In a lush verdant meadow, bounded by a sparkling river, the flags of several tents flutter in the gentle breeze, rich with the promise of halcyon days...
Yet all is not as tranquil as it may seem: the balance of power wrought between the tenants of The Great Field, as it is properly known, is a delicate one. A true pioneer, Hen claims to have arrived in the field first, pitching his tent in the west, and is staunchly defensive of his claim; Isabella, with all her crimson finery, bathes daily in the stream much to the chagrin of certain residents, the concerned delight of others; while Thomas, with mysterious his grand octagonal tent and flowing white robes, disappears for days at a time with undetectable goals, provoking suspicion and mistrust. While the narrator nurses grudges but tries to help where he can...These relationships are stretched to breaking point when a new, large and disciplined group offers to share its surplus of milk pudding, a gesture that only the narrator is willing to acknowledge.
By forging links with the newcomers he becomes a conduit for change, a change that threatens The Great Field.
Industry Reviews
Another mythic, mercurial world, a utopia that increasingly reveals its own fragility ... Fans will revel in his bone-dry comic prose, a narrative voice that is both casual and knowing. In one patch of grass, Mills triumphantly displays his own idiosyncrasies and peculiarities; as literary experiments go, it's a memorable one * Literary Review *
Magnus Mills's work is always charming, timeless and slightly at a tangent to reality, making us view our own world through fresh eyes. This short, slight novel is, in essence, a parable about our fall from Eden and man's essential biddability * Daily Mail *
Very funny ... One of the distinguishing features of Mills's prose is the way it flirts with whimsy without ever succumbing to it. Like all the great comic stylists - which Mills certainly is - the books are often pretexts for exercises in 'pure word music', a phrase coined by Douglas Adams to describe the joy of reading Wodehouse ... The Field of the Cloth of Gold is another joyful performance of 'pure word music' from one of Britain's most original, inimitable writers * Spectator *
We've come to recognise what is distinctively Millsian: a plot that is slightly absurd, possibly allegorical, written in prose that is simple, stylish and deadpan. All is present and correct in this, his eighth novel **** * Daily Telegraph *
Another of his trademark, pitch-perfect, blackly funny fables ... all this oddness seems to be peculiarly familiar and utterly endearing. It is archetypal Mills, still ploughing his own fabulous literary furrow, which has led Thomas Pynchon to describe him as "a demented, deadpan comic wonder" ... The literary world's most original voice * Herald *
Master of comic deadpan Magnus Mills invites us to observe the nuanced etiquette of settlers in the "Great Field" ... The story starts with news of a surplus of milk pudding, and this sets the tone for the texture of the prose itself: emphatically bland, yet surprisingly nourishing if taken with a pinch of salt ... It's quite an achievement * Independent on Sunday *
Magnus Mills is unique. There is simply no equivalent of his brand of domestic absurdism. Partly this is a matter of style, the unmistakably deadpan voice concealing the precise construction of each book, each sentence even, under an artless veneer. But the distinctiveness also reflects his preoccupations ... Mills is the most British of anarchists, something that his brilliantly crafty seventh novel, The Field of the Cloth of Gold, makes explicit * Independent *
He's original, he's eccentric - and I predict that Magnus Mills will still be fascinating his admirers 100 years from now ... The surrealism works because the story is anchored firmly in human emotions, and told with Mills' trademark off-the-wall comedy. I loved this bag of bizarreness * Kate Saunders, Saga *
Slightly absurd, possibly allegorical, written in simple, stylish, deadpan prose, each as singular, witty and engaging as its predecessor ... So what is it all about? Is it a fable? A parable? An allegory? A bit of fun? All four? Part of the pleasure of reading Mills is trying to work out what he is getting at, if he is getting at anything at all. I would say that anyone with a grasp of history will nod along and anyone with a sense of the present will anxiously check the sky for storm clouds * Sunday Telegraph *
