Book Review | Borne by Jeff VanderMeer

“Am I a person or a weapon?” Borne asks Rachel, in extremis.

“Yes, you are a person,” Rachel tells him. “But like a person, you can be a weapon, too.”

A ruined city of the future lives in fear of a despotic, gigantic flying bear, driven mad by the tortures inflicted on him by the Company, a mysterious biotech firm. A scavenger, Rachel, finds a creature entangled in his fur. She names it Borne.

At first, Borne looks like nothing at all―a green lump that might be a discard from the Company. But he reminds Rachel of her homeland, an island nation long lost to rising seas, and she prevents her lover, Wick, from rendering down Borne as raw genetic material for the special kind of drugs he sells.

But nothing is quite the way it seems: not the past, not the present, not the future. If Wick is hiding secrets, so is Rachel―and Borne most of all. What Rachel finds hidden deep within the Company will change everything and everyone. There, lost and forgotten things have lingered and grown. What they have grown into is mighty indeed.

***

Following his triumphant trek through Area X in the cerebral Southern Reach series, Jeff VanderMeer mounts a more modest yet no less affecting expedition into uncharted territory by way of Borne, a surprisingly beautiful book about a blob which behaves like a boy and the broken woman who takes him in.

Her name is Rachel, and when she was little, she "wanted to be a writer, or at least something other than a refugee. Not a trap-maker. Not a scavenger. Not a killer." (p.37) But we are what the world makes us, and no poxy author would have lasted long in the world in which this novel's narrator was raised:

Once, it was different. Once, people had homes and parents and went to schools. Cities existed within countries and those countries had leaders. Travel could be for adventure or recreation, not survival. But by the time I was grown up, the wider context was a sick joke. Incredible, how a slip could become a freefall and a freefall could become a hell where we lived on as ghosts in a haunted world. (p.37)

There is hope even in this haunted hellscape, however, and it takes a strange shape, as hope tends to: that of "a hybrid of sea anemone and squid: a sleek vase with rippling colours" (p.6) Rachel finds in the festering fur of a skyscraper-sized flying bear called Mord.

She brings the titular thing, Borne-to-be, back to the Balcony Cliffs, a broken-down apartment building where she lives and works with Wick, her sometime lover and a secretive biotech beetle dealer who pushes a memory-altering product "as terrible and beautiful and sad and sweet as life itself." (p.7) Out of the gate, Rachel intends to give her purplish prize to him to pick at—but something, the beginning of some instinct, stays her hand. Instead, she places it in her room, and tries to take care of it.

"This required some experimenting, in part because [she] had never taken care of anyone or anything before," (p.17) but equally because her amorphous mass is a complete mystery. Certainly Wick has never seen its like, and having worked once for the Company, he has seen everything there is to see. To wit, Rachel treats this colourful clump like a plant to start; reclassifies it as an animal after it starts to move around her room; and then, when it shocks her by talking, she takes to behaving around it as she would a baby boy. She talks to him; teaches him; comes, ultimately, to love him—and he her in turn.

Book Review | Acceptance by Jeff VanderMeer

It is winter in Area X. A new team embarks across the border on a mission to find a member of a previous expedition who may have been left behind. As they press deeper into the unknown—navigating new terrain and new challenges—the threat to the outside world becomes more daunting. 

In Acceptance, the last installment of Jeff VanderMeer’s Southern Reach trilogy, the mysteries of Area X may have been solved, but their consequences and implications are no less profound—or terrifying.

***

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was... well. That'd be telling.

Because the Word was whatever you wanted it to be. The Word was possibility. The Word was promise. For in the Word was the beginning, to boot, and beginnings are simple. They're questions, essentially. It follows, then, that endings are answers. And it is far harder to answer questions satisfactorily than it is to ask 'em.

Acceptance is the end of the Southern Reach series, which began with Annihilation—with its countless cosmic questions. What is Area X? Where did it come from? Who—or what—created it? Not to mention: when? And why?

