all
reviews
Publication Date: Feb. 2003 (1st) Publisher: Prime Books (1st) 400 pages Summary Gwynn, outlaw gunslinger turned hired gun to a slave trader, is drawn into the weirdness of the city of Ashamoil when he finds the mysterious woman he has been chasing. In a Nutshell Quite simply one of the best fantasy novels I have ever read. It makes everything else in the genre look like kid's pulp. Review 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 New Crobuzon in China Miéville's Perdido Street Station and The Iron Council, 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 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 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. 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. |
Copyright © 2005-2008 Daniel Roy