What do you think?
Rate this book
New Crobuzon #3
Iron Council
Following Perdido Street Station and The Scar , acclaimed author China Miéville returns with his hugely anticipated Del Rey hardcover debut. With a fresh and fantastical band of characters, he carries us back to the decadent squalor of New Crobuzon—this time, decades later.
It is a time of wars and revolutions, conflict and intrigue. New Crobuzon is being ripped apart from without and within. War with the shadowy city-state of Tesh and rioting on the streets at home are pushing the teeming city to the brink. A mysterious masked figure spurs strange rebellion, while treachery and violence incubate in unexpected places.
In desperation, a small group of renegades escapes from the city and crosses strange and alien continents in the search for a lost hope.
In the blood and violence of New Crobuzon’s most dangerous hour, there are whispers. It is the time of the iron council. . . .
The bold originality that broke Miéville out as a new force of the genre is here once more in Iron Council : the voluminous, lyrical novel that is destined to seal his reputation as perhaps the edgiest mythmaker of the day.
It is a time of wars and revolutions, conflict and intrigue. New Crobuzon is being ripped apart from without and within. War with the shadowy city-state of Tesh and rioting on the streets at home are pushing the teeming city to the brink. A mysterious masked figure spurs strange rebellion, while treachery and violence incubate in unexpected places.
In desperation, a small group of renegades escapes from the city and crosses strange and alien continents in the search for a lost hope.
In the blood and violence of New Crobuzon’s most dangerous hour, there are whispers. It is the time of the iron council. . . .
The bold originality that broke Miéville out as a new force of the genre is here once more in Iron Council : the voluminous, lyrical novel that is destined to seal his reputation as perhaps the edgiest mythmaker of the day.
564 pages, Paperback
First published July 1, 2004
About the author
China Miéville
153 books14.5k followersA British "fantastic fiction" writer. He is fond of describing his work as "weird fiction" (after early 20th century pulp and horror writers such as H. P. Lovecraft), and belongs to a loose group of writers sometimes called New Weird who consciously attempt to move fantasy away from commercial, genre clichés of Tolkien epigons. He is also active in left-wing politics as a member of the Socialist Workers Party. He has stood for the House of Commons for the Socialist Alliance, and published a book on Marxism and international law.
Excerpted from Wikipedia.
Excerpted from Wikipedia.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,129 reviews
March 4, 2016
I've known *about* Mieville for a long time. But I don't know if I've ever read one of his books before. Generally speaking though, people I respect enjoy his books, and that's the best way I know to find new things to read.
Simply said? I really enjoyed it. Strange enough to be wondrous, but not so bizarre that it's nonsensical. Good story. Good use of language. Good characters.
Perhaps more than anything else, I was impressed by the moral ambiguity of the book. And I'm not talking about cheap moral ambiguity, where characters disagree. Or there's some questions along the lines of "was that the right thing to do?"
None of that weak tea here. This book was full of difficult situations and choices, and I can't think of another book I've read where so many people had radically different opinions about what the best course of action was. They disagreed, each took their own path, and and at the end of things, I still don't know who was right. What's more, the author pulled that off in such a way that it didn't feel fruitless and frustrating to me as a reader.
My hat's off Mievile there, that's a *very* difficult balancing act.
My only irritation was that I picked this book up without doing my usual research though. It's only now that I came to enter it into goodreads that I discover what I've fucked up and read the third book of the series.
It speaks well of the book that that didn't keep me from enjoying the story or getting into the world. (Though it does explain the steeper-than-average learning curve at the beginning of the story.)
Simply said? I really enjoyed it. Strange enough to be wondrous, but not so bizarre that it's nonsensical. Good story. Good use of language. Good characters.
Perhaps more than anything else, I was impressed by the moral ambiguity of the book. And I'm not talking about cheap moral ambiguity, where characters disagree. Or there's some questions along the lines of "was that the right thing to do?"
None of that weak tea here. This book was full of difficult situations and choices, and I can't think of another book I've read where so many people had radically different opinions about what the best course of action was. They disagreed, each took their own path, and and at the end of things, I still don't know who was right. What's more, the author pulled that off in such a way that it didn't feel fruitless and frustrating to me as a reader.
My hat's off Mievile there, that's a *very* difficult balancing act.
My only irritation was that I picked this book up without doing my usual research though. It's only now that I came to enter it into goodreads that I discover what I've fucked up and read the third book of the series.
It speaks well of the book that that didn't keep me from enjoying the story or getting into the world. (Though it does explain the steeper-than-average learning curve at the beginning of the story.)
April 6, 2023
Iron Council is China Miéville's most overtly political fiction work, but don't pigeonhole it.
Between the revolutionary fervor, fantasy, trains, and Western-like parts runs a common theme of love and the painful, desperate, doomed human longing.
I loved this book. It was not the insta-love like it was with "The Scar" but a long, careful, slow-to-build-up affair that by the end of the story fully blossomed. This book is fascinating, passionate, brutal at times, thought-provoking and deliberately anger-inducing.
But at the same time, it's like Miéville deliberately made it not as easy to love as his other works. Let me explain.
I've read 4 Miéville's books by now, and I think one of his greatest strengths as a storyteller is the ability to not just create amazingly imaginative and creative universes but also to lovingly make the setting of the story a true protagonist. "Perdido Street Station" was the ode to New Crobuzon; "The Scar" was a love song for Armada; "The City & The City" was a story about the divide between Beszél and Ul Qoma.
Here, however, we are taken on the quest, getting glimpses into many different corners of Bas Lag, only quick looks at the really changed New Crobuzon, and for a while only a teasing promise of the titular Iron Council. Yes, eventually I did love Iron Council, but it took so long to get there that it never became the same real character as Miéville's other locales did.
But once I got past the grief of not falling in love with a geographical location, I was able to fully appreciate and passionately love the painful and difficult themes of this book. The ramifications of Crobuzonian politics, only glimpsed in the first two novels, finally take the center stage. Miéville is not subtle about where he stands on social rights and inequalities, and I loved the passionate and open expression of his views. It is not difficult to draw parallels between our less-than-perfect society obsessed with money, power, greed, and inequality, and the world of New Crobuzon, on the verge of collapse and catastrophe.
New Crobuzon, the (in)famous festering filth of a city, believe it or not, has changed for the worse. The political oppression is at its worst, it's basically under the martial law, the xenophobia is at its height due to an undergoing war, the poverty and corruption are appalling, and no wonder that social dissatisfaction and unrest are brewing. Instead of exciting time on the barricades, however, we get to take a look into the heart of the brewing revolution - the tensions between revolutionary factions, the differences between the 'talkers' and the anarchists, the plottings, the mistrust, the fear. The oppressiveness is palpable, the atmosphere is rotten and suffocating, and the overall effect on the reader is powerful.
At the same time, we get to see even more of the single greatest horror and injustice of the Crobuzonian system - the Remade. The horrific bodily remaking that the criminals (including the political ones) undergo marks them as outcasts, permanent slaves, nobodies, people below the regard of society. They were briefly shown in PSS; their plight was mentioned in "The Scar". But it is only in Iron Council that we get to see more of the ramifications of this. We get to see their suffering and their fighting back. I could not help but feel my heart break a bit over their pain and torture. And it made me reflect on all the ways our present-day society marginalizes those it does not approve of - the effect I'm sure CM was going for.
We also see the gender issues that up until now were not addressed much in Crobuzonian universe. I found it striking how women are degraded and marginalized, how a strong Remade woman is an abomination because of her 'unwomanly' strength, how even during the strikes and rebellion the women are treated as vastly inferior, nothing but instruments for men's sexual satisfaction which they 'owe' them - to the point of creating 'rape squads', and how a woman's revenge is even described as simply a 'grudge'.
Yet again Miéville does not give us an ending we would love to have - you know, the one where conflicts get resolved, the bad guys get their comeuppance, and the good guys are vindicated. But life does not work like that, life tends to reset itself towards the status quo with maybe small new hope brewing under the surface - and CM reflects this in his writing. It is 'weird' and fantastical, with adventures and monsters (even though we can agree that the true monsters are always people) - but it is nevertheless very painfully real in its emotions and psychological effects of the outcomes.
Everything comes at a cost and the costs are often very hard to bear. It's not a comfort read, not a book that will make you feel better - but that is not always the purpose of literature, is it now? Sometimes the purpose is to unsettle you and make you think.
But the part I loved the most, the one that left perhaps the biggest impact on me, was the art about love and human longing. It underlies every action, every event of this story. The revolutionary fervor is fueled by longing for change and better life. The Iron Council is triggered by the longing for freedom and justice. And, of course, there was the love and longing of Cutter and Judah - albeit, sadly, not for the same thing. Cutter was heartbreaking in his love, devotion, and longing for Judah - the feelings that he knew too well weren't shared or reciprocated, but quite often seemed to be simply used. He was so touching, so pained in this that I felt a lump in my throat at times reading about him. No one, I repeat - no one should be doled out sorta-kinda-love simply as a gesture of kindness; that is just cruel.
===========================================
Overall, a rather challenging but ultimately rewarding and emotionally uneasy read that makes you ponder quite a few difficult questions. 4.5 stars. I recommend it highly, and advise sticking with it even if you do not fall in love with it right away. That love will come eventually, I promise.
Between the revolutionary fervor, fantasy, trains, and Western-like parts runs a common theme of love and the painful, desperate, doomed human longing.
I loved this book. It was not the insta-love like it was with "The Scar" but a long, careful, slow-to-build-up affair that by the end of the story fully blossomed. This book is fascinating, passionate, brutal at times, thought-provoking and deliberately anger-inducing.
But at the same time, it's like Miéville deliberately made it not as easy to love as his other works. Let me explain.
I've read 4 Miéville's books by now, and I think one of his greatest strengths as a storyteller is the ability to not just create amazingly imaginative and creative universes but also to lovingly make the setting of the story a true protagonist. "Perdido Street Station" was the ode to New Crobuzon; "The Scar" was a love song for Armada; "The City & The City" was a story about the divide between Beszél and Ul Qoma.
Here, however, we are taken on the quest, getting glimpses into many different corners of Bas Lag, only quick looks at the really changed New Crobuzon, and for a while only a teasing promise of the titular Iron Council. Yes, eventually I did love Iron Council, but it took so long to get there that it never became the same real character as Miéville's other locales did.
But once I got past the grief of not falling in love with a geographical location, I was able to fully appreciate and passionately love the painful and difficult themes of this book. The ramifications of Crobuzonian politics, only glimpsed in the first two novels, finally take the center stage. Miéville is not subtle about where he stands on social rights and inequalities, and I loved the passionate and open expression of his views. It is not difficult to draw parallels between our less-than-perfect society obsessed with money, power, greed, and inequality, and the world of New Crobuzon, on the verge of collapse and catastrophe.
New Crobuzon, the (in)famous festering filth of a city, believe it or not, has changed for the worse. The political oppression is at its worst, it's basically under the martial law, the xenophobia is at its height due to an undergoing war, the poverty and corruption are appalling, and no wonder that social dissatisfaction and unrest are brewing. Instead of exciting time on the barricades, however, we get to take a look into the heart of the brewing revolution - the tensions between revolutionary factions, the differences between the 'talkers' and the anarchists, the plottings, the mistrust, the fear. The oppressiveness is palpable, the atmosphere is rotten and suffocating, and the overall effect on the reader is powerful.
At the same time, we get to see even more of the single greatest horror and injustice of the Crobuzonian system - the Remade. The horrific bodily remaking that the criminals (including the political ones) undergo marks them as outcasts, permanent slaves, nobodies, people below the regard of society. They were briefly shown in PSS; their plight was mentioned in "The Scar". But it is only in Iron Council that we get to see more of the ramifications of this. We get to see their suffering and their fighting back. I could not help but feel my heart break a bit over their pain and torture. And it made me reflect on all the ways our present-day society marginalizes those it does not approve of - the effect I'm sure CM was going for.
We also see the gender issues that up until now were not addressed much in Crobuzonian universe. I found it striking how women are degraded and marginalized, how a strong Remade woman is an abomination because of her 'unwomanly' strength, how even during the strikes and rebellion the women are treated as vastly inferior, nothing but instruments for men's sexual satisfaction which they 'owe' them - to the point of creating 'rape squads', and how a woman's revenge is even described as simply a 'grudge'.
Yet again Miéville does not give us an ending we would love to have - you know, the one where conflicts get resolved, the bad guys get their comeuppance, and the good guys are vindicated. But life does not work like that, life tends to reset itself towards the status quo with maybe small new hope brewing under the surface - and CM reflects this in his writing. It is 'weird' and fantastical, with adventures and monsters (even though we can agree that the true monsters are always people) - but it is nevertheless very painfully real in its emotions and psychological effects of the outcomes.
Everything comes at a cost and the costs are often very hard to bear. It's not a comfort read, not a book that will make you feel better - but that is not always the purpose of literature, is it now? Sometimes the purpose is to unsettle you and make you think.
But the part I loved the most, the one that left perhaps the biggest impact on me, was the art about love and human longing. It underlies every action, every event of this story. The revolutionary fervor is fueled by longing for change and better life. The Iron Council is triggered by the longing for freedom and justice. And, of course, there was the love and longing of Cutter and Judah - albeit, sadly, not for the same thing. Cutter was heartbreaking in his love, devotion, and longing for Judah - the feelings that he knew too well weren't shared or reciprocated, but quite often seemed to be simply used. He was so touching, so pained in this that I felt a lump in my throat at times reading about him. No one, I repeat - no one should be doled out sorta-kinda-love simply as a gesture of kindness; that is just cruel.
"When Cutter understood that the sex would only ever be an act of patrician friendship, profane and saintly generosity would only ever be a gift from Judah, he tried to bring it to a close, but could not sustain the abstinence."Judah, with his "parasite innard goodness", with his never-ending devotion to and obsession with the Iron Council - to the point where we, along with Ann-Hari, question whether his love gives him the right to do what he ended up doing. Ann-Hari and Ori, with their longing to change history, to find something bigger than them, to help make something better. Toro, longing for revenge long-overdue. All of them are desperate, unhappy, driven by forces that they may not comprehend and yet cannot resist. So heartbreaking.
"He feels pinioned by history. He can wriggle like a stuck butterfly but can go nowhere."And this leads me to another theme that I felt I was not even qualified to talk about as I think I may have missed the significance of it in quite a few parts of the book was the power of history, its relentless march, sweeping everything in its wake towards... something. The relentless pull of history that makes you feel small and insignificant. I may need a reread to fully grasp the implications.
===========================================
Overall, a rather challenging but ultimately rewarding and emotionally uneasy read that makes you ponder quite a few difficult questions. 4.5 stars. I recommend it highly, and advise sticking with it even if you do not fall in love with it right away. That love will come eventually, I promise.
November 26, 2010
Overtly political, teasingly intricate, and deeply intertextual, China Miéville's Iron Council is everything I expect to love in great speculative fiction, and nearly everything I know I love in Miéville's work.
Yet, since its publication, I have only read it once, and I still find myself ranking it third of Miéville's Bas-Lag books. I've been baffled by my restraint with Iron Council. My admiration of Miéville's other books is boundless, bordering on madness, and I haven't understood how a book so filled with wonders -- Toro and its teleportation headdress, Judah's time-golem, the Iron Council train and its unparalleled mobility, Spiral Jacob and his Teshian machinations to overthrow New Crobuzon -- could keep me at such a distance -- until today.
Today I recognized my problem with Iron Council (I am making my way through The Scar for the fourth time, you see, and it finally came clear). There is a character missing, a character that is fundamental to my admiration of Miéville's work. I can still appreciate him without this character; I can luxuriate in his gorgeous prose without this character; I can even lose myself in Bas-Lag without this character; but it is this character that makes Perdido Street Station and The Scar such fundamental books in my literary pantheon. And that character is place.
