Despite its strengths, the book will probably disappoint some of Moore's fans. The language is frequently dense and a fair amount of historical knowledge is assumed on the part of the reader. The first chapter, which is told all in the present tense in a vocabulary constricted by the small intellect of the narrator, is not an easy way to be introduced to the story. The tenth chapter, based on the quite historically real works of John Clare, a poet incarcerated in the Northampton asylum, is told entirely without punctuation and includes a load of names and details from his personal life that are given with little background information. Also, while the story is just as dense an onion-skinned layering of theme on theme as any of Moore's other books, there isn't any big climactic moment that everything is building towards. A grand Watchmen or From Hell style conspiracy will not be found in this book; Batman and the Joker do not face off in the rain. Each chapter builds towards its own climax, feeding a flame that has no definite beginning, middle, or end.

Moore's story of Northampton spans millennia, so there is no final showdown, only the iteration and reiteration of human events, as though history was a pond into which a stone had been dropped. This is not because the novel is more realistic than Moore's other books (Brought to Light takes that place). Despite the wealth of facts, the book is more story than history. There is plenty of the magic, blood, and wild speculation that characterize the other books. Like many of its characters, Voice of the Fire, stands at a crossroads between fact and fantasy, word and world. As the final chapter observes, "This is a fiction, not a lie."

The weaving of fact with fiction, as in From Hell, is what gives Voice of the Fire its visionary power — but Voice takes more chances, so it is both more uneven and more successful than From Hell. The book dares more and loves more. Despite the fact that each story has a different protagonist, the book taken as a whole seems more personal, more revealing than any of the author's previous work. By summoning up the voices of the dead and burned, Moore stakes his claim as a grand magician and, unlike his colleague in Oz, he invites us to look at him behind his curtain of fire. Now singing, now screaming, he signals his message through the flames.