The Premise
New Crobuzon is at war with the city-state of Tesh, and the conflict is taking its toll. Inside of the city, a movement of dissent grows daily, and its participants discuss the prospect of change. A group of these dissenters set out in search of a piece of New Crobuzon's history that has been lost for decades, and may be a rumor or a powerful ally in a time of revolution.
In Review
Iron Council completes what China Mieville has referred to as his anti-trilogy. Both the phrase and the sentiment are amusing, considering that these books do not fit the usual characteristics of a trilogy. Other than sharing a world Bas-lag, whose very name is a suggestion of the weirdness that lives there and the fact that there are, thus far, three books, there is little to suggest a trilogy, or even a series.
Still, because of the early Bas-lag novels, the publication of Iron Council was met with high expectations so high that it is hard to write a review or critique of this novel without mentioning them. Since the release of the first Bas-lag novel, Perdido Street Station, China Mieville has earned a reputation as an excellent writer of high creativity. No surprise he deserves all the praise he has received. Both Perdido Street Station, and the novel that followed it, The Scar, are stunning works of fantastic fiction. Nor do I use that term lightly. Beautifully written, and filled with strange ideas, far-reaching themes, human characters, natural dialog, and mythic overtones, the Bas-lag novels stand out in a genre that thrives on recycled material. Reading either of these works for the first time is akin to discovering such books as Mervyn Peake's Gormenghast, Dan Simmons' Hyperion, or Umberto Eco's The Name of the Rose. Like these luminaries, Perdido and The Scar are both great fiction and brilliant literature. In fact, the application of genre tags or labels only hinders the breadth and scope of the work. This is good writing, period, and should be enjoyed without inhibition or a cynical palette.
Is this to say that China Mieville is a perfect writer, with no limitations or fumbles or shortcomings? Of course not. Even the two works mentioned above warrant a measure of criticism, and a careful reading of the reviews and reactions to these novels can uncover these minor notes in a chorus of praise. It is not necessary to offer a laundry list of these criticisms here: suffice to say that, among the delirium that Mieville's Bas-lag books have caused again, a powerful word, but nonetheless one that is not far from the truth there is a modicum of criticism that touches upon those elements in Mieville's storytelling that do not measure up to his obvious strengths.
The context of Mieville's reputation having been established enter his latest Bas-lag novel, Iron Council. Upon publication, reactions to the novel were immediate and resounding. Again, there was praise and satisfaction only this time, there was also a large measure of dissent ssounding in time. The momentum that Mieville had established with the earlier Bas-lag books stuttered, and a host of new opinions appeared; the sense of delirium softened, and in its place, an element of introspection was introduced. The earlier Bas-lag novels evoked surprise, delight, and frantic praise; Iron Council has provoked curiosity, questions, and another look at Mieville's work.
This should come as no surprise. Iron Council is a complicated novel, more so than the previous two. Since revealing a massive, new world in Perdido Street Station, Mieville has set a new challenge for himself with each new book; in The Scar, he introduced an epistolatory element, and a heroine stricken with ennui; and in Iron Council, he inserts a lengthy flashback in the middle of the story. He juggles two narratives, each taking place in a different locale. His writing has changed, moving away from the lyrical prose that characterized his first two Bas-lag books into a looser style that favors shorter paragraphs, the repetition of words, and terse sentences. A new sense of immediacy is present, and it continually points to a destination, as if every event is connected to a larger phenomenon.
This is no accident, for the story Mieville tells is large, and complex. Along with exploring the seductively mysterious world of Bas-lag further, Mieville examines a growing movement in New Crobuzon that disagrees with the way the government runs the city, and seeks to implement changes that will improve both their rights, and their standard of living. This is a far cry from the stories contained in Perdido Street Station - essentially, a monster tale or The Scar - which Mieville himself described as a pirate story. If the previous two Bas-lag novels are fantastic adventures, then Iron Council is a fantastic book of ideas. And like any novel of this type, the emphasis on idea threatens to interrupt the act of storytelling.
Such is the case with Iron Council. Gone is the dreadful presence of a sinister unknown that lurked within the previous Bas-lag novels; in its stead, Mieville instills a sense of purpose that overrides all other considerations. Put simply, Iron Council feels forced. The story follows an agenda, rather than consequences, and in its adherence to this agenda, a measure of spontaneity is lost. This agenda is to illustrate the dissent that results in a totalitarian government, and the course of a subsequent revolution. The government in question is, of course, that which runs New Crobuzon; the dissenters are those citizens that are unhappy with the methods this government employs, and the general state of things. Two revolutions are examined: one is static, in that it remains inside the City; the other is mobile, in that it leaves the City and its institutions behind, striking out for parts unknown, where the dissenters can follow whatever life they choose.
