the contextual life

thoughts without borders

Posts Tagged ‘dark fantasy

Perdido Street Station by China Miéville

with 7 comments

China Miéville is one of the brainiest authors writing today. With a background in sociolinguistics, Miéville describes his latest book, Embassytown, as being about “language and subspace and lots of classic science fictional stuff.”

“For me,” he continues, “the book is not so much about actually existing linguistics necessarily so much as it is to do with a certain kind of more abstract . . . philosophy of language of symbols, and of semiotics, and indeed some of this crosses over into theological debates.”

But no need to worry about symbols and semiotics just yet because before there was Embassytown, there was Perdido Street Station.

Published in 2000, Perdido Street Station earned China a place within the science fiction writing community. He was nominated for the both the Nebula and Hugo Award, respectably losing out to Neil Gaiman’s American Gods (because really, who can compete with that?). He is a two-time winner of the Arthur C. Clarke Award: first for Perdido Street in 2001 and then again in 2010 for his novel The City & The City.

The first of his novels set in the fictional world of Bas-Lag, specifically the large city-state of New Crobuzon, Perdido Street Station is an experiment in alternate world cosmopolitanism. It’s a place where humans, mythical birds, and half-bugs mingle.

The story opens with the rogue scientist Isaac Dan der Grimnebulin waking up next to his khepri girlfriend, Lin, an artist who fled her provincial upbringing for city life. Those familiar with Egyptian mythology will know that the name Khepri comes from the god who had a scarab body for a face. In Miéville’s story, the female khepri have human bodies, tinted a shade of red, and, like their namesake, a scarab for a head. Unable to communicate vocally with humans, they’ve created a form of sign language using their “head legs”.

The multi-species community brings to mind the Civil Rights Movement of the 50s and 60s with its tenuous interactions and irrational prejudices. The various races live amongst each other on different socioeconomic levels and interracial dating is taboo; if Isaac wants to retain his laboratory privileges provided to him by the university, he must keep his relationship with Lin a secret.

While the relationship between Lin and Isaac provides an interesting lens through which to view life in Bas-Lag, it’s the arrival of Yagharek, a garuda, the mythical bird mentioned above, that provides the catalyst. Yagharek comes to Isaac looking for help. As punishment for a transgression against his people, his wings had been sawed off, leaving him deformed and flightless. He asks Isaac to make him a new set—not just for show but for function as well.

While researching flying animals and insects, Isaac obtains a caterpillar on the black market. He allows it to grow, feeds it the only thing it will eat—a powerful drug flooding the streets of New Crobuzon—and takes no heed as the mysterious bug spins its cocoon. What hatches is a slake-moth, a deadly insect that exists multi-dimensionally and has no known predator.

Breaking free from its inadequate cage, the moth rescues four of its brethren from high-security captivity. Institutionalized corruption and unlikely alliances surface as the various organizations with varied interests in the moths go on the hunt.

Perdido Street Station’s strength is its rich detail. Powerful descriptions of the city and those of the often grotesque creatures living within its borders, envelope the reader in a world existing outside of anything previously imagined. It’s not a quick read, nor is it easy, but that is Miéville’s niche: the savored read. China Miéville’s sophisticated writing style puts him at the forefront of science fiction today and has given Perdido Street Station an enduring place within the canon.

Buy Perdido Street Station, or find one at your local store, at IndieBound
Geek’s Guide to the Galaxy (audio)
Geek’s Guide Interview transcribed at Lightspeed Magazine (text)
Guardian Interview: The Books that Made Me (audio)
Book Lust with Nancy Pearl (video)
3:AM Magazine Interview (text)
Excerpt of Perdido Street Station at NPR
Profile in The New York Times (for 2010 release of Kraken)

::[Other books by China Miéville]::
King Rat (2000)
“Obviously music was a big influence on King Rat. It was written during the high point of Drum n’ Bass. That was what I was listening to at that point. King Rat is above all a London novel but coming close behind it is also a music novel. The other two novels haven’t been quite like that. I write to music but music doesn’t saturate the book in the same way. To that extent King Rat was relatively anomalous. When a new music comes along that moves me in the same way that drum n’ bass did then I’m sure it’ll find it’s way into the writing.” [via 3:AM Magazine interview]

“Something is stirring in London’s dark, stamping out its territory in brickdust and blood. Something has murdered Saul Garamond’s father, and left Saul to pay for the crime.” [via IndieBound]