Readers are apt to approach Acceptance expecting answers, and they'll find a fair few, to be sure; Jeff VanderMeer does indeed complete the sinister circle of the Southern Reach series here. But when all is said and done, much of the mystery remains. Area X is, in the end, as unknowable as it was when we breached its impossible border at the very beginning of the trilogy. It has lost none of its promise. Possibilities still spring from its fantastical firmament. In the final summation, I can't conceive of a finale more fitting.

Book Review | Authority by Jeff VanderMeer

In the second volume of the Southern Reach trilogy, questions are answered, stakes are raised, and mysteries are deepened...

Following the disastrous twelfth expedition chronicled in Annihilation, Authority introduces John Rodriguez, the new head of the government agency responsible for the safeguarding of Area X. His first day is spent grappling with the fallout from the last expedition. Area X itself remains a mystery. But, as instructed by a higher authority known only as The Voice, the self-styled Control must battle to put his house in order.

From a series of interrogations, a cache of hidden notes and hours of profoundly troubling video footage, the mysteries of Area X begin to reveal themselves—and what they expose pushes Control to confront disturbing truths about both himself and the agency he’s promised to serve.

Undermined and under pressure to make sense of everything, Rodriguez retreats into his past in a labyrinthine search for answers. Yet the more he uncovers, the more he risks, for the secrets of the Southern Reach are more sinister than anyone could have known.

***

In Annihilation, the first of three novels in the Southern Reach series by Jeff VanderMeer, a party of unidentified individuals ventured into Area X, where they discovered—amongst other appalling alterations to that lost landscape—a tunnel, or a tower, and descended into its demented depths.

What they saw there, what they felt—the writhing writing, the lighthouse keeper creature, the impossible passage it protected—I don't expect to forget. Not now, not never. They have, however. They've forgotten the lot, not least how they ended up back in the land of the living:

Just like the members of the prior expedition, none of them had any recollection of how they had made their way back across the invisible border, out of Area X. None of them knew how they had evaded the blockades and fences and other impediments the military had thrown up around the border. None of them knew what had happened to the fourth member of their expedition—the psychologist, who had, in fact, also been the director of the Southern Reach and overridden all objections to lead them, incognito. (p.6)

In this way, as if the knowledge is insignificant—it isn't—the first of the unspeakable secrets behind the scenes of the Southern Reach series is revealed. Authority, of course, has many more in store. It's every inch as sinister and suggestive as its successful predecessor, in large part because of the dramatic departure it marks.

With the director of the eponymous organisation gone, if not forgotten—certainly not by her stalwart second in command, Grace, who in her heart of hearts believes her boss will be back, bringing a new understanding of the world in her wake—an interim leader is needed. Enter John Rodriguez, the "son of a woman who lived in a byzantine realm of secrets." (p.81)

That he calls himself Control after a malicious comment made by his gun-toting grandpa tells us all we need to know about this comprehensively confused fixer. Assuming his mission is to impose order upon this flailing organisation, he has his work cut out in any case, given that Grace sets herself against him from the first. She questions his suggestions, withholds essential information, accuses him of conduct unbecoming; she does everything she can do to undermine his authority, in short.

Book Review | Annihilation by Jeff VanderMeer

For thirty years, Area X, monitored by the secret agency known as the Southern Reach, has remained mysterious and remote behind its intangible border—an environmental disaster zone, though to all appearances an abundant wilderness. Eleven expeditions have been sent in to investigate; even for those that have made it out alive, there have been terrible consequences.

Annihilation is the story of the twelfth expedition and is told by its nameless biologist. Introverted but highly intelligent, the biologist brings her own secrets with her. She is accompanied by a psychologist, an anthropologist and a surveyor, their stated mission: to chart the land, take samples and expand the Southern Reach’s understanding of Area X.

But they soon find out that they are being manipulated by forces both strange and all too familiar. An unmapped tunnel is not as it first appears. An inexplicable moaning calls in the distance at dusk. And while each member of the expedition has surrendered to the authority of the Southern Reach, the power of Area X is far more difficult to resist.

***

A biologist, an anthropologist, a surveyor, and a psychologist venture into Area X.

