London, far in the unwholesome future, has a totally-directed society where miscegenation has ruined Anglo-Saxon ways and features; where homosexuality is the official order-of-the-day and where insistent heterosexuals are kept to a low quota for reproduction. Beatrice-Joanna Foxe, a real throwback to the present, commits the unoriginal sin of swearing off her contraceptive pills. She also beds down with her brother-in-law, who only pretends homosexuality, in order to get ahead. Tristram, her husband, is the complete victim/observer— captive in a standstill job, political prisoner and then forced volunteer in an army before he gets back to Beatrice-Joanna's embrace. Her defiant gesture of bearing twins sets off a whirl in the cycle of history. Impregnated at the bottom of the turn when famine was turning the English tooth from beef to haunches of neighbor, the twins are born to a rebirth of religion— which starts with pagan fertility rites (committee-directed fornication in the fields) and progresses to the warrior-god stage. Mr. Burgess owes much to other satirists of man's eventual fate. He concentrates on population control and allows reader memory to supply remembered details of various government controls from other (and better) books. His starting pace is fast and pointed, but this slows to a crawl when wit becomes predictable silliness and when his characters go from hungry flesh to cardboard.