Perdido Street Station introduces us to New Crobuzon. And New Crobuzon becomes a character, not just a setting. It is not just the people who are being ravaged by the Slake Moths, but the sweltering, desert dryness of the Glasshouse, the shadows of the Ribs, the gardens of Sobek Croix, and the refuse of Griss Twist. These boroughs, bestowed with sensual reality, suffer as much from the literal "dreamshit" as the people who lose their minds do. And Miéville spends time making us know New Crobuzon. He lingers in every borough, makes us smell and taste and feel everything. It's his intention, and it makes New Crobuzon, perhaps, the most important character in Perdido Street Station.
The Scar, then, gives us Armada. Another character setting. Another unruly, sensually realistic, passionately crafted city, this time floating over the oceans of Bas-Lag, a giant Pirate vessel with its own internal politics, its own "quarters," its own industry, its own secrets and identity, all tethered loosely together as each ship is tethered to each ship in a technicolor mosaic of shipbuilding eclecticism.
But Iron Council gives us the world, and it is too much. Miéville offers too many places in his third book, and he never lets us know one place with anything close to the depth or intimacy we come to know New Crobuzon and Armada. There are wonders, yes, but they are too scattered, too sparsely drawn, too quickly passed over and through for them to percolate into our imaginations. And that is why Iron Council fails to live up to its predecessors (although I consider that higher praise than I would give most books).
It is not a coincidence that all Miéville's Bas-Lag books have, thus far, been titled after places. But Miéville doesn't just love places, he loves cities and expresses cities -- stationary or floating -- better than any author I've read, so his next book, The City & The City, should be a cracking return to what Miéville does best.
No, Iron Council isn't brilliant, but still it IS damn, damn good.
Yet, since its publication, I have only read it once, and I still find myself ranking it third of Miéville's Bas-Lag books. I've been baffled by my restraint with Iron Council. My admiration of Miéville's other books is boundless, bordering on madness, and I haven't understood how a book so filled with wonders -- Toro and its teleportation headdress, Judah's time-golem, the Iron Council train and its unparalleled mobility, Spiral Jacob and his Teshian machinations to overthrow New Crobuzon -- could keep me at such a distance -- until today.
Today I recognized my problem with Iron Council (I am making my way through The Scar for the fourth time, you see, and it finally came clear). There is a character missing, a character that is fundamental to my admiration of Miéville's work. I can still appreciate him without this character; I can luxuriate in his gorgeous prose without this character; I can even lose myself in Bas-Lag without this character; but it is this character that makes Perdido Street Station and The Scar such fundamental books in my literary pantheon. And that character is place.
Perdido Street Station introduces us to New Crobuzon. And New Crobuzon becomes a character, not just a setting. It is not just the people who are being ravaged by the Slake Moths, but the sweltering, desert dryness of the Glasshouse, the shadows of the Ribs, the gardens of Sobek Croix, and the refuse of Griss Twist. These boroughs, bestowed with sensual reality, suffer as much from the literal "dreamshit" as the people who lose their minds do. And Miéville spends time making us know New Crobuzon. He lingers in every borough, makes us smell and taste and feel everything. It's his intention, and it makes New Crobuzon, perhaps, the most important character in Perdido Street Station.
The Scar, then, gives us Armada. Another character setting. Another unruly, sensually realistic, passionately crafted city, this time floating over the oceans of Bas-Lag, a giant Pirate vessel with its own internal politics, its own "quarters," its own industry, its own secrets and identity, all tethered loosely together as each ship is tethered to each ship in a technicolor mosaic of shipbuilding eclecticism.
But Iron Council gives us the world, and it is too much. Miéville offers too many places in his third book, and he never lets us know one place with anything close to the depth or intimacy we come to know New Crobuzon and Armada. There are wonders, yes, but they are too scattered, too sparsely drawn, too quickly passed over and through for them to percolate into our imaginations. And that is why Iron Council fails to live up to its predecessors (although I consider that higher praise than I would give most books).
It is not a coincidence that all Miéville's Bas-Lag books have, thus far, been titled after places. But Miéville doesn't just love places, he loves cities and expresses cities -- stationary or floating -- better than any author I've read, so his next book, The City & The City, should be a cracking return to what Miéville does best.
No, Iron Council isn't brilliant, but still it IS damn, damn good.
July 4, 2016
Dear China,
It’s not you, it’s me.
I wanted to like Iron Council more, and there were parts of it I really did like, but the old magic was just not there.
I remember first meeting you on the pages of Kraken, and your fantastic images, scenes and people made me want to spend more time with you.
Then we spent some time together stepping in between Besźel and Ul Qoma and I realized the depth and virtuosity was more than a flash in the pan, you were on to some heady stuff, THE NEW WEIRD. I was hooked.
Then I came to visit you in Bas-Lag. I was impressed by Perdido Street Station and blown away by The Scar.
When I came back to Bas-Lag by way of the Iron Council, I was again impressed. A western? Steampunk fits that genre, sure! Only China could imagine that and then pull it off. And the politics, why not? Leftist political issues are important to you and so why not throw some of that in, the subversive intrigue would add a Joseph Conrad element to the narrative.
All of the world building ingredients of your impressive imagination was there: the cactusae and the Vodyanoi – even an appearance of the Weavers.
And yet …
The narrative tended to drag, the action waxed and waned and bless your heart, you went on and on and on. Some editing, a hundred or so less, would have been more.
You’re still a weird genius, still a bright star in the speculative fiction genre,
and
we can still be friends.
Love,
Lyn
It’s not you, it’s me.
I wanted to like Iron Council more, and there were parts of it I really did like, but the old magic was just not there.
I remember first meeting you on the pages of Kraken, and your fantastic images, scenes and people made me want to spend more time with you.
Then we spent some time together stepping in between Besźel and Ul Qoma and I realized the depth and virtuosity was more than a flash in the pan, you were on to some heady stuff, THE NEW WEIRD. I was hooked.
Then I came to visit you in Bas-Lag. I was impressed by Perdido Street Station and blown away by The Scar.
When I came back to Bas-Lag by way of the Iron Council, I was again impressed. A western? Steampunk fits that genre, sure! Only China could imagine that and then pull it off. And the politics, why not? Leftist political issues are important to you and so why not throw some of that in, the subversive intrigue would add a Joseph Conrad element to the narrative.
All of the world building ingredients of your impressive imagination was there: the cactusae and the Vodyanoi – even an appearance of the Weavers.
And yet …
The narrative tended to drag, the action waxed and waned and bless your heart, you went on and on and on. Some editing, a hundred or so less, would have been more.
You’re still a weird genius, still a bright star in the speculative fiction genre,
and
we can still be friends.
Love,
Lyn
May 7, 2022
I gave this four stars, but I also gave Mieville's "The Scar" four stars.
But they aren't equal. (This highlights the difficulty with the Goodreads rating system).
"The Scar" probably deserved a 4.5 (nearly perfect), where this rates more like a 3.5.
This is the third book in the New Crobuzon/Bas Lag series.
The first two were "Perdido Street Station" and "The Scar".
"The Iron Council" takes place in the same universe but many years later, in the nineteenth century (where the earlier two books were in the eighteenth century). I cannot remember the exact timeline, but Mieville does mention it somewhere in the novel.
Mieville has said he wants to write a novel in every genre. "Iron Council" seems to be his version of a Western. There are transport and pack animals, guns, outlaws, and the building of a railroad.
This is a fascinating tale in spite of its large faults. It got wildly mixed reviews from both professional critics and Goodreaders. Many people found it tedious. I can understand why they didn't like the book. But I was hooked, after a doubtful start.
This story follows the history of a motley group of revolutionaries who attempt to overthrow the brutal, elitist government of New Crobuzon (a city which is a sort of fantastic version of London) both from within the city and from outside of its boundaries.
One of their biggest grievances against the government is its method of punishing criminals by "remaking" them (grafting pieces of animals, humans, or machinery to their bodies, often in cruel ways). The "remade" are ostracized by New Crobuzon "whole" humans. There is also a lot of racial tension between the humans and the various other races of New Crobuzon (the Kepri, who have human bodies and insectoid heads; the Cactusi, who are shaped like walking cactuses), etc. There is also tension between the haves and the have nots in New Crobuzon.
Those issues aren't new, and Mieville has already said a lot about them in the previous two books.
Part of the book is the story of the attempt by the TRT Corporation (Transcontinental Railroad Trust) to build a railroad connecting New Crobuzon to other parts of Bas Lag. The labor is hard, the foremen are brutal, and a lot of the workers are remade or those of other races (especially Cactusi, as they are strong and good at tough physical work).
Another part of the story involves the activities of various subversive political groups within the city.
Eventually the two story threads converge.
The major characters are all involved in one or both of these threads.
The main character is Judah Low. No one seems to have noticed that his name deliberately resembles that of Judah Loew, a real character in history. Loew was a sixteenth century rabbi, Kabbalist, and tzaddik (Jewish saint) who, according to legend, created the Golem of Prague.
The Judah Low of "Iron Council" is a self taught and very talented golemist (maker of golems). Golems are creatures created out of inanimate objects (traditionally earth or clay) that are animated to serve the wills of their creators, who can also return them to their original inanimate state. Judah, in his role as a scout for the new TRT railroad, contacts an indigenous tribe, the Stiltspear, and learns golem making from them. He then expands and perfects the art on his own.
Judah disappears from New Crobuzon for a long time. Cutter, a shop keeper and Judah's on-and-off lover, organizes a small group to go into the wilderness of Bas-Lag to search for him. Cutter's love for Judah is unrequited. He is quite a bit younger than Judah. Cutter's search party includes a human couple, Elsie and Pomeroy, and Drogon, a "whisperer" who latches onto their group and saves their lives a few times. (The whisperer can be heard from a great distance and can whisper commands or suggestions).
Another major character is Ori, a day laborer and underground resistor who gets involved at first with a left wing group that publishes a newspaper called "Runagate Rampant". This group talks a lot and doesn't do much, in Ori's opinion. Ori goes on to become a member of a more action oriented radical group lead by the mysterious and dangerous Toro. Ori is also fascinated by Spiral Jacobs, an elderly homeless man, who traverses New Crobuzon, painting spirals everywhere.
There is Ann-Hari, also Judah's lover. Ann-Hari becomes a firebrand radical. At one point she organizes a (somewhat humorously presented, but dead serious) prostitute's strike.
Although Mieville is clearly on the side of the radicals, he also shows them making grievous mistakes, including unnecessary killings and infighting. These errors undermine their cause. Mieville is also not afraid to show the serious character deficiencies of the rebels. Ann-Hari, for example, becomes such a fanatic she can no longer listen to reason. Ori, after various traumas, becomes too paralyzed to act when he should. Judah is vain and self-involved. And so on.
One of the main problems with the book is the characters. Not one of them is terribly compelling or sympathetic. "Iron Council" lacks engaging main characters like Bellis Coldwine in "The Scar" or Isaac and Lin in "Perdido Street Station".
Another problem is the sometimes wearisomely lengthy and inscrutable descriptions of esoterica. For example, Mieville lost me in a battle scene in which fire elementals clash with air and (possibly) water elementals (I was never entirely sure).
As usual, Mieville is a master of language and verbal pyrotechnics, but sometimes he seems to glory in making his language nearly opaque.
Still, in spite of these problems, this story is so fascinating one cannot stop reading (or in my case, listening). And Mieville is an original, as usual. There's nothing derivative here.
But, be forewarned, there are no happy endings. And things are not neatly tied up at the book's close. If you require happy endings and unambiguous resolutions, this novel is probably not for you.
Actor Gildart Jackson does an excellent job of reading the audio.
April 29, 2017
Full review to come at some point in future hopefully.
For now like the rest of the series, combination of very weird but very well written steampunk and real world politics with ambiguous sides and no truly right answer.
For now like the rest of the series, combination of very weird but very well written steampunk and real world politics with ambiguous sides and no truly right answer.
April 7, 2016
I love the first two Bas-Lag books but it took me ages to get around to this third volume due to the relatively high number of less than enthusiastic reviews on Goodreads and elsewhere. Yes, I can be swayed by reviews if the consensus opinion leans towards the negative. At the end of the day though I could not resist picking this book up as it is the last Bas-Lag volume for the foreseeable future (Miéville may come back to it but he seems to have no plan to do so at the moment). Another thing in Iron Council's favor is that Miéville himself is aware that it is not as well received as the previous Bas-Lag books but still consistently defends it to the hilt during interviews. He even said that it is his favorite volume of the three (I may add sources for this bold statement later, but in the meantime Google is your friend!). If I remember correctly he feels that it is the most well written and mature of the three. What I am not sure he realises or acknowledges though is that it is also the least fun.
The book is essentially about the citizens of New Crobuzon’s struggle for equal rights, justice, and a good life. Parts of it reminds me a lot of Les Misérables, unfortunately, it does not have Victor Hugo’s well developed and colorful cast of characters. Characterization is not normally a problem for China Miéville but the character h development on this novel is not up to his usual standard, not appalling by any means just not quite up to snuff for him.
One major advantage the Bas-Lag series has over most epic fantasy is its sheer weirdness, its bestiary includes Khepri ladies with insects for heads, the amphibian Vodyanoi with their water sculptures, Garudas, Cactacaes (cactus people) etc. There is no place in Bas-Lag for trolls, elves, ogres and dwarves, they can eff off as far as Mr. Miéville is concerned. Even wizards can eff off unless they are called thaumaturges instead. Then you have the remades, humans grotesquely modified “thaumaturgy” as punishment for crimes (major and minor). One example is a character who has his head permanently turned back to front, and another with a baby’s arms attached to her head.
This is the most political novel of his that I have read so far with the titular Iron Council being a steam train kidnapped by rebels, former railway employees cheated of their wages. They soon become legendary inspirations for the rebels of New Crobuzon who conspire to bring down the oppressive government. In the meantime, the city of New Crobuzon is also at war with another city called Tesh who are masters of some particularly weird and horrific magic - natch, thaumaturgy. Quite why the war between the two cities is relevant to the novel’s main story arc I am not sure though the thaumaturgic warfare is wonderfully bizarre. Another bizarre idea is the railroad for the Iron Council which is built just ahead of the train and disassembled behind it, how is this logistically possible I am not sure though you can get a lot done with thaumaturgy.
When reading a China Miéville book you never have to worry about having to tolerate sub-par prose, his writing is as literary as ever. The only snag is you may want to have a dictionary within reach and also be prepared to decipher some of his neologisms. Words like tenebrotropic, atrabilious and subvocalurgy are sometimes arcane words you can find in a dictionary, while other times the author’s inventions. There is a large chunk of the book narrated in some kind of mythical or legend style where dialog is rare is quotation marks are not used. I kind of understand why Miéville may have wanted to write this portion of he novel this way but it reads like a rather detached second or even third hand account of events. I also add another layer between the reader and the story which makes it harder to immerse into the story.
The weirdest thing about this book is that it seems more enjoyable in retrospect than during the actual reading of it. There are some wonderful ideas, creatures and world building. At the end if the day it is something of a disappointment for this particular fan. Not at all unforgivable, though, I am always keen to read more Miévilles.
The book is essentially about the citizens of New Crobuzon’s struggle for equal rights, justice, and a good life. Parts of it reminds me a lot of Les Misérables, unfortunately, it does not have Victor Hugo’s well developed and colorful cast of characters. Characterization is not normally a problem for China Miéville but the character h development on this novel is not up to his usual standard, not appalling by any means just not quite up to snuff for him.