Sounds like the setup for a joke, doesn't it? Well halt that thought, because Annihilation is no laughing matter. On the contrary: Jeff VanderMeer's first new novel since Finch is a nightmarish narrative about the fungus among us which trades in terror and tension rather than simple titters. It's the award-winning author's most accessible text yet... though there's a very real chance Annihilation will leave you with weird dreams for years.

So what the hell is Area X?

The government's version of events emphasised a localised environmental catastrophe stemming from experimental military research. This story leaked into the public sphere over a period of several months so that, like the proverbial frog in a hot pot, people found the news entering their consciousness gradually as part of the general daily noise of media oversaturation about ongoing ecological devastation. Within a year or two, it had become the province of conspiracy theorists and other fringe elements. (p.94)

But of course, there's more to the story.

At bottom, Area X is an anomaly; a treasure trove of the unknown. Our unnamed narrator—the biologist of the aforementioned four—describes "a pristine wilderness devoid of any human life," (pp.94-95) but this image, like many of the pictures she posits, is imperfect. After all, the Southern Reach has been overseeing trips into this treacherous territory for several decades. Annihilation, in fact, follows the fortunes of the twelfth such expedition to date... or so the agency tells its members.

They are women to a one, and they are represented throughout by their respective roles. "A name was a dangerous luxury here. Sacrifices didn't need names," (p.134) and that is exactly what they are—that is how some of them even see themselves—thus they are not people but purposes. Their mission: to map Area X. To explore and more in service of the Southern Reach's knowledge of the anomaly, though the agency may know more than it's willing to admit.

The Best Things In Life | Behold the Mountain-Man, Mormeck

Says Jeff VanderMeer, author of Finch, The Third Bear and co-editor - with his better half Ann - of what will surely be the definitive anthology of all things Weird, forthcoming from Corvus/Atlantic this October:

"I can't even really tell you where I got the idea for Mormeck, except that I'd been wanting to use the name for awhile and a still-born story with a character named that had gone nowhere. But suddenly I was looking at some random notes for a new fictional universe and I remembered the name Mormeck and then this Japanese comics character popped into my brain and I knew Mormeck was a huge, mountain-large creature with a laboratory resting atop his head. On a distant planet. Observing a hundred or more alt-Earths."

Well of course he was!

In fact, courtesy the staggering imagination of artist Mo Ali, here he is in the -- uhh... the flesh? I guess?

"The Journals of Mormeck" is a novella-length serialised story Jeff has been posting entries of on his blog, Ecstatic Days. I suppose you could call it an experiment - you would be right to - yet I think that would be to sell this awesome monstrosity short, because even the experiments of this particular author are of a whole different class than most.

I don't know how much longer "The Journals of Mormeck" is going to go, but I've been following along for a few weeks now like a good genre blogger, and day in and out, I've found it tremendously entertaining; grotesque, challenging, and stuffed full of ideas like an massive evil olive. For instance: 

"Inter-dimensional komodos. Sure. Luna moth surveillance devices. No problem. Being devoured by blood-thirsty bears as a way to travel between alternative realities. Yeah, baby! Angels resurrected from their own ashes. Absolutely!"

Moreover, VanderMeer's musings as to how the tale came about, and how it's evolved and continues to evolve since he made the decision to serialise it on the site, have been plum fucking fascinating. If you've ever wondered how stories are made - what happens when mummy narrative and daddy character love one another very much - you simply need to get up to speed on "The Journals of Mormeck".

Here's where you should start.

And once you're all caught up, the entries starting on June 25th on this page here pick up where the omnibus blog post leaves off.

Go on, now, and get reading. You won't regret it.

I mean it -- begone!

Coming Attractions | The Vandermeers Are Weird

This morning marked the arrival of the latest catalogue from one of speculative fiction's classiest new imprints: that would be Corvus, of course.

Corvus' release calendar through the rest of 2011 is wall to wall with stories worth getting excited about - they are legion, let me tell you  - but we've nine whole months to get psyched up for new Neal Stephenson, Dead Water by Simon Ings, volume two of The Chung Kuo, Daylight on Iron Mountain, and all the rest of 'em. Today, I want to talk a bit about a book I've been anticipating for what seems an age.

