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The Etched City
Gwynn and Raule are rebels on the run, with little in common except being on the losing side of a hard-fought war. Gwynn is a gunslinger from the north, a loner, a survivor . . . a killer. Raule is a wandering surgeon, a healer who still believes in just--and lost--causes. Bound by a desire to escape the ghosts of the past, together they flee to the teeming city of Ashamoil, where Raule plies her trade among the desperate and destitute, and Gwynn becomes bodyguard and assassin for the household of a corrupt magnate. There, in the saving and taking of lives, they find themselves immersed in a world where art infects life, dream and waking fuse, and splendid and frightening miracles begin to bloom . . .
382 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2003
About the author
K.J. Bishop
22 books239 followersI'm a spec fic writer and artist. Wearing either hat my work tends towards the strange. Sometimes it's dark and decadent strange, sometimes more whimsical. My influences include everything I've ever read, watched, listened to, or eaten.
If you're interested in my art, I have an Etsy shop:
http://www.etsy.com/shop/KJBishopArt
If you're interested in my art, I have an Etsy shop:
http://www.etsy.com/shop/KJBishopArt
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 294 reviews
July 24, 2012
Etched City is the story of gunslinger Gwynn and doctor Raule. Together, they flee the wasteland of the Copper Country and make their way to the city of Ashamoil. Raule starts treating the poor of Ashamoil, occasionally delivering crocodilian babies, while Gwynn gets a job as a guard for a slave trader and has a heated affair with an artist.
The Etched City is definitely atmosphere over action but when the action comes, it's hard and fast. Bishop knows how to build tension as well as create a realized fantasy city. While Ashamoil isn't as detailed as New Crobuzon or Ambergris, it's still great. The style is a mannerly kind of new weird.
Amazon recommended this one, based on my ratings for The Dark Tower series and Perdido Street Station. It did not disappoint. My only complaint was that it could have been much longer.
Observations from the July 2012 re-read:
1. Bishop makes the desert of the Copper Country interesting, giving it aspects of Australian and Middle Eastern desert culture while still making it feel like a Western.
2. Gwynn has a lot more dimension than I remember. He's a deadly mercenary of dubious morality but also kind of a dandy. I'd forgotten he played the piano.
3. Raule is tough!
4. BIshop's writing has a kind of poetry to it in places. Her use of similes and metaphors was something I'd totally forgotten about since my initial read.
5. Yeah, Beth's a little batshit
6. Deformed reptilian babies are creepy
7. Gwynn doing some huffing and then riding around looking for Beth while having a conversation with his horse reminds me of the shroom scene from Young Guns.
8. The gunfight on Memorial Bridge between the Society of the Horn Fan and the tax collectors is right up there with the OK Corral scene in Tombstone.
9. Gwynn having to kill Marriot was a powerful scene.
10. The man with a lotus flower growing out of his navel
11. Hart and his magical axe are pretty impressive.
12. While it looks simply like an odd fantasy story, it's really a story of love and obsession.
13. The twists at the end were well done and not expected.
In conclusion, this book is just as good the second time. I'm ready for K.J. Bishop to write another novel.
The Etched City is definitely atmosphere over action but when the action comes, it's hard and fast. Bishop knows how to build tension as well as create a realized fantasy city. While Ashamoil isn't as detailed as New Crobuzon or Ambergris, it's still great. The style is a mannerly kind of new weird.
Amazon recommended this one, based on my ratings for The Dark Tower series and Perdido Street Station. It did not disappoint. My only complaint was that it could have been much longer.
Observations from the July 2012 re-read:
1. Bishop makes the desert of the Copper Country interesting, giving it aspects of Australian and Middle Eastern desert culture while still making it feel like a Western.
2. Gwynn has a lot more dimension than I remember. He's a deadly mercenary of dubious morality but also kind of a dandy. I'd forgotten he played the piano.
3. Raule is tough!
4. BIshop's writing has a kind of poetry to it in places. Her use of similes and metaphors was something I'd totally forgotten about since my initial read.
5. Yeah, Beth's a little batshit
6. Deformed reptilian babies are creepy
7. Gwynn doing some huffing and then riding around looking for Beth while having a conversation with his horse reminds me of the shroom scene from Young Guns.
8. The gunfight on Memorial Bridge between the Society of the Horn Fan and the tax collectors is right up there with the OK Corral scene in Tombstone.
9. Gwynn having to kill Marriot was a powerful scene.
10. The man with a lotus flower growing out of his navel
11. Hart and his magical axe are pretty impressive.
12. While it looks simply like an odd fantasy story, it's really a story of love and obsession.
13. The twists at the end were well done and not expected.
In conclusion, this book is just as good the second time. I'm ready for K.J. Bishop to write another novel.
December 31, 2011
You know, I just read another story of Bishop's in THE WEIRD and it struck me that I am dying for her to release another book and I'm not sure why I gave this one four stars instead of five so I am retroactively bumping it up.
------
It took M. John Harrison years and a good number of novels and stories to create a secondary fantasy world and then get disgusted with the idea of a secondary fantasy world and subvert and deconstruct the whole thing by reducing the characters to ghosts and surreal phantoms, but K. J. Bishop manages the same thing in the course of a single book. She also manages to attain his level of utterly opaque meaning, at times ("The Lamia and Lord Cromus" retains a special place in my memory for its sheer cursed inaccessibility, and actually now that I think of it the sphinx-Beth character in The Etched City bears some resemblance to the mythical lamia also. Do you see what this book has done to my brain?).
Ok anyway this book is about two comrades from a failed revolution journeying together across a desert to escape the triumphant general's troops.
No it isn't.
It's about the female wanderer, Raule, a doctor, who tries to save what's left of her conscience by taking a post as the lone capable doctor to the denizens of the poorest quarter of Ashamoil. Ashamoil being, of course, a city the two adventurers suddenly find themselves occupying, the characters seeming almost as disconnected as the readers, who have been given no transition from the above chase to these newly sedentary lives.
No it isn't.
It's about the male wanderer, Gwynn, a sharpshooter, who has become a hired goon for one of Ashamoil's crime lords, and his brutal descent into the underbelly of the city.
No it isn't.
It's about Gwynn's affair with the aforementioned Beth, who is human or isn't human or is perhaps both, simultaneously, and is an artist (and is perhaps, in some way, the author? and is also the only character in the novel with a typical real-world name, I believe) and who spends much of her scenes deconstructing Gwynn's thought regarding their place in the world, and then perhaps deconstructing his world entirely? Again, it's all very Harrisonesque. When you get down to it, this book is about stories, and it keeps switching up stories on you. In the end, it is Beth, who seems to create a different story altogether from the one Bishop is telling here, is wracked by thoughts that she doesn't belong in this world, having been brought here against her will as a child, and who then basically removes herself from the book, leaving Gwynn mystified and unsure of what his own story is or what is real or possible anymore. This is the constant slipping throughout the book: it's a desert escape story, then the chapter ends, and then the characters are already at their destination, and have been for some time. This narrative slipperiness/metatextuality/commentary on the role of stories (in both creation and telling) calls to mind Borges, and Bishop seems to acknowledge this by having one character (a crazy old man, no less) tell Gwynn what appears to be a reworked version of Borges' "The House of Asterion."
Aside from these conversations he has with Beth, Gwynn spends a good deal of time debating theology with The Rev (this title always just making me think of Monty Python for some reason). Within the context, though, this becomes a discursion about Bishop as much as it is about any other God. The Rev, we learn, was once a messiah figure able to perform miracles reminiscent of those attributed to Jesus, but he lost this ability years before. His loss of faith in the narrative mirrors that experienced by Beth and Gwynn, but where the Rev aims for redemption, Beth settles on escapism (quite literally) and Gwynn on nihilism.
I am, honestly, a bit mystified by the number of people on goodreads who seem to treat this book as just another New Weird excursion and complain about the lack of a plot, because if you don't read this as a kind of surrealist meditation on art and creation, then there... isn't much to it. Ha. I also didn't think there was much to Ashamoil or the larger world, but then again, by this reading, I don't think there was supposed to be-the whole thing was rather hazy and dreamlike. It seems that Bishop took notice of Harrison's rantings about world-building and escapism and the "clomping foot of nerdism," but she flips his oneiric approach to fantastical writing on its head.
I think, anyway.
Like I said... they are masters of obscurantism.
------
It took M. John Harrison years and a good number of novels and stories to create a secondary fantasy world and then get disgusted with the idea of a secondary fantasy world and subvert and deconstruct the whole thing by reducing the characters to ghosts and surreal phantoms, but K. J. Bishop manages the same thing in the course of a single book. She also manages to attain his level of utterly opaque meaning, at times ("The Lamia and Lord Cromus" retains a special place in my memory for its sheer cursed inaccessibility, and actually now that I think of it the sphinx-Beth character in The Etched City bears some resemblance to the mythical lamia also. Do you see what this book has done to my brain?).
Ok anyway this book is about two comrades from a failed revolution journeying together across a desert to escape the triumphant general's troops.
No it isn't.
It's about the female wanderer, Raule, a doctor, who tries to save what's left of her conscience by taking a post as the lone capable doctor to the denizens of the poorest quarter of Ashamoil. Ashamoil being, of course, a city the two adventurers suddenly find themselves occupying, the characters seeming almost as disconnected as the readers, who have been given no transition from the above chase to these newly sedentary lives.
No it isn't.
It's about the male wanderer, Gwynn, a sharpshooter, who has become a hired goon for one of Ashamoil's crime lords, and his brutal descent into the underbelly of the city.
No it isn't.