One major advantage the Bas-Lag series has over most epic fantasy is its sheer weirdness, its bestiary includes Khepri ladies with insects for heads, the amphibian Vodyanoi with their water sculptures, Garudas, Cactacaes (cactus people) etc. There is no place in Bas-Lag for trolls, elves, ogres and dwarves, they can eff off as far as Mr. Miéville is concerned. Even wizards can eff off unless they are called thaumaturges instead. Then you have the remades, humans grotesquely modified “thaumaturgy” as punishment for crimes (major and minor). One example is a character who has his head permanently turned back to front, and another with a baby’s arms attached to her head.
This is the most political novel of his that I have read so far with the titular Iron Council being a steam train kidnapped by rebels, former railway employees cheated of their wages. They soon become legendary inspirations for the rebels of New Crobuzon who conspire to bring down the oppressive government. In the meantime, the city of New Crobuzon is also at war with another city called Tesh who are masters of some particularly weird and horrific magic - natch, thaumaturgy. Quite why the war between the two cities is relevant to the novel’s main story arc I am not sure though the thaumaturgic warfare is wonderfully bizarre. Another bizarre idea is the railroad for the Iron Council which is built just ahead of the train and disassembled behind it, how is this logistically possible I am not sure though you can get a lot done with thaumaturgy.
When reading a China Miéville book you never have to worry about having to tolerate sub-par prose, his writing is as literary as ever. The only snag is you may want to have a dictionary within reach and also be prepared to decipher some of his neologisms. Words like tenebrotropic, atrabilious and subvocalurgy are sometimes arcane words you can find in a dictionary, while other times the author’s inventions. There is a large chunk of the book narrated in some kind of mythical or legend style where dialog is rare is quotation marks are not used. I kind of understand why Miéville may have wanted to write this portion of he novel this way but it reads like a rather detached second or even third hand account of events. I also add another layer between the reader and the story which makes it harder to immerse into the story.
The weirdest thing about this book is that it seems more enjoyable in retrospect than during the actual reading of it. There are some wonderful ideas, creatures and world building. At the end if the day it is something of a disappointment for this particular fan. Not at all unforgivable, though, I am always keen to read more Miévilles.
January 6, 2021
Iron Council, Mieville's most political work of fiction explores Marxist philosophy and views history through the lens of materialism. It concretizes the concept of revolution by setting it on the filthy, war-torn, destructive grounds of New Crobuzon.
With its many species, remades, renegade freemades, the militia and the parliament, New Crobuzon is immersed in economic inequalities, species and class based oppressions, police brutality, war, elitism and crime. Its numerous factions are constantly trying to fight or fit in with the friction between their real conditions of existence and the false images of the city and its well-being endorsed by the government.
While meeting in secret and seditiously, many of the revolutionary vanguards plot the takeover of the city - drawing inspiration from the apocryphal Iron Council, a perpetual train of workers that fled the clutches of the New Crobuzon militia.
I was certain that this would be one of my favourite books. I love Mieville's writing and I am deeply interested in Marxist theory. But most of the time I just felt lost and underwhelmed. Mieville's strength lies in the indomitable gallantry of his protagonists. While Iron Council's characters are interesting, their interactions and actions leave little room for character growth, some of their storylines almost seemed impossibly synthetic. While trying to offer an extravagant view of history, Iron Council does not actually allow itself to flourish naturally.
With its many species, remades, renegade freemades, the militia and the parliament, New Crobuzon is immersed in economic inequalities, species and class based oppressions, police brutality, war, elitism and crime. Its numerous factions are constantly trying to fight or fit in with the friction between their real conditions of existence and the false images of the city and its well-being endorsed by the government.
While meeting in secret and seditiously, many of the revolutionary vanguards plot the takeover of the city - drawing inspiration from the apocryphal Iron Council, a perpetual train of workers that fled the clutches of the New Crobuzon militia.
I was certain that this would be one of my favourite books. I love Mieville's writing and I am deeply interested in Marxist theory. But most of the time I just felt lost and underwhelmed. Mieville's strength lies in the indomitable gallantry of his protagonists. While Iron Council's characters are interesting, their interactions and actions leave little room for character growth, some of their storylines almost seemed impossibly synthetic. While trying to offer an extravagant view of history, Iron Council does not actually allow itself to flourish naturally.
November 29, 2010
We live in a culture that desires fragmented stories; stories that are told quickly and compellingly, so we can move on to the next tale. It is why we love visual forms so much. It is why YA fiction is increasingly popular with older crowds. It is why graphic novels are on the rise as a literary form. But where are the novellas? Where are books like One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, The Old Man and the Sea, Heart of Darkness, The Awakening, A Clockwork Orange?
I have been looking, waiting, hoping, for a resurgence of the novella as a popular form, but it doesn’t seem to be coming. Roth’s The Humbling was a novella and so was Meyer’s The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner, but novellas from a literary giant like Roth and a throwaway sequel by a hack like Meyer hardly suggest a healthy return of the form. So I’ve been growing despondent, wanting desperately to see the form I love become a form of choice once again.
But then I noticed something. The novella isn’t gone. It’s just hiding.
I’ve discovered the novella is still out there; only now it is hidden in the middle of bigger works. Publishers are unwilling willing to publish novellas because publishers think novels are the safer, more familiar bet for the consumer. Novellas, after all, are for University students and academics; they are not for everyday teenagers, housewives and grumpy old men. But when novellas are hidden, they’re no threat at all. Sometimes they can be a part of a novel, and sometimes they lie in combination with other novellas to create a loosely linked group of stories posing as a novel (see the works of David Mitchell) – but they’re out there still; they just don’t look like novellas.
Case in point is one of the finest novellas ever written ... by anyone ... anywhen -- anamnesis: The Perpetual Train. This unparalleled tale is hidden in the center of China Mieville’s most ambitious Bas-Lag novel – Iron Council – and it is a breathtaking display of everything that makes the novella a beautiful form.
Its prose is sparing; its story is tight, compact, compelling and rich. It focuses on one man, Judah Low, and his journey from corporate funded adventurer to anti-imperialist somaturge to founding iron counsellor is perfect and complete all by itself. Nothing more is needed than anamnesis: The Perpetual Train’s cancerous spread across the land turned iconic standard for worker solidarity. The rest of Iron Council is superfluous.
Which leaves me even more in awe of Mieville than I have ever been, but a little frustrated with him too. The events in Iron Council, which sprawl around anamnesis: The Perpetual Train like suburbs, are beautiful in their own right. They bravely incorporate sexual politics, economics, uprising, war, poverty and corruption, fleshing out Bas-Lag with a perspective that raises a middle finger to the more conservative traditions of speculative fiction. But, as impressive as it all is, I don’t think it was necessary, and I wish that Mieville had simply left good enough – actually, great enough – alone.
anamnesis: The Perpetual Train would have been one of the greatest books ever written. I really believe that. But we’ll have to settle for Iron Council being merely excellent.
That’s not so bad.
I have been looking, waiting, hoping, for a resurgence of the novella as a popular form, but it doesn’t seem to be coming. Roth’s The Humbling was a novella and so was Meyer’s The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner, but novellas from a literary giant like Roth and a throwaway sequel by a hack like Meyer hardly suggest a healthy return of the form. So I’ve been growing despondent, wanting desperately to see the form I love become a form of choice once again.
But then I noticed something. The novella isn’t gone. It’s just hiding.
I’ve discovered the novella is still out there; only now it is hidden in the middle of bigger works. Publishers are unwilling willing to publish novellas because publishers think novels are the safer, more familiar bet for the consumer. Novellas, after all, are for University students and academics; they are not for everyday teenagers, housewives and grumpy old men. But when novellas are hidden, they’re no threat at all. Sometimes they can be a part of a novel, and sometimes they lie in combination with other novellas to create a loosely linked group of stories posing as a novel (see the works of David Mitchell) – but they’re out there still; they just don’t look like novellas.
Case in point is one of the finest novellas ever written ... by anyone ... anywhen -- anamnesis: The Perpetual Train. This unparalleled tale is hidden in the center of China Mieville’s most ambitious Bas-Lag novel – Iron Council – and it is a breathtaking display of everything that makes the novella a beautiful form.
Its prose is sparing; its story is tight, compact, compelling and rich. It focuses on one man, Judah Low, and his journey from corporate funded adventurer to anti-imperialist somaturge to founding iron counsellor is perfect and complete all by itself. Nothing more is needed than anamnesis: The Perpetual Train’s cancerous spread across the land turned iconic standard for worker solidarity. The rest of Iron Council is superfluous.
Which leaves me even more in awe of Mieville than I have ever been, but a little frustrated with him too. The events in Iron Council, which sprawl around anamnesis: The Perpetual Train like suburbs, are beautiful in their own right. They bravely incorporate sexual politics, economics, uprising, war, poverty and corruption, fleshing out Bas-Lag with a perspective that raises a middle finger to the more conservative traditions of speculative fiction. But, as impressive as it all is, I don’t think it was necessary, and I wish that Mieville had simply left good enough – actually, great enough – alone.
anamnesis: The Perpetual Train would have been one of the greatest books ever written. I really believe that. But we’ll have to settle for Iron Council being merely excellent.
That’s not so bad.
April 19, 2011
Recall in my review of The Scar how I was whining about my opinion of China Miéville and his novels remaining relatively constant? How I wanted to read something different, something I could say didn't rank equally with the other three novels by him that I have read?
This is the story of why I should have been more careful with my wishing.
I knew something was wrong—perhaps I should say off—almost from the beginning of this book. The opening was grandiose in Miéville's usual style (which, if you've read Miéville, is explanation enough; if you haven't—why haven't you?) but our first meeting with the main characters is more confusing than enlightening. Worse still, none of the characters are all that interesting. I didn't care about Cutter, Elsie, or Pomeroy. I didn't care about Ori or Spiral Jacobs or Toro. I certainly didn't care for Judah, who seems like a monumental jerk wrapped inside a coat of comfortable self-sacrifice.
Characterization in The Iron Council is not sloppy, because nothing Miéville does is sloppy. From purple prose to passive voice, Miéville writes with impunity—and a vocabulary to show it—because the end result is something captivating and beautiful; the novel itself is work of art. So it's not sloppy; it is, unfortunately, rather lacklustre. Both of the preceding Bas-Lag novels, Perdido Street Station and The Scar, had a strong central protagonist: Isaac and Bella, respectively. We lack such a protagonist in The Iron Council. The present-day narrative alternates between two convergent plots, with Cutter and Ori providing a perspective for each respective storyline. The middle of the book tells the genesis of the Iron Council and follows Judah; ironically, while Judah is my least favourite character, this is probably the best part of the entire novel.
Cutter follows Judah out into the unexplored wilderness beyond New Crobuzon. Judah is searching for the Iron Council, a runaway train of railworkers, Remade slaves, and prostitutes. He knows that New Crobuzon is finally sending an expeditionary force to wipe out the train, and he wants to find the Iron Council first. Cutter follows Judah not because he has faith in the Iron Council but because he has faith in Judah (this point is important to the rest of the plot); Cutter is in fact in hopeless, unrequited love with Judah.
Neither Cutter nor Judah seem very real or three-dimensional; they are just names, with the barest amount of personality. So I didn't feel a lot of sympathy for Cutter as he allows Judah to manipulate him:
The dynamic that Miéville creates between these two is brilliant, and it's a rather timeless tragedy. In this case, however, its characters are not drawn with enough depth, and so the tragic effect is instead rendered a cliché.
Back in New Crobuzon, Ori is the New Crobuzon equivalent of a Marxist disenchanted with all the talk and ready for some good ol' proletariat revolution. The New Crobuzon of The Iron Council is an even grimmer place than the city of Perdido Street Station. The fallout from Isaac's alliance with the Construct Council caused a messy curtailment on the use of constructs throughout the city. Coupled with economic recession and a war with Tesh, and New Crobuzon is under martial law in all but name. These are not fun times. But Ori is tired of reading newspaper articles and meeting with a group of people who all call themselves "Jack" the way a communist uses "comrade." He wants some action.
Ori, like me, should be careful what he wishes for.
He falls in with a group led by Toro, a character who wears a massive helmet forged in the shape of a bull. With the helmet, Toro can sense magical energies and even teleport through space (by charging like a bull and tearing a hole in reality with the helmet's horns). The group plans to assassinate Mayor Stem-Fulcher (remember her from Perdido Street Station?), reasoning that a successful mission would be like beheading the "snake" of Parliament. I'll leave it up to you to guess how well that works out.
I quite enjoyed Ori's storyline, if not Ori himself, and the tale of revolution on the streets of New Crobuzon. It was almost like the good old times back in Perdido Street Station, when the city almost felt alive through Miéville's careful descriptions. Almost, but not quite. New Crobuzon is present in The Iron Council, but it is no longer the front-and-centre locus around which the novel revolves.
Instead, Miéville once again chooses a mobile location as his central focus. This time it's a train instead of a floating city. There's some metaphor to be found within the idea of a train, which is bound to go only where there is a railroad, representing one's freedom. (Indeed, one of the conceits of The Iron Council is that these fugitive railway workers are constantly tearing up the track behind them and laying down new rails before the train. It's odd, but it's very Miéville.) As with so much else of his work, he creates an almost-but-not-quite-romantic vision of life on an ever-changing railscape. Like New Crobuzon and Armada, the citizens of the Iron Council are cosmopolitan; however, the scale of the city is a lot smaller and more constrained. We get a sense of the fragility of the Council—everything is reused, if possible, because their resources are limited—as well as the sense of boundless adventure—they have maps no one in New Crobuzon has. In that respect, the Iron Council is as well-developed, as a "weird city," as any of Miéville's creations.
I'm very ambivalent about the fate of the Iron Council and the ending of the book. Part of me hates it, if only because it seems so inevitable the way Miéville has written it. Part of me enjoys its creativity. It is consistent with my favourite thing about this book, which is its portrayal of the difficulty of staging a class revolution. Ori quickly realizes that it's one thing to begin an uprising and quite another thing to succeed at it; the militia is ruthless, and even the death of New Crobuzon's mayor is not necessarily going to stop them. This real but unattractive truth fuels a lot of the tension in the last part of the book, as well as Judah's final act that affects the Iron Council and everyone aboard it.
If anything, The Iron Council, with its brief allusions to the events of Perdido Street Station, hasjust made me want to reread that first Bas-Lag novel all over again. I want to return to the delightful machinations of Mayor Rudgutter and then-secretary Stem-Fulcher; I want to see them negotiate with the Ambassador from Hell and the Weaver. In addition to these allusions, there are plenty of new, small glimpses at the weird and wonderful world that is Bas-Lag. Once again, Miéville shows that his imagination and his ability to create a world are without parallel. And beyond the worldbuilding lurks a good tale too: The Iron Council is a strong story of standing up to authority and striking, albeit not always succeeding. However, none of its characters could interest me, and I found that to be a massive stumbling block in reading this book. I read it, but I wasn't really into the story. There was no point where I would have been disappointed if something had interrupted me during my reading; I was a casual visitor to Bas-Lag this time. I suppose there is nothing wrong with that, per se, but with a writer as good as Miéville, I'm always going to be disappointed when the experience is just casual.
This is the story of why I should have been more careful with my wishing.
I knew something was wrong—perhaps I should say off—almost from the beginning of this book. The opening was grandiose in Miéville's usual style (which, if you've read Miéville, is explanation enough; if you haven't—why haven't you?) but our first meeting with the main characters is more confusing than enlightening. Worse still, none of the characters are all that interesting. I didn't care about Cutter, Elsie, or Pomeroy. I didn't care about Ori or Spiral Jacobs or Toro. I certainly didn't care for Judah, who seems like a monumental jerk wrapped inside a coat of comfortable self-sacrifice.
