Call number
MYST MIE
Collection
Genres
Publication
Del Rey (2010), Edition: Reprint, 352 pages
Description
NAMED ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR BY "THE LOS ANGELES TIMES, THE SEATTLE TIMES," AND "PUBLISHERS WEEKLY" When a murdered woman is found in the city of Beszel, somewhere at the edge of Europe, it looks to be a routine case for Inspector Tyador Borlu of the Extreme Crime Squad. To investigate, Borlu must travel from the decaying Beszel to its equal, rival, and intimate neighbor, the vibrant city of Ul Qoma. But this is a border crossing like no other, a journey as psychic as it is physical, a seeing of the unseen. With Ul Qoman detective Qussim Dhatt, Borlu is enmeshed in a sordid underworld of nationalists intent on destroying their neighboring city, and unificationists who dream of dissolving the two into one. As the detectives uncover the dead woman's secrets, they begin to suspect a truth that could cost them more than their lives. What stands against them are murderous powers in Beszel and in Ul Qoma: and, most terrifying of all, that which lies between these two cities.… (more)
Media reviews
Subtly, almost casually, Miéville constructs a metaphor for modern life in which our habits of "unseeing" allow us to ignore that which does not directly affect our familiar lives. Yet he doesn't encourage us to understand his novel as a parable, rather as a police mystery dealing with
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extraordinary circumstances. The book is a fine, page-turning murder investigation in the tradition of Philip K Dick, gradually opening up to become something bigger and more significant than we originally suspected. Show Less
Readers should shed their preconceptions and treat themselves to a highly original and gripping experience.The City & The City is still Urban Fantasy, yes, but don't look for elves on motorcycles or spell-casting cops. China Miéville has done something very different, new, and — oh yeah —
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weird. Show Less
The novel works best when Miéville trusts his storytelling instincts. I was immediately entranced by the premise of doppel cities and didn't need it explained at every turn.
At times, I appreciated the intellectual brilliance of "The City" more than I lost myself in it. Borlú seemed an archetype
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more than a fleshed-out character. That's OK. The real protagonists here are the mirror cities themselves, and the strange inner workings that make them, and their residents, tick. Show Less
Miéville’s achievement is at once remarkable and subtle. His overlapping cities take in an aspect of our own world—social conventions—wholesale. But by describing those conventions using conceptual tools borrowed from traditional “worldbuilding” fantasy, he heightens awareness of the
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unnoticed in our own lives. He doesn’t give us symbols. He gives us real life rendered with all the more clarity for its apparent weirdness. Show Less
User reviews
LibraryThing member misericordia
This is a book about a city. No it's about 2 cities. Wait that's not right, it's about one city and two countries. No No No that's not it either. It's about 2 cities that intersect and in that intersection is a 3rd city or maybe a 4th city. No that's wrong too. OK let me start again.
This is a story
No that's not what it's about either.
It's a story about a detective. A detective with a side kick. No a detective with two side kicks, each in a different city. No it a detective who becomes a side kick to a...wait wait can't go there.
Let me try this another way.
It's a book about how vision and perception isn’t actually the same thing. That what we choose to perceive and what we see is not the same thing. That we can learn not perceive any number of things. We can learn to not see the different and reach a kind of peace. But this kind of perception leads to dangerous situations.
BLAH that's not it at all.
Look it’s a book that will never be made into any kind of live action movie...However, an animation overlaid on live action actor with interesting visual.... NO! NO! NO!
Let me just leave it at this. "THIS IS A GOOD BOOK."
This is a story
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about a murder. The murder of a woman hated by many people; hated by secret society of people who want to unite two separate city states, hated by the two separate semi-secret societies of people who want the city states to be separate. She may or may not have been killed by a 3rd city hidden between the city and the city. Or she may have been killed by these other people who lurk in the city or cities and pounce on and disappear people who cross the line between the cities.No that's not what it's about either.
It's a story about a detective. A detective with a side kick. No a detective with two side kicks, each in a different city. No it a detective who becomes a side kick to a...wait wait can't go there.
Let me try this another way.
It's a book about how vision and perception isn’t actually the same thing. That what we choose to perceive and what we see is not the same thing. That we can learn not perceive any number of things. We can learn to not see the different and reach a kind of peace. But this kind of perception leads to dangerous situations.
BLAH that's not it at all.
Look it’s a book that will never be made into any kind of live action movie...However, an animation overlaid on live action actor with interesting visual.... NO! NO! NO!
Let me just leave it at this. "THIS IS A GOOD BOOK."
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LibraryThing member tikitu-reviews
This is a tricky novel to review. I want to convince you to read it, but I can't tell you why.
It's a police procedural, taking Inspector Tyador Borlú of the Extreme Crime Squad from his native city-state Besźel to neighbouring Ul Qoma to investigate a murder. The (decidedly odd) relationship
Miéville has written the first five or so chapters very carefully to ease you into an understanding of why these two nations are so unusual. If you read anything online about the book, you'll find out rather more abruptly. I'd like to set you up for the slow reveal, so you can get the most from his craftsmanship. So my first advice is, don't read any other reviews unless they advertise themselves as stringently spoiler-free.
But then how will you know if you want the book or not? Let me try to hint at the awesomeness of the central conceit by analogy.
In A Scanner Darkly, Philip K Dick described an undercover narcotics officer who is forced by stringent double-blind anonymity conditions to report on the behaviour of his own undercover identity. As he becomes more drug-addled he loses the ability to maintain the cohesion of his identity: stoned he worries about hidden cameras without realising that his official persona knows where they are, while on the job he reviews hidden camera footage of himself stoned, without realising he is looking at himself.
Miéville plays a similar trick with his twin cities (although distinctive enough that I hope the analogy will only become apt with the benefit of hindsight). The border between the city-states has a checkpoint, yes, with passport and visa checks and a rather efficient bureacracy, but it's also an almost metaphysical transition. The first third of the book takes place in Besźel; then Borlú's investigation takes him to Ul Qoma, and we get to experience the discomfort of that transition with him.
Miéville is particularly good on what it is like to be Besź in Ul Qoma. The story is told by Borlú, in unreflective first person; Besźel is comfortably familiar while we see Ul Qoma through his slightly cynical eyes. He notices the more agressive driving, the noise, the neon. His hotel meals are "Okay. Bad. No worse than any other hotel food," while a meal in the home of a local is "more Ul Qoman, though that is not an unmitigated good."
As a character Borlú is understated but solid. He's a good detective but not a magician, compassionate, quiet. There don't seem to be any skeletons in his closet. We see everything through his eyes and it's a comfortable viewpoint. I suppose Miéville deliberately kept his protagonist low-key, to leave more room for the twin stars of the show: the two cities.
This is where he really gets to shine. Miéville is an acknowledged master at bringing urban settings to life, and here he gets to work with contrasts. Besźel is economically depressed, democratic, slightly fusty; Ul Qoma is a one-party state with a moderately brutal police force ("They're old-school here. Robust interrogations.") and a booming foreign investment economy. Besź eat potatoes while Ul Qoman food is spicy; Ul Qoma carefully protects its archaelogical finds while Besźel has a history of selling them to the highest bidder, but Ul Qoma has only recently (under pressure from the World Heritage Committee, if I remember correctly) stopped demolishing historic buildings to make space for boomtown development. These are places that are alive well beyond the confines of the story Miéville is telling.
The two cities (and their unique relationship) are really what the novel is about, but it's also about Borlú's investigation of a murder. My only complaint about the book is the pacing of this investigation. For most of the novel it proceeds slowly, calmly, and with a convincing mix of frustration and progress. Suddenly, though, twenty-seven chapters into twenty-nine (and the last a Coda of five pages) everything happens at once. I don't mean that nothing has happened before that, but those last two chapters begin with open rioting in the streets and pass through two twists (of the "Yes but actually it was that other guy behind it all the time" variety) before ending with the tense confrontation with the talkative mastermind, tying up all the loose ends and explaining everything -- and that's all before the Coda.
But if the pacing is a little off, all the loose ends are tied up and everything does come together. And if your experience is anything like mine, you'll be left satisfied by the solution to the mysteries, but far and away more enthusiastic about the bigger picture: Besźel, Ul Qoma, and what lies between them.
It's a police procedural, taking Inspector Tyador Borlú of the Extreme Crime Squad from his native city-state Besźel to neighbouring Ul Qoma to investigate a murder. The (decidedly odd) relationship
Show More
between Besźel and Ul Qoma is the grand metaphysical conceit that drives the whole book, and it's what I have to try not to tell you about.Miéville has written the first five or so chapters very carefully to ease you into an understanding of why these two nations are so unusual. If you read anything online about the book, you'll find out rather more abruptly. I'd like to set you up for the slow reveal, so you can get the most from his craftsmanship. So my first advice is, don't read any other reviews unless they advertise themselves as stringently spoiler-free.
But then how will you know if you want the book or not? Let me try to hint at the awesomeness of the central conceit by analogy.
In A Scanner Darkly, Philip K Dick described an undercover narcotics officer who is forced by stringent double-blind anonymity conditions to report on the behaviour of his own undercover identity. As he becomes more drug-addled he loses the ability to maintain the cohesion of his identity: stoned he worries about hidden cameras without realising that his official persona knows where they are, while on the job he reviews hidden camera footage of himself stoned, without realising he is looking at himself.
Miéville plays a similar trick with his twin cities (although distinctive enough that I hope the analogy will only become apt with the benefit of hindsight). The border between the city-states has a checkpoint, yes, with passport and visa checks and a rather efficient bureacracy, but it's also an almost metaphysical transition. The first third of the book takes place in Besźel; then Borlú's investigation takes him to Ul Qoma, and we get to experience the discomfort of that transition with him.
Miéville is particularly good on what it is like to be Besź in Ul Qoma. The story is told by Borlú, in unreflective first person; Besźel is comfortably familiar while we see Ul Qoma through his slightly cynical eyes. He notices the more agressive driving, the noise, the neon. His hotel meals are "Okay. Bad. No worse than any other hotel food," while a meal in the home of a local is "more Ul Qoman, though that is not an unmitigated good."
As a character Borlú is understated but solid. He's a good detective but not a magician, compassionate, quiet. There don't seem to be any skeletons in his closet. We see everything through his eyes and it's a comfortable viewpoint. I suppose Miéville deliberately kept his protagonist low-key, to leave more room for the twin stars of the show: the two cities.
This is where he really gets to shine. Miéville is an acknowledged master at bringing urban settings to life, and here he gets to work with contrasts. Besźel is economically depressed, democratic, slightly fusty; Ul Qoma is a one-party state with a moderately brutal police force ("They're old-school here. Robust interrogations.") and a booming foreign investment economy. Besź eat potatoes while Ul Qoman food is spicy; Ul Qoma carefully protects its archaelogical finds while Besźel has a history of selling them to the highest bidder, but Ul Qoma has only recently (under pressure from the World Heritage Committee, if I remember correctly) stopped demolishing historic buildings to make space for boomtown development. These are places that are alive well beyond the confines of the story Miéville is telling.
The two cities (and their unique relationship) are really what the novel is about, but it's also about Borlú's investigation of a murder. My only complaint about the book is the pacing of this investigation. For most of the novel it proceeds slowly, calmly, and with a convincing mix of frustration and progress. Suddenly, though, twenty-seven chapters into twenty-nine (and the last a Coda of five pages) everything happens at once. I don't mean that nothing has happened before that, but those last two chapters begin with open rioting in the streets and pass through two twists (of the "Yes but actually it was that other guy behind it all the time" variety) before ending with the tense confrontation with the talkative mastermind, tying up all the loose ends and explaining everything -- and that's all before the Coda.
But if the pacing is a little off, all the loose ends are tied up and everything does come together. And if your experience is anything like mine, you'll be left satisfied by the solution to the mysteries, but far and away more enthusiastic about the bigger picture: Besźel, Ul Qoma, and what lies between them.