See, for myself, I adore a good compendium. And Weird looks to be second to none.

Have a blurb:

"From Lovecraft to Borges to Gaiman, a century of intrepid literary experimentation has created a corpus of dark and strange stories that transcend all known genre boundaries. Together these stories form The Weird and amongst its practitioners number some of the greatest names in twentieth and twenty-first century literature.

"Weird features an all star cast of authors, from classics to international bestsellers to Booker prize winners. Here are Ben Okri, George R.R. Martin and Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Angela Carter and Kelly Link, Franz Kafka and China Miéville, Clive Barker and Haruki Murakami, M.R. James and Neil Gaiman, Mervyn Peake and Michael Chabon. 

"Exotic and esoteric, Weird plunges you into dark domains and brings you face to face with surreal monstrosities; you won’t find any elves or wizards here. These are the boldest and most downright peculiar stories from the last hundred years bound: the biggest Weird collection ever assembled."

The Vandermeers have been years putting this behemoth together, teasing it from time to tantalising time over at Ecstatic Days. Elsewhere too, I'm sure. And it's no coincidence that Weird has been so long in the making. I don't imagine Ann and Jeff Vandermeer are anthologists at all prone to taking no for an answer, and with Weird clocking it at "much longer" than 800 pages in TPB and so boundlessly ambitious as to aim, as per the pitch, to present a comprehensive taxonomy of the old weird, the new weird and the plain weird... my point, I think, bears out.

Weird is set to be a definitive exploration of all that the weird has to offer. And no, I don't give a hoot that some somebodies somewhere have decided the weird is dead. It isn't to me. Surely my anticipation for this one compendium to rule them all speaks to that.

Perhaps it's a fools errand to get so worked up about it when there's still five more months to go before I can lay hands on the blasted thing... but damn. Just look at all those pretty contributors: imagine China Mieville, bookended by George R. R. Martin on the one side and Haruki Murakami on the other!

A beautiful thing, no?

Weird, edited by Ann and Jeff Vandermeer, will be along from Corvus in October. And not a moment too soon.

###

For all those asking, here's a link to an image of the Special Edition's listing in Corvus' new catalogue. With pricing, format details - even a touch of tentacle humour! :)

News Flashing | A Return to Ambergris

You all have Ecstatic Days bookmarked, right?

Trip into this, pot-heads.

Thoughtful and provocative, Jeff Vandermeer's blog has been a bastion of fascination for me for as long as I've followed the speculative scene - such as it is. And from time to time, the gentleman even clues us in on what we've got to look forward to in the months and years to come.

Because he writes the books too, you know. Finch, anyone? Stunning stuff. Worthy of all the superlatives I - amongst many others - bestowed upon it what feels to me uncountable aeons ago.

Anyway.

Finch was the third novel in the Ambergris cycle - after City of Saints and Madmen and Shriek: An Afterword - and it also purported to be the last feature-length narrative set in Vandermeer's singular, spore-ridden setting. Much to my upturned bottom lip, I might add.

Well, it gives me great pleasure to inform you lovely lot - should you have missed the announcement on Ecstatic Days a few days ago - that my lower lip trembles no more: there's to be another Ambergris novel, after all. Untitled, as far as we mere mortals know, and a long ways off as yet - Jeff says in the comments that he's "got two or three [other] novels to write first" - still, it was enough to make me a moderately happy chappy this New Year. A turn-up for the books, I'm telling you!

Be warned, going forward: spoilers regarding the events of Finch abound. But to whet your appetites alongside mine, here's the pitch, in full:

Five years after Finch...

Stark lives on... inside his brother Bosun’s head. In the wake of the chaos of the Lady in Blue’s attack, Bosun’s thugs have annexed the Spit and a large section of territory near it, bolstered by captured gray cap weapons.

The gray caps have retreated to the HFZ, launching periodic attacks. Their main enemies internally are Partials immune to their spores—driven out by the rebels and rejected by the gray caps. Their only chance is to reclaim the HFZ, or part of it.

Sintra has risen through the ranks and has a hand in the decision-making of the native tribes enclave in the religious quarter, which has spread beyond, to the edge of Bosun’s territory.