Characterization in The Iron Council is not sloppy, because nothing Miéville does is sloppy. From purple prose to passive voice, Miéville writes with impunity—and a vocabulary to show it—because the end result is something captivating and beautiful; the novel itself is work of art. So it's not sloppy; it is, unfortunately, rather lacklustre. Both of the preceding Bas-Lag novels, Perdido Street Station and The Scar, had a strong central protagonist: Isaac and Bella, respectively. We lack such a protagonist in The Iron Council. The present-day narrative alternates between two convergent plots, with Cutter and Ori providing a perspective for each respective storyline. The middle of the book tells the genesis of the Iron Council and follows Judah; ironically, while Judah is my least favourite character, this is probably the best part of the entire novel.
Cutter follows Judah out into the unexplored wilderness beyond New Crobuzon. Judah is searching for the Iron Council, a runaway train of railworkers, Remade slaves, and prostitutes. He knows that New Crobuzon is finally sending an expeditionary force to wipe out the train, and he wants to find the Iron Council first. Cutter follows Judah not because he has faith in the Iron Council but because he has faith in Judah (this point is important to the rest of the plot); Cutter is in fact in hopeless, unrequited love with Judah.
Neither Cutter nor Judah seem very real or three-dimensional; they are just names, with the barest amount of personality. So I didn't feel a lot of sympathy for Cutter as he allows Judah to manipulate him:
There were none of the chances Cutter had wanted, no opportunity to tell the stories of the Collective, to ask for the stories of the Council. It was rushed and ugly. He felt desperately angry as the Councillors prepared to die. He felt as well a sense of his own failure, that he was letting down Judah. You knew I couldn't do it, you bastard. That's why you're still there. Getting ready some plan or other for when I fail. Still, even though Judah had expected it, Cutter hated that he had not succeeded.
The dynamic that Miéville creates between these two is brilliant, and it's a rather timeless tragedy. In this case, however, its characters are not drawn with enough depth, and so the tragic effect is instead rendered a cliché.
Back in New Crobuzon, Ori is the New Crobuzon equivalent of a Marxist disenchanted with all the talk and ready for some good ol' proletariat revolution. The New Crobuzon of The Iron Council is an even grimmer place than the city of Perdido Street Station. The fallout from Isaac's alliance with the Construct Council caused a messy curtailment on the use of constructs throughout the city. Coupled with economic recession and a war with Tesh, and New Crobuzon is under martial law in all but name. These are not fun times. But Ori is tired of reading newspaper articles and meeting with a group of people who all call themselves "Jack" the way a communist uses "comrade." He wants some action.
Ori, like me, should be careful what he wishes for.
He falls in with a group led by Toro, a character who wears a massive helmet forged in the shape of a bull. With the helmet, Toro can sense magical energies and even teleport through space (by charging like a bull and tearing a hole in reality with the helmet's horns). The group plans to assassinate Mayor Stem-Fulcher (remember her from Perdido Street Station?), reasoning that a successful mission would be like beheading the "snake" of Parliament. I'll leave it up to you to guess how well that works out.
I quite enjoyed Ori's storyline, if not Ori himself, and the tale of revolution on the streets of New Crobuzon. It was almost like the good old times back in Perdido Street Station, when the city almost felt alive through Miéville's careful descriptions. Almost, but not quite. New Crobuzon is present in The Iron Council, but it is no longer the front-and-centre locus around which the novel revolves.
Instead, Miéville once again chooses a mobile location as his central focus. This time it's a train instead of a floating city. There's some metaphor to be found within the idea of a train, which is bound to go only where there is a railroad, representing one's freedom. (Indeed, one of the conceits of The Iron Council is that these fugitive railway workers are constantly tearing up the track behind them and laying down new rails before the train. It's odd, but it's very Miéville.) As with so much else of his work, he creates an almost-but-not-quite-romantic vision of life on an ever-changing railscape. Like New Crobuzon and Armada, the citizens of the Iron Council are cosmopolitan; however, the scale of the city is a lot smaller and more constrained. We get a sense of the fragility of the Council—everything is reused, if possible, because their resources are limited—as well as the sense of boundless adventure—they have maps no one in New Crobuzon has. In that respect, the Iron Council is as well-developed, as a "weird city," as any of Miéville's creations.
I'm very ambivalent about the fate of the Iron Council and the ending of the book. Part of me hates it, if only because it seems so inevitable the way Miéville has written it. Part of me enjoys its creativity. It is consistent with my favourite thing about this book, which is its portrayal of the difficulty of staging a class revolution. Ori quickly realizes that it's one thing to begin an uprising and quite another thing to succeed at it; the militia is ruthless, and even the death of New Crobuzon's mayor is not necessarily going to stop them. This real but unattractive truth fuels a lot of the tension in the last part of the book, as well as Judah's final act that affects the Iron Council and everyone aboard it.
If anything, The Iron Council, with its brief allusions to the events of Perdido Street Station, hasjust made me want to reread that first Bas-Lag novel all over again. I want to return to the delightful machinations of Mayor Rudgutter and then-secretary Stem-Fulcher; I want to see them negotiate with the Ambassador from Hell and the Weaver. In addition to these allusions, there are plenty of new, small glimpses at the weird and wonderful world that is Bas-Lag. Once again, Miéville shows that his imagination and his ability to create a world are without parallel. And beyond the worldbuilding lurks a good tale too: The Iron Council is a strong story of standing up to authority and striking, albeit not always succeeding. However, none of its characters could interest me, and I found that to be a massive stumbling block in reading this book. I read it, but I wasn't really into the story. There was no point where I would have been disappointed if something had interrupted me during my reading; I was a casual visitor to Bas-Lag this time. I suppose there is nothing wrong with that, per se, but with a writer as good as Miéville, I'm always going to be disappointed when the experience is just casual.
August 21, 2020
-El más político de los libros de la trilogía (que ya es decir) y el menos logrado.-
Género. Narrativa fantástica (por “científico” que llegue a ser todo muchas veces).
Lo que nos cuenta. El libro El Consejo de Hierro (publicación original: Iron Council, 2004) nos encontramos en un periodo de guerra entre Nueva Crobuzon y Tesh, un conflicto de origenes turbios, desarrollo poco claro y cuyos resultados están minando tanto la estabilidad como la cohesión sociopolítica en Nueva Crobuzon, donde activistas llevan a cabo acciones contra las autoridades y planean realizar una mucho más ambiciosa. Mientras, un grupo sigue, a través de zonas de combate irregular, los pasos de Judah, alguien que formó parte del Consejo de Hierro desde su creación, que sabe que el Consejo será blanco de los ataques de Nueva Crobuzon por lo que representa y que regresa para avisar. Último libro de la Trilogía Bas-Lag, que se puede leer de forma independiente a los demás porque los eventos que usa de tramas anteriores son puntuales y están bien explicados).
¿Quiere saber más de este libro, sin spoilers? Visite:
https://librosdeolethros.blogspot.com...
Género. Narrativa fantástica (por “científico” que llegue a ser todo muchas veces).
Lo que nos cuenta. El libro El Consejo de Hierro (publicación original: Iron Council, 2004) nos encontramos en un periodo de guerra entre Nueva Crobuzon y Tesh, un conflicto de origenes turbios, desarrollo poco claro y cuyos resultados están minando tanto la estabilidad como la cohesión sociopolítica en Nueva Crobuzon, donde activistas llevan a cabo acciones contra las autoridades y planean realizar una mucho más ambiciosa. Mientras, un grupo sigue, a través de zonas de combate irregular, los pasos de Judah, alguien que formó parte del Consejo de Hierro desde su creación, que sabe que el Consejo será blanco de los ataques de Nueva Crobuzon por lo que representa y que regresa para avisar. Último libro de la Trilogía Bas-Lag, que se puede leer de forma independiente a los demás porque los eventos que usa de tramas anteriores son puntuales y están bien explicados).
¿Quiere saber más de este libro, sin spoilers? Visite:
https://librosdeolethros.blogspot.com...
April 5, 2021
What an absolute trip this series is! As usual with the Bas-Lag books, Iron Council stands alone; but I'd strongly recommend starting with the other two. There's details of the world that come into play, and context that it would be a shame to miss.
Perdido Street Station concentrated on New Crobuzon - The Scar took us completely outside of it. Iron Council merges the two approaches, alternating between groups and locales, even times. Mieville's always taken the tantalising approach with Bas-Lag - what I wouldn't give for a David Attenborough or Steve Irwin style documentary somehow set there - and though we get to see a lot more this time, I still feel the sense of getting exactly as much of the picture as he wants.
Whenever, wherever the setting took us, though, was almost immaterial, because this book heroes its characters even more than the previous entries did. Not just the main characters either, but the people(/beings) who make up the communities of whichever setting was being visited at the time. There's one particularly memorable scene of sound demons feeding on the newly-discovered rhythm of a train, only to have the railway crew feed them with a dance; it's just so inventive and so vivid in my mind's eye.
I'm so pleased I finally read this series. Mieville has created something completely unique and important, writing the flaws of our own world large on his fantasy screen - letting his characters come together and show that it's the fight that matters more than the winning.
Perdido Street Station concentrated on New Crobuzon - The Scar took us completely outside of it. Iron Council merges the two approaches, alternating between groups and locales, even times. Mieville's always taken the tantalising approach with Bas-Lag - what I wouldn't give for a David Attenborough or Steve Irwin style documentary somehow set there - and though we get to see a lot more this time, I still feel the sense of getting exactly as much of the picture as he wants.
Whenever, wherever the setting took us, though, was almost immaterial, because this book heroes its characters even more than the previous entries did. Not just the main characters either, but the people(/beings) who make up the communities of whichever setting was being visited at the time. There's one particularly memorable scene of sound demons feeding on the newly-discovered rhythm of a train, only to have the railway crew feed them with a dance; it's just so inventive and so vivid in my mind's eye.
I'm so pleased I finally read this series. Mieville has created something completely unique and important, writing the flaws of our own world large on his fantasy screen - letting his characters come together and show that it's the fight that matters more than the winning.
November 12, 2016
‘El Consejo de Hierro’ es una novela ambientada en el fantástico mundo de Bas-lag, donde también transcurrían esas obras maestras que son ‘La estación de la Calle Perdido’ y ‘La cicatriz’. No cabe duda de que China Miéville es un escritor único, del que a duras penas puede ser comparado con ningún otro. Su visión de la fantasía, de naturaleza New Weird, oscura y pesadillesca, se aleja de todo lo conocido hasta el momento.
En ‘El Consejo de Hierro’, de nuevo volvemos a Nueva Crobuzon, esa ciudad más allá de la imaginación donde cohabitan la taumaturgia, las razas alienígenas, los rehechos, los constructos, etc., bajo un gobierno corrupto. La novela se divide en tres hilos narrativos, y resulta imposible abarcar todo lo que acontece a lo largo de la historia. Cutter ha huido de Nueva Crobuzon junto con varios compañeros, en busca de un antiguo amigo. Miéville empieza fuerte el libro, con un principio plagado de criaturas y amenazas mágicas, todo ello con un claro aire de western. Otro personaje importante es Ori, un joven de Nueva Crobuzon que cada vez se encuentra más involucrado en un grupo extremista que lucha contra el gobierno vigente. Y por último está Judah Low, que se nos da a conocer a través de un largo flash-back, que nos sirve a su vez para saber del mítico Consejo de Hierro.
La lectura de esta novela es un descubrimiento tras otro, y es que China Miéville posee un sentido de la imaginación prodigioso. Elementales de la naturaleza, gólems, seres vivos rehechos con partes mecánicas como castigo por sus crímenes, razas alienígenas a cual más extraña, taumaturgia cohabitando con ciencia y tecnología. Pero Miéville no se queda en lo fantástico, sería muy fácil quedarse en lo puramente aventurero, él va más allá, y nos muestra el conflicto político entre la ciudad y sus milicianos, y los grupos rebeldes, o la realidad existente ante la homosexualidad y la unión entre diferentes razas.
Imaginativo, desmesurado, China Miéville es el gran escritor de literatura fantástica del momento, que se reinventa en cada novela.
En ‘El Consejo de Hierro’, de nuevo volvemos a Nueva Crobuzon, esa ciudad más allá de la imaginación donde cohabitan la taumaturgia, las razas alienígenas, los rehechos, los constructos, etc., bajo un gobierno corrupto. La novela se divide en tres hilos narrativos, y resulta imposible abarcar todo lo que acontece a lo largo de la historia. Cutter ha huido de Nueva Crobuzon junto con varios compañeros, en busca de un antiguo amigo. Miéville empieza fuerte el libro, con un principio plagado de criaturas y amenazas mágicas, todo ello con un claro aire de western. Otro personaje importante es Ori, un joven de Nueva Crobuzon que cada vez se encuentra más involucrado en un grupo extremista que lucha contra el gobierno vigente. Y por último está Judah Low, que se nos da a conocer a través de un largo flash-back, que nos sirve a su vez para saber del mítico Consejo de Hierro.
La lectura de esta novela es un descubrimiento tras otro, y es que China Miéville posee un sentido de la imaginación prodigioso. Elementales de la naturaleza, gólems, seres vivos rehechos con partes mecánicas como castigo por sus crímenes, razas alienígenas a cual más extraña, taumaturgia cohabitando con ciencia y tecnología. Pero Miéville no se queda en lo fantástico, sería muy fácil quedarse en lo puramente aventurero, él va más allá, y nos muestra el conflicto político entre la ciudad y sus milicianos, y los grupos rebeldes, o la realidad existente ante la homosexualidad y la unión entre diferentes razas.
Imaginativo, desmesurado, China Miéville es el gran escritor de literatura fantástica del momento, que se reinventa en cada novela.
January 17, 2020
To the Riverskin Station
Like Tsarist Russia in 1917, New Crobuzon is at war with a neighbouring city-state, Tesh. As in St Petersburg, the local insurrectionists, a random collective of variegated runaways (the Collectivists), seize the opportunity to stage a revolutionary overthrow of the oppressive Urban Unity Government. Meanwhile, the Iron Council (which might be analogous to the Central Committee of the Communist/Bolshevik Party) learns of these events and decides, like Lenin, to return from exile, by catching a train back towards Perdido Street Station, so that they can assume leadership of the revolutionary process.
Some of the revolutionaries fear that this is not a safe course of action. A division of the New Crobuzon militia is fast gaining on the train from behind, while in the city their forces have regained their strength and might be luring the Iron Council into a trap from which it will not escape alive.
Two alternative points of view struggle for acceptance:
The Serious Business of Revolution
The Revolution is serious business for Mieville and his protagonists. For all its inclusivism (it is, after all, a “random collective of variegated runaways”), the Collective is still threatened by internal disputes and deviationism that might unrail the Revolution.
Mieville points a finger at anarchists, one group of whom, the Toroans, “had thought themselves hard desperados - and yes they had done violent, murderous things in the name of change - but their anarchist anger was a vague floundering next to the cool rageless expertise of the soldier..."
The Revolution needs “the experienced dissident, with insurrectionist philosophy” rather than “bloody lunacies”.
Mieville also questions the value of Vollmann-like faux-left hipsters:
It’s clear that Mieville believes there’s an important distinction to be made between dissolution and dissidence. He decries the “ultraequalitarian anarchs” who jeopardise the Revolution.
The Revolution is a holy mission, which must be made safe from both internal and external attack, so that it can be planned and effective:
The History Train
While Mieville emphasises the need for careful planning, his main characters are not averse to improvisation, if, apart from the anarchists, they don’t exactly embrace violent spontaneity.
The train which the Iron Council uses to return to New Crobuzon is described as the perpetual train.
The perpetual train is significant at two metaphorical levels.
One is that it carries the Revolution, arguably as a vehicle for Marxist historical materialism.
