A Night In The Lonesome October

Zelazny was a writer of talent and promise who often seemed to underachieve: even when I like one of his books, I feel that he had it in him to do better. In this particular case, I'm not sure: he may have achieved with this book just what he wanted to achieve, but I'm not the sort of reader he was aiming at, so I don't fully appreciate the result.

It could perhaps be described as dark fantasy, but there are touches of humour in the way it's told, and some of the characters seem more friendly to each other than one might expect in such a tale. It's fluently told and readable, but I really don't know what he was trying to achieve with it, and in the end I'm mystified.