Show Less
LibraryThing member ed.pendragon
China Miéville's preferred genre is 'weird fiction', and a sub-genre within that is urban fantasy. Kraken, for example, is set is a barely recognisable London, and the earlier The City and the City is set in the twin cities of Besźel and Ul Qoma, "somewhere at the edge of Europe". Besźel and Ul
Into this knife-edge world strides the Besz police inspector Borlú, investigating the murder of an unknown young woman. Where the investigation leads him is the increasingly nightmarish plot of Miéville's novel which I found fascinating and which engaged me almost up to the final dénouement. The urgency that suffused the action, beautifully placed in a vividly-imagined and almost credible urban setting, for me just lost its impetus in the closing pages, tarnishing a magnificent concept with a slightly banale conclusion. But that really doesn't take away from the wonder of Miéville's creation.
Part of the joy of this modern tale of two cities is the richness of the world the author creates, one that you can almost imagine inhabiting, or at least visiting (though that with great difficulty). Much of that richness is down to his invented lexicon for people and places. We are led to presume that these two cities are somewhere in Eastern Europe (neighbouring states are Romania, Bulgaria and Turkey, direct flights by BeszAir go to Budapest, Skopje and Athens). Borlú's home town of Besźel looks related to the Hungarian word beszél, "he, she or it speaks"; the inspector's own name is similar to a town in the western Turkish province of Manisa. There are nearly fifty Besz locations mentioned and at least thirty in Ul Qoma, all contributing to an illusion of verisimilitude, though physical maps of the two localities are virtually impossible to reconstruct; and incidental details, of culture, architecture, the mix of modernity and tradition, are liable to send the entranced reader ransacking travel guides and websites.
Some have criticised the apparent lack of characterisation of many of the protagonists and others. I'm less concerned about this: Borlú is a cop, and most likely to give "just the facts, ma'am" than indulge in fanciful descriptions in this first-person narrative. In any case, there's enough reported speech to assess any one person, and you can gauge a lot by their actions and reactions. More problematic is the fact that there are nearly seventy named individuals (many with non-Western names), and I had to resort to taking notes, like a detective, to keep track of them. Whether it was worth it to assess who dunit is another matter, however.
Miéville acknowledges a number of authors to whom he's indebted, and some are obvious suspects: Chandler and Kafka, for example. The debt to Jan Morris must be, rather than to her studies of Hong Kong and Venice, for instance, owed to Hav, reports of her fictional visits to a fictional peninsula in the eastern Mediterranean, riven by its backwards- and forwards-looking inclinations and dominated by a dualist Cathar heresy. Here, surely, is one inspiration for The City and the City.
Another inspiration, though unmentioned, could be Jorge Luis Borges' tales, especially his Death and the Compass about a detective seeking patterns for murders in an unnamed South American city. Another Borges story Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius begins "I owe the discovery of Uqbar to the conjunction of a mirror and an encyclopedia." Uqbar, like Ul Qoma, is hard to place, but appears to be in but not necessarily of the Arab world; Uqbar's first two letters, coincidentally, form the '.uq' suffix of some Ul Qoman websites. Meanwhile, Borges says that Tlön, one of his cities, "is surely a labyrinth, but it is a labyrinth devised by men, a labyrinth destined to be deciphered by men", and in a way any attempt to understand the Besz and Ul Qoman environments and realities is equally labyrinthine in its complexities. Borges' narrative also reflects on Orbis Tertius, a deliberately inaccurate Latin approximation of 'Third World', and this may well have influenced Miéville's concept of Breach, guardian of the junctures between the two cities. And I can't resist mentioning here Ursula Le Guin's Orsinian Tales, stories about a fictional Central European country in the 19th century; reportedly influenced by the example of Czechoslovakia, now returned to the status of two separate nations (Slovakia and the Czech Republic), Orsinia might have provided inspiration for the mythical third 'other' city of Orciny that crops up throughout The City and the City.
And, finally, Borges gives Sir Thomas Browne's classic 1658 Urn Burial as a complimentary reference; this meditation on death, modes of burial and us, the readers, as questioning historians also mirrors events in The City and the City, beginning as it does with a death, a mysterious Ul Qoman archaeological dig, and whether life carries on when one is no longer in this world. A strange, wonderful but not quite perfect novel.
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Qoma aren't quite like Buda and Pest, or Istanbul spread between Europe and Asia Minor, though they do share that sense of liminality, of neither-nor. And the dividing line between the two isn't as physically evident as, say, the Danube or the Bosphorus: individuals who stray across (let alone stare across) that divide, who literally "breach" (particularly in so-called "cross-hatched" areas), are likely to fall foul of a shadowy force called Breach.Into this knife-edge world strides the Besz police inspector Borlú, investigating the murder of an unknown young woman. Where the investigation leads him is the increasingly nightmarish plot of Miéville's novel which I found fascinating and which engaged me almost up to the final dénouement. The urgency that suffused the action, beautifully placed in a vividly-imagined and almost credible urban setting, for me just lost its impetus in the closing pages, tarnishing a magnificent concept with a slightly banale conclusion. But that really doesn't take away from the wonder of Miéville's creation.
Part of the joy of this modern tale of two cities is the richness of the world the author creates, one that you can almost imagine inhabiting, or at least visiting (though that with great difficulty). Much of that richness is down to his invented lexicon for people and places. We are led to presume that these two cities are somewhere in Eastern Europe (neighbouring states are Romania, Bulgaria and Turkey, direct flights by BeszAir go to Budapest, Skopje and Athens). Borlú's home town of Besźel looks related to the Hungarian word beszél, "he, she or it speaks"; the inspector's own name is similar to a town in the western Turkish province of Manisa. There are nearly fifty Besz locations mentioned and at least thirty in Ul Qoma, all contributing to an illusion of verisimilitude, though physical maps of the two localities are virtually impossible to reconstruct; and incidental details, of culture, architecture, the mix of modernity and tradition, are liable to send the entranced reader ransacking travel guides and websites.
Some have criticised the apparent lack of characterisation of many of the protagonists and others. I'm less concerned about this: Borlú is a cop, and most likely to give "just the facts, ma'am" than indulge in fanciful descriptions in this first-person narrative. In any case, there's enough reported speech to assess any one person, and you can gauge a lot by their actions and reactions. More problematic is the fact that there are nearly seventy named individuals (many with non-Western names), and I had to resort to taking notes, like a detective, to keep track of them. Whether it was worth it to assess who dunit is another matter, however.
Miéville acknowledges a number of authors to whom he's indebted, and some are obvious suspects: Chandler and Kafka, for example. The debt to Jan Morris must be, rather than to her studies of Hong Kong and Venice, for instance, owed to Hav, reports of her fictional visits to a fictional peninsula in the eastern Mediterranean, riven by its backwards- and forwards-looking inclinations and dominated by a dualist Cathar heresy. Here, surely, is one inspiration for The City and the City.
Another inspiration, though unmentioned, could be Jorge Luis Borges' tales, especially his Death and the Compass about a detective seeking patterns for murders in an unnamed South American city. Another Borges story Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius begins "I owe the discovery of Uqbar to the conjunction of a mirror and an encyclopedia." Uqbar, like Ul Qoma, is hard to place, but appears to be in but not necessarily of the Arab world; Uqbar's first two letters, coincidentally, form the '.uq' suffix of some Ul Qoman websites. Meanwhile, Borges says that Tlön, one of his cities, "is surely a labyrinth, but it is a labyrinth devised by men, a labyrinth destined to be deciphered by men", and in a way any attempt to understand the Besz and Ul Qoman environments and realities is equally labyrinthine in its complexities. Borges' narrative also reflects on Orbis Tertius, a deliberately inaccurate Latin approximation of 'Third World', and this may well have influenced Miéville's concept of Breach, guardian of the junctures between the two cities. And I can't resist mentioning here Ursula Le Guin's Orsinian Tales, stories about a fictional Central European country in the 19th century; reportedly influenced by the example of Czechoslovakia, now returned to the status of two separate nations (Slovakia and the Czech Republic), Orsinia might have provided inspiration for the mythical third 'other' city of Orciny that crops up throughout The City and the City.
And, finally, Borges gives Sir Thomas Browne's classic 1658 Urn Burial as a complimentary reference; this meditation on death, modes of burial and us, the readers, as questioning historians also mirrors events in The City and the City, beginning as it does with a death, a mysterious Ul Qoman archaeological dig, and whether life carries on when one is no longer in this world. A strange, wonderful but not quite perfect novel.
Show Less
LibraryThing member -Eva-
When a woman is murdered, the investigation takes Inspector Tyador Borlú of the Extreme Crime Squad from his beloved Besźel to its "concurrent" city Ul Qoma - two cities that sometimes occupy the same geographical space, but whose inhabitants have been raised to "unsee" the people and features of
Because of its sparse language, this is one of the easier Miéville novels to read - it is however, not less complex or clever than the others. It is a huge feat of Miéville's, I think, that he manages to write a proper hard-boiled noir story with a determined copper who won't be dissuaded from finding the truth, damned-be-all-consequences, at the same time as staying true to the "Miévilleian" characteristic complex and fantastic world-building. And, of course, adding quite a bit of political commentary; although not meant to be representative of any real location (that Miéville dislikes allegories is not a secret), it is impossible not to at least ponder various current world situations where people must "unsee" other people on a daily basis.
It even manages to be funny at times, when people need to dodge other people or cars that they can't acknowledge are there to begin with. Although I doubt it'll happen, I would love to read a prequel with some earlier case of Borlú's as his voice is such a great throw-back to classic noir.
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the other city and trained not to accidentally cross the border. Because of its sparse language, this is one of the easier Miéville novels to read - it is however, not less complex or clever than the others. It is a huge feat of Miéville's, I think, that he manages to write a proper hard-boiled noir story with a determined copper who won't be dissuaded from finding the truth, damned-be-all-consequences, at the same time as staying true to the "Miévilleian" characteristic complex and fantastic world-building. And, of course, adding quite a bit of political commentary; although not meant to be representative of any real location (that Miéville dislikes allegories is not a secret), it is impossible not to at least ponder various current world situations where people must "unsee" other people on a daily basis.
It even manages to be funny at times, when people need to dodge other people or cars that they can't acknowledge are there to begin with. Although I doubt it'll happen, I would love to read a prequel with some earlier case of Borlú's as his voice is such a great throw-back to classic noir.
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LibraryThing member dukedom_enough
At the center of "The City & The City", China Mieville's new novel, is a stunning, beautiful conceit that is revealed, in its basic dimensions, over the first six or so chapters. Reading these was about the most fun I've had with speculative fiction in years; then the book got better as Mieville
What idea? Here we have a problem. The novel is due for public release May 26, 2009; I have an ARC, an advance reader copy. The conceit is so central that most every review will outline it, thus spoiling the reader's joy in discovering it through the consciousness of Inspector Tyador Borlu, of the Extreme Crime Squad. As that suggests, this novel is in part a mystery, a police procedural starting from the discovery of a murder victim in Beszel, Mieville's imaginary city somewhere in Europe. The mystery, Borlu's encounters with his city, its people and the greater world - it's the 21st century, and Beszel is connected via TV, Internet and mobile phones to the rest of Earth - is well done. In contrast with his earlier novels, e.g. "Perdido Street Station," Mieville uses a sparer, clipped prose style here, reminiscent of some of his short stories.
But the detection is perfectly integrated with the speculation, and can't be discussed separately. I can say that Mieville has attained a new, higher level of artistry in this novel, challenging his readers to keep up. In place of his usual flood of dazzling concepts and images is the rigorous working-out of one great, immensely metaphorically fertile, conceit. If you're already a Mieville admirer, that should be all you need to know - indeed, you didn't need to hear from me at all. Don't read a review first - even the LT product information, from the publisher, tells a bit too much. If you haven't read him yet, "Perdido Street Station" or his YA "Un Lun Dun" should show you how good he is when writing fantasy, although those earlier novels are very different from the new book. If you must, read the reviews when they appear and miss some of the marvelous experience of the early chapters - but do read this book.
And I'll say more, below, after the novel is released in May.