This comment suggests that history might not be an external force in its own right, but that the insurrectionists are making history out of their own actions:
If history wasn’t dictated by external forces, then it was man-made, voluntarist. If it was man-made, people could choose the wrong time to stage a revolution: the time might not be right:
The secret of a successful revolution is therefore in the timing. This requires judgement, responsiveness and improvisation.
Judah seems to be positioned as the leader of the Revolution, but as appears in the above quote, he is not uniformly seen this way by The Iron Council or the Collective.
He is not the author of the Revolution. It’s in this way that the perpetual train is a metaphor in a second way.
You Bright and Risen (Steam) Engines
The train builds its track in front of itself as it moves forward, at the same time picking it up from behind. It doesn’t use existing, fixed railway lines. It’s not restricted in the direction it can travel. It can move towards and across any frontier. In a way, it symbolises the conquest of the American west, and many of the towns that rise up in its path resemble the frontier towns of American westerns (complete with saloons and brothels).
Like a bebop jazz quartet, it improvised its way across the continent.
The same can be said for Mieville, the author. This is not just exquisite speculative fiction (of the political kind), but an exercise in how to structure narrative in a different and more appealing way than much of what passes for Post-Modern experimentalism.
Mieville’s style is one of persistent (if not, alas, perpetual) improvisation. As a result, the text burgeons with a sense of locomotive, revolutionary energy and expectation.
No Strictures on Moral Subjects
Mieville’s characters are as diverse as anything readers might find in William Vollmann’s more heavily-researched and laboured fiction. Many characters and creatures are “half-bred from the monstrous and quotidian”. They share “illicit congress” and “outré relaxations”. The difference is that Mieville makes no moral judgement on them or their behavior. He describes it as "abnatural" (rather than abnormal). He doesn’t dwell on their transgression. Instead, he creates a world in which they behave “as if” or “als ob” what they do is right or natural or appropriate. “Whole- and Remade fucking. Cross-sex, khepri, human, vods.” As a result, he doesn’t invite or tempt the reader with a prurient interest in his characters. There is none of Vollmann’s faux(-ny) empathy or ersatz Mitsein. Unlike Vollmann, Mieville doesn’t just make exotic female characters for the sexual pleasure of the implied author. He affords his characters the moral freedom that only Revolution will bring us in its time.
The Left Hand of the Marxist
Of the two authors, only Mieville is genuinely of the Left. The novel which this work most recalls is Ursula Le Guin’s “The Left Hand of Darkness”.
This isn’t meant to imply that Mieville is humourless in any way. He features a bar called “The Two Maggots” (a la "Les Deux Magots") [actually the name of a Greenwich Village cafe in the 1960's] which serves sugared rum tea. Yum!
Golems Made of Dust
Judah Lowe, if not an augur or a saviour, nevertheless makes a valuable contribution to the Revolution with golems he fabricates out of dust, gas, sound and time.
On Being in the Ink Landscape
The time golem draws attention to the role of the author, conjuring characters out of dust and thought, and assembling them in the “ink landscape” of fiction or the novel. In this landscape, Mieville’s characters don’t just do what they are instructed to, but they do what comes naturally to them. They, too, ignore linearity, and improvise their way across the frontiers of the ink landscape, creating their own succession of moments in time.
Mieville’s characters get up and proclaim:
Mieville seems to be saying that, regardless of its timing, the perpetual train of Revolution is always coming, because it has not just history, but justice, on its side.
POLYMERVERSITY:
(In the words of China Mieville)
Weaver's Song: A Shudder in Dust
ONE AND ONE AND ONE AND TWO
AND RED RED-BLACK RED-BLUE BLACK
THROUGH HILLCUT WIRE-TRAWL
AGASH AGASP AGAPE LEGATE
AND CONSTRUCT MY TIES MY EYES
CHILDER KINDER WHAT STONECUT
AND DUSTDRUM YOU SOUND A SLOW
ATRAP TRAPPING A RHYTHM
IN TOOL AND STONE EAT MUSIC
EAT SOUND PUSH THE PULSE
PULSILOGUM THE MAGIC
A Vespine Insinuation
A wasp,
Its waist bone-thin
Below a thorax
That refracted light
Like mottled glass,
Its sting like
A curved finger
Beckoning from
Its abdomen,
Extending and adrip.
Flyside
Narcotics on the corners
Sold in twists by
Macerated youths,
Militia in aggressive cabals,
Their mirrors sending the light
Back around the street.
SOUNDTRACK:
Like Tsarist Russia in 1917, New Crobuzon is at war with a neighbouring city-state, Tesh. As in St Petersburg, the local insurrectionists, a random collective of variegated runaways (the Collectivists), seize the opportunity to stage a revolutionary overthrow of the oppressive Urban Unity Government. Meanwhile, the Iron Council (which might be analogous to the Central Committee of the Communist/Bolshevik Party) learns of these events and decides, like Lenin, to return from exile, by catching a train back towards Perdido Street Station, so that they can assume leadership of the revolutionary process.
Some of the revolutionaries fear that this is not a safe course of action. A division of the New Crobuzon militia is fast gaining on the train from behind, while in the city their forces have regained their strength and might be luring the Iron Council into a trap from which it will not escape alive.
Two alternative points of view struggle for acceptance:
"Did you hear? That the war’s over, that we beat the Tesh, the Mayor took control again, and everything was sorted, and the Collective went under?...The Collective was a dream, but it’s over. It failed. If it ain’t dead by now it’ll be dead in days...You have to turn. The Iron Council has to turn. Or leave the train. You come on to New Crobuzon, it’s suicide. You’ll die. They’ll destroy you...Here’s how it will be. They’re waiting for you. The Collective’s dead...and the militia knows you’re coming. They’re waiting. They know where you’ll arrive...There’ll be plenty of them.
"I wish, you know I really wish you’d been here in the early days. We didn’t know what we were doing. People on the streets were moving much faster than the Caucus. Even some militia were coming over to us. We had to run to catch up...The train will come, the last of the Collective will rise, and the government will fall."
The Serious Business of Revolution
The Revolution is serious business for Mieville and his protagonists. For all its inclusivism (it is, after all, a “random collective of variegated runaways”), the Collective is still threatened by internal disputes and deviationism that might unrail the Revolution.
Mieville points a finger at anarchists, one group of whom, the Toroans, “had thought themselves hard desperados - and yes they had done violent, murderous things in the name of change - but their anarchist anger was a vague floundering next to the cool rageless expertise of the soldier..."
“...their nihilist depredations risked bringing the militia.”
The Revolution needs “the experienced dissident, with insurrectionist philosophy” rather than “bloody lunacies”.
Mieville also questions the value of Vollmann-like faux-left hipsters:
“Salacus Fields itself was becoming colonised by the weekend bohemians. There had always been moneyed slummers, bad-boy younger children seeking tawdry redemption or dissolution, but now their visits were temporary and their transformations tourist.”
It’s clear that Mieville believes there’s an important distinction to be made between dissolution and dissidence. He decries the “ultraequalitarian anarchs” who jeopardise the Revolution.
The Revolution is a holy mission, which must be made safe from both internal and external attack, so that it can be planned and effective:
“He smiles not cunning nor sated nor secure, but in joy because he knows his plans are holy.”
The History Train
While Mieville emphasises the need for careful planning, his main characters are not averse to improvisation, if, apart from the anarchists, they don’t exactly embrace violent spontaneity.
The train which the Iron Council uses to return to New Crobuzon is described as the perpetual train.
The perpetual train is significant at two metaphorical levels.
One is that it carries the Revolution, arguably as a vehicle for Marxist historical materialism.
“In years gone, women and men are cutting a line across the dirtland and dragging history with them.”
This comment suggests that history might not be an external force in its own right, but that the insurrectionists are making history out of their own actions:
“We’ll gather people with us, we’ll be an army, we’ll sweep in. We’ll turn things around. We’re bringing history."
“We unrolled history. We made history. We cast history in iron and the train shat it out behind it. Now we’ve ploughed that up. We’ll go on, and we’ll take our history with us. Remake. It’s all our wealth, it’s everything, it’s all we have.
“Miles of track, reused, reused, it is the train’s future and its present, and it emerges a fraction more scarred as history and is hauled up again and becomes another future. The train carries its track with it, picking it up and laying it down: a sliver, a moment of railroad. No longer a line split through time, but contingent and fleeting, recurring beneath the train, leaving only its footprint.”
“Wherever it went it was intruder. It was never part of the land. It was an incursion of history in stubby hillside woodland…”
If history wasn’t dictated by external forces, then it was man-made, voluntarist. If it was man-made, people could choose the wrong time to stage a revolution: the time might not be right:
“There was nothing that could be done, not really. Nothing to keep them from harm. History had gone on. It was the wrong time.
“We were never yours, Judah. We were something real, and we came in our time, and we made our decision, and it was not yours. Whether we were right or wrong, it was our history. You were never our augur Judah. Never our saviour.”
The secret of a successful revolution is therefore in the timing. This requires judgement, responsiveness and improvisation.
Judah seems to be positioned as the leader of the Revolution, but as appears in the above quote, he is not uniformly seen this way by The Iron Council or the Collective.
He is not the author of the Revolution. It’s in this way that the perpetual train is a metaphor in a second way.
You Bright and Risen (Steam) Engines
The train builds its track in front of itself as it moves forward, at the same time picking it up from behind. It doesn’t use existing, fixed railway lines. It’s not restricted in the direction it can travel. It can move towards and across any frontier. In a way, it symbolises the conquest of the American west, and many of the towns that rise up in its path resemble the frontier towns of American westerns (complete with saloons and brothels).
“The train edged forward along the unrolling tracks, the line behind it dismantled as it went. In its wake was debris, a cut of altered ground...It was a just-railroad, existing in the moment for the train to pass, then gone again.”
Like a bebop jazz quartet, it improvised its way across the continent.
The same can be said for Mieville, the author. This is not just exquisite speculative fiction (of the political kind), but an exercise in how to structure narrative in a different and more appealing way than much of what passes for Post-Modern experimentalism.
Mieville’s style is one of persistent (if not, alas, perpetual) improvisation. As a result, the text burgeons with a sense of locomotive, revolutionary energy and expectation.
No Strictures on Moral Subjects
Mieville’s characters are as diverse as anything readers might find in William Vollmann’s more heavily-researched and laboured fiction. Many characters and creatures are “half-bred from the monstrous and quotidian”. They share “illicit congress” and “outré relaxations”. The difference is that Mieville makes no moral judgement on them or their behavior. He describes it as "abnatural" (rather than abnormal). He doesn’t dwell on their transgression. Instead, he creates a world in which they behave “as if” or “als ob” what they do is right or natural or appropriate. “Whole- and Remade fucking. Cross-sex, khepri, human, vods.” As a result, he doesn’t invite or tempt the reader with a prurient interest in his characters. There is none of Vollmann’s faux(-ny) empathy or ersatz Mitsein. Unlike Vollmann, Mieville doesn’t just make exotic female characters for the sexual pleasure of the implied author. He affords his characters the moral freedom that only Revolution will bring us in its time.
The Left Hand of the Marxist
Of the two authors, only Mieville is genuinely of the Left. The novel which this work most recalls is Ursula Le Guin’s “The Left Hand of Darkness”.
This isn’t meant to imply that Mieville is humourless in any way. He features a bar called “The Two Maggots” (a la "Les Deux Magots") [actually the name of a Greenwich Village cafe in the 1960's] which serves sugared rum tea. Yum!
Golems Made of Dust
Judah Lowe, if not an augur or a saviour, nevertheless makes a valuable contribution to the Revolution with golems he fabricates out of dust, gas, sound and time.
“...A golem of sound and time stood and did what it was instructed to do, its instruction become it, its instruction its existence, its command ‘just be’, and so it was...The time golem stood and was, ignored the linearity around it, only was. It was a violence, a terrible intrusion in the succession of moments, a clot in diachrony, and with the dumb arrogance of its existence it paid the outrage of ontology no mind.”
On Being in the Ink Landscape
The time golem draws attention to the role of the author, conjuring characters out of dust and thought, and assembling them in the “ink landscape” of fiction or the novel. In this landscape, Mieville’s characters don’t just do what they are instructed to, but they do what comes naturally to them. They, too, ignore linearity, and improvise their way across the frontiers of the ink landscape, creating their own succession of moments in time.
Mieville’s characters get up and proclaim:
“We were, we are, we will be.”
“Years might pass and we will tell the story of the Iron Council and how it was made, how it made itself and went, and how it came back, and is coming, is still coming. Women and men cut a line across the dirtland and dragged history out and back across the world. They are coming...They are always coming.”
Mieville seems to be saying that, regardless of its timing, the perpetual train of Revolution is always coming, because it has not just history, but justice, on its side.
POLYMERVERSITY:
(In the words of China Mieville)
Weaver's Song: A Shudder in Dust
ONE AND ONE AND ONE AND TWO
AND RED RED-BLACK RED-BLUE BLACK
THROUGH HILLCUT WIRE-TRAWL
AGASH AGASP AGAPE LEGATE
AND CONSTRUCT MY TIES MY EYES
CHILDER KINDER WHAT STONECUT
AND DUSTDRUM YOU SOUND A SLOW
ATRAP TRAPPING A RHYTHM
IN TOOL AND STONE EAT MUSIC
EAT SOUND PUSH THE PULSE
PULSILOGUM THE MAGIC
A Vespine Insinuation
A wasp,
Its waist bone-thin
Below a thorax
That refracted light
Like mottled glass,
Its sting like
A curved finger
Beckoning from
Its abdomen,
Extending and adrip.
Flyside
Narcotics on the corners
Sold in twists by
Macerated youths,
Militia in aggressive cabals,
Their mirrors sending the light
Back around the street.
SOUNDTRACK:
February 1, 2022
Nunca sé qué notar poner a Miéville.
Por imaginación y narrativa, este autor es de lo mejor que hay, y esta trilogía es un despliegue de inventiva alucinante.
Por personajes baja un poco la nota. Hay alguno que destaca pero en general nunca empatizo con ninguno.
Y siempre creo que le sobran páginas. Cuando parece que coge ritmo se estanca en detalles o tramas que luego no tienen mucho recorrido.
En El consejo de hierro vemos el libro más político y más humano de los tres. La gente de Nueva Crobuzon está harta de la guerra y del gobierno y quiere una revolución. Lo mejor que hace aquí Miéville es el equilibrio entre todos los personajes y sus motivaciones. No hay un malo claro, ni un bueno. Cada uno tiene su objetivo y quiere cumplirlo por diferentes motivos que son válidos todos.
Pero la trama avanza a trompicones, metiendo interludios de 150 páginas de duración que no ayudan en nada a la trama principal y a pesar de los momentos épicos que tiene nunca he llegado a engacharme al libro.
Creo que el mejor de la trilogía es La Cicatriz. Una trilogía muy interesante pero que merece la pena ser leída con calma y sin esperar la típica fantasía que abunda hoy en día.
Por imaginación y narrativa, este autor es de lo mejor que hay, y esta trilogía es un despliegue de inventiva alucinante.
Por personajes baja un poco la nota. Hay alguno que destaca pero en general nunca empatizo con ninguno.
Y siempre creo que le sobran páginas. Cuando parece que coge ritmo se estanca en detalles o tramas que luego no tienen mucho recorrido.
En El consejo de hierro vemos el libro más político y más humano de los tres. La gente de Nueva Crobuzon está harta de la guerra y del gobierno y quiere una revolución. Lo mejor que hace aquí Miéville es el equilibrio entre todos los personajes y sus motivaciones. No hay un malo claro, ni un bueno. Cada uno tiene su objetivo y quiere cumplirlo por diferentes motivos que son válidos todos.