The Scar (2002)
The second novel set in the Bas-Lag world, is a maritime story set off the coast of where New Crobuzon is and it’s basically a pirate story. It’s about a big floating pirate city made of ships lashed together. People get caught by pirates and it goes from there. Again, it comes from my childhood reading and the trick with modern pulp and with anything good is to be respectful and true to the roots and to do something in that tradition and do it as well as you can. I don’t like post-modern nudges and winks. I’m not big on irony. So it’s not like I’m ironically winking at a fantasy tradition of pirates. This is a pirate book. Hopefully it’s also an interesting creative novel and one you can read on other levels but it is also a pirate book.” [via 3:AM Magazine interview]

“Aboard a vast seafaring vessel, a band of prisoners and slaves, their bodies remade into grotesque biological oddities, is being transported to the fledgling colony of New Crobuzon. But the journey is not theirs alone. They are joined by a handful of travelers, each with a reason for fleeing the city. Among them is Bellis Coldwine, a renowned linguist whose services as an interpreter grant her passage—and escape from horrific punishment. For she is linked to Isaac Dan der Grimnebulin, the brilliant renegade scientist who has unwittingly unleashed a nightmare upon New Crobuzon.” [via IndieBound]

Iron Council (2005)
“It is a time of wars and revolutions, conflict and intrigue. New Crobuzon is being ripped apart from without and within. War with the shadowy city-state of Tesh and rioting on the streets at home are pushing the teeming city to the brink. A mysterious masked figure spurs strange rebellion, while treachery and violence incubate in unexpected places.

In desperation, a small group of renegades escapes from the city and crosses strange and alien continents in the search for a lost hope.” [IndieBound]

Un Dun Lun (2007)
“[W]ith “Un Lun Dun” — a sooty, street-smart hybrid of “Alice in Wonderland,” “The Wizard of Oz” and “The Phantom Tollbooth” — Miéville’s talents have been brought into focus under the restrictions of the form. “Un Lun Dun” is not only sleek of line and endlessly (but not needlessly) inventive, it also offers a nimble, undidactic antidote to all the dubious clichés of the genre. Sick of seemingly insignificant characters who discover they have a secret identity and a momentous destiny? Tired of stories that hinge on cryptic prophecies and the retrieval of magical talismans? Miéville dares to insist that nerve, heart and determination is all a hero(ine) really needs.” [via Salon]

The City & The City (2009)
“The City and the City is very different. It takes place in our familiar world, a post-Soviet locale which draws on string theory for its ideas and conventional experience for its story. Apart from one exceptional detail, this book could be a clever mystery story told from the point of view of a Balkan policeman struggling to cope with the problems of a society burdened by traditions and attitudes from its recent authoritarian past. Featureless concrete, rattling trams and antiquated office equipment invoke Greene’s The Third Man and Vienna’s zones of occupation. You can almost hear a zither twanging somewhere in an echoing sewer.” [via Michael Moorcock review]

Kraken (2010)
“Kraken’s whirlpool of a plot zeros in on Billy Harrow, a young scientist at London’s Natural History Museum who recently embalmed the institution’s latest acquisition, a giant squid. When the squid vanishes, Billy gets sucked into a teeming, paranormal London underworld—reminiscent in some ways of Miéville’s bestselling young-adult novel,Un Lun Dun—that’s crisscrossed by magic constables; foppish Nazis; a pair of monstrous, father-and-child assassins; animal mediums on strike; an origamist who uses math to fold solid matter; and a cult of squid-worshippers whose apocalypse is on the fast track now that their deity is missing. Due to his contact with the creature, the cult considers Billy a prophet, and before long, he’s caught in a larger battle involving clashing eschatologies, reality written in squid ink, and even the personified sea itself.” [via the A.V. Club]

Embassytown (2011)
“Embassytown is a riveting trip through a monster-haunted subspace called the immer, and down into a tiny human ghetto called Embassytown on a planet called Areika, whose alien inhabitants cannot understand any language but their own. . . . If you are fascinated by stories of genuinely alien cultures, you need to read Embassytown (it comes out in May). And if you’re a fan of China Miéville, author of The City & The City andKraken, you’re in for a treat: This is his first pure science fiction novel.” [via i09]


Written by Gabrielle

December 1, 2011 at 6:10 am

The Allure of the Circus

with 2 comments

“There were always tears of joy; a man so beautifully married to machine was something that people needed to see after a war like they had been through. The technology in those days was weapons and radio signals; people needed to remember the art of the machine.”

