This conclusion to the Jimgrim saga apparently came five years after the preceding book in the series. It shows. Talbot Mundy seems to have lost all inspiration, here. Jimgrim is filled with elaborate detail; but it has no atmosphere. The novel enlists the theme of the occult; but it has no mystery. The characters themselves, while developed beyond anything expected in genre fiction, lack charm and interest. Jimgrim himself seems flaccid, waiting for his part in the tale to end. Ramsden often appears to have left the narrative entirely, only to flit back in when action and muscle is needed. And a new character, Robert Crosby, is but a bland version of Jeremy Ross from earlier in the series. One more thing: in all the Jimgrim novels where Jimgrim and Ramsden both appear and carry the action, it is Ramsden who narrates the story. For some reason, Mundy shifted the narration from Ramsden to Crosby in Jimgrim. Why? All the earlier intimacy the reader experienced with the characters disappears, as too much time is spent bringing in Crosby's perspective, his story.

The redeeming part of the novel is that it does provide closure to the series, in a sad and melancholy way. The last image we have of the heroes is alone, in a Tibetan valley, preparing for the long trek home to India. Chullunder Ghose is there. So is Ramsden. The new boy, Crosby. And Grim is burning with a ferocity not seen in any other book. So it ends. ( )