PositiveThe Los Angeles Times... a sprawling camp postmodern novel in which patriarchy is defined as a kind of magical Oedipal drag. Like Morrison’s work on everything from Batman to the X-Men, except even more so, the book is wildly and sometimes tediously self-indulgent. Also like the comics, it is in parts wildly, and weirdly, brilliant ... The drama is, inevitably, a big booty-shake distraction from the drama ... the novel is really as much a humble brag as it is a narrative, with Morrison (as Mott, as Luci) letting loose a torrent of gossip, shade, in-jokes and burlesque slapstick in lieu of the expected denouement, tragic or otherwise ... For Morrison, moving from comics to literary fiction is also a kind of self-remaking, and on the surface a common one — toward seriousness, credibility. In its excesses and its feral fabulousness, though, the novel doesn’t feel like a well-worn path. Instead, Luda feels like the Morrison that Morrison was always meant to be.
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