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developed his idea still further, from that point. The reader gets a taste of the lived experience of a world existentially very different from ours, or any world I've ever encountered in fiction. The development of his idea's implications is as thrilling as a well-paced chase scene. I repeatedly was left shaking my head in amazement as I read.What idea? Here we have a problem. The novel is due for public release May 26, 2009; I have an ARC, an advance reader copy. The conceit is so central that most every review will outline it, thus spoiling the reader's joy in discovering it through the consciousness of Inspector Tyador Borlu, of the Extreme Crime Squad. As that suggests, this novel is in part a mystery, a police procedural starting from the discovery of a murder victim in Beszel, Mieville's imaginary city somewhere in Europe. The mystery, Borlu's encounters with his city, its people and the greater world - it's the 21st century, and Beszel is connected via TV, Internet and mobile phones to the rest of Earth - is well done. In contrast with his earlier novels, e.g. "Perdido Street Station," Mieville uses a sparer, clipped prose style here, reminiscent of some of his short stories.
But the detection is perfectly integrated with the speculation, and can't be discussed separately. I can say that Mieville has attained a new, higher level of artistry in this novel, challenging his readers to keep up. In place of his usual flood of dazzling concepts and images is the rigorous working-out of one great, immensely metaphorically fertile, conceit. If you're already a Mieville admirer, that should be all you need to know - indeed, you didn't need to hear from me at all. Don't read a review first - even the LT product information, from the publisher, tells a bit too much. If you haven't read him yet, "Perdido Street Station" or his YA "Un Lun Dun" should show you how good he is when writing fantasy, although those earlier novels are very different from the new book. If you must, read the reviews when they appear and miss some of the marvelous experience of the early chapters - but do read this book.
And I'll say more, below, after the novel is released in May.
Show Less
LibraryThing member pmwolohan
20 words or less: Engrossing murder mystery combining masterful worldbuilding with one heck of an idea piece with a very fulfilling ending.
My Rating: 4.5/5
Pros: Imaginative worldbuilding that had me thinking about the book even when I wasn’t reading it, very strong ending that flowed naturally
Cons: Character depth/backstory a little lacking, occasional infodumping
The Review: China Mieville has written some weirdly wonderful stories. His latest offering, The City and The City, is no exeception. In his first few works, Mieville established a reputation for creating astounding cities almost beyond description emphasis on the word “almost.” Mieville has now taken his talent for urban worldbuilding and raised the bar, weaving a murder mystery in, over, and through the cities of Beszel and Ul Qoma. Without getting into the particulars (which is half the fun of the story), it is clear the two cities are closely intertwined in ways that are not fully understood by even the denizens of the two cities themselves.
When Detective Tyador Borlu discovers the lifeless body of a young woman in Beszel, he refuses to let it go. His quest for answers eventually leads him across borders and boundaries he never planned to cross: some physical and some something else entirely. It is not one but two mysteries that drive this story forward; why was this young woman murdered and what does her murder suggest about The Cities?
While less overtly fantastical than some of his other novels, The City and The City captured my imagination pretty much from the get go. It started off a little heavy as Mieville tries to relate the rules of the world he’s writing in quickly and succinctly, at times resorting to the dreaded info-dump. However, as soon as I finally felt like I understood the rules of the story, Mieville started breaking them. Just trying to wrap my mind around the potential solutions became increasingly difficult as the twin mysteries began to intertwine. As the clues surfaced, I began to doubt everything I thought I knew about these strange exotic cities. The twists kept coming until the very end and I was impressed with Mieville’s ability to make me fluctuate between potential answers without ever feeling manipulated. Some mysteries lay it on too thick and characters act in irrational ways, solely for the sake of throwing the reader off the trail. In interviews, Mieville describes his feelings toward the whodunnit genre and what he believes is its intrinsic flaw: that the questions are always more interesting than the answers the author provides. If this is true, then he has managed to combine his attempt at noir with his penchant for the fantastic into something that rises about perceived genre trappings.
While strong the mysterious plot and the imaginative world Mieville has concocted often dominate the story to the point where the characters seem less important than the settings and situations they find themselves in. While I am glad he didn’t resort to such tropes as the alcoholic divorced cop who only lives for the thrill of the case, the characters didn’t have much back story of their own. This seemed strange and off putting at first, the more I considered the missing characterization the more I was glad Mieville didn’t try and force a specific vision of Borlu or any of the other characters on us. By visualizing my own character concepts, I really got into the story itself and imagined myself walking side by side with Borlu down the city streets. Without realizing it, I had gotten lost in The City and The City and I was glad I did.
My Rating: 4.5/5
Pros: Imaginative worldbuilding that had me thinking about the book even when I wasn’t reading it, very strong ending that flowed naturally
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from the set-up.Cons: Character depth/backstory a little lacking, occasional infodumping
The Review: China Mieville has written some weirdly wonderful stories. His latest offering, The City and The City, is no exeception. In his first few works, Mieville established a reputation for creating astounding cities almost beyond description emphasis on the word “almost.” Mieville has now taken his talent for urban worldbuilding and raised the bar, weaving a murder mystery in, over, and through the cities of Beszel and Ul Qoma. Without getting into the particulars (which is half the fun of the story), it is clear the two cities are closely intertwined in ways that are not fully understood by even the denizens of the two cities themselves.
When Detective Tyador Borlu discovers the lifeless body of a young woman in Beszel, he refuses to let it go. His quest for answers eventually leads him across borders and boundaries he never planned to cross: some physical and some something else entirely. It is not one but two mysteries that drive this story forward; why was this young woman murdered and what does her murder suggest about The Cities?
While less overtly fantastical than some of his other novels, The City and The City captured my imagination pretty much from the get go. It started off a little heavy as Mieville tries to relate the rules of the world he’s writing in quickly and succinctly, at times resorting to the dreaded info-dump. However, as soon as I finally felt like I understood the rules of the story, Mieville started breaking them. Just trying to wrap my mind around the potential solutions became increasingly difficult as the twin mysteries began to intertwine. As the clues surfaced, I began to doubt everything I thought I knew about these strange exotic cities. The twists kept coming until the very end and I was impressed with Mieville’s ability to make me fluctuate between potential answers without ever feeling manipulated. Some mysteries lay it on too thick and characters act in irrational ways, solely for the sake of throwing the reader off the trail. In interviews, Mieville describes his feelings toward the whodunnit genre and what he believes is its intrinsic flaw: that the questions are always more interesting than the answers the author provides. If this is true, then he has managed to combine his attempt at noir with his penchant for the fantastic into something that rises about perceived genre trappings.
While strong the mysterious plot and the imaginative world Mieville has concocted often dominate the story to the point where the characters seem less important than the settings and situations they find themselves in. While I am glad he didn’t resort to such tropes as the alcoholic divorced cop who only lives for the thrill of the case, the characters didn’t have much back story of their own. This seemed strange and off putting at first, the more I considered the missing characterization the more I was glad Mieville didn’t try and force a specific vision of Borlu or any of the other characters on us. By visualizing my own character concepts, I really got into the story itself and imagined myself walking side by side with Borlu down the city streets. Without realizing it, I had gotten lost in The City and The City and I was glad I did.
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LibraryThing member patrickgarson
I often find China Mieville's reach exceeds his grasp, leaving you with books that are more satisfying to think about then to read. By that token, The City and The City is his most successful novel thus far. Though it can't avoid some Mievillean pitfalls, it's satisfying as both novel and conceit.
Tyador Borlu is a grim detective in the eastern european city of Beszel. When the body of an anonymous young girl shows up, in an effort to crack the case, Borlu will travel far without leaving the city limits. For Beszel is a city that lives concomitant to another city, Ul Qouma, and this is a crime with little respect for borders...
I enjoyed this book. Mieville's willingness to use genre hallmarks as shorthand keeps the narrative moving along at a good clip, and he doesn't clutter the story up with too much detritus. Borlu is barely a person, more a walking pastiche of detective novel detectives, and the other characters fare little better (often a problem with Mieville's books, I feel). But he serves perfectly well as reader stand-in and the fast-moving narrative papers over any cracks.
The mystery itself is engaging and... mysterious - which is not as easy as it sounds! (especially for crime novel ingenues) Clues are laid and uncovered, and for once I felt like Mieville successfully balanced the requirements of the plot with the set of ideas he was interested in writing about.
Conclusions are something else that I think Mieville can struggle with, often sinking into cliche and clumsy exposition. I would be lying if I said that the ending of The City and The City is perfect. Once again, it's obvious long before it arrives and once again it's a bit too "Hollywood" for my liking. But this said, I think it largely works; the pacing an asset where a more leisurely conclusion might draw attention to itself.
It sounds like I'm being harsh for a three and a half star review; I'm not, but Mieville has a great writer somewhere in him and I really want that writer to put out a novel. The City and The City gets tantalisingly close. It has the ideas and thought of a four star novel, but the actual writing of two and half star novel. The discrepancy seems to be narrowing, and I hope the trend has continued. I think this book would work for both crime readers, and fantasy.
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Tyador Borlu is a grim detective in the eastern european city of Beszel. When the body of an anonymous young girl shows up, in an effort to crack the case, Borlu will travel far without leaving the city limits. For Beszel is a city that lives concomitant to another city, Ul Qouma, and this is a crime with little respect for borders...
I enjoyed this book. Mieville's willingness to use genre hallmarks as shorthand keeps the narrative moving along at a good clip, and he doesn't clutter the story up with too much detritus. Borlu is barely a person, more a walking pastiche of detective novel detectives, and the other characters fare little better (often a problem with Mieville's books, I feel). But he serves perfectly well as reader stand-in and the fast-moving narrative papers over any cracks.
The mystery itself is engaging and... mysterious - which is not as easy as it sounds! (especially for crime novel ingenues) Clues are laid and uncovered, and for once I felt like Mieville successfully balanced the requirements of the plot with the set of ideas he was interested in writing about.
Conclusions are something else that I think Mieville can struggle with, often sinking into cliche and clumsy exposition. I would be lying if I said that the ending of The City and The City is perfect. Once again, it's obvious long before it arrives and once again it's a bit too "Hollywood" for my liking. But this said, I think it largely works; the pacing an asset where a more leisurely conclusion might draw attention to itself.
It sounds like I'm being harsh for a three and a half star review; I'm not, but Mieville has a great writer somewhere in him and I really want that writer to put out a novel. The City and The City gets tantalisingly close. It has the ideas and thought of a four star novel, but the actual writing of two and half star novel. The discrepancy seems to be narrowing, and I hope the trend has continued. I think this book would work for both crime readers, and fantasy.
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LibraryThing member ladycato
This is my introduction to Mieville, and I was completely pulled in. The city is Beszel, a shabby and ancient nation somewhere in Eastern Europe. The other city is Ul Qoma, a place of glitz and promise. The trick is that both cities exist in the same place and overlap, and yet both nationalities
It's a hard book to summarize. It's fantasy, but it's not. It's science fiction with a very alien society, but it's not. The real magic here is in human psychology, and it feels absolutely plausible. We "unsee" things we don't want to notice all the time--homeless people, someone in peril, disruptive children. Mieville takes that a step further, creating a society where you ignore people, buildings, even oncoming traffic. It's incredibly tricky, yet he makes it work. On top of that it's a suspenseful police procedural with spare language and twists and turns that would dizzy any accomplished detective. It's a brilliant piece of cross-genre work and I can see why it won so many awards. It deserves every single one.
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pretend the other side does not exist. Enter Inspector Tyador Borlu, a detective in Beszel. A dead girl is found on his terrain, and all signs points to the fact that the murder took place in the other city--a tricky thing, as he must pretend the other city isn't there or commits the grave offense of "breach." Clues mount, people disappear, and almost no one can be trusted as it turns out there may be a third city involved, an entity that lies between the two.It's a hard book to summarize. It's fantasy, but it's not. It's science fiction with a very alien society, but it's not. The real magic here is in human psychology, and it feels absolutely plausible. We "unsee" things we don't want to notice all the time--homeless people, someone in peril, disruptive children. Mieville takes that a step further, creating a society where you ignore people, buildings, even oncoming traffic. It's incredibly tricky, yet he makes it work. On top of that it's a suspenseful police procedural with spare language and twists and turns that would dizzy any accomplished detective. It's a brilliant piece of cross-genre work and I can see why it won so many awards. It deserves every single one.
