Havdala's review is both more respectful and more detailed than my first impressions, but she still lays in a couple of good punches:
Yet this book (I’m halfway through) is full of dualism, old wives’ tales, carefully clipped quotes from the famous Fathers, irrelevant accounts of out of the body experiences, references to obscure early saints who are not necessarily Fathers, dependence on 19th century Russian bishops, gnosticism and theosophy. I’m pinching myself black and blue to remember that Seraphim Rose wrote this. I suppose I have to accept it as a reminder that all our idols have feet of clay.
Read both parts of her review; it's well worth it.
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