Since the age of 9, Genevieve Valentine has been a fan of Circus du Soleil. What drew her in was the seemingly impossible artistry and athleticism of the performers. As an author of short fantasy stories, it wasn’t too far a leap to see the fantastical elements in this real-life traveling troupe. When asked by Prime Books founder and publisher, Chris Wallace, if she had any dark-fantasy ideas she wanted to flesh out, Genevieve went to her list and found Mechanique: A Tale of the Circus Tresaulti, the story of a supernatural circus set in a post apocalyptic world.

Valentine’s Circus Tresaulti is one of the few travelling entities left in the war-torn world of walled cities, receded governments, and bombed out buildings. The group is composed of body-modified performers fitted out and led by their ringleader—a woman known only as Boss.

Through complex story structure, one that plays with point of view and time, the reader is given slivers of information from alternating perspectives. The details come in pieces, forcing one to hold them together in their mind until they can be taken as a whole. As the story moves forward, the circus begins to fall apart. Traumas of the past and current internal battles envelope the group—their relationships rife with competition and emotional inconsistencies.

The story of Alec, the beloved aerial performer last to possess a set of beautiful wings made of pipe and bone, who plunged, willingly, to his death, haunts those who knew him and who were there to witness his end. The reason for Alec’s self-destruction is shrouded in mystery and can only be surmised by a select few. The repetitive remembering of his fall is a warning, a foreshadowing, of what might come to whoever wears them next. The two newcomers, Bird and Steno, covet those wings, now stored in Boss’s workshop, not knowing the power they wield.

Genevieve creates an interesting contrast to the destruction of the circus as she moves the story backwards in time. In these interweaving vignettes she retells each performer’s beginnings, showing how the community was built out of the wreckage of war.

We’re introduced to Ayer, the strongman whose skeleton is externally reinforced with metal junk, and his assistant, Jonah, who was brought, near-death, to the circus and saved with clockwork lungs; Panadrome, a conductor of an opera in his previous life, a victim of a bombing, is now a self-contained one man band; and the aerialists, hollowed out, their bones replaced with copper pipes, are made light and easy to reconstruct if ever they fall. After the performers are modified, all are given new names, as if starting anew, leaving their old lives behind.

Throughout the story, in addition to the tension brewing inside, the circus faces an outside threat from a shadowy figure known as the government man. He hopes to co-opt Boss’s body-modifying talents to build an indestructible mechanical army. All comes to a head when Boss is taken to an undisclosed location and the troupe is split into two ideological camps—those who think they should flee the city before the others are captured and those who want to wait for her return.

Little George, the main narrator of the story and Boss’s apprentice who’s been with the troupe since the age of 5, reluctantly takes the reigns, finds his footing, and goes from mere helper to leader in a matter of hours. It’s a mini coming-of-age tale surrounded by a larger story of survival.

The driving force of Mechanique is the intrigue. You’re never given the full story, only brief glimpses, as if looking at a landscape through squinted eyes. The unknown creates a sense of unease and with it a sense of urgency; but Mechanique, although easily devoured, is a book whose every word is meant to be digested.

In his review, Jeff VanderMeer said Mechanique “represent[s] the future of fantastical fiction.” One can hope.

Read three stories based on the world of Circus Tresaulti (not spoilery): Bread and Circuses, The Finest Spectacle Anywhere, and Study, for Solo Piano

Buy Mechanique at IndieBound
Visit Genevieve’s website where she blogs regularly
Visit the official Circus Tresaulti site
Follow Genevieve on Twitter @GLValentine
Listen to her interview on io9’s Geeks Guide to the Galaxy

Written by Gabrielle

November 8, 2011 at 5:43 am

On the Shelf: What is Dark Fantasy?

with one comment

The parsing of genres into subgenres and then into sub-subgenres has its champions and its critics. Many who oppose it feel it’s a disingenuous marketing gimmick created by the publishing industry to sell more books. Those who encourage breaking down science fiction, fantasy, and horror into further subsections feel it’s easier to discuss the books they like and to find other authors like the ones they’ve just read.

This won’t be the last I mention categorizing books, and I won’t go as in-depth here as I will in the future, however, a brief acknowledgment was is in order before mentioning a recent SF Signal round table discussion that took place on their podcast.

The topic, one I’d been eagerly awaiting, was “Dark Fantasy”. It’s a term I use often to describe a story that is mainly fantastical in nature but has a creepy element to it.