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LibraryThing member cdogzilla
Miéville gave himself a daunting task here, telling a detective story (detective fiction boiling down to an argument for enforcement of the social contract, applying reason and force to ensure cheaters don't prosper at the expense those who abide) set in an irrational society, and persuading us to
Illusions work because the eye can be fooled; we all have a blind spot where the optic nerve attaches to the retina that our brains work around. Confidence men thrive because we, by and large, see and believe what we want to see and believe. I thought of Derren Brown several times while reading this novel, wondering if he perhaps inspired the Breach. In order for this story to succeed, Miéville had to construct the story like Derren Brown must construct one of his TV specials, he has to sell us on premise and make us wonder about the outcome, all the while knowing we're dealing with someone who's out, for a lack of a better phrase, to trick us. The execution needs to be flawless, the internal logic must be consistent, so that once the premise is accepted, we can understand and accept the motivations of several competing interests in light of what we know about they know.
I read several of the other reviews here and found myself agreeing that the characters were a little thin, but that was really (and surprisingly) the only flaw in the execution. I didn't need to be as invested in the characters because I was invested in the world and the puzzle. Again, I think it's part of the nature of detective fiction that we are interested first in a process, and the detective's role (despite whatever personal issues the author might give us to flesh the detective out) is to detect. Navigate us through the mystery and solve the crime.
We might be intrigued by the history of the cities, and want to know more, but we don't need it for the story to work. We might wish there'd been more interaction between Borlú and Corwi, and chance for Corwi to do more in the more story, but those thing, while they would have been nice-to-haves, weren't essential to the reason for setting about to tell a story, this story, this mix of genres, in this particular way. One way to consider this novel is to approach it as a meditation on the utility of semiotics, as opposed to an instruction in the actual practice of the study. I think Miéville succeeded in what he set out to do, a task I doubt many other authors would have had the skill to do if given the assignment.
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see and, crucially, unsee the world of the story through the blinkered eyes of a citizen of that world. He has crafted a novel here that is sci-fi (or fantasy?) only in that it asks us to accept that Besźel and Ul Qoma have some plausible history that explains their counter-intuitional co-existence, without actually giving us that history. Illusions work because the eye can be fooled; we all have a blind spot where the optic nerve attaches to the retina that our brains work around. Confidence men thrive because we, by and large, see and believe what we want to see and believe. I thought of Derren Brown several times while reading this novel, wondering if he perhaps inspired the Breach. In order for this story to succeed, Miéville had to construct the story like Derren Brown must construct one of his TV specials, he has to sell us on premise and make us wonder about the outcome, all the while knowing we're dealing with someone who's out, for a lack of a better phrase, to trick us. The execution needs to be flawless, the internal logic must be consistent, so that once the premise is accepted, we can understand and accept the motivations of several competing interests in light of what we know about they know.
I read several of the other reviews here and found myself agreeing that the characters were a little thin, but that was really (and surprisingly) the only flaw in the execution. I didn't need to be as invested in the characters because I was invested in the world and the puzzle. Again, I think it's part of the nature of detective fiction that we are interested first in a process, and the detective's role (despite whatever personal issues the author might give us to flesh the detective out) is to detect. Navigate us through the mystery and solve the crime.
We might be intrigued by the history of the cities, and want to know more, but we don't need it for the story to work. We might wish there'd been more interaction between Borlú and Corwi, and chance for Corwi to do more in the more story, but those thing, while they would have been nice-to-haves, weren't essential to the reason for setting about to tell a story, this story, this mix of genres, in this particular way. One way to consider this novel is to approach it as a meditation on the utility of semiotics, as opposed to an instruction in the actual practice of the study. I think Miéville succeeded in what he set out to do, a task I doubt many other authors would have had the skill to do if given the assignment.
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LibraryThing member Beakif
The blurb on my copy of 'The City & The City' cites the book as "an existential thriller taken to dazzling metaphysical and artistic heights", before going on to give the brief plot details. For me, this does an excellent job of saying absolutely nothing at all about the novel itself.
Many of the
The novel starts off very simply, with a body of an apparent prostitute discovered in a down and out area of the city of Beszel, somewhere apparently in Eastern Europe. For those with an appreciation of Eastern European political history, it is an image that immediately conjours up images of post-war, grey, depression in harsh winters, an imagery that comes to perfectly encapsulate the suspicion, counter suspicion, accusations and uncertainty that begin to characterise the plot.
Without giving too much away in regard to the setting, the context of the novel takes advantage of these pre-arranged sterotypes to add an element of pure fantasy to the plot, and it is at this point that I believe the label of "fusion" is misplaced. Yes, the plot draws on multiple genres, but I think they are remarkably channeled into a single purpose. The main theme that emerges through the plot and which the main thrust of the plot rests on, indeed, the crime would not have been able to be committed without it, is ambiguity.
The suspicions, accusations and investigations of Inspector Borlu and his counterparts are built upon this ambiguity, and it quickly becomes clear that official channels in Beszel are not equipped to maintain control of a situation that exploits a previously unconsidered weakness in the system. To draw upon so many different genres and to use them to enhance such a complex and intelligent plot is an excellent way to enhance and promote this ambiguity.
Overall, this is a superb, thought provoking, difficult and, at times, unexpectedly moving book considering that the characters are designed to give very little away. I loved the way Mieville drip-fed information about the make-up of the setting following some disturbing hints in the first chapters and consistently asks you to second guess characters and their motivations. I know I have kept this review vague, but the main strength and intelligence of the book is provided in its ability and willingness to surprise and inform in equal measure. I thoroughly enjoyed it, despite it taking me an unusually long time to read, I think because of the pure psychological investment in the world presented. Definitely one to start on a rainy day - trust me, it will only add to the atmosphere!
Many of the
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other reviewers have described this novel as a "fusion", drawing on broad genres to create a book that is primarily built on the foundations of fantasy, but with strong overtones of detective fiction and with a strong hint of noir. However, I can't help but feel that "fusion" isn't the word we should using in reference to the scope of the book:The novel starts off very simply, with a body of an apparent prostitute discovered in a down and out area of the city of Beszel, somewhere apparently in Eastern Europe. For those with an appreciation of Eastern European political history, it is an image that immediately conjours up images of post-war, grey, depression in harsh winters, an imagery that comes to perfectly encapsulate the suspicion, counter suspicion, accusations and uncertainty that begin to characterise the plot.
Without giving too much away in regard to the setting, the context of the novel takes advantage of these pre-arranged sterotypes to add an element of pure fantasy to the plot, and it is at this point that I believe the label of "fusion" is misplaced. Yes, the plot draws on multiple genres, but I think they are remarkably channeled into a single purpose. The main theme that emerges through the plot and which the main thrust of the plot rests on, indeed, the crime would not have been able to be committed without it, is ambiguity.
The suspicions, accusations and investigations of Inspector Borlu and his counterparts are built upon this ambiguity, and it quickly becomes clear that official channels in Beszel are not equipped to maintain control of a situation that exploits a previously unconsidered weakness in the system. To draw upon so many different genres and to use them to enhance such a complex and intelligent plot is an excellent way to enhance and promote this ambiguity.
Overall, this is a superb, thought provoking, difficult and, at times, unexpectedly moving book considering that the characters are designed to give very little away. I loved the way Mieville drip-fed information about the make-up of the setting following some disturbing hints in the first chapters and consistently asks you to second guess characters and their motivations. I know I have kept this review vague, but the main strength and intelligence of the book is provided in its ability and willingness to surprise and inform in equal measure. I thoroughly enjoyed it, despite it taking me an unusually long time to read, I think because of the pure psychological investment in the world presented. Definitely one to start on a rainy day - trust me, it will only add to the atmosphere!
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LibraryThing member paradoxosalpha
The cities of Besźel and Ul Qoma occupy non-congruent, partially overlapping physical space within the same geographic area, but their governments, cultures, and societies have been distinct for many centuries leading up to the early 21st-century setting of this novel. When "in" one city, there is
Besides the psychological and cultural conundrums involved in the story, there is a focus on archaeology, both in the conventional paleological sense and in the theoretical Foucauldian one. The history that led to the intertwined situation of the cities is obscure, and the cleaving of one to the other or the cleavage of one from the other is an open question, as is the relationship of each to the "precursors" revealed in archaelogical investigation.
As the tale progresses, characters are given to suspect wheels within wheels made possible by the confinement of perception that the cities require of their denizens. Borlú is in a particular quandary as he seeks to solve the evident crime, but to remain himself free of breach. The pace of the novel is very fast, with three major divisions each characterized by Borlú's orientation to the peculiar geography of the cities, and each with a different investigative partner for him.
The Ballantine Books edition I read included a Random House "Reader's Guide" appended to the text, made up of an interview with the author and a set of topics and questions for reading group discussions. The interview was sound enough, but the discussion questions seemed to replicate the concerns of the interview a little closely for my taste. Miéville denies any intention to have written a reducible allegory in this book, but he does allow for its varying figurative significance, with metaphors which touch on politics, philosophy, and psychology.
My copy of the book was a used one, in which the previous reader had done a little highlighting and marginal annotation. As I tried to have an unmediated encounter with the novel, I was at first making an attempt to "unsee" these marks. Later, I discovered that they supplied a recursive adornment to the story, as one of Borlú's key investigative leads took him to marginalia inscribed by the murder victim. This circumstance gave my reading an eeriness and a strange feeling of over-determination.
I gather that a BBC television miniseries was adapted from this novel, and I can't for the life of me imagine how they pulled it off. I guess I'll just have to see at some point.
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a complete taboo on interacting with or even perceiving the residents and objects of the other. The ability to "unsee" the "alter" is cultivated in natives from childhood, and carefully trained in immigrants. Failure to maintain the distinction is the infraction of "breach," which is punitively corrected by a mysterious agency called Breach. This unusual premise forms the setting for a noir-styled police procedural story in the voice of Inspector Tyador Borlú, a Besź detective investigating a murder that seems to have crossed the boundary between the cities. Besides the psychological and cultural conundrums involved in the story, there is a focus on archaeology, both in the conventional paleological sense and in the theoretical Foucauldian one. The history that led to the intertwined situation of the cities is obscure, and the cleaving of one to the other or the cleavage of one from the other is an open question, as is the relationship of each to the "precursors" revealed in archaelogical investigation.
As the tale progresses, characters are given to suspect wheels within wheels made possible by the confinement of perception that the cities require of their denizens. Borlú is in a particular quandary as he seeks to solve the evident crime, but to remain himself free of breach. The pace of the novel is very fast, with three major divisions each characterized by Borlú's orientation to the peculiar geography of the cities, and each with a different investigative partner for him.
The Ballantine Books edition I read included a Random House "Reader's Guide" appended to the text, made up of an interview with the author and a set of topics and questions for reading group discussions. The interview was sound enough, but the discussion questions seemed to replicate the concerns of the interview a little closely for my taste. Miéville denies any intention to have written a reducible allegory in this book, but he does allow for its varying figurative significance, with metaphors which touch on politics, philosophy, and psychology.
My copy of the book was a used one, in which the previous reader had done a little highlighting and marginal annotation. As I tried to have an unmediated encounter with the novel, I was at first making an attempt to "unsee" these marks. Later, I discovered that they supplied a recursive adornment to the story, as one of Borlú's key investigative leads took him to marginalia inscribed by the murder victim. This circumstance gave my reading an eeriness and a strange feeling of over-determination.
I gather that a BBC television miniseries was adapted from this novel, and I can't for the life of me imagine how they pulled it off. I guess I'll just have to see at some point.
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LibraryThing member Nialle
Sometimes the politicking annoyed me. Sometimes I got caught up in the descriptions and the conceptual details and loved them. Sometimes the author's dislike for academia despite his own training in (economics, isn't it?) really irked, and admittedly, the fact that my partner and I were reading
But then I finally grasped the 90* philosophical rotation involved in the title, the arrangement of the book, and the last line, and I realized the book was totally amazing. As a piece of work describing not only the weird, fluid yet avoided boundaries in real, worldwide urban areas as well as the increasing difference between "rich people town" and "poor people town," "grant recipient town" and "scrappy private sector town," and many other growing divides within even small cities (like mine), but also describing the interaction of people and geography, as depicted in this extreme-just-to-the-point-of-speculative-fiction version of our own world - this book is on a par with many of the great dystopian novels, showing humans at best and worst against an almost painfully possible backdrop. Really: brilliant....Despite the academic satire.
No really, author, you're not David Lodge and I like it when you're not, thanks. Also, uh, the big reveal could do with a little less dialogue. I hate it when the opposing force gets too many pages to explain itself. And the recruitment bit was a little cliche. But I'm only saying this because seriously, the rest of the book was so inventive, so edgy, so timely, and so angled straight at the smart reader that I feel I can say this stuff. Thanks for that.
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aloud to each other made some of the aural puns more obvious and some of the neologisms irritatingly flow-breaking.But then I finally grasped the 90* philosophical rotation involved in the title, the arrangement of the book, and the last line, and I realized the book was totally amazing. As a piece of work describing not only the weird, fluid yet avoided boundaries in real, worldwide urban areas as well as the increasing difference between "rich people town" and "poor people town," "grant recipient town" and "scrappy private sector town," and many other growing divides within even small cities (like mine), but also describing the interaction of people and geography, as depicted in this extreme-just-to-the-point-of-speculative-fiction version of our own world - this book is on a par with many of the great dystopian novels, showing humans at best and worst against an almost painfully possible backdrop. Really: brilliant....Despite the academic satire.
No really, author, you're not David Lodge and I like it when you're not, thanks. Also, uh, the big reveal could do with a little less dialogue. I hate it when the opposing force gets too many pages to explain itself. And the recruitment bit was a little cliche. But I'm only saying this because seriously, the rest of the book was so inventive, so edgy, so timely, and so angled straight at the smart reader that I feel I can say this stuff. Thanks for that.
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LibraryThing member bookworm12
Here’s the basic premise: a murdered woman is found and a detective tries to solve the case. Sounds straight forward right? But in this book nothing is quite that simple. Yes, there is a dead body but it’s in one city and the detectives think it might have come from the second city, which
People living in the two cities, Ul Qoma and Besźel, are supposed to “unsee” the other city in their daily lives. So as they walk down the street they must not acknowledge the people and shops they see if they aren’t in their city. On top of all of that there is a legend of a city between the two cities, but no one knows if it exists or not. The more the detective looks into the murder the more coincidences he discovers and he begins to wonder if there isn’t a bigger conspiracy.
Got that? No? Yeah, that’s the problem. This book seems to be so proud of its clever concept that it never allows itself to become a good story. I do think the idea is a great one, but Mieville kept hitting me over the head with it. The old-school noir style is fun, but the language and other plot tricks make the rest of the book so convoluted that I felt like I could never just enjoy it. Imagine a Raymond Chandler book set on the moon, but with a second moon inside of it that no one is allowed to talk about, but that might be trying to kill them. That would be a bit like this.
Here’s the thing, I really struggled with this one. After the first 50 pages or so, I never wanted to pick it up, it felt like a chore. I’d read 30 pages and put it down and dread the next time I was going to read it. I felt like the author relied pretty heavily on his gimmick and that was off-putting for me.
BOTTOM LINE: Although I appreciate the clever story line, in the end it was just one of those books that I didn’t want to pick up. If you can get into the story it might work for you.
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shares the same location, but not the same legal or social space. People living in the two cities, Ul Qoma and Besźel, are supposed to “unsee” the other city in their daily lives. So as they walk down the street they must not acknowledge the people and shops they see if they aren’t in their city. On top of all of that there is a legend of a city between the two cities, but no one knows if it exists or not. The more the detective looks into the murder the more coincidences he discovers and he begins to wonder if there isn’t a bigger conspiracy.
Got that? No? Yeah, that’s the problem. This book seems to be so proud of its clever concept that it never allows itself to become a good story. I do think the idea is a great one, but Mieville kept hitting me over the head with it. The old-school noir style is fun, but the language and other plot tricks make the rest of the book so convoluted that I felt like I could never just enjoy it. Imagine a Raymond Chandler book set on the moon, but with a second moon inside of it that no one is allowed to talk about, but that might be trying to kill them. That would be a bit like this.
Here’s the thing, I really struggled with this one. After the first 50 pages or so, I never wanted to pick it up, it felt like a chore. I’d read 30 pages and put it down and dread the next time I was going to read it. I felt like the author relied pretty heavily on his gimmick and that was off-putting for me.
BOTTOM LINE: Although I appreciate the clever story line, in the end it was just one of those books that I didn’t want to pick up. If you can get into the story it might work for you.
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LibraryThing member isabelx
I glanced over the list of code phrases we had agreed to, but none of them - I miss Besź dumplings = am in trouble, Working on a theory = know who did it - were remotely germane. 'I feel fucking stupid', she had said as we came up with them. 'I agree', I had said. 'I do too.
A young woman is murdered and dumped on wasteland at night. Her body is found by local teenagers and the city police begin an investigation. so far, this could be just another murder mystery, but this murder has occurred in a city like no other, Beszel is a city-state somewhere in Eastern Europe, that through a forgotten quirk of history, shares the land with another city-state called Ul Qoma. Some areas belong to one city and some to the other, while many streets are cross-hatched, meaning that the buildings are a patchwork of Ul Qoman and Besz buildings and people form both cities walk the street. But although the cities are intertwined around and through each other, they are foreign countries and their citizens learn from an early age to 'unsee' foreign people, buildings and landmarks. A cross-hatched area that is a thriving street in Ul Qoma can be deserted and run-down in Besz, or vice versa, so that citizens of one city are walking through an empty street, while 'unseeing' and avoiding the crowd filling the street of the other city. Learning to drive is especially difficult, as you have to learn to 'unsee' other vehicles at the same time as avoiding them.
The government and police of the two cities are completely separate, and a crime committed in one city will not even be noticed by citizens of the other city. but everyone fears Breach. Silently appearing out of thin air whenever someone contravenes the laws that keep the cities separate, Breach restore order and whisk away the perpetrators of the Breach to be tried in secret. You can be in Breach by stepping into the other city, or even by looking at something in the other city instead of 'unseeing' it (although children and foreigners are given a little leeway), but the most frequent cause of Breaches is traffic accidents.
So this is a fantasy novel as well as a police procedural, and I think it works as both. Unfortunately I can't tell you what I liked best about it, as that would involve a massive spoiler, but I can recommend it wholeheartedly.
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Still.' Still, we could not assume that our communications would not be listened to, by whatever power it was that had outmanoeuvred us in Besźel. Is it more foolish and childish to assume there is a conspiracy, or that there is not?A young woman is murdered and dumped on wasteland at night. Her body is found by local teenagers and the city police begin an investigation. so far, this could be just another murder mystery, but this murder has occurred in a city like no other, Beszel is a city-state somewhere in Eastern Europe, that through a forgotten quirk of history, shares the land with another city-state called Ul Qoma. Some areas belong to one city and some to the other, while many streets are cross-hatched, meaning that the buildings are a patchwork of Ul Qoman and Besz buildings and people form both cities walk the street. But although the cities are intertwined around and through each other, they are foreign countries and their citizens learn from an early age to 'unsee' foreign people, buildings and landmarks. A cross-hatched area that is a thriving street in Ul Qoma can be deserted and run-down in Besz, or vice versa, so that citizens of one city are walking through an empty street, while 'unseeing' and avoiding the crowd filling the street of the other city. Learning to drive is especially difficult, as you have to learn to 'unsee' other vehicles at the same time as avoiding them.
The government and police of the two cities are completely separate, and a crime committed in one city will not even be noticed by citizens of the other city. but everyone fears Breach. Silently appearing out of thin air whenever someone contravenes the laws that keep the cities separate, Breach restore order and whisk away the perpetrators of the Breach to be tried in secret. You can be in Breach by stepping into the other city, or even by looking at something in the other city instead of 'unseeing' it (although children and foreigners are given a little leeway), but the most frequent cause of Breaches is traffic accidents.
So this is a fantasy novel as well as a police procedural, and I think it works as both. Unfortunately I can't tell you what I liked best about it, as that would involve a massive spoiler, but I can recommend it wholeheartedly.
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LibraryThing member the_awesome_opossum
When I first began The City and the City, I was mentally crafting a review that included praise for China Mieville's eye for world-building in this urban fantasy. However, moving farther into the novel, it became apparent that such praise would be...shallow, to say the least. The way that the
The conceit of the congruent cities teases and yet defies reader expectations and impulses to map allegory or metaphor onto it. As satisfying as specificity and meaning would be, "fiction is always more interesting to the extent that there's an evasive surplus" (from an interview with Mieville). And it's this chimeric surplus throughout the novel that keeps readers on their toes, as a crime procedural surrounding a dead woman gives way to the construct of the congruent cities, which gives way to the story of their artificiality and the breach of boundaries. So the small story being told is really a microcosm of the world that Mieville set out to explore, one nestled snugly in self-imposed boundaries and polite but false pretenses. And yet...that's every world, isn't it? Artificial constructs and politenesses exists insofar as we behave as though they do, and transgressions open up liminal spaces of opportunity for alternative realities. The 'surplus' of this reading is amazing, a sort of piece of abstract art or a Rorschach test that engages readers' own lives with and against such artificial constructs.
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cities are constructed are not only an impressive backdrop, but are crafted in such a way to make apparent how the characters' social settings and constructs shape them, rather than just being shaped by them. The 'topolganger' cities of Beszel and Ul Qoma are divided and distinct not on any obvious bias - I must not be a careful enough reader to generally be able to note all their differences - but because of the certainty with which the characters act, that the two cities are night and day. Citizens who cannot be distinguished as being part of one city or the other are subjects of great uneasiness, and boundaries, however actually permeable, are strictly adhered to.The conceit of the congruent cities teases and yet defies reader expectations and impulses to map allegory or metaphor onto it. As satisfying as specificity and meaning would be, "fiction is always more interesting to the extent that there's an evasive surplus" (from an interview with Mieville). And it's this chimeric surplus throughout the novel that keeps readers on their toes, as a crime procedural surrounding a dead woman gives way to the construct of the congruent cities, which gives way to the story of their artificiality and the breach of boundaries. So the small story being told is really a microcosm of the world that Mieville set out to explore, one nestled snugly in self-imposed boundaries and polite but false pretenses. And yet...that's every world, isn't it? Artificial constructs and politenesses exists insofar as we behave as though they do, and transgressions open up liminal spaces of opportunity for alternative realities. The 'surplus' of this reading is amazing, a sort of piece of abstract art or a Rorschach test that engages readers' own lives with and against such artificial constructs.
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LibraryThing member PhoenixTerran
Before starting The City and the City I had only read one other book by China Miéville, Perdido Street Station, the first of his New Crobuzon novels. I quite enjoyed Perdido Street Station--at least up until the end which I felt cheated by. But I liked the rest of the book well enough that I
The two Eastern European city-states of Ul Qoma and Besźel are crosshatched--somehow physically located in the same geographic area but independent and separate political entities. The citizens of one city are practiced in unseeing and unsensing those in the other. Any breach in this etiquette is considered the greatest offense and is subject to the severest sanctions. When a woman's body is discovered dumped in a skate park in Besźel, Inspector Tyador Borlú of the Extreme Crime Squad is put on the case. Soon it becomes apparent that there are Ul Qoma connections to the crime and the investigation becomes much more complicated. It seems as though the woman, a doctoral student, has made more than her fair share of enemies in both Besźel and Ul Qoma. She was researching the existence of third hidden city known as Orciny, a taboo subject in academia, but could her discoveries really have cost her her life?
The City and the City is written in a much sparer style than Miéville's previous works and has a nice noir-ish feel to it. One of my favorite things about Miéville is that he's not afraid to mix his genres and conventions in order to create something truly unique--in this case a crime novel with fantasy elements. Another thing I admire is his command of the English language. Although the writing can be somewhat awkward in The City and the City and takes some getting used to, particularly the dialogue, I am always astonished by how Miéville manages to pick the exact needed word for a given situation. Because of the unusual nature of Ul Qoma and Besźel, he also creates some of his own, such as my personal favorite--topolganger.