It's about Gwynn's affair with the aforementioned Beth, who is human or isn't human or is perhaps both, simultaneously, and is an artist (and is perhaps, in some way, the author? and is also the only character in the novel with a typical real-world name, I believe) and who spends much of her scenes deconstructing Gwynn's thought regarding their place in the world, and then perhaps deconstructing his world entirely? Again, it's all very Harrisonesque. When you get down to it, this book is about stories, and it keeps switching up stories on you. In the end, it is Beth, who seems to create a different story altogether from the one Bishop is telling here, is wracked by thoughts that she doesn't belong in this world, having been brought here against her will as a child, and who then basically removes herself from the book, leaving Gwynn mystified and unsure of what his own story is or what is real or possible anymore. This is the constant slipping throughout the book: it's a desert escape story, then the chapter ends, and then the characters are already at their destination, and have been for some time. This narrative slipperiness/metatextuality/commentary on the role of stories (in both creation and telling) calls to mind Borges, and Bishop seems to acknowledge this by having one character (a crazy old man, no less) tell Gwynn what appears to be a reworked version of Borges' "The House of Asterion."
Aside from these conversations he has with Beth, Gwynn spends a good deal of time debating theology with The Rev (this title always just making me think of Monty Python for some reason). Within the context, though, this becomes a discursion about Bishop as much as it is about any other God. The Rev, we learn, was once a messiah figure able to perform miracles reminiscent of those attributed to Jesus, but he lost this ability years before. His loss of faith in the narrative mirrors that experienced by Beth and Gwynn, but where the Rev aims for redemption, Beth settles on escapism (quite literally) and Gwynn on nihilism.
I am, honestly, a bit mystified by the number of people on goodreads who seem to treat this book as just another New Weird excursion and complain about the lack of a plot, because if you don't read this as a kind of surrealist meditation on art and creation, then there... isn't much to it. Ha. I also didn't think there was much to Ashamoil or the larger world, but then again, by this reading, I don't think there was supposed to be-the whole thing was rather hazy and dreamlike. It seems that Bishop took notice of Harrison's rantings about world-building and escapism and the "clomping foot of nerdism," but she flips his oneiric approach to fantastical writing on its head.
I think, anyway.
Like I said... they are masters of obscurantism.
December 20, 2011
A blurb on the cover informs me that this book is "fantasy as high literature." Or "high fantasy as literature," I can't remember which. I think the book has to be judged separately as fantasy and a literary novel. As a fantasy, it's a failure. The world-building was vague, perfunctory, and confusing. There was no plot. As a pretentious literary novel, in which unpleasant people collide with each other and talk about the nature of reality, I guess it's a success. I happen to really dislike that type of "literature."
The "plot" of this book was two ex-freedom fighters leave a desert nation to go to a big city, where they do jobs and meet people. Weird shit happens, then some weirder shit, then they leave the city. I finished reading the last page and went "What the fuck was the point of that?" I think there might have been an attempt as some sort of message about the fluidity of reality and the inability of humans to understand each other or something...I don't really care. I wasn't given any reason to care about any of it. Not to mention that I spent a large part of the book in frustration, trying to figure out the nature of this fantasy world. It's vaguely medieval? Except they have guns. Ok, it's roughly 19th century based on tech and fashion and carriages and whatnot. Except then there's a cigarette lighter (even though the author pointedly avoids calling cigarettes "cigarettes" throughout the book, but then calls it a "cigarette lighter") and then an alarm clock. Really? This shit is DISTRACTING.
So, umm, yeah, not a big fan.
The "plot" of this book was two ex-freedom fighters leave a desert nation to go to a big city, where they do jobs and meet people. Weird shit happens, then some weirder shit, then they leave the city. I finished reading the last page and went "What the fuck was the point of that?" I think there might have been an attempt as some sort of message about the fluidity of reality and the inability of humans to understand each other or something...I don't really care. I wasn't given any reason to care about any of it. Not to mention that I spent a large part of the book in frustration, trying to figure out the nature of this fantasy world. It's vaguely medieval? Except they have guns. Ok, it's roughly 19th century based on tech and fashion and carriages and whatnot. Except then there's a cigarette lighter (even though the author pointedly avoids calling cigarettes "cigarettes" throughout the book, but then calls it a "cigarette lighter") and then an alarm clock. Really? This shit is DISTRACTING.
So, umm, yeah, not a big fan.
October 30, 2022
Wow: I don’t know which surprises me more—the fact that a debut novel from a (still!) mostly unknown author could be so stunningly brilliant and utterly, uniquely bizarre; or that such a singular feat of imagination could—years after its initial publication—still remain largely unread by legions of SFF superfans who yearn for more stories just like this!!!
(I should give a shout out here to my GR friends Gabi and Darth Anyan for being amongst the few people I know who have tasted the Edenic fruits of KJ Bishop’s warped mind.)
I am utterly convinced that rookie author Bishop and her totally bananas, too strange for school Miévillian tale are in sore need of some good old fucking advocacy and evangelism—ideally by some of her better-known peers—authors hailing from the Weird school of SFF. Where the fuck is Neil Gaiman when you need him? Every sff book I’ve bought recently has a much-hyped intro by the Gaimanator. Or how about William Gibson, Anthony Burgess, NK Jemisin, M John Harrison—or, duh!—China fucking Miéville himself! One or all of these motherfuckers need to write some blazingly enthusiastic introductions for a shiny new edition of this book. Because it so does not deserve to be relegated into the frigid biblioamnesic limbo into which it has been so unjustly cast.
(I should give a shout out here to my GR friends Gabi and Darth Anyan for being amongst the few people I know who have tasted the Edenic fruits of KJ Bishop’s warped mind.)
I am utterly convinced that rookie author Bishop and her totally bananas, too strange for school Miévillian tale are in sore need of some good old fucking advocacy and evangelism—ideally by some of her better-known peers—authors hailing from the Weird school of SFF. Where the fuck is Neil Gaiman when you need him? Every sff book I’ve bought recently has a much-hyped intro by the Gaimanator. Or how about William Gibson, Anthony Burgess, NK Jemisin, M John Harrison—or, duh!—China fucking Miéville himself! One or all of these motherfuckers need to write some blazingly enthusiastic introductions for a shiny new edition of this book. Because it so does not deserve to be relegated into the frigid biblioamnesic limbo into which it has been so unjustly cast.
May 10, 2012
Books are quite often like a meal. Some books I read I labor through like a meal of broccoli and liver, hoping there's something good for desert. Other books I gulp down avidly, like a starved man given tiramisu. But The Etched City is in a rarer and better breed still: it's the kind of novel you read like a fine wine.
After a few pages of reading K.J. Bishop's first novel, I was already lamenting the fact that each page I read was bringing me closer to the last one. I read the book in small doses, drinking the words from the page, savoring the prose and the images, making sure not to ruin it by going too fast. Yes, it's that darn good.
The Etched City is Ashamoil, an imaginary city poised at the edge of a vast desert called the Copper Country. Like China Miéville's New Crobuzon, Bishop's Ashamoil is a character of its own, and arguably the main character of the story. However, further comparison between Ashamoil and new Crobuzon are unwarranted. Ashamoil is dreamy, subtly undefined, like an opium vision; etched, as the title wonderfully suggests. It seems to exist in one of Neil Gaiman's 'soft spaces', these areas where realities melt down and coalesce, from The Sandman.
Enter two drastically different protagonists from the Copper Country: Gwynn, a gunslinger who quickly becomes attracted to the city's less savory elements, and Raule, a battlefield doctor who tries to maintain her morality despite the city's incredible erosion of her principles. The two of them came to the city together, trying to rebuild their lives after a failed revolution has branded them as traitors in the Copper Country.
From that point, any semblance of plot takes a backseat to the dreamy quality of the city's life. Bishop takes good care to tone down the fantastic elements of her city, and actually maintains a strong sense of skepticism, or realism, throughout her story. This is one of the book's most astonishing elements, as fantasy worlds tend to put the reader in a context where they accept strangeness ipso facto. Here, it feels like weirdness and true fantasy are just around the corner, but never fully visible. This incredible restraint is one of the major reasons why I dislike likening The Etched City to Perdido Street Station; whereas Miéville packs his landscape to the gills with breathless wonders and fantastic elements, Bishop exercizes restraint to such a level that the bits of fantasy that make it through are all the more potent.
The core of the book is such an exercize: many times, it seems like something incredible is about to happen, and the fantastic elements are absolutely tantalizing. But rather than plunge in them, Bishop pulls them back from the stage, teasing the reader, then bringing forward the next mind-boggling morsel. Some of these morsels, such as the birth of the crocodile god's infant, or the story of the men desiring the red hair, left me breathless, and actually forced me to put the book down and savor the current chapter before I could pick it up again. To say this book haunted me is an understatement; it haunts me still.
If it sounds like I absolutely adore this book, well, it's because I do. It's not for everyone, though. As a matter of fact, it shares more with so-called 'high literature' than it does with traditional fantasy, especially in terms of plot construction and pacing. Some readers, used to more action-focused plots, might grow frustrated with the fact the story floats forward, instead of racing ahead to the ending. Yes, there is a plot hidden in there, but to tell you the truth, when it comes around, I found myself wishing it didn't and simply left the protagonists continue living their daily lives in relative peace for thousands more pages.
If these warnings don't deter you, then by all means do yourself the favor of picking up this one. Its depth, restraint and imagination make it one of the modern masterpieces of a crowded genre, and demonstrate once more than fantasy can be for grown-ups, too.
After a few pages of reading K.J. Bishop's first novel, I was already lamenting the fact that each page I read was bringing me closer to the last one. I read the book in small doses, drinking the words from the page, savoring the prose and the images, making sure not to ruin it by going too fast. Yes, it's that darn good.
The Etched City is Ashamoil, an imaginary city poised at the edge of a vast desert called the Copper Country. Like China Miéville's New Crobuzon, Bishop's Ashamoil is a character of its own, and arguably the main character of the story. However, further comparison between Ashamoil and new Crobuzon are unwarranted. Ashamoil is dreamy, subtly undefined, like an opium vision; etched, as the title wonderfully suggests. It seems to exist in one of Neil Gaiman's 'soft spaces', these areas where realities melt down and coalesce, from The Sandman.
Enter two drastically different protagonists from the Copper Country: Gwynn, a gunslinger who quickly becomes attracted to the city's less savory elements, and Raule, a battlefield doctor who tries to maintain her morality despite the city's incredible erosion of her principles. The two of them came to the city together, trying to rebuild their lives after a failed revolution has branded them as traitors in the Copper Country.
From that point, any semblance of plot takes a backseat to the dreamy quality of the city's life. Bishop takes good care to tone down the fantastic elements of her city, and actually maintains a strong sense of skepticism, or realism, throughout her story. This is one of the book's most astonishing elements, as fantasy worlds tend to put the reader in a context where they accept strangeness ipso facto. Here, it feels like weirdness and true fantasy are just around the corner, but never fully visible. This incredible restraint is one of the major reasons why I dislike likening The Etched City to Perdido Street Station; whereas Miéville packs his landscape to the gills with breathless wonders and fantastic elements, Bishop exercizes restraint to such a level that the bits of fantasy that make it through are all the more potent.
The core of the book is such an exercize: many times, it seems like something incredible is about to happen, and the fantastic elements are absolutely tantalizing. But rather than plunge in them, Bishop pulls them back from the stage, teasing the reader, then bringing forward the next mind-boggling morsel. Some of these morsels, such as the birth of the crocodile god's infant, or the story of the men desiring the red hair, left me breathless, and actually forced me to put the book down and savor the current chapter before I could pick it up again. To say this book haunted me is an understatement; it haunts me still.
If it sounds like I absolutely adore this book, well, it's because I do. It's not for everyone, though. As a matter of fact, it shares more with so-called 'high literature' than it does with traditional fantasy, especially in terms of plot construction and pacing. Some readers, used to more action-focused plots, might grow frustrated with the fact the story floats forward, instead of racing ahead to the ending. Yes, there is a plot hidden in there, but to tell you the truth, when it comes around, I found myself wishing it didn't and simply left the protagonists continue living their daily lives in relative peace for thousands more pages.
If these warnings don't deter you, then by all means do yourself the favor of picking up this one. Its depth, restraint and imagination make it one of the modern masterpieces of a crowded genre, and demonstrate once more than fantasy can be for grown-ups, too.
June 27, 2007
I picked up The Etched City because it was name-dropped in the jacket copy of Jay Lake’s Trial of Flowers, along with texts by China Miéville and Jeff VanderMeer. Like Lake, Miéville, and VanderMeer, Bishop's novel is Fantasy, but a branch of Fantasy that owes more to the Surrealist, Magical Realist, and Noir literary movements than to the swords and sorcery of epic fantasists like J.R.R. Tolkien and Robert E. Howard. Although it does occasionally get bogged down, particularly near the novel's middle (as first novels are wont to do), The Etched City features captivating storytelling, memorable characters, and outstanding set pieces (including a battle on a statue-covered bridge that manages to affect a tone both epic and personal). Unlike Lake, Miéville, and VanderMeer, however, whose City Imperishable, New Crobuzon, and Ambergris actively become characters within their novels’ narratives (in the mode of M. John Harrison’s Viriconium), Bishop’s lush and teeming Ashamoil, while evocative and picturesque, never quite rises to the occasion, remaining a setting that is well-imagined, yet never quite real.
Bishop’s leading characters, the gunslinging soldier for hire Gwynn and his female counterpart, the outlaw surgeon Raule, are compelling, charismatic, and believable. While the duo technically share protagonist duties, peacock-coat clad Gwynn quickly moves to the narrative's center, becoming a peacock himself, taking the more active, adventurous role as Raule spends most of her time on the sidelines, observing, philosophizing, speculating, and tending to the wounded. Although Gwynn cuts a flamboyant figure with an affectation of glam-rock panache, for a novel that name-drops Aubrey Beardsley and J.K. Huysmans in its jacket copy, The Etched City depicts a surprisingly heteronormative world, with a touch of tacked-on exotic orientalism included to make the city seem decadent. Frankly, Lake and Miéville both do decadence better. Still, I would call The Etched City an easy recommendation, an enjoyable and thoughtful bit of fantastic escapism with plenty to offer.
Bishop’s leading characters, the gunslinging soldier for hire Gwynn and his female counterpart, the outlaw surgeon Raule, are compelling, charismatic, and believable. While the duo technically share protagonist duties, peacock-coat clad Gwynn quickly moves to the narrative's center, becoming a peacock himself, taking the more active, adventurous role as Raule spends most of her time on the sidelines, observing, philosophizing, speculating, and tending to the wounded. Although Gwynn cuts a flamboyant figure with an affectation of glam-rock panache, for a novel that name-drops Aubrey Beardsley and J.K. Huysmans in its jacket copy, The Etched City depicts a surprisingly heteronormative world, with a touch of tacked-on exotic orientalism included to make the city seem decadent. Frankly, Lake and Miéville both do decadence better. Still, I would call The Etched City an easy recommendation, an enjoyable and thoughtful bit of fantastic escapism with plenty to offer.
June 7, 2019
This novel is rightfully weird and I was expecting no less since I tried it because it’s one of the flagships of the “New Weird” wave of fiction. It’s also a terrific blend of learned language, horror, sumptuous descriptions and magical realism, without many of the classic staples of conventional fantasy.
Personally, when I read a story that deliberately defies labels it’s not just the boundaries it pushes around, it pushes me as a reader too, and the experience is often charted at opposite sides of the spectrum.
This time the result isn't so clear-cut. I picked this book for a reading challenge and being out of my comfort zone (I’m all for visceral and inference but I also want purpose) it was an uphill race from the onset. I didn't dislike it, but the dreamlike quality of the narrative simply painted a disconnected picture, full or bizarre visuals. It may have worked, because I appreciate both poetic eloquence and intricate tales at large, but with "plot" being the operative word pure aesthetics and abstract adventures are not the thrill I seek or understand.
Cohesion aside, this novel is mainly a bravura piece built around nested stories, a wondrous city and a tight cast of characters.
Occasionally I was engaged, the worldbuilding is impeccable for instance, and the metaphors, the philosophy and the reasoning around art, life and "the unspoken and nameless longing in the human heart" are very interesting. The writing is gorgeous, direct and embroidered at the same time, with several classical references. I valued the stylistic beauty of this work and the thought-provoking themes, but the lack of a basic direction, or of at least some story outline, tipped the scales.
Anyhow I'm happy I've read it.
“For a long time, I have believed that it is human nature to invent the strangest explanations for the things that mystify us, and to believe in something beyond all we yet know of, because we cannot abide limits and endings; we are insatiable, and we desire the impossible. I prided myself on having no illusions—but, like any man, I must have desired them.”
Personally, when I read a story that deliberately defies labels it’s not just the boundaries it pushes around, it pushes me as a reader too, and the experience is often charted at opposite sides of the spectrum.
This time the result isn't so clear-cut. I picked this book for a reading challenge and being out of my comfort zone (I’m all for visceral and inference but I also want purpose) it was an uphill race from the onset. I didn't dislike it, but the dreamlike quality of the narrative simply painted a disconnected picture, full or bizarre visuals. It may have worked, because I appreciate both poetic eloquence and intricate tales at large, but with "plot" being the operative word pure aesthetics and abstract adventures are not the thrill I seek or understand.
Cohesion aside, this novel is mainly a bravura piece built around nested stories, a wondrous city and a tight cast of characters.
Occasionally I was engaged, the worldbuilding is impeccable for instance, and the metaphors, the philosophy and the reasoning around art, life and "the unspoken and nameless longing in the human heart" are very interesting. The writing is gorgeous, direct and embroidered at the same time, with several classical references. I valued the stylistic beauty of this work and the thought-provoking themes, but the lack of a basic direction, or of at least some story outline, tipped the scales.
Anyhow I'm happy I've read it.
“For a long time, I have believed that it is human nature to invent the strangest explanations for the things that mystify us, and to believe in something beyond all we yet know of, because we cannot abide limits and endings; we are insatiable, and we desire the impossible. I prided myself on having no illusions—but, like any man, I must have desired them.”
August 22, 2021
There were no milestones in the Copper Country. Often a traveller could only measure the progress of a journey by the time it took to get from each spoiled or broken thing to the next: a half day's walk from a dry well to the muzzle of a cannon poking out of a sand slope, two hours to reach the skeletons of a man and a mule. The land was losing its battle with time. Ancient and exhausted, it visited decrepitude on everything within its bounds, as though out of spleen.
And so it starts, with a reunion in a massive deadland, of two former members of a band of thieves. We follow their flight to safety, in the strange and urban town of Ashamoil, which is crowded and filthy both in the streets and in it's layers of criminality.
This comes up often as a recommendation for China Mieville fans, and I can see it! They're not alike in story or writing (though K.J. Bishop does share with Mieville a love for the odd esoteric word, she uses them more sparingly) - there's less structure and much more dream-like ambiguity here. I can see why the recommendation comes up, though, and think it's relatively safe that if you liked one, it's at least worth trying the other. There's a similar feeling of the book being a tiny snapshot of a massive and very strange world - we are given glimpses of what might be mythology and might be just strangeness. The characters, too, are presented without a real push from the author to like or dislike them, whatever terrible things they might do or thoughts they might think. They just are who they are, for the reader to take or leave.
In the end I enjoyed this, enough that I'm sad it's so far an only child for the author (though she does make great art!). It didn't quite stick the ending for me, but the journey more than made up for it.
And so it starts, with a reunion in a massive deadland, of two former members of a band of thieves. We follow their flight to safety, in the strange and urban town of Ashamoil, which is crowded and filthy both in the streets and in it's layers of criminality.
This comes up often as a recommendation for China Mieville fans, and I can see it! They're not alike in story or writing (though K.J. Bishop does share with Mieville a love for the odd esoteric word, she uses them more sparingly) - there's less structure and much more dream-like ambiguity here. I can see why the recommendation comes up, though, and think it's relatively safe that if you liked one, it's at least worth trying the other. There's a similar feeling of the book being a tiny snapshot of a massive and very strange world - we are given glimpses of what might be mythology and might be just strangeness. The characters, too, are presented without a real push from the author to like or dislike them, whatever terrible things they might do or thoughts they might think. They just are who they are, for the reader to take or leave.
In the end I enjoyed this, enough that I'm sad it's so far an only child for the author (though she does make great art!). It didn't quite stick the ending for me, but the journey more than made up for it.
February 7, 2018
Esta novela y yo sufrimos un flechazo, esa portada, ese argumento, la comparación con China Miéville (a pesar de que odio estas cosas). Recuerdo esos momentos antes de empezar a leerla, esa seguridad absoluta de que quedaría enamorada definitivamente.
K. J. Bishop escribe de maravilla, hay aquí pasajes bellísimos, descripciones maravillosas, cuentos alucinantes (la historia del minotauro, la del hombre de loto, la siniestra colección de Raule, la historia de Marriott...). Los personajes son atractivos, y la ambientación es impresionante, Ashamoil bien merece una visita. Pero no hay historia, no veo el hilo conductor, siendo más bien una sucesión de descripciones, historias o conversaciones.
K. J. Bishop escribe de maravilla, hay aquí pasajes bellísimos, descripciones maravillosas, cuentos alucinantes (la historia del minotauro, la del hombre de loto, la siniestra colección de Raule, la historia de Marriott...). Los personajes son atractivos, y la ambientación es impresionante, Ashamoil bien merece una visita. Pero no hay historia, no veo el hilo conductor, siendo más bien una sucesión de descripciones, historias o conversaciones.
June 7, 2019
If one was to argue this novel’s plot had no point in an exegesis of its story-telling, there would be plenty of evidence to make such an argument. It covers familiar ground in such a vague, spiritless journey. There is no clear Who, What, When, Where and Why - at least, not anything truly fleshed out except in vague dream-like descriptions.
The story seems to take place somewhere on Earth, maybe the Eurasian continent, but the mash-up of science, weapons and technology either puts it outside of our timeline/universe or in some future post-apocalypse period. Characters generally use swords and horses, and some guns. There are aristocrats, slaves, mediums, priests, artists, gunslingers, mobsters, military men, mathematicians and astronomers, as well as magic. However, the magic is off-stage for the most part except for certain crucial turns of fortune. New discoveries mentioned in the book are electric lights and lobotomy surgery. Everything in this reality appears to be ultimately sad and temporary, and struggles for power and survival accomplish nothing for all of the effort. All are hamsters racing in stationary spinning wheels...
It's beautifully written, nonetheless. Wow. Literary candy. Strangely hypnotic effects.
The story opens in a desert, with two survivors of a war - a healer, Raule and a gunslinger, Gwynn, each escaping retribution by the winners of the war. Then, much later, it is clear years have past, and the two are now living in a river town called Ashamoil. Ashamoil is on the cusp of falling apart. A variety of other characters are introduced, violence leads to the just and unjust destruction of lives, some love and hope play out, and then there is a clever ending which mirrors the beginning.
Most of the book's plot could be a script for a Clint Eastwood spaghetti western; in particular, a cloned version of 'For a Few Dollars More' with philosophical and religious arguments made explicit (such as, religion fails as an explanatory wisdom, but it appears in this more magical place to provide a door or a medium for magical forces to act). Art is proposed as a motivating force, particularly for the character of Beth Constanzin (sadly, however, even the beauty and strength of Art goes sour and turns monstrous over time). Healing is a small, and dubious, victory. Entropy is the true winner, and by the book's end proved the only permanent force whatever men attempt to do. All that Man desires blows away, and Ideas, despite being reinvented, vigorously argued and explored, are proved inconsequential in the face of unexplained powers made eminent and mysteriously immanent in the universe.
The writing is wonderfully moody and atmospheric. There are lots of meta ideas and inventive imagery. While the book has violence and plot movement, the characters themselves are listless and hopeless, internally static. The growing incidents of baby monsters (a shocking surprise) seems to be predict nothing but ill for the future. Winter is coming.
At least someone wins in the spaghetti westerns! I am uncertain how the world in this novel will have any future which includes humans....
The story seems to take place somewhere on Earth, maybe the Eurasian continent, but the mash-up of science, weapons and technology either puts it outside of our timeline/universe or in some future post-apocalypse period. Characters generally use swords and horses, and some guns. There are aristocrats, slaves, mediums, priests, artists, gunslingers, mobsters, military men, mathematicians and astronomers, as well as magic. However, the magic is off-stage for the most part except for certain crucial turns of fortune. New discoveries mentioned in the book are electric lights and lobotomy surgery. Everything in this reality appears to be ultimately sad and temporary, and struggles for power and survival accomplish nothing for all of the effort. All are hamsters racing in stationary spinning wheels...
It's beautifully written, nonetheless. Wow. Literary candy. Strangely hypnotic effects.
The story opens in a desert, with two survivors of a war - a healer, Raule and a gunslinger, Gwynn, each escaping retribution by the winners of the war. Then, much later, it is clear years have past, and the two are now living in a river town called Ashamoil. Ashamoil is on the cusp of falling apart. A variety of other characters are introduced, violence leads to the just and unjust destruction of lives, some love and hope play out, and then there is a clever ending which mirrors the beginning.
Most of the book's plot could be a script for a Clint Eastwood spaghetti western; in particular, a cloned version of 'For a Few Dollars More' with philosophical and religious arguments made explicit (such as, religion fails as an explanatory wisdom, but it appears in this more magical place to provide a door or a medium for magical forces to act). Art is proposed as a motivating force, particularly for the character of Beth Constanzin (sadly, however, even the beauty and strength of Art goes sour and turns monstrous over time). Healing is a small, and dubious, victory. Entropy is the true winner, and by the book's end proved the only permanent force whatever men attempt to do. All that Man desires blows away, and Ideas, despite being reinvented, vigorously argued and explored, are proved inconsequential in the face of unexplained powers made eminent and mysteriously immanent in the universe.
The writing is wonderfully moody and atmospheric. There are lots of meta ideas and inventive imagery. While the book has violence and plot movement, the characters themselves are listless and hopeless, internally static. The growing incidents of baby monsters (a shocking surprise) seems to be predict nothing but ill for the future. Winter is coming.
At least someone wins in the spaghetti westerns! I am uncertain how the world in this novel will have any future which includes humans....
September 20, 2012
There is no doubt that the author of The Etched City has created an interesting world. Or that the author is an excellent descriptive writer. But this book lacks any coherent story. The main characters are, for the most part, passive and don't seem to have any specific goals. There is no antagonist, no conflict and no action and reaction on the part of the characters. They simply exist. And have long pointless conversations.
This book reads more like a travel guide with description of the settings and plenty of history and backstory. But no action in the present tense.
Look, I understand that there are readers who enjoy books that are mostly descriptive writing and have very little or no plot. I'm not one of them. I like a good story - a la Charles Dickens or Thomas Harris. It really feels like the author has taken one too many "creative writing courses" and none of the teachers ever explained what a scene with conflict is or how to create character driven plots or what makes a great antagonist, etc.
If you enjoy descriptive writing without a story line this book is for you.
If you enjoy character driven plots and story lines this book is not for you.
NOTE: This book was recommended to me as a Steampunk novel. I would never categorize this as Steampunk.
This book reads more like a travel guide with description of the settings and plenty of history and backstory. But no action in the present tense.
Look, I understand that there are readers who enjoy books that are mostly descriptive writing and have very little or no plot. I'm not one of them. I like a good story - a la Charles Dickens or Thomas Harris. It really feels like the author has taken one too many "creative writing courses" and none of the teachers ever explained what a scene with conflict is or how to create character driven plots or what makes a great antagonist, etc.
If you enjoy descriptive writing without a story line this book is for you.
If you enjoy character driven plots and story lines this book is not for you.
NOTE: This book was recommended to me as a Steampunk novel. I would never categorize this as Steampunk.
April 4, 2008
Australian author K. J. Bishop’s first novel, The Etched City, reminds me somewhat of M. John Harrison’s Viriconium stories. There’s the same sense of a world that has decayed, and there’s the same lack of moral certainty or moral absolutes. It also has some of the melancholy of Harrison’s work. It tells the story of two former revolutionaries, one a gunfighter and one a doctor. They are drawn to the city of Ashamoil. Raule gets a job in a charity hospital, and she observes what seems to be an epidemic of monstrous births – children with the heads of crocodiles, and such things. Gwynn, the gunfighter, becomes a bodyguard, to a fairly unsavoury character. He is drawn into debates on theological and philosophical questions with a drunken priest. He also becomes involved with an artist. And perhaps her art is as real, or even more real, than Gwynn’s reality? The real is something that is not absolute in this book, it’s changeable and it’s debatable. Bishop has, probably inevitably and I think reasonably accurately, been seen as part of the New Weird. The Etched City certainly has more in common with the work of writers like Kelly Link, Jeff VanderMeer, Jeffrey Ford and China Miéville than with mainstream commercial fantasy. It’s a brilliant first novel, and I recommend it very highly indeed.
September 28, 2008
Ah, I'll seem star-happy, but I think this is one of those books everyone should read. It is made of layers on layers of shiny.
Also, a man and a woman who *remain friends* throughout the book without any kind of sexual tension! Dude.
And a sword called Not My Funeral.
Also, a man and a woman who *remain friends* throughout the book without any kind of sexual tension! Dude.
And a sword called Not My Funeral.
January 31, 2013
I don't remember exactly what I heard about The Etched City before I bought it. I may have just bought it on a recommendation, because I don't remember reading about it being New Weird, or in any way akin to China Miéville; I had heard that it was gorgeous, which is true in many ways. It is a weird story, displaced in time -- is it the Wild West? Medieval times? Or the nineteenth century? to me, it seemed to slip between them all, inhabiting none of them but taking something from each -- and hovering between some kind of magical realism and total fantasy. There are some amazing images that will stick with me: the lotus growing out of a man's naval, for example. And the way the book starts out, deceptively run-of-the-mill fantasy, and then opens out as the weirdness unfolds, like, well, like flowers growing out of a split cranium. (That quote was my first hint about the weirdness of the story.)