The panel of well-read experts was largely in agreement with the definition: Karen Burnham, editor of Locus magazine’s Roundtable Blog, said that horror is not the main thrust; Paul Weimer, blogger and SF Signal contributor, said that fantasy is the key and the horror is merely lurking; and similarly, John Stevens, writer and bookseller, said that with dark fantasy, the horror elements are there to intensify the fantastical. All agreed that the term was ambiguous and subjective, which is apparent from their selection of books they accredit with the moniker. If you want to know what they suggested, you’ll just have to listen.

Have you read any dark fantasy lately? How would you define it? Who are some of your favorite dark fantasy authors? Favorite books?

On the Shelf for Halloween
Here’s a mixture of dark fantasy and horror titles to get you in the mood for Halloween.

The Complete Grimms’ Fairy Tales by Brothers Grimm (1812)
This was interesting: The first volumes were much criticized because, although they were called “Children’s Tales”, they were not regarded as suitable for children, both for the scholarly information included and the subject matter. Many changes through the editions – such as turning the wicked mother of the first edition in Snow White and Hansel and Gretel to a stepmother, were probably made with an eye to such suitability. They removed sexual references—such as Rapunzel’s innocently asking why her dress was getting tight around her belly, and thus naïvely revealing her pregnancy and the prince’s visits to her stepmother—but, in many respects, violence, particularly when punishing villains, was increased. [Wikipedia]

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley (1823)
To those who have not read the book, the name Frankenstein is often associated with the monster rather than its creator. The mistake is perhaps not altogether erroneous, for as many critics point out the creature and his maker are doubles of one another, or doppelgängers. Their relationship is similar to that between the head and the heart, or the intellect and the emotion. The conception of the divided self–the idea that the civilized man or woman contains within a monstrous, destructive force–emerges as the creature echoes both Frankenstein’s and narrator Robert Walton’s loneliness: all three wish for a friend or companion. Frankenstein and his monster alternately pursue and flee from one another. Like fragments of a mind in conflict with itself, they represent polar opposites which are not reconciled, and which destroy each other at the end. For example, the creature enacts the repressed desires of its maker, alleviating Victor Frankenstein’s fear of sexuality by murdering his bride, Elizabeth Lavenza, on their wedding night. Identities merge, as Frankenstein frequently takes responsibility for the creature’s action: for instance, after the deaths of the children William and Justine, both of which were caused by the creature, Frankenstein admits they were “the first hapless victims to [his] unhallowed arts.” [Brandeis]

Dracula by Bram Stoker (1897)
By this time I had finished my supper, and by my host’s desire had drawn up a chair by the fire and begun to smoke a cigar which he offered me, at the same time excusing himself that he did not smoke. I had now an opportunity of observing him, and found him of a very marked physiognomy.

His face was a strong, a very strong, aquiline, with high bridge of the thin nose and peculiarly arched nostrils, with lofty domed forehead, and hair growing scantily round the temples but profusely elsewhere. His eyebrows were very massive, almost meeting over the nose, and with bushy hair that seemed to curl in its own profusion. The mouth, so far as I could see it under the heavy moustache, was fixed and rather cruel-looking, with peculiarly sharp white teeth. [BBC]

Cask of Amontillado by Edgar Allan Poe from 18 Best Stories by Edgar Allan Poe
The vengeful Montresor repays the supposed insults of his enemy, Fortunato. Luring Fortunato into the crypts of his home with the promise of Amontillado sherry, Montresor entombs Fortunato in a wall while the carnival rages above them. [Sparknotes]

The Gormenghast Novels by Mervyn Peake (1946 – 59)
Classic epic fantasy:
Gormenghast, that is, the main massing of the original stone, taken by itself would have displayed a certain ponderous architectural quality were it possible to have ignored the circumfusion of those mean dwellings that swarmed like an epidemic around its outer walls. They sprawled over the sloping earth, each one half way over its neighbour until, held back by the castle ramparts, the innermost of these hovels laid hold on the great walls, clamping themselves thereto like limpets to a rock. These dwellings, by ancient law, were granted this chill intimacy with the stronghold that loomed above them. Over their irregular roofs would fall throughout the seasons, the shadows of time-eaten buttresses, of broken and lofty turrets, and, most enormous of all, the shadow of the Tower of Flints. This tower, patched unevenly with black ivy, arose like a mutilated finger from among the fists of knuckled masonry and pointed blasphemously at heaven. At night the owls made of it an echoing throat; by day it stood voiceless and cast its long shadow. [Titus Groan. Book 1]

Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson (1959)
The ghost story is a small genre to begin with, but its subgenre, the psychological ghost story, the category to which The Haunting of Hill House and Henry James’ tales belong, is tinier still. The literary effect we call horror turns on the dissolution of boundaries, between the living and the dead, of course, but also, at the crudest level, between the outside of the body and everything that ought to stay inside. In the psychological ghost story, the dissolving boundary is the one between the mind and the exterior world. [Laura Miller, Introduction to the Haunting of Hill House]

Hellboy by Mike Mignola and John Byrne (Character’s first appearance: 1993)
Hellboy is one of the most celebrated comics series in recent years. The ultimate artists’ artist and a great storyteller whose work is in turns haunting, hilarious, and spellbinding, Mike Mignola has won numerous awards in the comics industry and beyond. When strangeness threatens to engulf the world, a strange man will come to save it. Sent to investigate a mystery with supernatural overtones, Hellboy discovers the secrets of his own origins, and his link to the Nazi occultists who promised Hitler a final solution in the form of a demonic avatar. [Indiebound] Check out some Hellboy Art

The Blade Itself by Joe Ambercrombie (2007)
Dark fantasy meets sharp-edged war story in the standalone tale of a single great battle for control of the North, set in the world of The First Law.  Taking place over three days, it follows the misadventures of six varied people on both sides of the conflict and at all levels of command, their stories played out against an epic backdrop of intrigue, ambition, betrayal and, of course, a lot of edged weapons used in anger. [Joe Ambercrombie]

The Years Best Dark Fantasy & Horror 2011 edited by Paula Guran (2011)
With short stories from Neil Gaiman, Gene Wolf, George R.R. Martin, Tim Powers, and more.

Welcome to the dark. It comes in more colors than you may have imagined. Quiet blue shadows, a glimpse of ghostly white, a once-dim corner deepening to stygian black, the sudden scarlet stain in the basement, the flash of flesh turning to fur, crumbling ash-gray memories, deep jungle greens, mottled-glaucous full moons, the brown of fresh-turned earth, a cutting slash of silver, the tempting glint of gold, bruising purple, alien orange, urban neons, the iridescent shimmer of colors the human eye cannot always see…Find them all in the words of these masterful storytellers. The best dark fantasy and horror from 2010: more than 550 pages of dark tales from some of today’s best-known writers of the fantastique as well new talents. Chosen from a variety of sources, these stories may help you see the many colors of the dark. [Prime Books]

What are you reading this Halloween?

Written by Gabrielle

October 27, 2011 at 5:49 am

Magical Mysteries in the Time of the Aztec Empire: An Interview with Aliette de Bodard

with 2 comments

Aliette de Bodard, a 2009 finalist for the John W. Campbell Award for Best New Writer, wraps up her Obsidian and Blood trilogy this November with Master of the House of Darts. The series is a “cross between a historical Aztec fantasy and a murder-mystery, featuring ghostly jaguars, bloodthirsty gods and fingernail-eating monsters.”

In all three installments, de Bodard masters the atmospherics needed to pull readers into this dark and magical world. The protagonist, Acatl, the High Priest of the Dead in charge of the Sacred Precinct, a position that can be thought of as a mix between priest and coroner, is a sympathetic character with personality flaws that transcend time and culture. Time and again he finds himself unwillingly dragged into impossible investigations and forced to confront both internal struggles and external demons.

Vivid imagery, flowing prose, and natural dialogue are at the heart of de Bodard’s writing. One of the most original storytellers out there, Aliette merges her love of mythology and her desire to bring more non-Western influences to the science fiction and fantasy realm.

Aliette and I talked about the days of the Aztec Empire, the trouble with mainstream narratives, and how to pitch a book idea on the fly.

The Obsidian and Blood series takes place during the time of the Aztec Empire. This civilization was wiped out in the early 1500s by Spanish colonizers and what’s known about them is largely taken from archaeological digs. You’ve mentioned in previous interviews that part of your motivation in writing this series was to repair the damage done to their legacy. I hope I’m being accurate, feel free to correct me. What was most important to you when you sat down to recreate this world?

