So, Mr. Fraser has done his part here. Pornography is an illusion being used to dispense with the illusion of chastity. Democracy is an illusion, purporting to establish equality among men. A greater failure cannot be imagined. Justice is an illusion, as many recent famous trials have demonstrated.
Justice is beyond the reach of man.
Religion is an illusion, perhaps the greatest of illusions. Of course, framing these human creations with the negative concept of illusion perhaps does them an injustice, but it is accurate, anyway. I guess the final accolade I would bestow on Mr. Fraser would be to label this novel as the only case, known by me, of literature coming out of the second half of the twentieth century. That calls, I guess, for a personal definition of literature. Literature, as art, must say something profound about life in such a way as to demonstrate that it couldn't be put any other way.