Pero la trama avanza a trompicones, metiendo interludios de 150 páginas de duración que no ayudan en nada a la trama principal y a pesar de los momentos épicos que tiene nunca he llegado a engacharme al libro.
Creo que el mejor de la trilogía es La Cicatriz. Una trilogía muy interesante pero que merece la pena ser leída con calma y sin esperar la típica fantasía que abunda hoy en día.
July 26, 2016
I wanted very much to like Iron Council, considering how much I was drawn into the worlds of Perdido Street Station and The Scar, but despite my best efforts, I couldn't do it. Without question, it's my least favorite of Mieville's three Bas-Lag books, and I am conceding defeat at page 287. Judging from many of the positive (though qualified) reviews of other GR readers, the story is difficult but rewarding, but I think if I don't care what happens by the mid-way point, then it's not going to happen.
I didn't connect with the characters or locales of the story, or the language itself, which is much more terse, downbeat, and distant than the first two books. It's a dark, muddled story, and I couldn't get through The Perpetual Train part, detailing the story of Judah Low and emergence of the Iron Council. There is a tendency for books these days to take many pages to establish a setting and storyline, but for me, if the first half doesn't grab you, there's no point in continuing on, especially with almost 400 other books on the to-read list. I am starting Embassytown instead, which I have high expectations for, since I still count myself a Mieville fan.
I didn't connect with the characters or locales of the story, or the language itself, which is much more terse, downbeat, and distant than the first two books. It's a dark, muddled story, and I couldn't get through The Perpetual Train part, detailing the story of Judah Low and emergence of the Iron Council. There is a tendency for books these days to take many pages to establish a setting and storyline, but for me, if the first half doesn't grab you, there's no point in continuing on, especially with almost 400 other books on the to-read list. I am starting Embassytown instead, which I have high expectations for, since I still count myself a Mieville fan.
April 27, 2016
A beautiful novel, perhaps the best speculative fiction that I've read, but likewise certainly enriched by reference to its close companion text, The Scar, which parallels it in important ways, as well as to Perdido Street Station, which introduces its setting.
As in The Scar, the narrative here involves a group of outcasts who travel on a more or less traditional quest to find something in particular. Both books involve a renegade, mobile city that interacts weirdly with a bizarre breach in the fabric of the setting (here, the Stain, there, the eponymous Scar). Both involve ambitious plans by the outcasts with broad geopolitical implications. Both testify to the abject failure of grand plans.
The master figure of the writing is intervention. The terms appears expressly on very many occasions, referring most prominently to the golemetry of the foremost protagonist, who takes his name directly from the czech legend (a connection that is not frivolous, considering that the lengthy anamnesis section, itself a rhetorical intervention into the regular flow of narration, is a marxist retelling of the biblical Exodus); to the anarchist leader's nifty trick, an "ontic abomination" (397) that intervenes through space (327); to political puppet shows (306); and to numerous other items, including the cacotropic intervention of the Stain into normal space.
The golemetry stuff is almost always an "intervention," and is very compellingly contrasted with the art of the elementarii (500 ff). Golemetry is "an argument, an intervention, so will I intervene and make a golem in darkness or in death, in elyctricity, in sound, in friction, in idea or hopes?" Rhetoric is golemetry, then, as is political praxis. The golemetrist here undergoes a transition, from a railway scout, engaged in genocide; to an amateur-xenologist-gone-native, whereupon he acquires golemetry skills; to radicalized railway worker; to senior revolutionary; and to several other roles, none insigificant. His trajectory is complicated, but memorable.
Only slightly less important figuratively is puppetry, of all things. We're keyed into this figure early in the narrative, when a leftwing activist involves himself in a provocative (and perhaps Brechtian) puppet show, as part of his transformation from a traditional socialist (concerned with labor unions, strikes, parliamentary procedure, learned discussions about the "toil concept of worth" and "graphs of the swag-slump tendency" (96)) to a propaganda-of-the-deed anarchist who lacks both Hoffman's wit and Alinsky's cleverness. Groups are revealed to be unwitting puppets of other groups on several occasions. While this is business as usual on the bourgeois side, the revolutionaries regard this type of malappropriation to be worthy of execution in both instances where it occurs among their own leadership, working nicely with the discussion of Garuda law at the end of PSS.
Another, the museum: the text presents several--a dead culture (167), a venereal grotesquerie (410), and impoverishment amid bourgeois excess (366). The denouement itself creates a unique museum, as part of a singular intervention. This last represents the ultimate in propaganda-of-the-deed tactics.
The denouement makes plain its judgment over which leftwing strategy is superior, regarding the tactical disagreements between some anarchists and some socialists (not to suggest that those terms are necessarily or always mutually exclusive, of course). It nevertheless defers judgment on the issue of which internal socialist tendency is superior. The text's "to the Finland Station" moment is perpetually deferred at the novel's conclusion--and thus the very Soviet post-February-pre-October dyarchy of the city resolves itself without the arrival of the setting's Lenin. (The ending's deferral-of-a-difference, a chiasmus of difference-that-defers, is a slick Derridian joke, for those who like that stuff, incidentally.)
The text sounds a pair of warnings: a revolution can become the tool of its own ruling class, and it can become the fifth column of another state's ruling class. Each of these possibilities is noted, insofar as railway industrialists might be able recapture their long-awaited profits, and as propaganda deeds can distract as much as they can awaken, even contrary to the intentions of the revolution.
There's more to be said about many other items; every page is pregnant--but this should suffice.
Recommended for sinistrals, fans of subversive puppet shows, and committed golemetrists.
As in The Scar, the narrative here involves a group of outcasts who travel on a more or less traditional quest to find something in particular. Both books involve a renegade, mobile city that interacts weirdly with a bizarre breach in the fabric of the setting (here, the Stain, there, the eponymous Scar). Both involve ambitious plans by the outcasts with broad geopolitical implications. Both testify to the abject failure of grand plans.
The master figure of the writing is intervention. The terms appears expressly on very many occasions, referring most prominently to the golemetry of the foremost protagonist, who takes his name directly from the czech legend (a connection that is not frivolous, considering that the lengthy anamnesis section, itself a rhetorical intervention into the regular flow of narration, is a marxist retelling of the biblical Exodus); to the anarchist leader's nifty trick, an "ontic abomination" (397) that intervenes through space (327); to political puppet shows (306); and to numerous other items, including the cacotropic intervention of the Stain into normal space.
The golemetry stuff is almost always an "intervention," and is very compellingly contrasted with the art of the elementarii (500 ff). Golemetry is "an argument, an intervention, so will I intervene and make a golem in darkness or in death, in elyctricity, in sound, in friction, in idea or hopes?" Rhetoric is golemetry, then, as is political praxis. The golemetrist here undergoes a transition, from a railway scout, engaged in genocide; to an amateur-xenologist-gone-native, whereupon he acquires golemetry skills; to radicalized railway worker; to senior revolutionary; and to several other roles, none insigificant. His trajectory is complicated, but memorable.
Only slightly less important figuratively is puppetry, of all things. We're keyed into this figure early in the narrative, when a leftwing activist involves himself in a provocative (and perhaps Brechtian) puppet show, as part of his transformation from a traditional socialist (concerned with labor unions, strikes, parliamentary procedure, learned discussions about the "toil concept of worth" and "graphs of the swag-slump tendency" (96)) to a propaganda-of-the-deed anarchist who lacks both Hoffman's wit and Alinsky's cleverness. Groups are revealed to be unwitting puppets of other groups on several occasions. While this is business as usual on the bourgeois side, the revolutionaries regard this type of malappropriation to be worthy of execution in both instances where it occurs among their own leadership, working nicely with the discussion of Garuda law at the end of PSS.
Another, the museum: the text presents several--a dead culture (167), a venereal grotesquerie (410), and impoverishment amid bourgeois excess (366). The denouement itself creates a unique museum, as part of a singular intervention. This last represents the ultimate in propaganda-of-the-deed tactics.
The denouement makes plain its judgment over which leftwing strategy is superior, regarding the tactical disagreements between some anarchists and some socialists (not to suggest that those terms are necessarily or always mutually exclusive, of course). It nevertheless defers judgment on the issue of which internal socialist tendency is superior. The text's "to the Finland Station" moment is perpetually deferred at the novel's conclusion--and thus the very Soviet post-February-pre-October dyarchy of the city resolves itself without the arrival of the setting's Lenin. (The ending's deferral-of-a-difference, a chiasmus of difference-that-defers, is a slick Derridian joke, for those who like that stuff, incidentally.)
The text sounds a pair of warnings: a revolution can become the tool of its own ruling class, and it can become the fifth column of another state's ruling class. Each of these possibilities is noted, insofar as railway industrialists might be able recapture their long-awaited profits, and as propaganda deeds can distract as much as they can awaken, even contrary to the intentions of the revolution.
There's more to be said about many other items; every page is pregnant--but this should suffice.
Recommended for sinistrals, fans of subversive puppet shows, and committed golemetrists.
September 8, 2009
So, here we are in Bas Lag again. According to interviews, Mieville sounds like he has every intention of returning to the world of Bas Lag in the future, so I won't refer to this as "the last Bas Lag novel." But, as of 2009, it's the most recent.
I found the experience of reading Iron Council markedly different from the first two books set in this world. For one, in this book the story isn't as localised. We have met the city of New Crobuzon in Perdido Street Station and the pirate collective of Armada in The Scar. Now, we're in New Crobuzon again, along with tons of other places.
Iron Council chronicles the war between Tesh and New Crobuzon, a war that is occuring at the same time that citizens of New Crobuzon are attempting to overthrow the political party in power. The Iron Council itself is a essentially a runaway train--a train that was intended to link New Crobuzon to other large cities. But, when the government refused to pay the workers on this train as they traveled along, building the tracks, the workers stole the train. They began picking up the tracks behind them, and the train passed off the border of any maps. They went so far that New Crobuzon was afraid to follow.
Well, rumor has it that the Iron Council is returning. In an already heated political climate, the return of the Iron Council is gunpowder.
The novel has a very compelling plot, and some of the most poetic and fantastic scenes in the whole Bas Lag sequence. As his characters travel through uncharted regions, bizarre creatures we haven't seen before show up regularly.
Also, this story has the most optimistic ending I've yet read from Mieville. It's not exactly a "happy" ending...but, aren't those just boring anyway?
This book had a lot of things going for it. However, it wasn't as satisfying or engaging of a read as P.S.S. or The Scar for two main reasons. First, the main characters weren't as engaging. With one exception, the main characters weren't as complex as those from the other books. Character complexity is always a very big thing for me. Usually, it's the most important thing. Here, the main characters tend to have one motivation, one inspiration, and their actions follow logically from it. The characters don't act in ways that surprise me.
The other reason this book wasn't as engaging is the writing just wasn't as clear. In a book where the fantastical and unusual is happening on a regular basis, it really helps if the writing puts a clear picture in the reader's head, and if new concepts aren't just tossed in without explanation. Through much of the book, I wasn't quite sure who was talking or exactly what was happening. I found myself frustrated on numerous occasions by the obscuring word-choices that Mieville made.
Despite everything that I liked about this book, I gained no momentum while reading it. At no point was I particularly compelled to keep reading, and at no point did I really care how things would turn out for anyone involved. Although I thought the end was strong and moving, it didn't make up for all of the non-engaging passages that had come before.
So, by no means was Iron Council a bad novel. But, it could've been as great as the other Bas Lag books, and it wasn't.
I found the experience of reading Iron Council markedly different from the first two books set in this world. For one, in this book the story isn't as localised. We have met the city of New Crobuzon in Perdido Street Station and the pirate collective of Armada in The Scar. Now, we're in New Crobuzon again, along with tons of other places.
Iron Council chronicles the war between Tesh and New Crobuzon, a war that is occuring at the same time that citizens of New Crobuzon are attempting to overthrow the political party in power. The Iron Council itself is a essentially a runaway train--a train that was intended to link New Crobuzon to other large cities. But, when the government refused to pay the workers on this train as they traveled along, building the tracks, the workers stole the train. They began picking up the tracks behind them, and the train passed off the border of any maps. They went so far that New Crobuzon was afraid to follow.
Well, rumor has it that the Iron Council is returning. In an already heated political climate, the return of the Iron Council is gunpowder.
The novel has a very compelling plot, and some of the most poetic and fantastic scenes in the whole Bas Lag sequence. As his characters travel through uncharted regions, bizarre creatures we haven't seen before show up regularly.
Also, this story has the most optimistic ending I've yet read from Mieville. It's not exactly a "happy" ending...but, aren't those just boring anyway?
This book had a lot of things going for it. However, it wasn't as satisfying or engaging of a read as P.S.S. or The Scar for two main reasons. First, the main characters weren't as engaging. With one exception, the main characters weren't as complex as those from the other books. Character complexity is always a very big thing for me. Usually, it's the most important thing. Here, the main characters tend to have one motivation, one inspiration, and their actions follow logically from it. The characters don't act in ways that surprise me.
The other reason this book wasn't as engaging is the writing just wasn't as clear. In a book where the fantastical and unusual is happening on a regular basis, it really helps if the writing puts a clear picture in the reader's head, and if new concepts aren't just tossed in without explanation. Through much of the book, I wasn't quite sure who was talking or exactly what was happening. I found myself frustrated on numerous occasions by the obscuring word-choices that Mieville made.
Despite everything that I liked about this book, I gained no momentum while reading it. At no point was I particularly compelled to keep reading, and at no point did I really care how things would turn out for anyone involved. Although I thought the end was strong and moving, it didn't make up for all of the non-engaging passages that had come before.
So, by no means was Iron Council a bad novel. But, it could've been as great as the other Bas Lag books, and it wasn't.
October 2, 2018
I don't think I'll ever read a trilogy like New Crobuzon (NC) again. It is hard to pinpoint what I felt when reading the book, but it surely an overwhelming mix of emotions. Iron Council to me is the most emotional of them all. Maybe, because of the point of views of its characters. Perdido Street Station (PDS) was NC seen from the eyes of the elite, the scientist and the artist, the mob boss and the privileged. In The Scar, there was a shift to the vagrants, pirates, the runaways with unseen yet unbreakable ties with NC. At last, Iron Council is NC seen from the eyes of the slaves, the workers, the repressed mass and the revolutionaries. It hit home the hardest for me, I did cry at some point.
This most political of Mieville's works I read (thus far) is definitely a manifesto of the author's own political views. He is a left-wing activist and member of the Socialist Workers Party. And yet, he did not dwell in idealistic dreams of rebellions and such. Here he grounded it really well, adding a very generous dose of realism. There will be factions, within factions, among factions. Rebellions are messy, before, during and after. The noble leaders are not always what you think they are. And when you topple your former masters, kill the leader of your oppressor, there is no nicely decorated 'The End' sign at the end of the rainbow. More hardship are the norm.
Another element I need to highlight from this book is the train, the major focal point. Mieville likes his trains. In Railsea, we meet with his own land-bound version of Moby Dick's Pequod. Here we encountered 'the perpetual train', which puts down track as it moves reclaiming it along the way, driven by its citizens. The train that went through hellish monsters-filled wasteland, through miles of greyed nothing and stones like the ghosts of stones, full with its moments in iron and grease. The moment of cactus-men, the scarab-head khepri, flying wyrmen, Remade, firemen, engineers, hunters, bridge-builders, prostitutes, tunnelers, magicians, hexers, in every types of flesh and blood - all free and equal men, xenians, sentients. It was the workers against the corporation. A communist utopia? You betcha. If you are familiar with the world of Bas-Lag, you must have noticed that seamless world-building of these races and how they coexisted.