What was most important to me was to present the world in a fair way: as you mention, a lot of the narratives we have around the Mexica/Aztecs are Spanish ones, and the surface ones are deeply biased. I’ve mentioned it in other inteviews, but I was always struck by how often narratives reach for the Mexica when they need a bloodthirsty, evil culture. And it seems… wrong. I have issues with caricatures; and I don’t believe every single aspect of a culture can be irredeemably evil. Plus, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that the conquistadors were hardly saints or trustworthy witnesses, and when I set out to tell stories set in the heyday of the Mexica Empire, what I wanted was to avoid falling into the same clichéd depiction of the culture. I’m no Nahuatl, but I did try my best to research the culture and bring to light its achievements.

What achievements did you unearth during your research?

Once you get past the stumbling block of human sacrifices, you realise that the Mexica civilisation was a very advanced one in many respects–that they had fantastic astronomy and medicine, that their women had vast amounts of rights compared to most medieval civilisations, and that their justice system was harsh, but much fairer than its English or French equivalent, putting the onus of responsibility on noblemen (who could afford to respect the prohibitions) rather than on commoners (who couldn’t).

And what about the notion that we only have archaeological digs to go on?

Archaeological digs aren’t the only source. We have at least three major sources for the Mexica civilisation: the remaining Nahuatl people in Mexico, though they did not fare well under Spanish rule; the accounts of the Spaniards such as the Codex Florentine, who attempt to account for the civilisation they destroyed, but which are–naturally–hardly free of bias; and finally, the archaeological digs themselves, though those are made difficult because the Spanish were thorough in destroying anything Mexica they could find, and also because Tenochtitlan itself is under Mexico City, not the most propitious of places to dig.

Read the rest at The Faster Times
Buy Master of the House of Darts at Indiebound

Written by Gabrielle

October 25, 2011 at 5:35 am

The World House by Guy Adams

with 3 comments

“Nothing in this building is to be taken lightly, my dear, nothing at all.”

I’d like to say outright that it takes a chapter or two to settle into the The World House. I give forewarning because after acclimating to the pace and structure of the story, the reader is rewarded tenfold. In this dark fantasy, Guy Adams creates an impossible mystery within an alternate dimension set outside the usual notions of space, time, and logic.

The book begins with the reality-based lives of multiple characters, many unconnected and rooted in different continents and time periods. Miles, a modern-day Brit, owes gambling debts to a man who collects in cash or broken bones; Penelope, living in 1920s America, finds that her fiance has a dark side; Tom, also an American, is a hack musician who spends his waking hours inebriated and pining after Elise, a stripper who frequents the same bar when she’s done with work; Pablo is a hired thief in Spain during their Civil War of the 1930s; and Sophie, described as “special-needs,” appears to be somewhere on the autism spectrum and for that reason not much is known about her origins. What they all have in common is a chance encounter with an ancient box and a stressful moment. In an instant, the artifact unlatches and pulls them inside the surreal world of an old, Victorian house.

Alan, a middle-aged history professor from modern-day Florida, however, is an exception to those unexpectedly transported. An unexplained bout of amnesia has wiped out any memory of his earlier years. Preoccupation with lost time leads Alan to an obsess over the legend of a mysterious box. Determined to find this object known to steal people away, rarely returning them, he spends much of his time researching its whereabouts and placing ads offering a price to anyone who might have it in their possession.

One day he’s contacted and given instructions for a meetup. Expecting a hoax or a false alarm, as has been the case with past encounters, he’s surprised to see the real thing in front of him. After paying a generous sum, he’s drawn through and finds himself in a jungle—later revealed to be a greenhouse. Immediately, he comes across Sophie, newly transplanted, unsure of where she is and how she got there. Alan takes it upon himself to protect her, which turns out to be a heroic endeavor since there’s a Lord of the Flies type situation happening amongst the jungle-residents they meet.

The interweaving stories of these characters, spilt into three groups as they travel the house, are complex and disorienting yet surprisingly coherent. Their adventures provide vivid images of a horrific location: a playroom with a live game of Chutes and Ladders, a library with dog-sized bookworms, a bathroom where a royal navy sails through treacherous waters, and rooms connected by hidden portals. Alternating between the separate groups in quick succession, each of their predicaments equally intriguing, Adams builds tension through compelling cliffhangers. The effect is effortless page-turning.

As the story unfolds—unforced, organic, and without banalities—the experience is mind-bending and to give anything away would be a criminal act. When you come up on the last few pages of The World House make sure you have the sequel, Restoration, on hand. You won’t want this story to end.

Guy Adams’ page at Angry Robot

Written by Gabrielle

August 2, 2011 at 6:24 am

%d bloggers like this: