PERDIDO STREET STATION, BY CHINA MIEVILLE

I guess this is technically a “steampunk” novel, whatever that means. I think it means urban scifi/fantasy. I seem to recall reading positive reviews in the distant past, and there were comparisons to Neal Stephenson on the back cover so I picked it up. Hasn’t grabbed me yet.

Done

Finally. I feel like I’ve been reading this book forever. It’s long, largely unstructured, and I never became particularly invested in any of the characters, so it just dragged on. The best thing I could say about it is that it’s diverting. One of the quotes on the back describes it as “phantasmagoric,” which seems accurate. All sorts of crazy random things, soul-devouring moth creatures, interdimensional homicidal spiders, creative reconstructive surgery as state punishment. That’s all amusing to a degree, enough to keep boredom at bay while waiting in line or riding the train.

Which is not to say that this is a work of complete and utter novelty. All kinds of fantasy and scifi tropes, sentient parasite societies, machines acquiring intelligence, hawk people, oppressive government, blah blah. There are also passages like this:

The glass was painted opaque. It vibrated minutely in eldritch dimensions, buffeted by emanations from within.

and

Dark figures slid expertly, at breakneck speed, the length of the cords. They came in a constant quick drip. They looked like glutinous clots dribbling down the entrails of the disembowled airships.

I mean, yes, hilarious, but imagine having to say these things out loud.

Ultimately, the author (who’s smug mug defaces the back cover in possibly the worst author photo I’ve suffered to date) seems far too obsessed with the little hodgepodge world he’s thrown together, too eager to throw in every little “wouldn’t it be cool if” moment he ever had instead of focusing on the story. Maybe I just didn’t like his writing. Or the fact that he used the word ‘bituminous‘ on practically every page. That and ‘ichor‘. Anyway, I don’t recommend it.