In a way, I found it unsatisfying because I wanted to know more about Gwynn and Raule, more about the world, more about Beth. I would venture another comparison, though: to Catherynne M. Valente. There's a certain beauty about this story -- too robust to be called whimsical -- which makes it worth reading even if you're more of a plot-and-characters person.
It is, incidentally, also one of the books I picked for the WWE Women of Genre Fiction challenge.
In a way, I found it unsatisfying because I wanted to know more about Gwynn and Raule, more about the world, more about Beth. I would venture another comparison, though: to Catherynne M. Valente. There's a certain beauty about this story -- too robust to be called whimsical -- which makes it worth reading even if you're more of a plot-and-characters person.
It is, incidentally, also one of the books I picked for the WWE Women of Genre Fiction challenge.
September 27, 2013
I picked up this book because I had read reviews that recommended it for fans of China Mieville. While I can't really see much of a similarity in the two authors' writing styles, I did definitely like The Etched City very very much. I'm impressed that it's a first novel (and disappointed that there's not yet any more books by Bishop to read!) I hope she's busy writing right now!
The Etched City is the story of two ex-mercenaries, companions who life threw together - but who are two very different people. Both escape the dusty desert, one step ahead of trouble, seeking somethng better. Raule becomes a doctor to the poor, while Gwynn ends up as man-at-arms to a ruthless slaver. However, their personalities are not as black-and-white as their professions might indicate - although they are not necessarily friends. Raule knws she is emotionally damaged, and is weirdly drawn to collecting deformed fetuses... whle Gwynn quests after a mysterious artist of unearthly beauty, and becomed divided between her and the unsavory work he does... The Etched City doesn't have a strictly delineated plot, but its variegated threads weave themselves together wonderfully.
Complex, dark, and gritty, with moments of brilliant surreality, discursions on the topics of art and religion, love and compassion... I can only hope for more like this.
The Etched City is the story of two ex-mercenaries, companions who life threw together - but who are two very different people. Both escape the dusty desert, one step ahead of trouble, seeking somethng better. Raule becomes a doctor to the poor, while Gwynn ends up as man-at-arms to a ruthless slaver. However, their personalities are not as black-and-white as their professions might indicate - although they are not necessarily friends. Raule knws she is emotionally damaged, and is weirdly drawn to collecting deformed fetuses... whle Gwynn quests after a mysterious artist of unearthly beauty, and becomed divided between her and the unsavory work he does... The Etched City doesn't have a strictly delineated plot, but its variegated threads weave themselves together wonderfully.
Complex, dark, and gritty, with moments of brilliant surreality, discursions on the topics of art and religion, love and compassion... I can only hope for more like this.
July 28, 2023
The Etched City is one of the books I’ve had on my TBR for quite a while, but it never really sounded appealing enough to my mood-reading brain until Peat randomly mentioned it to me a few months ago. In the end, I have mixed feelings – I’ve always liked strange, surreal books, and it certainly delivers that, but I’m more than a little over the mid-00s cynicism.
Gwynn and Raule are outlaws, having found themselves on the losing side of a war. When they meet again by chance, they decide to flee to the city of Ashamoil, where they could live in relative safety. Raule, a skilled doctor without proper qualifications, finds work in an impoverished hospital. Gwynn, meanwhile, finds his place in Ashamoil’s seedy underworld, working for a gang involved in slave trade, doing drugs, pursuing a mysterious artist, and debating philosophy with a depraved priest who nonetheless seems intent on saving his soul.
But really, it’s almost entirely Gwynn’s story. After the beginning, Raule is unfortunately completely sidelined and barely relevant to the plot (minimal as it is). A shame because following someone who doesn’t feel much empathy anymore but tries to do the right thing regardless as much as she can is more interesting to me than a charming, entirely immoral bastard who does whatever he wants. I get the appeal of wanting to see what will he do next, I really do. And it’s certainly one of the most well-executed cases I’ve encountered. But I simply read this book about ten years too late to find worlds and stories where everyone is some degree of evil very interesting anymore. There’s zero nuance to it.
Still, for all my grumbling there is much in the book I can appreciate. The dreamlike, surreal undertones and unexplained supernatural goings-on, like the man with the lotus in his navel. The fact that it’s basically mafia slice of life. How vibrant Ashamoil feels. It’s a jungle city, and the weather with its heat and oppressive humidity and monsoons and mosquitoes, was described exquisitely. The prose is nice. It’s all very reminiscent of City of Saints and Madmen or Perdido Street Station. And just like in the latter. I found the overwhelmingly bleak tone offputting.
Overall, I might not have liked it very much but I also won’t disrecommend it. It’s well-written enough and you might be in a mood more suited to it than I was.
Enjoyment: 3/5
Execution: 4/5
Recommended to: those looking for books following a villain, grimdark fans, those who want something in the vein of Mieville or Vandermeer
Not recommended to: those who dislike long philosophical asides, those who prefer fast-paced books
Content warnings: torture and gore, the priest’s fondness for barely teenage girls, assorted other stuff that comes with having a protagonist who is unabashedly a bad guy
More reviews on my blog, To Other Worlds.
Gwynn and Raule are outlaws, having found themselves on the losing side of a war. When they meet again by chance, they decide to flee to the city of Ashamoil, where they could live in relative safety. Raule, a skilled doctor without proper qualifications, finds work in an impoverished hospital. Gwynn, meanwhile, finds his place in Ashamoil’s seedy underworld, working for a gang involved in slave trade, doing drugs, pursuing a mysterious artist, and debating philosophy with a depraved priest who nonetheless seems intent on saving his soul.
But really, it’s almost entirely Gwynn’s story. After the beginning, Raule is unfortunately completely sidelined and barely relevant to the plot (minimal as it is). A shame because following someone who doesn’t feel much empathy anymore but tries to do the right thing regardless as much as she can is more interesting to me than a charming, entirely immoral bastard who does whatever he wants. I get the appeal of wanting to see what will he do next, I really do. And it’s certainly one of the most well-executed cases I’ve encountered. But I simply read this book about ten years too late to find worlds and stories where everyone is some degree of evil very interesting anymore. There’s zero nuance to it.
Still, for all my grumbling there is much in the book I can appreciate. The dreamlike, surreal undertones and unexplained supernatural goings-on, like the man with the lotus in his navel. The fact that it’s basically mafia slice of life. How vibrant Ashamoil feels. It’s a jungle city, and the weather with its heat and oppressive humidity and monsoons and mosquitoes, was described exquisitely. The prose is nice. It’s all very reminiscent of City of Saints and Madmen or Perdido Street Station. And just like in the latter. I found the overwhelmingly bleak tone offputting.
Overall, I might not have liked it very much but I also won’t disrecommend it. It’s well-written enough and you might be in a mood more suited to it than I was.
Enjoyment: 3/5
Execution: 4/5
Recommended to: those looking for books following a villain, grimdark fans, those who want something in the vein of Mieville or Vandermeer
Not recommended to: those who dislike long philosophical asides, those who prefer fast-paced books
Content warnings: torture and gore, the priest’s fondness for barely teenage girls, assorted other stuff that comes with having a protagonist who is unabashedly a bad guy
More reviews on my blog, To Other Worlds.
May 31, 2012
hmmm, this book is kind of a puzzler.
it's very well-written. our two sort of dichotomous heroes, Gwynne the lowlife and Raule of the high road, complement each other well, if sometimes a little too neatly. there is a plot, and themes, and great descriptions and poetical writing both good and over-the-top. it's even got a couple of intellectual puzzles and a few symbolic ones. oh, plus theology and mysticism.
what more could a person ask for?
it's even funny here and there.
but somehow it leaves me lukewarm on all fronts: the fates of its characters; the meanings of art/life/the ineffable; good and evil.
i think i would have found it more interesting if it had had less Gwynne in it. he's the attractive character, in a sense: a gunslinger for hire, a man whose conscience flickers like a failing fluorescent tube, almost supernaturally unkillable but some how, for all that, not exactly a bad man. he's a bad boy, to be sure, but for all of his murdering he's not entirely an evil boy. he's the id come to life, with some manners and a peacock coat, and if you were sure you weren't on his list, he might be fun to invite for dinner.
his opposite number, Raule, is the superego: she attempts to work off the karmic debt she knows she has accrued, but which she cannot feel--she's forever in search of the conscience Gwynne has so lightly discarded. but for me, her journey is the more interesting one--how does one returned from a state of benumbed-ness to a life lived consciously (not merely conscientiously) and, it is to be hoped, shot through with occasional rays of joy? but she is not the author's interest, and her part of the tale occupies relatively little of it.
more's the pity. i should have liked to see her thoughts on the matter.
and so... we have the Bad Boy journey, for the most part. perhaps if i dug through this book and examined its various symbolisms with a cold reptilian eye, i would see some quite astonishing geometries there. but the book leaves me feeling like a) it's a schoolmaster, demanding an analysis, and not in a fun way; and b) like a whiny child, i don't wanna.
it's very well-written. our two sort of dichotomous heroes, Gwynne the lowlife and Raule of the high road, complement each other well, if sometimes a little too neatly. there is a plot, and themes, and great descriptions and poetical writing both good and over-the-top. it's even got a couple of intellectual puzzles and a few symbolic ones. oh, plus theology and mysticism.
what more could a person ask for?
it's even funny here and there.
but somehow it leaves me lukewarm on all fronts: the fates of its characters; the meanings of art/life/the ineffable; good and evil.
i think i would have found it more interesting if it had had less Gwynne in it. he's the attractive character, in a sense: a gunslinger for hire, a man whose conscience flickers like a failing fluorescent tube, almost supernaturally unkillable but some how, for all that, not exactly a bad man. he's a bad boy, to be sure, but for all of his murdering he's not entirely an evil boy. he's the id come to life, with some manners and a peacock coat, and if you were sure you weren't on his list, he might be fun to invite for dinner.
his opposite number, Raule, is the superego: she attempts to work off the karmic debt she knows she has accrued, but which she cannot feel--she's forever in search of the conscience Gwynne has so lightly discarded. but for me, her journey is the more interesting one--how does one returned from a state of benumbed-ness to a life lived consciously (not merely conscientiously) and, it is to be hoped, shot through with occasional rays of joy? but she is not the author's interest, and her part of the tale occupies relatively little of it.
more's the pity. i should have liked to see her thoughts on the matter.
and so... we have the Bad Boy journey, for the most part. perhaps if i dug through this book and examined its various symbolisms with a cold reptilian eye, i would see some quite astonishing geometries there. but the book leaves me feeling like a) it's a schoolmaster, demanding an analysis, and not in a fun way; and b) like a whiny child, i don't wanna.
