Perdido Street Station
Nov. 20th, 2011 03:59 pm"Good but icky" is how China Mieville has always been described to me - however, I was in need of a chunky fantasy book to get my teeth into, so I decided it was time to give him a try.
The Prologue to Perdido Street Station is exquisitely written, though I did see what Dave meant about the icky. The descriptions are incredibly sensual (very vivid images, sounds and smells) but they're all about quite unpleasant things - it's all very organic and grimy, with lots of oozing and squelching.
The main narrative settles down into a more mundane style (a good thing, as I'm not sure I could have handled 800 pages of high prose), but it's still very descriptive and engaging.
I find it very interesting that the main plot as described in the blurb on the back of the book doesn't actually start until nearly half way through, and comes about entirely by accident as a consequence of a minor action attached to what has been the main plotline up to that point. A whole new cast of characters is then introduced and the story expands out into lots of new areas, while at the same time starting to pull together plot threads that previously seemed entirely unconnected.
The scope of the book is enormous, and there are loads of aspects that aren't explored in any depth - there's a single scene of a few pages in the middle that introduces an amazing concept, which then doesn't reappear for the rest of the book, and is actually the thing I found most intriguing of all. Various other aspects of the world are glimpsed tantalisingly, hinting at so much more that could be tapped into in the setting - self-generating AIs, parasite hand-worms that take hosts and organise their society around whether they are a left or right hand, giant cross-dimensional spiders that can reweave the fabric of reality, cactus people with their own sub-society within the city - each of these things could have had a whole book entirely devoted to them.
I have to admit it lost me a bit in the build-up to the denouement at the station - it all got a bit too technical and I had no idea what was going on, which made the narrative lost impetus. I was also a bit disappointed by the way the threat was neutralised - there was a bit too much of a deus ex machina contribution, and the plan revolved around a huge assumption that had little evidence to back it up, and was a bit too convenient, to my mind.
Still, I was very pleased at the amount of attention spared for the aftermath - stories too often get to the end of the action climax and then just stop - I like to see the consequences and find out what the characters are going to do next, and that was very much provided here. What makes the whole thing absolute genius is that the project that sparked off the crisis in the first place is left unfinished, so the whole thing is entirely pointless - instead of being annoying, I found this really clever. The conclusion also raises profound philosophical questions about perception of people and how this changes depending on how much you know about them - if your experience of someone is all positive, and then you find out that they did something awful before you met, how does this change how you feel about them?
My favourite thing about the book, though, is the fact that it stops to consider the consequences of everything. In a lot of stories, the characters are prompted to do immoral things and don't seem to care. Here, their inner conflict is very much focused upon, and there is a lot of debate about means and ends, plus acknowledgement that their guilt will affect them ongoing. It adds a lot of depth, and makes the characters so much more believable to know they have that level of inner life.
All in all - I am in awe. Mieville is an incredible writer, and I will definitely be reading more of his books.
The Prologue to Perdido Street Station is exquisitely written, though I did see what Dave meant about the icky. The descriptions are incredibly sensual (very vivid images, sounds and smells) but they're all about quite unpleasant things - it's all very organic and grimy, with lots of oozing and squelching.
The main narrative settles down into a more mundane style (a good thing, as I'm not sure I could have handled 800 pages of high prose), but it's still very descriptive and engaging.
I find it very interesting that the main plot as described in the blurb on the back of the book doesn't actually start until nearly half way through, and comes about entirely by accident as a consequence of a minor action attached to what has been the main plotline up to that point. A whole new cast of characters is then introduced and the story expands out into lots of new areas, while at the same time starting to pull together plot threads that previously seemed entirely unconnected.
The scope of the book is enormous, and there are loads of aspects that aren't explored in any depth - there's a single scene of a few pages in the middle that introduces an amazing concept, which then doesn't reappear for the rest of the book, and is actually the thing I found most intriguing of all. Various other aspects of the world are glimpsed tantalisingly, hinting at so much more that could be tapped into in the setting - self-generating AIs, parasite hand-worms that take hosts and organise their society around whether they are a left or right hand, giant cross-dimensional spiders that can reweave the fabric of reality, cactus people with their own sub-society within the city - each of these things could have had a whole book entirely devoted to them.
I have to admit it lost me a bit in the build-up to the denouement at the station - it all got a bit too technical and I had no idea what was going on, which made the narrative lost impetus. I was also a bit disappointed by the way the threat was neutralised - there was a bit too much of a deus ex machina contribution, and the plan revolved around a huge assumption that had little evidence to back it up, and was a bit too convenient, to my mind.
Still, I was very pleased at the amount of attention spared for the aftermath - stories too often get to the end of the action climax and then just stop - I like to see the consequences and find out what the characters are going to do next, and that was very much provided here. What makes the whole thing absolute genius is that the project that sparked off the crisis in the first place is left unfinished, so the whole thing is entirely pointless - instead of being annoying, I found this really clever. The conclusion also raises profound philosophical questions about perception of people and how this changes depending on how much you know about them - if your experience of someone is all positive, and then you find out that they did something awful before you met, how does this change how you feel about them?
My favourite thing about the book, though, is the fact that it stops to consider the consequences of everything. In a lot of stories, the characters are prompted to do immoral things and don't seem to care. Here, their inner conflict is very much focused upon, and there is a lot of debate about means and ends, plus acknowledgement that their guilt will affect them ongoing. It adds a lot of depth, and makes the characters so much more believable to know they have that level of inner life.
All in all - I am in awe. Mieville is an incredible writer, and I will definitely be reading more of his books.
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Date: 2011-11-20 08:19 pm (UTC)I particularly liked the Weaver, and the Cactus men too, and I know there was so much else that I really don't remember. And the idea of The Remade is just utterly gruesome :/
The Scar is as good as Perdido Street Station and follows on from it, to an extent. It's less completely compelling, but the wealth of creativity is there, as is the gruesomeness of the imagination. Look out for the anophelii women. *shudder*
I hope things are good with you. I shall be replying to your email soon, and paying my part of the holiday up front as soon as possible :)