The rest of the city is controlled by the Lady in Blue, whose transformed rebels exist in uneasy alliance with "pures" – those who did not come through the gate. Both factions are riven through with the ghost of Hoegbotton-Frankwrithe rivalries. The remnants of the Nimblytod and Dogghe tribes that control the religious quarter have been told to assimilate with the rebel forces for the common good. They’re having none of it, but have held back waiting for the Lady in Blue to die and the rebels to implode.

Rumor has it that John Finch is blind now, victim of a wasting disease that has him confined to a wheelchair in a room somewhere in Rathven’s ever-growing underground tunnels. And Rathven? Who knows. There are more rumors about her now than there once were about the Lady in Blue. But the Photographer has been sighted recently, back in town.

Out in the bay: the ruins of the two towers, reduced by fire following the rebel attack. And something still hidden there.

Out in the bay: a single boat, late at night. A man, Bliss, who is not a man. More doors opening. All over the city.

What is coming out of them?

Bliss: "It’s a very long game, Sintra. Longer than you or anyone could possibly imagine…so why don’t you put the gun down, hmm?"

Whatever this is, it's due sometime in 2013 or 2014. The far-flung future, right?

Well. It can't come soon enough.

Book Review: Finch by Jeff Vandermeer

Buy this book from

Amazon.co.uk / Amazon.com

IndieBound / The Book Depository

"Tasked with solving an impossible double murder, detective John Finch searches for the truth among the rubble of the once-mighty city of Ambergris. Under the rule of the mysterious gray caps, Ambergris is falling into anarchy. The remnants of a rebel force are demoralised and dispersed, their leader, the Lady in Blue, not seen for months. Partials - human traitors transformed by the gray caps - walk the streets brutalising the city's inhabitants. Finch's partner Wyte, stricken with a fungal disease, is literally disintegrating. And strange forces are marshaling themselves against detective Finch even as he pursues his one clue: the elusive spymaster Ethan Bliss. How much time does Finch have before time itself runs out?"

***

At long last: Finch. Nearly a year since its publication in the States, the Locus nominee has come to bookstores closer to home, courtesy of stellar new Atlantic Books imprint Corvus. I don't often dwell on something so tertiary as cover art in my reviews, but the original Underland Press edition came adorned with a truly remarkable piece of work by John Coulthart at once spectacular and stark - a startling and indeed award-winning composition that perfectly captured the fungal wonders of the city of Ambergris a century after the events of Shriek: An Afterword. A new edition means a new cover, of course, and it gives me great pleasure to say the new art nearly equals the darkly fantastic charm of the old. Corvus have traded Finch's grimy noir looks for a hallucinatory fusion of colour that brings David Mitchell's Cloud Atlas to mind, with fiery organic pinks set against the faded blues of the industry the grey caps have overpowered. The gorgeous cover is but the first thing about Finch that will take your breath away; far, far from the last.

Six years ago, the gray caps swallowed an Ambergris already decimated by decades of petty civil strife. With the city weakened and its people hopelessly divided, the mushroom monstrosities that had colonised the cave systems beneath the great state rose up to rule over the citizens. Now, those who survived through the unspeakable horrors of The Rising live in a state of perpetual paranoia: there is something for them to fear around every corner, some terrible consequence of the fungal invasion on every street, every building, every person.

Ambergris has become a vibrant city of red, green and gold; purplish hues and dirty spatters of all the lurid shades of an artist's palette have infiltrated its every aspect in spore form. Certainly it's a more colourful locale than one might recall from City of Saints and Madmen, but for all that the urban landscape has been enlivened as a perverse by-product of the grey caps' attack, The Rising has also leeched the life from the once bustling metropolis of Ambergris. The ruined city detectives Finch and Wyte once swore to protect no longer takes much notice of a missing person, another moldering body. There is little in the way of law left for them to uphold, and no order but that which the grey caps impose for their own ominous purpose.