July 24, 2022
More 4.5 stars.
I picked this novel up because I saw it recommended by Adrian Tchaikovsky for its beautiful prose. I think otherwise I never would have stumbled across this book or have heard of its author. And it would have been a shame.
"The Etched City" is one of the new weird books, a genre I deeply love, because it constantly hovers on the brink of my understanding. It is not so much about a plot, but about atmosphere. The poetic prose paints this novel with words like a painter would use the colours in their art. The description and thoughts resemble fever dreams in parts, in parts indulge in existential metaphysics.
The main part of the book is about a gunslinger in a dystopian world working for some kind of mafia boss. A reverend who is struggling with his own soul is constantly trying to convert the atheist. The other big influence is a beautiful, mysterious painter/sculpturer with whom the gunslinger falls in love because of an etching he saw. They both transform each other in a rather unhealthy way.
The other protagonist is a doctor, a former member of the gunslinger's mercenary troup, who ends up in the same city as the gunslinger, loathing him and his doings. She was the more interesting character for me and unfortunately her parts are few in contrast to the gunslinger ones. For that reason the novel does not reach 5 stars for me.
But all in all a feast for the brain, the love of good prose and fans of the new weird genre. I'm dearly glad that I found it through the recommendation and will dig for more works by this outstanding author.
I picked this novel up because I saw it recommended by Adrian Tchaikovsky for its beautiful prose. I think otherwise I never would have stumbled across this book or have heard of its author. And it would have been a shame.
"The Etched City" is one of the new weird books, a genre I deeply love, because it constantly hovers on the brink of my understanding. It is not so much about a plot, but about atmosphere. The poetic prose paints this novel with words like a painter would use the colours in their art. The description and thoughts resemble fever dreams in parts, in parts indulge in existential metaphysics.
The main part of the book is about a gunslinger in a dystopian world working for some kind of mafia boss. A reverend who is struggling with his own soul is constantly trying to convert the atheist. The other big influence is a beautiful, mysterious painter/sculpturer with whom the gunslinger falls in love because of an etching he saw. They both transform each other in a rather unhealthy way.
The other protagonist is a doctor, a former member of the gunslinger's mercenary troup, who ends up in the same city as the gunslinger, loathing him and his doings. She was the more interesting character for me and unfortunately her parts are few in contrast to the gunslinger ones. For that reason the novel does not reach 5 stars for me.
But all in all a feast for the brain, the love of good prose and fans of the new weird genre. I'm dearly glad that I found it through the recommendation and will dig for more works by this outstanding author.
August 13, 2014
The strongest impression this book left me is that it is wildly uneven. The first 15% or so, with Raule and Gwynn on the run in the desert, is well done and fascinating fantasy with a Western flair. Then we jump to the city, where we spend far more time with Gwynn, a somewhat clichéd rapscallion/thug and less with Raule, by far the more interesting character. Just as I was losing interest and nearly quitting, it turns surreal and introspective and picks up a few strong moments, before tying things off with an interesting ending that the characters immediately proceed to throw away.
It's bleak with only a few glimpses of redemption or hope, the main character (Gwynn) is by far the least interesting in the book, and it can never quite settle on what it wants to be. Some of its more literary moments feel smooth and beautiful, and some feel forced and thesaurusy.
It's a shame, because surreal social realist fantasy should be exactly up my alley, but this book falls flat on delivery.
It's bleak with only a few glimpses of redemption or hope, the main character (Gwynn) is by far the least interesting in the book, and it can never quite settle on what it wants to be. Some of its more literary moments feel smooth and beautiful, and some feel forced and thesaurusy.
It's a shame, because surreal social realist fantasy should be exactly up my alley, but this book falls flat on delivery.
December 5, 2013
2.5
This book reminds me a bit of China Mieville. Unlike a certain someone of my acquaintance, this does not fill me with instant dread. *grins*
However, it does fill me with some mixed feelings. Like Mieville's book PSS, this book has some weird and interesting ideas, which is one of the things that drew me to it. I love the idea of the "new weird" type books - where dream and reality intersect in strange and wonderful and terrible ways.
Also like that book, though, there seems to be not a lot of forward momentum, and quite a bit of waffle. The main difference between that book and this one, though, is that while PSS had moments of brilliance, this book only managed to reach moments of intrigue.
I think some of my favorite parts are actually sort of sidetracks - the religious discussions that Gwynn, our protagonist, gets into with the Rev. While the Rev is often pompous and annoying, some of his arguments, and Gwynn's counter arguments, are actually kind of interesting. Unfortunately, they don't really break any new ground that I haven't already wandered, both through other books and in my own ponderings.
Aside from the Rev, Gwynn's artist lover, Beth, also has some interesting insights into the nature of reality and dreams, and Gwynn himself. Her bits, though, are more the ones that go into the waffley parts which sound really profound, but which don't seem to actually mean anything if you scratch past the surface.
Speaking of sound - the writing was hit or miss. It seemed to strive to be literary, and achieved it at times, but at other times just came across as florid - even purple. Worse, it often came across as thesauric. (A word which I'm coining which means "when an author wants to sound literate and mysterious and so doesn't want to use run of the mill vocabulary, leading said author to open up a thesaurus to find random "synonyms" without realizing that just because a word is a synonym doesn't mean it actually means quite the same thing.")
One of my other complaints is that I didn't feel Raule was really developed enough. Based on the blurb I expected Raule and Gwynn to be co-leads, and we even start the book, if I remember correctly, in Raul's perspective. But once we get to the city, Gwynn becomes the obvious protagonist, with only occasional forays into Raule's perspective. I wish we got to know her more - she seems like she could've been a more interesting character, given the chance.
As to Gwynn, I'm ambivalent towards him. He's not a nice person, but he's not a horrible person. He does have some growth by the end of the book, and the epilogue was kind of interesting, but...
Oh, that reminds me. Speaking of lack of forward momentum - I felt like there was more going on in the epilogue, as far as plot-like things go, than in the entire actual book. This was definitely more a book of ideas than plot, or even character... and it was interesting enough, as far as that goes, but wasn't quite as thought-provoking or compelling as I would've hoped for.
This book reminds me a bit of China Mieville. Unlike a certain someone of my acquaintance, this does not fill me with instant dread. *grins*
However, it does fill me with some mixed feelings. Like Mieville's book PSS, this book has some weird and interesting ideas, which is one of the things that drew me to it. I love the idea of the "new weird" type books - where dream and reality intersect in strange and wonderful and terrible ways.
Also like that book, though, there seems to be not a lot of forward momentum, and quite a bit of waffle. The main difference between that book and this one, though, is that while PSS had moments of brilliance, this book only managed to reach moments of intrigue.
I think some of my favorite parts are actually sort of sidetracks - the religious discussions that Gwynn, our protagonist, gets into with the Rev. While the Rev is often pompous and annoying, some of his arguments, and Gwynn's counter arguments, are actually kind of interesting. Unfortunately, they don't really break any new ground that I haven't already wandered, both through other books and in my own ponderings.
Aside from the Rev, Gwynn's artist lover, Beth, also has some interesting insights into the nature of reality and dreams, and Gwynn himself. Her bits, though, are more the ones that go into the waffley parts which sound really profound, but which don't seem to actually mean anything if you scratch past the surface.
Speaking of sound - the writing was hit or miss. It seemed to strive to be literary, and achieved it at times, but at other times just came across as florid - even purple. Worse, it often came across as thesauric. (A word which I'm coining which means "when an author wants to sound literate and mysterious and so doesn't want to use run of the mill vocabulary, leading said author to open up a thesaurus to find random "synonyms" without realizing that just because a word is a synonym doesn't mean it actually means quite the same thing.")
One of my other complaints is that I didn't feel Raule was really developed enough. Based on the blurb I expected Raule and Gwynn to be co-leads, and we even start the book, if I remember correctly, in Raul's perspective. But once we get to the city, Gwynn becomes the obvious protagonist, with only occasional forays into Raule's perspective. I wish we got to know her more - she seems like she could've been a more interesting character, given the chance.
As to Gwynn, I'm ambivalent towards him. He's not a nice person, but he's not a horrible person. He does have some growth by the end of the book, and the epilogue was kind of interesting, but...
Oh, that reminds me. Speaking of lack of forward momentum - I felt like there was more going on in the epilogue, as far as plot-like things go, than in the entire actual book. This was definitely more a book of ideas than plot, or even character... and it was interesting enough, as far as that goes, but wasn't quite as thought-provoking or compelling as I would've hoped for.
August 14, 2007
Wow. No, really. Just…Wow. I had heard good things about Bishop’s book, but nothing I had heard or read prepared me for the book itself. Rich detail, fabulous characters, and a very compelling story come together in just the right way to create a dark and subtle magic.
October 10, 2016
’La ciudad del grabado’ (The Etched City, 2003), de la australiana K.J. Bishop, es una novela de fantasía oscura, aunque es difícil de encasillar, ya que conjuga el spaghetti western a lo Sergio Leone, de ‘Por un puñado de dólares’, por ejemplo, con toques de fantasía New Weird a lo China Miéville.