Whereas the previous two novels dealt with larger themes such as power, identity, ambition, order in society through the consequences of character actions, Iron Council is so reliant on theme, there are times that the story is forced to the back of the train (pun fully intended). The direction of the story is emphasized far more than the journey there. Thus, though some of the characters travel over parts of Bas-lag that have been here-to-fore unvisited, their pace is too frantic for adequate observation, their attitude too harried to allow for wonder or delight or even fear. As Mieville writes in the opening paragraph - They are always coming. So too are they always going, and rather than delving further into a fascinating world, the characters strain to escape it.
Considering who the main characters are in Iron Council, this too, is neither surprise nor accident. Mieville has a penchant an admirable one, at that for focusing on characters who belong to the workaday plane as opposed to the usual cast of nobility and heroes and chosen ones that inhabit fantastic novels and in his latest novel, he takes this inclination further. With only a few exceptions, every character in Iron Council is a laborer, someone who must work for a living, and get by in the city as best they can. The majority of these people are dissatisfied with the government of New Crobuzon, and take part in underground societies or collectives, if you will that discuss the possibility of change. As for the people who make up the eponymous Iron Council, they are only more extreme so much that they are publicly dismissed by the the New Crobuzon government, and secretly pursued by government soldiers.
All of these people are unhappy with the state of things in New Crobuzon, and this unease characterizes the mood of the novel. Already a barely hospitable place due to its rampant weirdness and mortal dangers, the perspective of these dissenters casts New Crobuzon in an ugly light. It is a mean city, run by an uncaring government that throws authority around at will. Those who want are hard-pressed to fulfill their needs; those who struggle can only continue doing so until death meets them, untimely or otherwise. Combined with a sense of culture shock that is far from cured after two novels, this negativity weighs the story down, compromising those elements that would otherwise be adventurous, imaginative dare I say, fun.
This is not to say that Iron Council is without its positives. There is, however, a noticeable lack of joy. Every victory is connected to a history of struggle; every desire experienced by a character cannot be easily consummated. Everything requires effort and no results are guaranteed. This is not fantastic literature in terms of limitless possibility or flights of fancy; it is a literature that stretches the rules of reality to fantastic proportions. At its heart, people are fallible and hardy, wise and foolish; life is short and exquisite, difficult and heady. There is realism at work here, and under Mieville's direction, it fleshes out the recognizable against a setting that is completely the opposite. In Bas-lag, the everyday exists with the strange, and for visitors which describes every reader this dichotomy forces another look at what's happening.
In Mieville's other work, this realistic element was far from being a shortcoming; indeed, the dialog, the social institutions in Bas-lag, the mixture of everyday effort with dangerous adventure all constituted some of his greatest strengths as a fantastic writer. Yet when this realism is applied to a story that is glued to an enforced agenda, it perpetuates a grim atmosphere. Coupled with the inherent complexities of the story, this makes Iron Council a challenging read. And this is an entirely new phenomenon in Mieville's work. Both Perdido Street Station and The Scar may have been challenging in terms of outright strangeness, yet they were effortless forays into high adventure; Mieville's storytelling was catching and everyone caught on, be they genre freak or literary high-brow.
Iron Council is not catching it is careening. Mieville exerts tighter control over the story than ever before, and with this resolute grip he hurtles it through the evolution of his ideas. Granted, on the one hand, it is refreshing to see this new element of control; both of the previous Bas-lag books suffered from unsatisfactory climaxes. On the other hand, Mieville enforces this newfound discipline so heavily, the story is constricted. The discovery, enthusiasm, and breathless adventure that characterize the other Bas-lag stories is restrained in Iron Council. Compared to its brethren, it is a difficult novel, an unhappy sibling, a complicated personality, a moody event that unfolds the way it must; adventure is secondary, discovery is unavoidable, and enthusiasm must make way for vision and haste.
Forced as the story may be, Iron Council is a remarkable novel. Mieville writes about characters that are usually employed for little more than support for a stereotypical cast of heroes and villains. He includes non-heterosexual relationships and sex without extra emphasis or effort; they are there, and in the context of the story, they are ordinary. He introduces the field of golemetry into the strange set of physics that dictate the world of Bas-lag, and his exploration of the subject is fascinating. The flashback by itself a novella he incorporates into the story is told in a different voice, and examines the consequences of colonization, the impact of industry on the natural environment, the dynamics of an abused work force. This may be a flawed novel, but it is nevertheless an ambitious one.
For that reason alone, Iron Council stands out. Just as its protagonists are unsatisfied with the state of things, so too does Mieville refuse to settle into the world he's created, and deliver one serial installment after the other. He has yet to retread any familiar ground, and if this latest novel is any indication, he not only will not he cannot. He does return to the city that readers fell in love with in Perdido Street Station, but it is not the same city; this is not the same story; and Mieville is not the same writer.
Given that, is the novel worth the effort that has been described? For the reader who appreciates challenging fiction yes it is. This is fantastic fiction that demands work, and Mieville rewards his readers with an uncompromising integrity that gives as much respect as it deserves. Under criticism, his work retains this honesty, and emerges as something unique, imaginative, daring, and most importantly, vital. This is not a diversion or an escape it is a novel that engages. This is a precious quality in fiction of any kind, and Mieville cultivates it well.
6/8/06
