A book by Anthony Burgess, fictional or otherwise (and ABBA ABBA is both), is likely to be tricky—and harsh almost to desperation, moving and funny. Also, at times, exasperating: over-insistence and the obvious are a word-player's fatal Cleopatras, sure to engulf him in the mire of horseplay, yet irresistible through their very unattractiveness, perhaps.

Part One is a tale about Keats, dying in Rome, in the care of his friend, Severn. Word-play starts in the title and proliferates speedily. The poet is Junkets, to be eaten by Fairy Mab, disjointed, disjuncted, disjunketed. A resident English sculptor uses the same marble as Michelangelo: 'Ewing in Italy … hewing so prettily'. The quips and cranks range over several languages. (p. 729)

Whether or not it has only one father, this book has many elder brethren: a comic scene between Keats and a drunken Lieutenant Elton reminds one of the early pleasures...