the great man goes to such lengths to give each series its own twist and distinct flavour. In this case it's mainly through the use of a historical real-world setting (not that this is much gone into), and the framing of the central conflict in explicit terms of Heaven and Hell. You could certainly argue that this is a good deal less imaginative and interesting than one would expect from Moorcock, but it gives the story a certain resonance. It all boils down to a finely-judged mixture of sex, violence, and theology, with a harder edge to it than in some other iterations - von Bek and his companion don't demur at a little cold-blooded murder and rape along the way. It's less colourful and bizarre than, say, one of the Hawkmoon books, but also arguably more mature, if a little earnest.
The sense of a writer changing gears is only increased by The City in the Autumn Stars, the novel which comprises most of this volume. This is very much not a case of more of the same, as a quest narrative is notably absent. Set in the 1790s, this is the tale of another von Bek (a descendent of the original narrator) who finds himself fleeing the French Reign of Terror and winding up in Mirenberg, a fictitious central European city seemingly modelled on Prague.
For nearly all of the first half of the book there are only hints of a fantastical element (shades of The Brothel in Rosenstrasse, a - the Doctor Who fan in me rushes to the surface - 'pure historical' von Bek novel, apparently not a part of the Champion sequence and so not collected here) - but then the main characters travel by balloon into another world, where they discover the fantastical counterpart to the 'real' Mirenberg. It seems that a rare metaphysical convergence is at hand, which will set the course of the world for many years to come. Everyone has their own idea as to how this should be exploited (except von Bek himself, who is letting himself be led around by his male member for a lot of the book), but doing so will require possession of the Holy Grail - so it's fortunate that the von Beks have a genetic affinity for the thing...
On one level this reads like a freewheeling historical pastiche, with very atypical fantasy elements - the fantasy is actually really subdued and quite dark, now I consider it. However, there's clearly more than this going on, but attempting to make sense of it is challenging. Much of the plot revolves around alchemical terms and concepts, and it seemed to me that in some ways this is intended to be read allegorically. Moorcock wears his erudition, both historical and esoteric, very lightly, but this is a hard book to categorise even by his standards.
Nevertheless, it is in many ways quintessential Moorcock, not least in the way it connects with the rest of his work on many levels. Mirenberg, a city existing simultaneously in many worlds, is also known as Amalorm - the obvious implication is that Mirenberg and Tanelorn , both idealised multidimensional cities (the latter from the Elric stories, amongst others), are actually one and the same. The climax revolves around an attempt to alchemically create a perfect, hermaphroditic being - in short, pretty much what actually happens in the climax of The Final Programme, the first Jerry Cornelius novel. Do all these concepts and themes add up to anything more than a collection of Easter Eggs for constant readers of the bearded titan? It would take a braver man than me to give a definite no.
The collection is rounded off with The Pleasure Garden of Felipe Sagittarius, a piece of avant-garde hipster weirdness from the Sixties, retro-written to tie into the other stories (in the loosest possible sense - the main character is another von Bek and the Grail is mentioned). Set in a devastated Berlin where Einstein, Weill, and Hitler drink in the same bar, one detects the injudicious use of shock, but it's short enough not to be wearisome. by the same coin, it's not enough of a reason to buy this edition even if you like Sixties hipster weirdness: it's the strange historical pastiche of City in the Autumn Stars that's central to this collection. As a whole, not my favourite selection of Michael Moorcock, but very representative of his extraordinary range.