But that is not all. Bear with me here. We also meet another revolution within the city itself. The urbanites vs their city government with its harsh police state rules and forced foreign war. Their fight is no less bloody and heroic than the railway secessionists. Civil War! Barricades! Assassinations! Refugee crisis! Ignorant elites! Scary, endless supply of militia! Morally ambiguous rebel leaders! Racism! Did I mention there's also a foreign war going on? Enemy spies! Exclamation point! Anyway, it made me want to sing Les Mis soundtracks and belt out all Enjolras parts.
We have three different (rebel) POVs, of which along the selection of the narrative style and thus pacing, could be a major tumbling block (or repeated slogs) for readers. I had to admit I became tired in the beginning (despite the excellent show-never-tell first chapter) and had to went through 1/3 of the book before I got fully invested with the characters. In the end, it was a rewarding reading experience. This novel to me, unlike PDS and The Scar, is more plot-driven than character-driven. The world-building became much more massive, magics shooting out from everywhere I was barely able to keep up with what's happening. The battles were uber cool, but so bizarrely fantastical. The golems were my personal favorite.
In conclusion, the novel will brutalize you, but it's worth the journey. There are A LOT to take, even more than my own capacity to understand, but I wholeheartedly enjoyed the harrowing, exciting, poignant ride.
And before I’ll be a slave
I’ll be buried in my grave
North star and bonanza gold
I’m bound for the freedom, freedom-bound
and oh Susyanna don’t you cry for me
Come ride-a my train
Robert Hayden- “Runagate Runagate”
This most political of Mieville's works I read (thus far) is definitely a manifesto of the author's own political views. He is a left-wing activist and member of the Socialist Workers Party. And yet, he did not dwell in idealistic dreams of rebellions and such. Here he grounded it really well, adding a very generous dose of realism. There will be factions, within factions, among factions. Rebellions are messy, before, during and after. The noble leaders are not always what you think they are. And when you topple your former masters, kill the leader of your oppressor, there is no nicely decorated 'The End' sign at the end of the rainbow. More hardship are the norm.
Another element I need to highlight from this book is the train, the major focal point. Mieville likes his trains. In Railsea, we meet with his own land-bound version of Moby Dick's Pequod. Here we encountered 'the perpetual train', which puts down track as it moves reclaiming it along the way, driven by its citizens. The train that went through hellish monsters-filled wasteland, through miles of greyed nothing and stones like the ghosts of stones, full with its moments in iron and grease. The moment of cactus-men, the scarab-head khepri, flying wyrmen, Remade, firemen, engineers, hunters, bridge-builders, prostitutes, tunnelers, magicians, hexers, in every types of flesh and blood - all free and equal men, xenians, sentients. It was the workers against the corporation. A communist utopia? You betcha. If you are familiar with the world of Bas-Lag, you must have noticed that seamless world-building of these races and how they coexisted.
But that is not all. Bear with me here. We also meet another revolution within the city itself. The urbanites vs their city government with its harsh police state rules and forced foreign war. Their fight is no less bloody and heroic than the railway secessionists. Civil War! Barricades! Assassinations! Refugee crisis! Ignorant elites! Scary, endless supply of militia! Morally ambiguous rebel leaders! Racism! Did I mention there's also a foreign war going on? Enemy spies! Exclamation point! Anyway, it made me want to sing Les Mis soundtracks and belt out all Enjolras parts.
We have three different (rebel) POVs, of which along the selection of the narrative style and thus pacing, could be a major tumbling block (or repeated slogs) for readers. I had to admit I became tired in the beginning (despite the excellent show-never-tell first chapter) and had to went through 1/3 of the book before I got fully invested with the characters. In the end, it was a rewarding reading experience. This novel to me, unlike PDS and The Scar, is more plot-driven than character-driven. The world-building became much more massive, magics shooting out from everywhere I was barely able to keep up with what's happening. The battles were uber cool, but so bizarrely fantastical. The golems were my personal favorite.
In conclusion, the novel will brutalize you, but it's worth the journey. There are A LOT to take, even more than my own capacity to understand, but I wholeheartedly enjoyed the harrowing, exciting, poignant ride.
And before I’ll be a slave
I’ll be buried in my grave
North star and bonanza gold
I’m bound for the freedom, freedom-bound
and oh Susyanna don’t you cry for me
Runagate
Runagate.
Come ride-a my train
Mean mean mean to be free.
Robert Hayden- “Runagate Runagate”
October 31, 2008
Enough imagination for eighty books..my favorite of Mieville's anti-trilogy for some reason...seems like you walked into a Bosch painting for most of the book.The most dismissed of Mieville’s books maybe because the first hundred pages are a little confusing and the structure strains a little bit more than usual. While all his books have flaws his enormous imagination and stunning vocabulary (rivaling Wolfe and McCarthy) pave over any hesitations I have. This one focuses on a tragic and costly civil war and the idea of heroes and roles people decide to play. Of course it’s also a fun and yet disturbing adventure that is part gothic western a la McCarthy and features a surreal war that evokes Bosch and Lovecraft . A love for folklore, language, politics, and real history infuse this one with some heft.
December 29, 2022
2,5*/5, dar nu pot rotunji la 3
Am reușit în final să dau gata cartea asta, și prima chestie care îmi vine în minte e adagiul ăla că (aproape) toate trilogiile se duc masiv în p*lă atunci când ajung la partea a treia.
Dacă ar fi să compar seria New Crobuzon cu ceva, aș compara-o cu trilogia The Godfather. Perdido Street Station a fost excepțională, The Scar a fost chiar mai bună decât Perdido, și o consider lejer cea mai bună carte pe care am citit-o în 2022, iar apoi... Iron Council a fost o chestie atât de inutilă și de plictisitoare încât cred că nici autorului nu i-o place.
La doar 600 de pagini (deci cu 300 de pagini mai puțin decât oricare din primele două părți), se mișcă atât de greu, e atât de dezlânată și de confuză încât pare că are 1200 de pagini.
Problema principală a acestei cărți e că autorul a ales s-o încarce nenecesar cu tot felul de idei despre politică și revoluție, și să se concentreze pe un milion de chestii care pur și simplu nu-s deloc interesante. Toate chestiile care ar fi trebui să fie front-and-center devin urgent fundaluri fade pe o scenă populată de tot felul de personaje banale, cu motivații obscure sau confuze, sau chiar contradictorii... Se întâmplă un milion de chestii, atât de multe încât e aproape imposibil să le urmărești pe toate, dar cumva cartea pare goală, eram pe la pagina 300 când mi-am dat seama că pur și simplu n-aș fi fost în stare să rezum ce citisem pentru că nimic nu părea destul de important încât să conteze.
Singura parte bună e că proza lui Mieville și-a păstrat calitatea, doar că de data asta n-a fost nici pe departe de ajuns ca să salveze accidentul ăsta feroviar (pun intended).
Vestea bună e că puteți citi fiecare din cărțile acestei trilogii în mod independent, nu sunt legate între ele la nivelul la care să nu poți să ai parte de o lectură satisfăcătoare cu una fără să le citești și pe celelalte. Iar dacă vreți sfatul meu, opriți-vă după The Scar, așa rămâneți cu un gust excelent și nici nu pierdeți o săptămână (sau o lună) cu această dezamăgitoare parte finală.
Am reușit în final să dau gata cartea asta, și prima chestie care îmi vine în minte e adagiul ăla că (aproape) toate trilogiile se duc masiv în p*lă atunci când ajung la partea a treia.
Dacă ar fi să compar seria New Crobuzon cu ceva, aș compara-o cu trilogia The Godfather. Perdido Street Station a fost excepțională, The Scar a fost chiar mai bună decât Perdido, și o consider lejer cea mai bună carte pe care am citit-o în 2022, iar apoi... Iron Council a fost o chestie atât de inutilă și de plictisitoare încât cred că nici autorului nu i-o place.
La doar 600 de pagini (deci cu 300 de pagini mai puțin decât oricare din primele două părți), se mișcă atât de greu, e atât de dezlânată și de confuză încât pare că are 1200 de pagini.
Problema principală a acestei cărți e că autorul a ales s-o încarce nenecesar cu tot felul de idei despre politică și revoluție, și să se concentreze pe un milion de chestii care pur și simplu nu-s deloc interesante. Toate chestiile care ar fi trebui să fie front-and-center devin urgent fundaluri fade pe o scenă populată de tot felul de personaje banale, cu motivații obscure sau confuze, sau chiar contradictorii... Se întâmplă un milion de chestii, atât de multe încât e aproape imposibil să le urmărești pe toate, dar cumva cartea pare goală, eram pe la pagina 300 când mi-am dat seama că pur și simplu n-aș fi fost în stare să rezum ce citisem pentru că nimic nu părea destul de important încât să conteze.
Singura parte bună e că proza lui Mieville și-a păstrat calitatea, doar că de data asta n-a fost nici pe departe de ajuns ca să salveze accidentul ăsta feroviar (pun intended).
Vestea bună e că puteți citi fiecare din cărțile acestei trilogii în mod independent, nu sunt legate între ele la nivelul la care să nu poți să ai parte de o lectură satisfăcătoare cu una fără să le citești și pe celelalte. Iar dacă vreți sfatul meu, opriți-vă după The Scar, așa rămâneți cu un gust excelent și nici nu pierdeți o săptămână (sau o lună) cu această dezamăgitoare parte finală.
May 20, 2020
Leída la última novela de China Miéville ambientada en su onírico y delirante universo de "Bas Lag" y la conclusión es cristalina: obra magna de la literatura y la imaginación. Auténtico triunfo de lo poético, lo arcano y lo irreal.
La novela, desde mi óptica, es un 4 estrellas de cajón. Otorgo las 5 estrellas desde el entusiasmo y el fanatismo militante que profeso hacia la obra de un autor visionario. Único e incalificable, que defeca sobre la convención, la petrificación e inmutabilidad de género, el conformismo creador, y que vomita sus propias categorías estilísticas.
Qué bien escribe Miéville, joder, prosa ampulosa, barroca, desaforada en la adjetivación, con construcciones estrambóticas, una mezcolanza de surrealismo, fantasía "weird" iconoclasta y steampuck teñido de horror primigenio.
La historia, un "western-revolucionario" correcto, sin más. Los personajes, fatal, es espantoso el trabajo a nivel de caracterización. Ni uno memorable, antiempáticos y anticlimáticos.
Entiendo perfectamente a la gente que califica el libro con 3 o 4 estrellas, incluso con 2, es lógico, el libro te fascisna con el cumplimiento de dos premisas esenciales: la primera, que la política y el activismo te apasionen; y al menos de forma superficial, te despierte cierta simpatía el insurrecionalismo, el poder popular y las cavilaciones sobre hegemonía política y lucha de clases; la segunda, que te enamore la escritura del autor y los engendros quiméricos que inventa. Su capacidad evocativa, la hibridación que propone entre lo mundano y lo sobrenatural.
De hecho, al menos para mí, lo más interesante de la novela es descrubir e hilvanar paralelismos con la historia real: Revolución de Octubre, Comuna de París, el faccionismo que aconteció durante la Guerra Civil española, el movimiento sindical y, en general, el conflicto social, el antiracismo, la xenofobia y el clasismo.
Es un libro genuinamente político. Y ahí está el mérito, lo antinatural en el género, la transgresión de los márgenes de la fantasía: un manifiesto sociopolítico ínsito en un contexto de ficción, un marco literario en el que cohabitan razas humanas y no-humanas y en el que la arquitectura, geología y greografía del mundo es punitiva y hostil.
Es una obra, en síntesis, sobre los elementos subversivos de la sociedad: manifestaciones y huelgas, principalmente. En definitiva, sobre la esperanza en un mundo distinto, mejor.
Una saga y un universo que me han dejado huella y sobre los que volveré. Libros así, o como los de Hyperion, por ejemplo, contribuyen a engrandecer y nutrir la fantasía de calidad y evolución, a que se exija a sí misma y a sus lectores.
July 12, 2008
Wow, what a rich novel! China Mieville does with fantasy what I love about radical science fiction: sets a revolution in an imagined world to create an engaging, complex, deep story and character and speak to the real world, the present. I highly recommend the Iron Council to folks who like feminist/leftist science fiction that want to read a fantasy novel that doesn't celebrate the aristocracy. Iron Council is a novel about class struggle and the people in it, and it happens to be fantasy.
I'm disappointed that Iron Council doesn't have many prominent female characters, although Mieville does show consistently shows women in positions of leadership and usually writes "she or he" and "women and men" to place women in the forefront. The main woman in the book is Ann-Hari, a leader in the iron council who initiated a sex-workers strike. Queer content is great! Of our three male protagonists, Judah is bisexual, his lover Cutter is gay, and we never learn Ori's preference one way or another.
Mieville's monsters and magic is fresh and disturbing, too. And I thought I was jaded and had seen every possible fantasy monster out there! I was particularly interested in the Remade, prisoners whose bodies are altered to reflect the crimes they commit.
Although I think Iron Council is amazing, it's not a book I'd hand anyone. It's dense and esoteric, and I found myself confused and skimming. But maybe that's the point... I'm not so used to having to work so hard to understand fantasy!
I'm disappointed that Iron Council doesn't have many prominent female characters, although Mieville does show consistently shows women in positions of leadership and usually writes "she or he" and "women and men" to place women in the forefront. The main woman in the book is Ann-Hari, a leader in the iron council who initiated a sex-workers strike. Queer content is great! Of our three male protagonists, Judah is bisexual, his lover Cutter is gay, and we never learn Ori's preference one way or another.
Mieville's monsters and magic is fresh and disturbing, too. And I thought I was jaded and had seen every possible fantasy monster out there! I was particularly interested in the Remade, prisoners whose bodies are altered to reflect the crimes they commit.
Although I think Iron Council is amazing, it's not a book I'd hand anyone. It's dense and esoteric, and I found myself confused and skimming. But maybe that's the point... I'm not so used to having to work so hard to understand fantasy!
September 28, 2013
I had eagerly anticipated reading Mieville's latest - but while I certainly enjoyed returning to the world of New Crobuzon, I have to admit that I did not like this book nearly as much as either 'The Scar' or 'Perdido Street Station.' Of course, I love both of those books, so my expectations for this one were very high. Still, I felt that the concepts in this book overwhelmed the story - the characters and events were secondary to Mieville's thoughts about repressive societies, social economics, the motivations of revolutionaries and seditionists, crime and punishment, the destructive cost of 'progress' etc. Not that these are not interesting topics - and admittedly, his other novels may also be more about milieu than about character.... but I just didn't get into this one as much.
The setting of this story is conceptually interesting - a train, which is taken over in a workers' revolt, and which becomes an itinerant legend, laying tracks before itself and taking them up afterward... Meanwhile, seditionists in New Crobuzon ready for revolt...
This would be a good candidate for a book club discussion - there are a lot of political parallels, a lot of comments on human nature... a lot of ideas.
I'd definitely recommend it - but only to those who have already read The Scar' or 'Perdido Street Station.'
The setting of this story is conceptually interesting - a train, which is taken over in a workers' revolt, and which becomes an itinerant legend, laying tracks before itself and taking them up afterward... Meanwhile, seditionists in New Crobuzon ready for revolt...
This would be a good candidate for a book club discussion - there are a lot of political parallels, a lot of comments on human nature... a lot of ideas.
I'd definitely recommend it - but only to those who have already read The Scar' or 'Perdido Street Station.'
May 3, 2016
Certainly the weakest of the Bas-Lag novels, although in some ways it was probably the most creative. I enjoyed Iron Council enough not to give up halfway through, though were it written by anyone else I probably would have.
As per usual, China Mieville's incredible creativity and world-building were in full force, exploring the wide world of the continent of Rohagi, from New Crobuzon to Myrshock to the Torque-spewing Cacotopic Stain. Endless neat new beasts and characters on display, and the neat-as-fuck core concept of a never-stopping, perpetual train.