I wouldn't say I was disappointed in The City and the City, but I didn't like it nearly as well as I was expecting to. I didn't care about any of the characters and I didn't even care about the plot, but I did absolutely love the cities. They were one of the main reasons that I kept reading the book. The interactions between the characters and their environment were fascinating and Miéville obviously put some thought into making crosshatched cities work. Even though they are fantastical, the amount of bureaucracy and politicking involved is certainly believable. In some ways it seems like Miéville was trying too hard to place his cities in the real world--pop culture references like Harry Potter threw me out of the story--but overall he handled it quite nicely. Miéville has mentioned that he might write more books featuring Tyador Borlú and Besźel that occur before the events in The City and the City. Even though I wasn't as taken with the novel as others seem to be, I would still be interested in seeing what else Miéville can do with its conceit.
Experiments in Reading
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wanted to read more Miéville. So it was serendipitous when The City and the City was chosen for the io9 book club. I had heard many a good thing about The City and the City; even those who didn't like Miéville's previous works seemed to be fond of it. Perhaps not too surprisingly, the novel was nominated for and won quite a few awards, including Miéville's landmark third Arthur C. Clarke Award. Although I am wary when a book receives such overwhelmingly positive reviews, I was still looking forward to reading The City and the City.The two Eastern European city-states of Ul Qoma and Besźel are crosshatched--somehow physically located in the same geographic area but independent and separate political entities. The citizens of one city are practiced in unseeing and unsensing those in the other. Any breach in this etiquette is considered the greatest offense and is subject to the severest sanctions. When a woman's body is discovered dumped in a skate park in Besźel, Inspector Tyador Borlú of the Extreme Crime Squad is put on the case. Soon it becomes apparent that there are Ul Qoma connections to the crime and the investigation becomes much more complicated. It seems as though the woman, a doctoral student, has made more than her fair share of enemies in both Besźel and Ul Qoma. She was researching the existence of third hidden city known as Orciny, a taboo subject in academia, but could her discoveries really have cost her her life?
The City and the City is written in a much sparer style than Miéville's previous works and has a nice noir-ish feel to it. One of my favorite things about Miéville is that he's not afraid to mix his genres and conventions in order to create something truly unique--in this case a crime novel with fantasy elements. Another thing I admire is his command of the English language. Although the writing can be somewhat awkward in The City and the City and takes some getting used to, particularly the dialogue, I am always astonished by how Miéville manages to pick the exact needed word for a given situation. Because of the unusual nature of Ul Qoma and Besźel, he also creates some of his own, such as my personal favorite--topolganger.
I wouldn't say I was disappointed in The City and the City, but I didn't like it nearly as well as I was expecting to. I didn't care about any of the characters and I didn't even care about the plot, but I did absolutely love the cities. They were one of the main reasons that I kept reading the book. The interactions between the characters and their environment were fascinating and Miéville obviously put some thought into making crosshatched cities work. Even though they are fantastical, the amount of bureaucracy and politicking involved is certainly believable. In some ways it seems like Miéville was trying too hard to place his cities in the real world--pop culture references like Harry Potter threw me out of the story--but overall he handled it quite nicely. Miéville has mentioned that he might write more books featuring Tyador Borlú and Besźel that occur before the events in The City and the City. Even though I wasn't as taken with the novel as others seem to be, I would still be interested in seeing what else Miéville can do with its conceit.
Experiments in Reading
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LibraryThing member nbmars
China Mieville is a very unusual writer. If you are familiar with any of his other books, such as Perdido Street Station or The Scar, you know that he has an incredibly fecund mind that creates complex alternative worlds in which to set his stories.
This latest book, his attempt at a “police
In Mieville’s book, the city and the city [sic] reflect this paradox. In the same space, you are either in Beszel city or Ul Qoma. Whichever one you grew up in, you have been trained to “unsee” the other one. If you seem to recognize or interact with anyone in the other city, you will be picked up by a mysterious force known as Breach. People who have breached disappear forever, and no one knows what happens to them. And yet, somehow connections between the two cities persist. [Another principle of quantum mechanics is that of quantum entanglement (a paradox developed by Einstein and his coworkers). This is an amazing phenomenon by which two or more objects seem to be entangled even if they are far apart, so that one object cannot be adequately described without knowing the properties of its counterpart. Mieville invokes this brilliant metaphor for the crime investigation portion of the book.]
So what's the plot of the police procedural?
Inspector Tyador Borlu a middle-aged career policeman with the Extreme Crime Squad of the city of Beszel. A young girl has been found dead in a seedy part of the city, and he discovers that she was from the (superimposed) city of Ul Qoma. Thus it appears that someone has killed her in one city, and dumped her body in the other. Crossing the border without passing through immigration and undergoing training is illegal and will invoke the Breach, the mysterious force that keeps the dual city workable. Yet the Breach has not been called into the matter, and Borlu and his colleagues realize there is something bigger going on than just the murder. Eventually, Borlu is forced to go to Ul Qoma himself, and work with his counterpart there, Senior Detective Qussim Dhatt. His partner in Beszel, Lizbyet Corwi, is not allowed to accompany him, but can help via “long distance” calls.
In the course of the investigation, the detectives confront an unexpected possibility: is there yet a third city, somewhere in the spaces between the city and the city?
Discussion: Mieville has many fans for his books that, as the UK Guardian writes, are “packed with grotesque characters, gorgeous imagery, amazing monsters, political parables and intricate plotting.” This doesn’t make for light or easy reading. In fact, Mieville makes other noir look blanc. (This concept was explored by Alexander McCall Smith, writing tongue in cheek in The New York Times):
"Perhaps we need a new literary tradition – the opposite of the noir. And what would that be? Blanc fiction, I suppose. Blanc would be about good deeds and acts of kindness, rather than about crime. And even crime writers would have their place in this tradition. But rather than writing about murder – which seems to obsess them – they would write about minor crimes, such as parking offences.”
With Mieville's deep noir in mind you can see I was delighted to find that The City & The City is much easier than Mieville’s other books. It is set in a recognizable time and place, and there are even a number of humorous references to current popular culture.
Borlu is on the phone to Corwi, describing for her what he found on the dead girl’s computer:
"Borlu: Lots of Hi Mom love you emails, a few essays. She probably used proxies and a cleaner-upper online too, because there was bugger-all of interest in her cache.
Corwi: You have no idea what you’re saying, do you, boss?
Borlu: None at all. I had the techies write it all out phonetically for me.”
The resolution of the crime itself is clearly of secondary interest to Mieville, to whom “ambience” if you will, is everything. Even when Mieville is not explaining how the two superimposed cities work, he is skilled at evoking atmosphere:
"(on approaching a gang of thugs) They were milling as we approached, lounging, smoking, drinking, laughing loud. Their efforts to claim the street were so overt they might as well have been pissing musk."
Why, you might ask, has Mieville written a “whodunit” that is more like, as he says, a “doesitreallymatterwhodunnit?” In an interview, Mieville had this to say about the genre:
"Reviews of crime novels repeatedly refer to this or that book’s slightly disappointing conclusion. This is the case even where reviewers are otherwise hugely admiring.
… The reason, I think, is that crime novels are impossible. Specifically, impossible to end. …
[D]etective novels are not novels of detection, still less of revelation, still less of solution. Those are all necessary, but not only are they insufficient, but they are in certain ways regrettable. These are novels of potentiality. Quantum narratives. Their power isn’t in their final acts, but in the profusion of superpositions before them, the could-bes, what-ifs and never-knows. Until that final chapter, each of those is as real and true as all the others, jostling realities all dreamed up by the crime, none trapped in vulgar facticity. That’s why the most important sentence in a murder mystery isn’t the one starting ‘The murderer is…’ – which no matter how necessary and fabulously executed is an act of unspeakable narrative winnowing - but is the snarled expostulation halfway through: ‘Everyone’s a suspect.’ Quite. When all those suspects become one certainty, it’s a collapse, and a let-down. How can it not be? We’ve been banished from an Eden of oscillation."
Here is where you can see just how creative Mieville is as a writer. He has created a quantum setting for a quantum narrative, as if he is saying to other crime authors, “anything you can do, I can do meta!”
Evaluation: This noir-like mystery steeped in fantastical elements is not for every mystery fan, or fan of science fiction, even though the author won the Arthur C. Clarke Award for Best Novel of 2009 for this book. (This is the third time Mieville has won the award, having previously won in 2005 for Iron Council and in 2001 for Perdido Street Station.) But if you want to experience this author, this book is a "friendlier" way to do so than most of his others. When I read Perdido Street Station, for example, I felt as if it would be more appropriate for me to read it with hair dyed purple, skin pierced and tattooed in many places, and sitting in a coffeehouse, smoking. With The City & The City, on the other hand, I almost felt at home in my living room!
This latest book, his attempt at a “police
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procedural” (he has said he wants to write a book in every genre, but somehow I’m guessing he’ll skip “chick lit”) is very different from the average murder mystery (or even the non-average murder mystery). It seems that the whole rest of the world exists more or less as it does now, but two cities - somewhere on the edge of Europe - exist in a quantum state. That is, Mieville sets up his cities like Schroedinger’s famous cat. [Schrödinger's cat is a thought experiment, also called Schroedinger’s paradox, devised by Austrian physicist Erwin Schrödinger in 1935 to illustrate a problem with quantum mechanics. Briefly, a cat, a flask of poison and a radioactive source are placed in a sealed box. If an internal Geiger counter detects radiation, the flask is shattered, releasing the poison that kills the cat. The odds are 50/50 each hour. Since the probability of each is equal, the cat is said to be simultaneously alive and dead, although clearly, if you look inside the box, you would see the cat either alive or dead but not both. Quantum theory has been successful in spite of the paradoxes however (success being defined as the ability to predict). But it’s definitely weird.]In Mieville’s book, the city and the city [sic] reflect this paradox. In the same space, you are either in Beszel city or Ul Qoma. Whichever one you grew up in, you have been trained to “unsee” the other one. If you seem to recognize or interact with anyone in the other city, you will be picked up by a mysterious force known as Breach. People who have breached disappear forever, and no one knows what happens to them. And yet, somehow connections between the two cities persist. [Another principle of quantum mechanics is that of quantum entanglement (a paradox developed by Einstein and his coworkers). This is an amazing phenomenon by which two or more objects seem to be entangled even if they are far apart, so that one object cannot be adequately described without knowing the properties of its counterpart. Mieville invokes this brilliant metaphor for the crime investigation portion of the book.]
So what's the plot of the police procedural?
Inspector Tyador Borlu a middle-aged career policeman with the Extreme Crime Squad of the city of Beszel. A young girl has been found dead in a seedy part of the city, and he discovers that she was from the (superimposed) city of Ul Qoma. Thus it appears that someone has killed her in one city, and dumped her body in the other. Crossing the border without passing through immigration and undergoing training is illegal and will invoke the Breach, the mysterious force that keeps the dual city workable. Yet the Breach has not been called into the matter, and Borlu and his colleagues realize there is something bigger going on than just the murder. Eventually, Borlu is forced to go to Ul Qoma himself, and work with his counterpart there, Senior Detective Qussim Dhatt. His partner in Beszel, Lizbyet Corwi, is not allowed to accompany him, but can help via “long distance” calls.
In the course of the investigation, the detectives confront an unexpected possibility: is there yet a third city, somewhere in the spaces between the city and the city?
Discussion: Mieville has many fans for his books that, as the UK Guardian writes, are “packed with grotesque characters, gorgeous imagery, amazing monsters, political parables and intricate plotting.” This doesn’t make for light or easy reading. In fact, Mieville makes other noir look blanc. (This concept was explored by Alexander McCall Smith, writing tongue in cheek in The New York Times):
"Perhaps we need a new literary tradition – the opposite of the noir. And what would that be? Blanc fiction, I suppose. Blanc would be about good deeds and acts of kindness, rather than about crime. And even crime writers would have their place in this tradition. But rather than writing about murder – which seems to obsess them – they would write about minor crimes, such as parking offences.”