La novela empieza en el País de Cobre, donde la doctora Raule y Gwynn, ex capitán de una compañía de soldados, huyen a través del desierto. Tras el fracaso de la revolución, sus cabezas tienen precio. Pero hay otra protagonista en la historia, la ciudad de Ashamoil, cercana a la desembocadura de un río plagado de cocodrilos. Ashamoil, una ciudad decadente, mezcla de país tropical y africano y colonia victoriana, donde el crimen organizado y la esclavitud están muy vigentes.
El punto fuerte de la historia de Bishop reside en las descripciones. Con un lenguaje barroco, no exento de belleza, Bishop nos muestra los olores, sensaciones, arquitecturas, calles y pasajes, de esta peculiar ciudad. Pero si hay una faceta donde la escritora destaca, es la creación de imágenes impactantes y extrañas, como los viajes oníricos de Gwynn, los grabados de la enigmática Beth, o ciertas historias relatadas durante la trama. Si tuviese que ponerle un pero al libro, sería el afán de la autora por querer transmitir al lector todo el mundo que tiene en su cabeza en pocas líneas. Pero se trata de una primera novela, y es perfectamente perdonable.
Recapitulando, ’La ciudad del grabado’ es una novela original, que sorprenderá y agradará a los paladares más exigentes de la fantasía, y de la literatura.
La novela empieza en el País de Cobre, donde la doctora Raule y Gwynn, ex capitán de una compañía de soldados, huyen a través del desierto. Tras el fracaso de la revolución, sus cabezas tienen precio. Pero hay otra protagonista en la historia, la ciudad de Ashamoil, cercana a la desembocadura de un río plagado de cocodrilos. Ashamoil, una ciudad decadente, mezcla de país tropical y africano y colonia victoriana, donde el crimen organizado y la esclavitud están muy vigentes.
El punto fuerte de la historia de Bishop reside en las descripciones. Con un lenguaje barroco, no exento de belleza, Bishop nos muestra los olores, sensaciones, arquitecturas, calles y pasajes, de esta peculiar ciudad. Pero si hay una faceta donde la escritora destaca, es la creación de imágenes impactantes y extrañas, como los viajes oníricos de Gwynn, los grabados de la enigmática Beth, o ciertas historias relatadas durante la trama. Si tuviese que ponerle un pero al libro, sería el afán de la autora por querer transmitir al lector todo el mundo que tiene en su cabeza en pocas líneas. Pero se trata de una primera novela, y es perfectamente perdonable.
Recapitulando, ’La ciudad del grabado’ es una novela original, que sorprenderá y agradará a los paladares más exigentes de la fantasía, y de la literatura.
January 20, 2012
This book took me a while to get into.
It starts out as a somewhat typical western, albeit set in a fictional realm. This is why it took me so long to get into; I hate westerns.
However, having read rave reviews about the book from blogs that highly recommend some of my favorites, I decided to stick it out. It is, after all, only a 300 page book. I can whip through 300 pages in no time. I mean, I read the last Song of Ice & Fire book in 2 days and it is a tome.
WRONG. This book is thick, and if you're not into heavy symbolism, I suggest you don't bother with it.
K.J. Bishop spins a dark and sensual tale that I can only liken to the works of M.C. Escher and Franz Kafka. Like Kafka, she spins a grotesque tapestry of metamorphosis, something ordinary turned extraordinary that you're never quite certain if is real or not.
I went to find out when we could expect another novel from Bishop, and it turns out she isn't a novelist at all. She's an artist. I can hardly pretend to be surprise.
It starts out as a somewhat typical western, albeit set in a fictional realm. This is why it took me so long to get into; I hate westerns.
However, having read rave reviews about the book from blogs that highly recommend some of my favorites, I decided to stick it out. It is, after all, only a 300 page book. I can whip through 300 pages in no time. I mean, I read the last Song of Ice & Fire book in 2 days and it is a tome.
WRONG. This book is thick, and if you're not into heavy symbolism, I suggest you don't bother with it.
K.J. Bishop spins a dark and sensual tale that I can only liken to the works of M.C. Escher and Franz Kafka. Like Kafka, she spins a grotesque tapestry of metamorphosis, something ordinary turned extraordinary that you're never quite certain if is real or not.
I went to find out when we could expect another novel from Bishop, and it turns out she isn't a novelist at all. She's an artist. I can hardly pretend to be surprise.
September 20, 2017
Weird. Surreal. Pretentious. And sneaky.
Looking at the reviews now I can easily see what I couldn't see before reading it. Those that like this are more into 'literature' and 'art' rather than an actual pointed story. This is like post-modern art and other things in that vein - stuff I look at and think "It's a bunch of fucking paint splashes" while other people are orgasming over it. This is most certainly intended to be a work of art rather than a story. Stories have beginnings, middles, and ends, and an actual plot. Unfortunately the fact this is an art project doesn't become apparent until *well* into this...work. In the beginning you can convince yourself this is just a story with an odd setting. By the time I realized that it very much WAS NOT that I was so far invested into it I just powered through to finish this for the bingo square.
The first words out of my mouth afterwards were 'What the fuck did I just read?'
I have yet to encounter anything truly enjoyable in the 'New Weird' genre and this one will take pride of place next to others of those I, in the end, really wish I'd skipped.
Looking at the reviews now I can easily see what I couldn't see before reading it. Those that like this are more into 'literature' and 'art' rather than an actual pointed story. This is like post-modern art and other things in that vein - stuff I look at and think "It's a bunch of fucking paint splashes" while other people are orgasming over it. This is most certainly intended to be a work of art rather than a story. Stories have beginnings, middles, and ends, and an actual plot. Unfortunately the fact this is an art project doesn't become apparent until *well* into this...work. In the beginning you can convince yourself this is just a story with an odd setting. By the time I realized that it very much WAS NOT that I was so far invested into it I just powered through to finish this for the bingo square.
The first words out of my mouth afterwards were 'What the fuck did I just read?'
I have yet to encounter anything truly enjoyable in the 'New Weird' genre and this one will take pride of place next to others of those I, in the end, really wish I'd skipped.
May 22, 2017
Nu mai stiu pe unde am vazut, si cine a zis, ca Etched City poate fi comparata, in sensul bun evident, cu lumea Bas-Lag creata de Mieville in trilogia sa. Dupa ce am citit din romanele ambilor scriitori pot spune cu certitudine ca KJ Bishop mai are mult de lucru pina sa-l ajunga macar, daramite sa-l mai si depaseasca pe China Mieville.( update…de fapt era scris pe coperta cartii ca va fi pe placul cititorilor lui Mieville, printre altii, insa fiind fascinat de desenul de pe ea, care, apropos, are legatura cu continutul, nu am mai dat atentie prea mare si textului; afirmatia fiind facuta de o revista nominalizata la “World Fantasy Award”, in 2007 si 2008, Electricvelocipede).
Daca studiezi backside-ul copertii tritonice, observi ca autoarea a luat doua premii, William L. Crawford Fantasy Award in 2004, premiu ce se ofera scriitorilor cu cel mai bun debut in SUA, in arealul fantasy, carti ce trebuie sa fi fost publicate intr-o perioada de 18 luni precedente, printre castigatorii recenti fiind si Joe Hill (in 2006 – fiul marelui Stephen King)…restul castigatorilor nu mi-au spus mare lucru spre rusinea mea, si a mai insfacat premiul Ditmar, ce se ofera pe taram australian, la categoria cel mai bun roman in anul 2004.
Primele 40 si ceva de pagini mi-au lasat o impresie de anost, accentul punandu-se pe descrierea lumii si a intalnirii dintre cele doua personaje principale ale romanului, el, Gwynn un mercenar nordic nemilos, si ea, Raule, cadru medical, ambii colegi de arme in tabara ce a pierdut revolutia recenta din Tinutul de Arama. Si, desi razboiul s-a sfarsit de trei ani de zile, acestia inca mai sunt urmariti de contingente ale Armatei Eroilor, invingatorii razboiului. Drumul ii poarta in orasul Ashamoil, unde se va desfasura si cea mai mare parte a actiunii, si unde fiecare isi gaseste o slujba. Gwynn este primit in Societatea Evantaiul de Corn, ce era de fapt o organizatie de protectie a intereselor si afacerilor unui ‘baron local’ ( ca tot e la moda sa-i numim asa ), iar Raule razbate greu, si isi gaseste un post de doctorita la un spital bisericesc in Cartierul Lamailor.
Sincer sa fiu ma asteptam la o alta evolutie a situatiei, si in mod cert la un alt tip de roman, Etched City fiind considerat un roman dark fantasy. Din pacate, asteptarile nu mi-au fost indeplinite si a trebuit sa constat ca intradevar, autoare scrie, probabil bine si corect englezeste, si isi construieste cu grija si atentie frazele si situatiile conflictuale, lucru pentru care a si fost apreciata de ceilalti autori si critici, insa pentru un cititor e destul de frustrant sa-si doreasca mai mult de la o carte, si dupa ce a terminat-o de parcurs, sa nu fi fost macar odata entuziasmat sau macar atras de intriga povestiii. Acel catalizator al imaginatiei care ne impinge sa continuam cititul, cu o foame de intamplari si personaje noi, de lumi miraculoase si elemente supranaturale, a lipsit total in cazul meu, ceea ce m-a impins mai departe a fost dorinta de a nu abandona, dupa ce, deja citisem o parte consistenta a romanului, si poate, un strop de speranta ca ma voi trezi atras in viltoarea lumii fantastice imaginate de autoare.
Cu parere de rau o spun, insa, nu m-am putut atasa de nici unul dintre cele doua personaje principale, mai ales ca ma cam si lasa rece speculatiile referitoare la Divinitate si abordarea unor subiecte cu tenta filozofica. Prefer o actiunea bine inchegata, personaje vii si puternice, alaturi de care sa te transporti cu usurinta in lumea descrisa, sa devii o parte constienta a ei, coerenta intamplarilor si a situatiilor descrise ocupand si ea un rol important in a asigura o lectura placuta si atragatoare pentru minte. Nu am observat erori gramaticale, dar de vreo 3 ori s-a uitat traducerea pronumelor cu sens in limba noastra, gen “Colonelul Bright” in original, tradus “Colonelul Stralucire”. Nu sunt deranjante, desi ar fi fost mai utila o nota de subsol cu traducerea, in momentul introducerii personajului, si sa se fi mers pe mana versiunii englezesti.