But the plot was much weaker than that of Perdido and the Scar - while very creative and interesting, it didn't really satisfy on a core storytelling level. I still enjoyed it, a lot, but not enough that I can see myself re-reading it as I can the other two.
Still, for a fan of China Mieville, a good read.
As per usual, China Mieville's incredible creativity and world-building were in full force, exploring the wide world of the continent of Rohagi, from New Crobuzon to Myrshock to the Torque-spewing Cacotopic Stain. Endless neat new beasts and characters on display, and the neat-as-fuck core concept of a never-stopping, perpetual train.
But the plot was much weaker than that of Perdido and the Scar - while very creative and interesting, it didn't really satisfy on a core storytelling level. I still enjoyed it, a lot, but not enough that I can see myself re-reading it as I can the other two.
Still, for a fan of China Mieville, a good read.
October 15, 2021
The novel is luxuriously redundant, but there is too much mixed up in it, and it is almost impossible to isolate the meaning. everything is sinking under the heaps of monstrous creatures of Mievil's fantasy, much to the detriment of emotional attachment. Here it will not be like with a khepri girl, the editor of the "Violent Tramp", Garuda, a scientist in the "Station of Lost Dreams".
The coolest book, combining a love story, a political thriller, fantasy, steam, bio and splatterpunk, with a western and a revolutionary novel. But there would be fewer monsters and revolutions, more psychology and relationships - there would be no price for it.
We make history, but not in the circumstances that we choose ourselves.
Мы на горе всем буржуям мировой пожар раздуем
Революция, ты научила нас
Верить в несправедливость добра.
Сколько миров мы сжигаем в час
Во имя твоего святого костра?
ДДТ
Любите ли вы Чайну Мьевиля, как его люблю я? Есть за что. Он феерически талантлив. Написал "Вокзал потерянных снов", изменивший представление о жанре фэнтези, когда ему не было и тридцати. Редкий умница и диссертацию (не имеющую, заметьте, отношения к литературе), защитил примерно в том же возрасте. Чертовски красив, высок и сложен как античное божество. Он последовательный марксист и придерживался своих взглядов задолго до того, как это вошло в моду. Специалист по истории русской революции ("Октябрь") и поклонник Льва Троцкого - сквозная для его произведений тема поезда несомненный, оммаж агитпоезду Троцкого, а имя главного героя Иуда Лев прямая отсылка ко Льву Давыдычу.
Интеллектуал и эрудит, вводит в свои книги сложнейшие лингвистические ("Посольский город"), социопсихологические ( "Город и город"), искусствоведческие ("Последние дни Нового Парижа") идеи. Бывает невероятно забавным и успешно пародирует классику ("Рельсы") Написал гомоэротический спагетти-вестерн во времена, когда гей-тема еще не стала "повесточкой", а вестерн и вовсе воспринимался ее антиподом (упс, вот тут надо было промолчать, чтобы не настроить против автора воинствующих гомофобов, но что уж поделать, сказалось - пусть остается).
Итак, третий роман нью-кробюзонского цикла. Завершающий трилогию о самом необычном, отталкивающем, прекрасном, безобразном, притягательном, омерзительном, ярком из городов, когда-либо созданных человеческим воображением. Устроенный достаточно сложно, он начинается, продолжается и заканчивается странствиями героев в поисках кого-то/чего-то представляющего для них невероятную важность, и ради встречи с чем они готовы рисковать жизнью. В начале романа это Железный совет, собственно тот, что дал ему заг��ав��е.
На самом деле, это бронепоезд, захваченный революционерами, который свободно колесит по просторам. То есть как, разве поезд - это не по определению движение в заданном направлении? Но этот особенный, неуловимый, его пассажиры - еще и проходчики, которые разбирают рельсы позади и прокладывают их вперед, служа делу революции не без помощи магии. Не забыли, Нью-Кробюзон - мир, где магия имеет место. Каттер сотоварищи ищет Совет, чтобы сообщить, что отряд милиции Нью-Кробюзона идет по их следу тайными тропами свернутого пространства, чтобы уничтожить, применив новое чудовищное оружие. О теме поезда так хотелось бы поговорить особо, начиная с "Рельсов" самого Мьевиля, в которых планета опоясана рельсами без конца и края, и заканчивая связью с пелевинской "Желтой стрелой" и "ЖД" Быкова, но этак нам никакого времени не хватит.
Каттер был учеником и другом (и любовником) революционера и мага-големиста Иуды Лева, рассказ о котором займет изрядную часть объема книги. В свое время, около двадцати лет назад тот был железнодорожным разведчиком, отряд которого погиб, а его единственного выжившего приютили у себя дикие свободные копьеруки, на которых люди прежде охотились ради их конечностей. Живя у копьеруков, Иуда овладел одной из разновидностей их не боевой магии, которой пользовались женщины и дети для игр - созданием големов. А нужно сказать, здешние големы не обязательно глиняные создания, это могут быть объекты, собранные из чего угодно.
Пережив задолго до описываемых событий, машинный бунт, Нью-Кробюзон строго запретил механизмы в качестве помощников по хозяйству. Но оживленные с помощью магии големы приспособлены к выполнению тяжелых работ неплохо. И в принципе, как маг-големист Иуда мог быть недурно обеспеченным, но он думает о другом и мечтает о справедливости для всех отверженных, коих в Н-К неисчислимое множество. Самые бесправные переделанные, однако и прочие меньшинства не могут похвастаться равными правами и возможностями с людьми, и среди последних привилегированных куда меньше. чем бедноты.
Есть еще линия Ори, тоже рабочего, агитатора, революционера, также влюбленного в Иуду (что уж тут поделать), которая странным образом переплетается с историей Спирального Джейкоба, который производит на всех впечатление полусвихнувшегося старика бомжа, на деле будучи агентом соседнего государства Теша, состоянии вялой вражды с которым перейдет в открытое военное столкновение, а лазутчик Джейкоб, бормочущий что-то под нос и чертящий повсюду свои спирали, окажется владельцем чудовищной силы оружия, и заодно пятой колонной.
Спровоцирует войну убийство мэра Н-К, война, в свою очередь, послужит катализатором для революции - все как у нас в начале века, закончится только иначе. И ах, да, будет же еще монах Курабин, жертвующий ради ценной для своих друзей информации различными аспектами своего восприятия, буквально отдавая себя по частям делу революции: родной язык, воспоминания, наконец зрение. И вот тут время добавить ложку дегтя, которая портит все. Роман роскошно-избыточен, но в нем чересчур много всего намешано, и вычленить смысл практически невозможно. все тонет под нагромождениями монструозных созданий мьевилевой фантазии сильно в ущерб эмоциональная привязке. Здесь не будет как с девушкой-хепри, редактором "Буйного бродяги", Гарудой, ученым в "Вокзале потерянных снов".
Крутейшая книга, соединение истории любви, политического триллера, фэнтези, стим-, био- и сплаттерпанка, с вестерном и революционным романом. Но поменьше бы монстров и революции, побольше психологии и отношений - цены б ей не было.
Мы творим историю, но не в тех обстоятельствах, которые выбираем сами.
The coolest book, combining a love story, a political thriller, fantasy, steam, bio and splatterpunk, with a western and a revolutionary novel. But there would be fewer monsters and revolutions, more psychology and relationships - there would be no price for it.
We make history, but not in the circumstances that we choose ourselves.
Мы на горе всем буржуям мировой пожар раздуем
Революция, ты научила нас
Верить в несправедливость добра.
Сколько миров мы сжигаем в час
Во имя твоего святого костра?
ДДТ
Любите ли вы Чайну Мьевиля, как его люблю я? Есть за что. Он феерически талантлив. Написал "Вокзал потерянных снов", изменивший представление о жанре фэнтези, когда ему не было и тридцати. Редкий умница и диссертацию (не имеющую, заметьте, отношения к литературе), защитил примерно в том же возрасте. Чертовски красив, высок и сложен как античное божество. Он последовательный марксист и придерживался своих взглядов задолго до того, как это вошло в моду. Специалист по истории русской революции ("Октябрь") и поклонник Льва Троцкого - сквозная для его произведений тема поезда несомненный, оммаж агитпоезду Троцкого, а имя главного героя Иуда Лев прямая отсылка ко Льву Давыдычу.
Интеллектуал и эрудит, вводит в свои книги сложнейшие лингвистические ("Посольский город"), социопсихологические ( "Город и город"), искусствоведческие ("Последние дни Нового Парижа") идеи. Бывает невероятно забавным и успешно пародирует классику ("Рельсы") Написал гомоэротический спагетти-вестерн во времена, когда гей-тема еще не стала "повесточкой", а вестерн и вовсе воспринимался ее антиподом (упс, вот тут надо было промолчать, чтобы не настроить против автора воинствующих гомофобов, но что уж поделать, сказалось - пусть остается).
Итак, третий роман нью-кробюзонского цикла. Завершающий трилогию о самом необычном, отталкивающем, прекрасном, безобразном, притягательном, омерзительном, ярком из городов, когда-либо созданных человеческим воображением. Устроенный достаточно сложно, он начинается, продолжается и заканчивается странствиями героев в поисках кого-то/чего-то представляющего для них невероятную важность, и ради встречи с чем они готовы рисковать жизнью. В начале романа это Железный совет, собственно тот, что дал ему заг��ав��е.
На самом деле, это бронепоезд, захваченный революционерами, который свободно колесит по просторам. То есть как, разве поезд - это не по определению движение в заданном направлении? Но этот особенный, неуловимый, его пассажиры - еще и проходчики, которые разбирают рельсы позади и прокладывают их вперед, служа делу революции не без помощи магии. Не забыли, Нью-Кробюзон - мир, где магия имеет место. Каттер сотоварищи ищет Совет, чтобы сообщить, что отряд милиции Нью-Кробюзона идет по их следу тайными тропами свернутого пространства, чтобы уничтожить, применив новое чудовищное оружие. О теме поезда так хотелось бы поговорить особо, начиная с "Рельсов" самого Мьевиля, в которых планета опоясана рельсами без конца и края, и заканчивая связью с пелевинской "Желтой стрелой" и "ЖД" Быкова, но этак нам никакого времени не хватит.
Каттер был учеником и другом (и любовником) революционера и мага-големиста Иуды Лева, рассказ о котором займет изрядную часть объема книги. В свое время, около двадцати лет назад тот был железнодорожным разведчиком, отряд которого погиб, а его единственного выжившего приютили у себя дикие свободные копьеруки, на которых люди прежде охотились ради их конечностей. Живя у копьеруков, Иуда овладел одной из разновидностей их не боевой магии, которой пользовались женщины и дети для игр - созданием големов. А нужно сказать, здешние големы не обязательно глиняные создания, это могут быть объекты, собранные из чего угодно.
Пережив задолго до описываемых событий, машинный бунт, Нью-Кробюзон строго запретил механизмы в качестве помощников по хозяйству. Но оживленные с помощью магии големы приспособлены к выполнению тяжелых работ неплохо. И в принципе, как маг-големист Иуда мог быть недурно обеспеченным, но он думает о другом и мечтает о справедливости для всех отверженных, коих в Н-К неисчислимое множество. Самые бесправные переделанные, однако и прочие меньшинства не могут похвастаться равными правами и возможностями с людьми, и среди последних привилегированных куда меньше. чем бедноты.
Есть еще линия Ори, тоже рабочего, агитатора, революционера, также влюбленного в Иуду (что уж тут поделать), которая странным образом переплетается с историей Спирального Джейкоба, который производит на всех впечатление полусвихнувшегося старика бомжа, на деле будучи агентом соседнего государства Теша, состоянии вялой вражды с которым перейдет в открытое военное столкновение, а лазутчик Джейкоб, бормочущий что-то под нос и чертящий повсюду свои спирали, окажется владельцем чудовищной силы оружия, и заодно пятой колонной.
Спровоцирует войну убийство мэра Н-К, война, в свою очередь, послужит катализатором для революции - все как у нас в начале века, закончится только иначе. И ах, да, будет же еще монах Курабин, жертвующий ради ценной для своих друзей информации различными аспектами своего восприятия, буквально отдавая себя по частям делу революции: родной язык, воспоминания, наконец зрение. И вот тут время добавить ложку дегтя, которая портит все. Роман роскошно-избыточен, но в нем чересчур много всего намешано, и вычленить смысл практически невозможно. все тонет под нагромождениями монструозных созданий мьевилевой фантазии сильно в ущерб эмоциональная привязке. Здесь не будет как с девушкой-хепри, редактором "Буйного бродяги", Гарудой, ученым в "Вокзале потерянных снов".
Крутейшая книга, соединение истории любви, политического триллера, фэнтези, стим-, био- и сплаттерпанка, с вестерном и революционным романом. Но поменьше бы монстров и революции, побольше психологии и отношений - цены б ей не было.
Мы творим историю, но не в тех обстоятельствах, которые выбираем сами.
December 6, 2023
I really couldn't stand this one very much. Unlike Perdido Street Station, there was no steady plotline to keep me interested and unlike The Scar, it didn't feature as imaginative IMO dreamscapes upon which to tell the story. There is just a chaotic mess where the author tries to accomplish too much in a big soup of confusion. I would have appreciated something with better characters and a more comprehensible and compelling plot like the previous one, but this one just turned me off because there were no sympathetic, 3-dimensional characters, and I was never invested in the character arcs. For a series called New Crobuzon, we spent almost no time there in Book 2 and only a small fraction of Book 3. Strange. At least I finished the series.
February 14, 2021
After reading this, the last of Mieville's trio of Bas Lag novels, I have to say I was a bit disappointed. Iron Council is definitely my least favorite of the three, despite (or perhaps because of) being the most overtly political. Perhaps because of the focus on revolution, I felt the characters of this novel were much less interesting than the previous two. Unlike Isaac or Bellis, I never really connected with or identified with Cutter, Ori, Ann Hari, or any other person or felt drawn into their conflicts (which I was completely with Perdido Street Station and The Scar). In particular, I felt the character of Judah to be fairly bland and I admit to being a bit bored with him and the whole Iron Council saga that took up a majority of the middle of the novel.
However, Mieville does continue with his unique brand of world building, making the blend of a corrupt industrial-magical society seem not only completely alien but also very real, from the bizarre Cacotopic Stain to the various neighborhoods of New Crobozon.
I also liked that, as in his previous novels, there is a bit of genre blending taking place in Bas Lag, which I find interesting. Perdido Street Station, for instance, mixed a lot of horror and some noir into its fantasy while the Scar was very much a swashbuckling adventure story. In Iron Council, there are some definite Western stylings showing up, though the extra genre is a little less evident than in previous Bas Lag stories.
In conclusion, I felt that Iron Council was a bit slow moving with comparatively undeveloped characters, though I enjoyed this last exploration of the world of Bas Lag and particularly, the city of New Crobozon and continues with Mieville's brand of genre blending.
However, Mieville does continue with his unique brand of world building, making the blend of a corrupt industrial-magical society seem not only completely alien but also very real, from the bizarre Cacotopic Stain to the various neighborhoods of New Crobozon.
I also liked that, as in his previous novels, there is a bit of genre blending taking place in Bas Lag, which I find interesting. Perdido Street Station, for instance, mixed a lot of horror and some noir into its fantasy while the Scar was very much a swashbuckling adventure story. In Iron Council, there are some definite Western stylings showing up, though the extra genre is a little less evident than in previous Bas Lag stories.
In conclusion, I felt that Iron Council was a bit slow moving with comparatively undeveloped characters, though I enjoyed this last exploration of the world of Bas Lag and particularly, the city of New Crobozon and continues with Mieville's brand of genre blending.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,129 reviews