With Mieville's deep noir in mind you can see I was delighted to find that The City & The City is much easier than Mieville’s other books. It is set in a recognizable time and place, and there are even a number of humorous references to current popular culture.
Borlu is on the phone to Corwi, describing for her what he found on the dead girl’s computer:
"Borlu: Lots of Hi Mom love you emails, a few essays. She probably used proxies and a cleaner-upper online too, because there was bugger-all of interest in her cache.
Corwi: You have no idea what you’re saying, do you, boss?
Borlu: None at all. I had the techies write it all out phonetically for me.”
The resolution of the crime itself is clearly of secondary interest to Mieville, to whom “ambience” if you will, is everything. Even when Mieville is not explaining how the two superimposed cities work, he is skilled at evoking atmosphere:
"(on approaching a gang of thugs) They were milling as we approached, lounging, smoking, drinking, laughing loud. Their efforts to claim the street were so overt they might as well have been pissing musk."
Why, you might ask, has Mieville written a “whodunit” that is more like, as he says, a “doesitreallymatterwhodunnit?” In an interview, Mieville had this to say about the genre:
"Reviews of crime novels repeatedly refer to this or that book’s slightly disappointing conclusion. This is the case even where reviewers are otherwise hugely admiring.
… The reason, I think, is that crime novels are impossible. Specifically, impossible to end. …
[D]etective novels are not novels of detection, still less of revelation, still less of solution. Those are all necessary, but not only are they insufficient, but they are in certain ways regrettable. These are novels of potentiality. Quantum narratives. Their power isn’t in their final acts, but in the profusion of superpositions before them, the could-bes, what-ifs and never-knows. Until that final chapter, each of those is as real and true as all the others, jostling realities all dreamed up by the crime, none trapped in vulgar facticity. That’s why the most important sentence in a murder mystery isn’t the one starting ‘The murderer is…’ – which no matter how necessary and fabulously executed is an act of unspeakable narrative winnowing - but is the snarled expostulation halfway through: ‘Everyone’s a suspect.’ Quite. When all those suspects become one certainty, it’s a collapse, and a let-down. How can it not be? We’ve been banished from an Eden of oscillation."
Here is where you can see just how creative Mieville is as a writer. He has created a quantum setting for a quantum narrative, as if he is saying to other crime authors, “anything you can do, I can do meta!”
Evaluation: This noir-like mystery steeped in fantastical elements is not for every mystery fan, or fan of science fiction, even though the author won the Arthur C. Clarke Award for Best Novel of 2009 for this book. (This is the third time Mieville has won the award, having previously won in 2005 for Iron Council and in 2001 for Perdido Street Station.) But if you want to experience this author, this book is a "friendlier" way to do so than most of his others. When I read Perdido Street Station, for example, I felt as if it would be more appropriate for me to read it with hair dyed purple, skin pierced and tattooed in many places, and sitting in a coffeehouse, smoking. With The City & The City, on the other hand, I almost felt at home in my living room!
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LibraryThing member Penforhire
This book was much easier to read than many of his other works. That didn't make it any less weird. I enjoyed this story, essentially a tale of crime and corruption in an alternate universe setting. The setting was, of course, the most intriguing aspect of the story.
Another reviewer thought China
I did enjoy how gradually we are introduced to the situation. By the end it made perfect sense how the ultimate bad guy could claim to be in either city and have each side's law enforcement completely stymied.
I did have a hard time suspending disbelief that people in both cities didn't knock into each other more, breaching, even more regularly. Otherwise, it was a neat totally-Mieville-like concept. Weird and wonderful.
Early on I was worried about all the unique cultural references that had no meaning for me. That worry faded but he kept throwing out people, books, art, and places that had no other reference. I suppose it added to the sense of foreign immersion.
Considering we get on the inside at the end, Breach and the pre-separation artifacts remain just a little too mysterious for my taste. Minor quibble.
I like procedural crime fiction. I like alternate universe (but set otherwise contemporary) SF. This was a sweet mash-up of those two genres plus the author's unique stamp on it all.
Another reviewer thought China
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beat us over the head a little too much with how clever his dual-city is. I tend to agree. That drags a >4 star rating down to merely an exceptionally good 4 stars for me. I did enjoy how gradually we are introduced to the situation. By the end it made perfect sense how the ultimate bad guy could claim to be in either city and have each side's law enforcement completely stymied.
I did have a hard time suspending disbelief that people in both cities didn't knock into each other more, breaching, even more regularly. Otherwise, it was a neat totally-Mieville-like concept. Weird and wonderful.
Early on I was worried about all the unique cultural references that had no meaning for me. That worry faded but he kept throwing out people, books, art, and places that had no other reference. I suppose it added to the sense of foreign immersion.
Considering we get on the inside at the end, Breach and the pre-separation artifacts remain just a little too mysterious for my taste. Minor quibble.
I like procedural crime fiction. I like alternate universe (but set otherwise contemporary) SF. This was a sweet mash-up of those two genres plus the author's unique stamp on it all.
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LibraryThing member Smiler69
Inspector Tyador Borlu, who lives in the rundown East European city of Beszel is called in when a young unidentified woman if found murdered. Borlu has lived his whole life in Beszel and has therefore been deeply programmed to "unsee" the other city, Ul Qoma, which occupies virtually the same
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physical space, but has a completely different economy, customs, ways of dressing and language. When it appears that the young woman might have been murdered in one city and dumped into the other, Borlu must "travel" to Ul Qoma to work closely with their own police force, but in preparation for his trip he must first undergo training to insure he can "unsee" his hometown of Beszel while he is staying in Ul Qoma. Quite a mind twister, but a fascinating story which puts into question questions of identity and the amount of programming we are all subjected to in order to conform to the order prescribed by the powers that be. China Miéville is known for exploring different genres with each novel, and here he does the Noir criminal mystery genre with a twist very well indeed. My first Miéville and certainly not my last. Show Less
LibraryThing member MyopicBookworm
It is hard to tag this book with any genre label, as it crosses so many borders. The blurb accurately invokes Philip K. Dick as a comparison, though the eastern European urban setting reminded me curiously of the Turkish city in Orhan Pamuk's "Snow", with its complex social relationships and
I wasn't sure if I'd get on with it, coming to it with mixed feelings about the author's collection of stories "Looking for Jake". This book was no more "steampunk" than that one, but by about page 40 I was hooked, and it soon became the sort of novel that was hard to put down. Excellently structured and paced, with a style of prose I enjoyed reading, and with a satirical edge never far below the surface.
MB 28-xi-2010
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shadowy bureaucracy. It feels as though it would read well as a crime story even without the bizarre mechanics of the setting which make the whole plot work. The city/city of the title is, when you stop to think about it, quite implausible, but Mieville can make you believe that it is possible.I wasn't sure if I'd get on with it, coming to it with mixed feelings about the author's collection of stories "Looking for Jake". This book was no more "steampunk" than that one, but by about page 40 I was hooked, and it soon became the sort of novel that was hard to put down. Excellently structured and paced, with a style of prose I enjoyed reading, and with a satirical edge never far below the surface.
MB 28-xi-2010
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LibraryThing member bjanecarp
This morning I completed the book called The City & The City, by China Miéville. As my regular blog readers may know, I generally read science fiction and fantasy novels. Miéville's work is no exception. It was published in 2009, and captured my attention immediately. It is no slouch in the
Locus Award for Best Fantasy Novel
Arthur C. Clarke Award
World Fantasy Award
BSFA Award
Hugo Award for Best Novel (tied)
It was also nominated for the Nebula Award the John W. Campbell Memorial Award for Best Science Fiction Novel. This post will be unlike many of my book reviews, because I would like to indulge my recent reading, and think through some of the ramifications of the work itself. Even if you generally skip my book reviews, I'd be curious to have you read this one over, and tell me what you think of Miéville's ideas.
I have read, or have tried reading, other works by this author, and soon discarded them as "not my style." He is known for his work in steampunk fiction, and "weird fiction", which is a term that's been around since the 1930s and HP Lovecraft's Chthulu mythology. City & The City was my first try at reading weird fiction, and I didn't find it all too weird. I have generally disliked steam/cyberpunk fiction because the worlds created within are generally dystopian, ugly visions of an alternate past or future. If I want to see ugly, I could find a congressman, or a local slum, and be just as depressed. I haven't got much time for that sort of thing.
In fact, The City & the City captivated me. Its premise reminded me a bit of a Twilight Zone episode. Miéville's book reads like a cop novel, a bit like Steig Larsson's Girl With The... series, in the European city-state Besźel (pronounced beh-ZHELL). Inspector Tyador Borlú investigates the murder of an American archaeol0gist. Besźel has distinguished because it exists concurrently with a second city, Ul Qoma, inside its own boundaries. the citizens of are taught from birth to ignore (or "unsee") the attributes of the other city. Ul Qoman shops exist alongside Besźelian markets; both cities have their own governments, trade agreements, and police force. The ultimate societal crime is for a citizen to notice (or "breach") the existence of the other city or its inhabitants. It is reminiscent of East/West Berlin, or of the Jerusalem of today. The rub, in Miéville's world, is of laws that were committed in either city's No-Man's-Land, where laws could not apply.
The question that constantly hovered in my mind was this: does this exist in real life? It's not a new theme for literature: almost 60 years ago, Ralph Ellison wrote The Invisible Man, which touched hesitantly at some 0f these themes, speaking of the plight of those growing up African-American in a "white" society. So, who do we notice on a day-to-day basis? Who do we ignore? I don't know how many times, on city streets, or in airports, I've turned a blind eye to homeless people holding out a coffee cup, asking for a coin. About 12 years ago, my family and I took a day trip to Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley, CA, to browse the bookstores, print shops, and coffee houses. When we finally located parking, my son Daniel shouted "Hey Dad, Can I have quarters for the bums?" My companions all laughed heartily at the cheek of my young son. The street is indeed busy with impoverished people, camping out at People's Park and in corners all throughout the avenue. Dozens of times per visit, we are asked for spare change. More often than not, we try very hard not to make eye contact with these people. We try to leave them "in their world" so we can continue on in *our* world--the one where I have money, and a mission to spend $30 at Amoeba Records, and maybe have some decent Thai food. Meanwhile, it took a three-year-old's prompting before I would open my eyes to the "other" Berkeley; the less-desireable one. Even today, I remain chastened when I think of that day.
It was an interesting read, with an interesting premise, and enormous sociopolitical and moral ramifications. Who do we unsee on a day-to-day basis? What, in our paths, do we ignore? I am sure has a story about the auto accident where nobody stopped, or that heart attack victim who died because everyone assumed someone else would administer CPR. Perhaps The City & The City is a wake-up our society needs today.
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field, having won the following awards:Locus Award for Best Fantasy Novel
Arthur C. Clarke Award
World Fantasy Award
BSFA Award
Hugo Award for Best Novel (tied)
It was also nominated for the Nebula Award the John W. Campbell Memorial Award for Best Science Fiction Novel. This post will be unlike many of my book reviews, because I would like to indulge my recent reading, and think through some of the ramifications of the work itself. Even if you generally skip my book reviews, I'd be curious to have you read this one over, and tell me what you think of Miéville's ideas.
I have read, or have tried reading, other works by this author, and soon discarded them as "not my style." He is known for his work in steampunk fiction, and "weird fiction", which is a term that's been around since the 1930s and HP Lovecraft's Chthulu mythology. City & The City was my first try at reading weird fiction, and I didn't find it all too weird. I have generally disliked steam/cyberpunk fiction because the worlds created within are generally dystopian, ugly visions of an alternate past or future. If I want to see ugly, I could find a congressman, or a local slum, and be just as depressed. I haven't got much time for that sort of thing.
