(NB: I also finished this book a few weeks ago; I’m still several books behind in my posting.) This is a much stronger book than King Rat, but it’s not quite so easy to sink your teeth into. The world seems fairly complete, which is actually something I’m not used to in fantasy fiction (with the possible exception of David Eddings’ work, and he is notoriously obsessive about economic and logistical detail), and it took considerable adjustment to cope with, because Miéville doesn’t do a whole lot of info-dumping, at least not initially. (This can actually be a problem at times, as he also tends to stretch scenes of suspense far longer than they warrant and readers can be left in the dark for several chapters about issues that aren’t significant enough to benefit from such treatment.)
As it’s been a few weeks since I’ve read it (as opposed to the normal half-hour gap between reading the book and writing these things) I’ve forgotten the names of most of the characters, but in all honesty I didn’t like any of them. This is a good thing, though. First, I actually think of them as characters rather than as simple cardboard cut-outs or plot devices; the fact that I don’t like them is irrelevant, really. It doesn’t keep me from enjoying the story. Isaac, the more or less protagonist somehow manages to be supremely selfish personally and passionately interested in social justice. This tends to keep him from being the generally featureless hero figure that folks complain about in lesser fantasy work but it does, as I mentioned earlier, keep him from being likable. Perhaps I would think differently if I were English rather than Canadian. I’ve often noticed that there is a kind of directness to protagonists in English fiction (especially in young characters) that would come across as rude or even openly hostile in Canadian society. An unrecognized cultural gap, perhaps? The book is chock full of characters, but most of them, while individualized, aren’t quite developed, and it’s easier to think of them as functions rather than people (Lin the damsel in distress, Yagharek the sympathetic alien, Motley the criminal mastermind, and so on).
Should I say some things about the world of New Crobuzon? Perhaps I should. The city itself is wonderfully realized, right down to street corners and a rich, ramshackle development that reminds me of any number of cities (London, Cairo, and my adopted home of Toronto all spring to mind), but little seems to be done to place the city in any kind of context, either historical or governmental. Is New Crobuzon part of a nation? Where is the original Crobuzon? What is its relationship to neighbouring communities? One or two of these things are brushed on, but the general sense seems to be that, at this stage at least, Miéville didn’t think too deeply on these subjects, and New Crobuzon is an island emerging from the mist.
I don’t want to leave the impression that I disliked the novel, so let me just say that I have acquired all of Miéville’s other works, except the most recent Un-lun-dun (I think that’s what it’s called), and have every intention of reading them in the near future, so impressed was I by both King Rat and Perdido Street Station.
Next: Flow My Tears, The Policeman Said, by Philip K. Dick.