Pentru cine nu a mai citit alta carte fantasy, romanul de fata poate deveni o lectura destul de agreabila, insa nu cred ca va satisface “nici pe o masea” un pasionat de sci-fi cu “state” vechi. Nu spun ca este o carte rea, din moment ce a si castigat premii, inseamna ca se merita a fi cumparata, si este laudabila initiativa Editurii Tritonic de a traduce carti publicate dupa 2000, aducand si noutati in peisajul traducerilor literare. Ei bine, daca ei au pus bazele acestui curent, acum citiva ani, ( si acum au mai scazut din motoare, din varii motive) se pare ca si celelalte edituri s-au pus pe treaba si ne “lovesc” cu autori din ce in ce mai proaspeti si romane de data recenta, foarte apreciate in strainatate. Ne aflam pe drumul cel bun.
http://www.cititorsf.ro/2008/08/22/th...
Daca studiezi backside-ul copertii tritonice, observi ca autoarea a luat doua premii, William L. Crawford Fantasy Award in 2004, premiu ce se ofera scriitorilor cu cel mai bun debut in SUA, in arealul fantasy, carti ce trebuie sa fi fost publicate intr-o perioada de 18 luni precedente, printre castigatorii recenti fiind si Joe Hill (in 2006 – fiul marelui Stephen King)…restul castigatorilor nu mi-au spus mare lucru spre rusinea mea, si a mai insfacat premiul Ditmar, ce se ofera pe taram australian, la categoria cel mai bun roman in anul 2004.
Primele 40 si ceva de pagini mi-au lasat o impresie de anost, accentul punandu-se pe descrierea lumii si a intalnirii dintre cele doua personaje principale ale romanului, el, Gwynn un mercenar nordic nemilos, si ea, Raule, cadru medical, ambii colegi de arme in tabara ce a pierdut revolutia recenta din Tinutul de Arama. Si, desi razboiul s-a sfarsit de trei ani de zile, acestia inca mai sunt urmariti de contingente ale Armatei Eroilor, invingatorii razboiului. Drumul ii poarta in orasul Ashamoil, unde se va desfasura si cea mai mare parte a actiunii, si unde fiecare isi gaseste o slujba. Gwynn este primit in Societatea Evantaiul de Corn, ce era de fapt o organizatie de protectie a intereselor si afacerilor unui ‘baron local’ ( ca tot e la moda sa-i numim asa ), iar Raule razbate greu, si isi gaseste un post de doctorita la un spital bisericesc in Cartierul Lamailor.
Sincer sa fiu ma asteptam la o alta evolutie a situatiei, si in mod cert la un alt tip de roman, Etched City fiind considerat un roman dark fantasy. Din pacate, asteptarile nu mi-au fost indeplinite si a trebuit sa constat ca intradevar, autoare scrie, probabil bine si corect englezeste, si isi construieste cu grija si atentie frazele si situatiile conflictuale, lucru pentru care a si fost apreciata de ceilalti autori si critici, insa pentru un cititor e destul de frustrant sa-si doreasca mai mult de la o carte, si dupa ce a terminat-o de parcurs, sa nu fi fost macar odata entuziasmat sau macar atras de intriga povestiii. Acel catalizator al imaginatiei care ne impinge sa continuam cititul, cu o foame de intamplari si personaje noi, de lumi miraculoase si elemente supranaturale, a lipsit total in cazul meu, ceea ce m-a impins mai departe a fost dorinta de a nu abandona, dupa ce, deja citisem o parte consistenta a romanului, si poate, un strop de speranta ca ma voi trezi atras in viltoarea lumii fantastice imaginate de autoare.
Cu parere de rau o spun, insa, nu m-am putut atasa de nici unul dintre cele doua personaje principale, mai ales ca ma cam si lasa rece speculatiile referitoare la Divinitate si abordarea unor subiecte cu tenta filozofica. Prefer o actiunea bine inchegata, personaje vii si puternice, alaturi de care sa te transporti cu usurinta in lumea descrisa, sa devii o parte constienta a ei, coerenta intamplarilor si a situatiilor descrise ocupand si ea un rol important in a asigura o lectura placuta si atragatoare pentru minte. Nu am observat erori gramaticale, dar de vreo 3 ori s-a uitat traducerea pronumelor cu sens in limba noastra, gen “Colonelul Bright” in original, tradus “Colonelul Stralucire”. Nu sunt deranjante, desi ar fi fost mai utila o nota de subsol cu traducerea, in momentul introducerii personajului, si sa se fi mers pe mana versiunii englezesti.
Pentru cine nu a mai citit alta carte fantasy, romanul de fata poate deveni o lectura destul de agreabila, insa nu cred ca va satisface “nici pe o masea” un pasionat de sci-fi cu “state” vechi. Nu spun ca este o carte rea, din moment ce a si castigat premii, inseamna ca se merita a fi cumparata, si este laudabila initiativa Editurii Tritonic de a traduce carti publicate dupa 2000, aducand si noutati in peisajul traducerilor literare. Ei bine, daca ei au pus bazele acestui curent, acum citiva ani, ( si acum au mai scazut din motoare, din varii motive) se pare ca si celelalte edituri s-au pus pe treaba si ne “lovesc” cu autori din ce in ce mai proaspeti si romane de data recenta, foarte apreciate in strainatate. Ne aflam pe drumul cel bun.
http://www.cititorsf.ro/2008/08/22/th...
April 7, 2011
K.J. Bishop's The Etched City fits into the fantasy genre due to its elements of the fantastic (of course!) and emphasis on world building, but has more in common with other modern fantasists like China Mieville, Jeff Vandermeer, and other authors who are included in the New Weird circle than traditional fantasists. And it is a delicious novel. It is about metamorphosis and the gravity some individuals possess that can slowly draw another into their orbit, exerting a force which reshapes them into beings unlike themselves, sometimes noticeably in the flesh or deep within the psyche. It's a gravity with a pull that is profound and unfathomable, alchemical. It reveals a person's true essence while its influence simultaneously recasts him. Every particle that makes them who they are are funneled inexplicably in an opposing direction that they cannot resist but are conscious of. Importantly, Bishop doesn't focus on the concrete and physical aspects of Ashmoil so much as the actions and deeds of those who populate her city, since they are ones who shape Ashmoil into the city that it is. A strange, beautifully evocative book that still resists my attempts to understand it. Oh, and Bishop - can she write!
January 3, 2013
Probably wouldn't recommend. I had this off another fantasy rec list, and I was severely disappointed by the perfunctory, listless world building, meandering plot, and lifeless characters. I think the synopsis is rather generous... Raule barely sustains a presence at all, and when Gwynn and Raule go their own ways, Gwynn takes over so much of the story's focus with so little interesting character development that she becomes invisible. The evolving dynamic they had was more or less thrown away, which I thought was a shame--I would have been much more interested in Gwynn and Raule talking life and philosophy than Beth's carefully engineered (and mostly uninteresting) mystery.
Bishop's writing style is suffused with gorgeous imagery, but equally so with as much extraneous, pretentious vocabulary a thesaurus could possibly vomit. Reading this honestly became a chore at times.
I did enjoy some of the mythologies, though--for instance, the red string stories. It felt, overall, very confused--a lot of side-stories and subplots sort of bumping around, and only loosely connected.
Bishop's writing style is suffused with gorgeous imagery, but equally so with as much extraneous, pretentious vocabulary a thesaurus could possibly vomit. Reading this honestly became a chore at times.
I did enjoy some of the mythologies, though--for instance, the red string stories. It felt, overall, very confused--a lot of side-stories and subplots sort of bumping around, and only loosely connected.
April 1, 2013
Given the wealth of glowing reviews on the cover, I went in hoping to like this book, but I couldn't. The main problem was that I couldn't connect with any of the characters. I can deal with morally grey characters and anti-heroes sometimes, but Gwynn is outright despicable. I spent most of the book wanting to be out of his company. Raule is more sympathetic, but never really pulled me in.
The plot has sections where it's gripping, but mostly it meanders way too much. I don't refer to the surreal occurrences; those were some of the coolest parts of the book for me. However, there were far too many longwinded discussions of theology and events that seemed to be put in mostly for atmosphere. The prose sometimes veers over the line from interesting to pretentious and even purple.
It achieved two stars rather than one because there was some genuinely fascinating imagery and because the conclusion was more interesting and satisfying than most of the path to get there.
The plot has sections where it's gripping, but mostly it meanders way too much. I don't refer to the surreal occurrences; those were some of the coolest parts of the book for me. However, there were far too many longwinded discussions of theology and events that seemed to be put in mostly for atmosphere. The prose sometimes veers over the line from interesting to pretentious and even purple.
It achieved two stars rather than one because there was some genuinely fascinating imagery and because the conclusion was more interesting and satisfying than most of the path to get there.
February 27, 2020
The story begains with desert two main characters encountered each other.They are all flee to the city of Ashamoil.It is a new start to both characters.the whole story is really heated up after they went in diversion.The expirence of reading this book is surreal.It is like you were in the surreal paint.The painter use brush with extraordinary color painting on canvas.charaters and dialogues are whimsical.You can't find any central plot in this book,however it doesn't matter.You will lose yourself in this mystery background; in addition to Seeking implication of the story.It is often to say the implications are vague and ambiguous.You need to spend a lot of time on decipt the arcane story whcih painted on canvas.
In the end,you will find out truth self expression.
In the end,you will find out truth self expression.
July 29, 2012
A noirish, surreal & enchanting story with lots of metaphysical contemplation & an (IMHO) original & wonderful world-building that reminds me of Tanith Lee's Gothic European cities w/ some postcolonialism.
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