In fact, The City & the City captivated me. Its premise reminded me a bit of a Twilight Zone episode. Miéville's book reads like a cop novel, a bit like Steig Larsson's Girl With The... series, in the European city-state Besźel (pronounced beh-ZHELL). Inspector Tyador Borlú investigates the murder of an American archaeol0gist. Besźel has distinguished because it exists concurrently with a second city, Ul Qoma, inside its own boundaries. the citizens of are taught from birth to ignore (or "unsee") the attributes of the other city. Ul Qoman shops exist alongside Besźelian markets; both cities have their own governments, trade agreements, and police force. The ultimate societal crime is for a citizen to notice (or "breach") the existence of the other city or its inhabitants. It is reminiscent of East/West Berlin, or of the Jerusalem of today. The rub, in Miéville's world, is of laws that were committed in either city's No-Man's-Land, where laws could not apply.
The question that constantly hovered in my mind was this: does this exist in real life? It's not a new theme for literature: almost 60 years ago, Ralph Ellison wrote The Invisible Man, which touched hesitantly at some 0f these themes, speaking of the plight of those growing up African-American in a "white" society. So, who do we notice on a day-to-day basis? Who do we ignore? I don't know how many times, on city streets, or in airports, I've turned a blind eye to homeless people holding out a coffee cup, asking for a coin. About 12 years ago, my family and I took a day trip to Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley, CA, to browse the bookstores, print shops, and coffee houses. When we finally located parking, my son Daniel shouted "Hey Dad, Can I have quarters for the bums?" My companions all laughed heartily at the cheek of my young son. The street is indeed busy with impoverished people, camping out at People's Park and in corners all throughout the avenue. Dozens of times per visit, we are asked for spare change. More often than not, we try very hard not to make eye contact with these people. We try to leave them "in their world" so we can continue on in *our* world--the one where I have money, and a mission to spend $30 at Amoeba Records, and maybe have some decent Thai food. Meanwhile, it took a three-year-old's prompting before I would open my eyes to the "other" Berkeley; the less-desireable one. Even today, I remain chastened when I think of that day.
It was an interesting read, with an interesting premise, and enormous sociopolitical and moral ramifications. Who do we unsee on a day-to-day basis? What, in our paths, do we ignore? I am sure has a story about the auto accident where nobody stopped, or that heart attack victim who died because everyone assumed someone else would administer CPR. Perhaps The City & The City is a wake-up our society needs today.
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LibraryThing member starryharlequin
My first Miéville. I loved the first half of this book and then it started to let me down a little--I still liked it quite a bit, though.
The book is a murder mystery set in an alternate universe Earth, and in two cities in particular, Besźel and Ul Qoma. During the first half of the book, the
As some of the other reviewers have said, the characters are a bit two-dimensional, but to be perfectly honest the characters aren't the point of this kind of book: it's setting and theme, Besźel and Ul Qoma and the use and enforcement of social codes. The city and the city are the main characters, and they are more than enough for me.
The book is a murder mystery set in an alternate universe Earth, and in two cities in particular, Besźel and Ul Qoma. During the first half of the book, the
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narrator, Borlú, focuses on the murder mystery, leaving the world itself as a fascinating background. Miéville drops a few (somewhat jarring) specific references to modern-day society in, and some of the other invented details are so note-perfect that you almost believe Besźel could exist, a slightly past its prime capital city somewhere in southeastern Europe. The exact nature of the cities begins as a tantalizing mystery; some of it is never solved, even though Borlú explains much of the inner workings directly to the reader as the story progresses. However, as the book goes along, the central murder mystery begins to take precedence in the narrative as well as in the mind of the narrator, and that plotline is not as interesting as the mystery of the setting. Among other things, it's much more predictable, so the book as a whole loses some of its novelty by the end. This was my biggest problem with the book--while the ending was satisfying, and overall still good, it didn't fully stand up to the imaginative and compelling beginning. The prose is gorgeous throughout.As some of the other reviewers have said, the characters are a bit two-dimensional, but to be perfectly honest the characters aren't the point of this kind of book: it's setting and theme, Besźel and Ul Qoma and the use and enforcement of social codes. The city and the city are the main characters, and they are more than enough for me.
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LibraryThing member freddlerabbit
In a sentence: what the book lacks in pacing, it makes up for in ideas and prose.
The City and The City is a noir detective novel, a fairly standard murder mystery in terms of the motive and murder itself. The protagonist equally could be out of a thousand stories - a detective who's seen a lot of
It's difficult to convey the ordinary details of this existence in a believable way - after all, the narrator would be so used to the experience it would go without comment. But for the most part, Mieville does yeoman work here; the murder itself crosses boundaries, and brings these acts into sharp relief.
I think the book is enjoyable mostly for the concept, and the way Mieville's writing brings a chestnut genre to life. I found it dragged a bit midway, and the characters and conspiracies are familiar ideas with new city dressing. You will likely enjoy it more if you enjoy these types of stories in general, and like to spin off imaginings from what you read.
The City and The City is a noir detective novel, a fairly standard murder mystery in terms of the motive and murder itself. The protagonist equally could be out of a thousand stories - a detective who's seen a lot of
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crime, but somehow manages to care that the job is done right. The twist is the location - Beszel, a European city that exists in the same place as Ul Qoma, often street by street and building by building. The two are separated by agreement and acts of will on the parts of the inhabitants who learn to "unsee" and unhear and unsmell their topological neighbors. A clever vocabulary is employed. It's difficult to convey the ordinary details of this existence in a believable way - after all, the narrator would be so used to the experience it would go without comment. But for the most part, Mieville does yeoman work here; the murder itself crosses boundaries, and brings these acts into sharp relief.
I think the book is enjoyable mostly for the concept, and the way Mieville's writing brings a chestnut genre to life. I found it dragged a bit midway, and the characters and conspiracies are familiar ideas with new city dressing. You will likely enjoy it more if you enjoy these types of stories in general, and like to spin off imaginings from what you read.
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LibraryThing member Eyejaybee
Divided cities have always captured the attention. There are those split by a river such as Buda and Pest, Minneapolis and St Paul, or (perhaps on a less globally significant scale) Huntingdon and Godmanchester. Then there is the additional poignancy of those cities subjected to political or
'The City and The City' is a dazzling and unusual story, gives the idea of divided cities an additional twist., being set in the twinned cities of Beszel and Ul Qoma. These cities are merged - neither split artifically like East and West Berlin, nor by a river like Buda and Pest. Instead, both cities occupy the same physical space but, essentially but through the acquiescence of both populations (reinforced by the threat of severe compliance action at the hands of a clandestine force known as "Breach)", they are perceived as two different and separate cities. Indeed, each city is its own, separate city state, with its own government and foreign policy (Ul Qoma being the more prosperous), and passports and visas are required for legal movement between the two of them. As a consequence, although aspects of each city are constantly potentially visible to residents of either city, they all follow a policy of 'unseeing', in which they consciously fail to notice characteristics of the other city.
For each set of citizens any street or building falls within one of three possible classes: total, alter or crosshatch. "Total" buildings or streets are wholly within their own city; "alter" ones are wholly within the other city, and consequently not to be recognised or acknowledged; "crosshatch" areas lie within both cities and are accessible to the residents of both, though Besz citizens will deliberately "unsee" their Ul Qoman counterparts (and vice versa). "Unseeing" is relaxed to the extent that while driving through crosshatched streets the residents of both cities are capable of avoiding accidents with vehicles from the other city. But that is as far as it goes, legally. While no physical barriers exist, few people from either city are tempted to cross from one domain to the other because of their fear of the punitive measures that might be taken by Breach, the secretive body that polices the borders.
This all sounds seriously complicated, but it is amazing how quickly the reader accepts this background, and gets sucked into the plot which revolves around the investigation into the murder of an American archeology student, Mahalia Geary, who had been researching some of the deep-rooted political sensitivities within both cities (each of which has its extreme nationalist tendencies but also committed movements seeking formal unification). Inspector Tyador Borlu leads the investigation within Beszel but soon runs into unexpected obstruction from senior local politicians from both the nationalist and unificationist camps.
This novel works very well both as a straight detective story and also as a dystopian exercise (I don't think that "science fiction" is an appropriate term as all the technology involved is entirely contemporary). Mieville is particularly deft at offering little touches to add verisimilitude, and it is a long time since I have read anything as imaginative.
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religious division such as Jerusalem or Berlin, which has offered great scope to the novelist. The initial scenes of 'The Spy Who Came in From the Cold', centred on one of the bleak checkpoints in the Berlin Wall, encapsulate the grimness of the Cold War and allows John le Carre to deliver one of the most gripping openings of a spy novel.'The City and The City' is a dazzling and unusual story, gives the idea of divided cities an additional twist., being set in the twinned cities of Beszel and Ul Qoma. These cities are merged - neither split artifically like East and West Berlin, nor by a river like Buda and Pest. Instead, both cities occupy the same physical space but, essentially but through the acquiescence of both populations (reinforced by the threat of severe compliance action at the hands of a clandestine force known as "Breach)", they are perceived as two different and separate cities. Indeed, each city is its own, separate city state, with its own government and foreign policy (Ul Qoma being the more prosperous), and passports and visas are required for legal movement between the two of them. As a consequence, although aspects of each city are constantly potentially visible to residents of either city, they all follow a policy of 'unseeing', in which they consciously fail to notice characteristics of the other city.
For each set of citizens any street or building falls within one of three possible classes: total, alter or crosshatch. "Total" buildings or streets are wholly within their own city; "alter" ones are wholly within the other city, and consequently not to be recognised or acknowledged; "crosshatch" areas lie within both cities and are accessible to the residents of both, though Besz citizens will deliberately "unsee" their Ul Qoman counterparts (and vice versa). "Unseeing" is relaxed to the extent that while driving through crosshatched streets the residents of both cities are capable of avoiding accidents with vehicles from the other city. But that is as far as it goes, legally. While no physical barriers exist, few people from either city are tempted to cross from one domain to the other because of their fear of the punitive measures that might be taken by Breach, the secretive body that polices the borders.
This all sounds seriously complicated, but it is amazing how quickly the reader accepts this background, and gets sucked into the plot which revolves around the investigation into the murder of an American archeology student, Mahalia Geary, who had been researching some of the deep-rooted political sensitivities within both cities (each of which has its extreme nationalist tendencies but also committed movements seeking formal unification). Inspector Tyador Borlu leads the investigation within Beszel but soon runs into unexpected obstruction from senior local politicians from both the nationalist and unificationist camps.
This novel works very well both as a straight detective story and also as a dystopian exercise (I don't think that "science fiction" is an appropriate term as all the technology involved is entirely contemporary). Mieville is particularly deft at offering little touches to add verisimilitude, and it is a long time since I have read anything as imaginative.
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LibraryThing member GingerbreadMan
A fairly straightforward crime novel, but set in a city and a city quite unlike any other. Miéville himself tips his hat to Bruno Schulz, but there are also strong vibes of Italo Calvino here, of course. Miéville gives himself an extremely hard backdrop to work with here, but mosty pulls it off.
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The constant "unseeing" and crossreferring between the two cities does become a little repetitive after a while, but Miéville is as usual a master at describing a weird environment and making it seem strangely normal. Crime novels aren't usually my cup of tea, and I still kind of prefer Miéville to operate further from the mainstream, but this is one exciting book anyway. Show Less
Awards
Hugo Award (Nominee — Novel — 2010)
Nebula Award (Nominee — Novel — 2009)
Dublin Literary Award (Longlist — 2011)
Locus Award (Finalist — Fantasy Novel — 2010)
World Fantasy Award (Nominee — Novel — 2010)
SF Site Reader's Choice (2009)
SF Site Editor's Choice (2009)
John W. Campbell Memorial Award for Best Science Fiction Novel (Finalist — 2010)
Arthur C. Clarke Award (Winner — 2010)
British Science Fiction Association Award (Shortlist — Novel — 2009)
The Kitschies (Winner — 2009)
Nagroda SFinks (2011)
Ignotus Award (Winner — 2013)
Kurd Laßwitz Preis (Winner — 2011)
Grand Prix de l'Imaginaire (Winner — 2012)
Locus Recommended Reading (2009)
Los Angeles Times Best Books of the Year (Fiction — 2009)
Pages
352
ISBN
034549752X / 9780345497529