Behold the Man (1969) originally appeared as a novella in a 1966 issue of New Worlds; later, Moorcock produced an expanded version which is the one I read.
The title derives from the Gospel of John, Chapter 19, Verse 5: "Then Jesus came out, wearing the crown of thorns and the purple robe. And Pilate said to them Behold the Man."
Karl is a 20th century Londoner. This story begins with Karl's arrival in the Holy Land of AD 28, where his time machine, a womb-like, fluid-filled sphere, cracks open and becomes useless. By interpolating numerous memories and flashbacks, Moorcock tells the parallel story of Karl's troubled past in 20th century London, and tries to explain why he's willing to risk everything to meet Jesus. We quickly learn that Karl is a neurotic, self-centered, immature idiot.
I typically love time travel stories. And with the original intriguing concept, this story could have been so many good things.
But while it's engaging at times, and very readable, the author's heart was SO soaked in bitterness and cynicism and juvenile mischief when he wrote it that the final result is really poor. Every stereotypical anti-Christian trope is present. A superficial anger against the Christian religion runs through the entire work, and it really spoils what could have been a great book, whether it had taken a Christian stance or not.
Or maybe his wasn't really anger or bitterness, but just the same immature sense of rebellion against authority that leads a 14 years old kid to write obscene graffiti on the school walls.
And boy, are there "obscene graffiti" in this book!
The blasphemies are as "elegant" and "subtly intellectual" as the main character having sex with Mary, while a mentally ill, drooling Jesus sits there looking at them (!).
The whole thing is worse than low-brow, crass pub banter and it leaves a black stain of negativity in your brain.
Totally missed opportunity. Do not read it.