Finch has as its primary narrative thrust the titular detective's investigation into two dead bodies in a seedy apartment: a man and half of a dismembered mushroom who have looked mortality in the eye and found themselves unequal to its awful answer. It's not long, however, before Finch finds out that there is a much greater mystery afoot, and his subsequent discoveries soon come to threaten everything he holds dear. His lover and his life, his friends and his family are all at stake; and of course, his city, Ambergris entire.

As per usual, World Fantasy Award-winner Jeff Vandermeer spins a terrific yarn. There's a sense of inevitability to everything Finch sees, says and does, an inexorable forward motion that sustains the narrative all the way through to its brilliant cosmic climax. Few characters beyond the protagonist and his increasingly fungal father-figure Wyte are explored to any great extent, but many of those who appear only occasionally are able nevertheless to haunt the text in an extraordinary sense. Rathven, the enigmatic photographer, Heretic and one particularly sickening partial often lurk between the lines - even in their absence.

Singularly the most memorable character of Finch, however, is Ambergris itself. While I found the city struggling to establish a clear identity in Vandermeer's previous fiction, it is much changed in Finch, and the change has rendered it a spectacular marvel of wonder and horror.

Some readers will be disoriented by Vandermeer's sparse, clipped prose, but once they're able to acclimatise to its unusual, article-less rhythm and flow, Finch becomes an unforgettable experience akin to a darkly lucid dream. As one abrupt sentence follows another you come to realise that the curious, not quite stream-of-consciousness narration represents the disconnection between detective Finch and his city, the hard line he has drawn between his past and the terrible reality of the present. Furthermore, it emphasizes the isolation of Ambergris itself from the world surrounding it.

Vandermeer's distinctive storytelling device will surely discourage many attempts to summit the great narrative heights Finch eventually scales, but this is a novel made greater by the effort you must expend to fully appreciate it. It is assuredly the best of the three tales of Ambergris Vandermeer has told to date - high praise in itself - and despite a few unfortunate call-backs to the events of Shriek: An Afterword, this twisting hallucinatory fusion of tropes and traits stands well enough on its own that readers interested in any species of great genre fiction will find much about Finch to love.

***

Finch

by Jeff Vandermeer

August 2010, Corvus

Buy this book from
Amazon.co.uk / Amazon.com
IndieBound / The Book Depository

Recommended and Related Reading

 

Thou Shalt Not Covet Thy Neighbour's Hugo

I've been quiet on the award nominations and shortlists that have been such a hot topic across the blogosphere these past few weeks. It's not that I haven't read any of the contenders, but I haven't read all of them, and short of reposting a list of the nominees, without that base of knowledge I don't know I'd be doing anyone any good by expressing an uninformed opinion.

That said, an awards-related post that went up on Jeff Vandermeer's blog Ecstatic Days yesterday struck me as somewhat telling. Full the whole kit and caboodle, go here. But this is the part that interests me:

"...a few people expressed condolences that Finch wasn’t on the Hugo finalist list. That’s very kind, but not only do I not expect to be on any list, ever, I do not lobby for awards (why would you want something you can influence like that?), and I do not set my goals for success around them, although this isn’t meant as a repudiation of awards. Still, if you need proof of how in the long-term awards don’t always matter much, and I’ve been up for my share of them, City of Saints didn’t win anything it was up for and is in print and remembered far more than many other award-winning books of the period. It’s nice to be up for an award, but it shouldn’t be an expectation (indeed, my fiction has never been up for a Hugo and I’m doing just fine). I am thrilled to be up for a Nebula, would’ve been thrilled for a Hugo or anything else, but not getting something that’s a perk is like crying about not having chocolate sprinkles on your ice cream. And being too wrapped up in stuff like that is detrimental to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. The work is the important thing, and making the work as good as humanly possible is the goal."

Now correct me if I'm wrong here, but that sure sounds like sour grapes to me. For the sake of coherence, let's leave to one side the somewhat dubious argument that City of Saints and Madmen is "remembered more than many other award-winning books of the period." Not to be reductive, but Vandermeer's essentially saying that the only reason Finch isn't on the shortlist is because he didn't lobby for it to be. Now I loved Vandermeer's last Ambergris novel - read the full review here to see just how much - and in my opinion, it's certainly more deserving of a place amongst the finalists than the likes of Cherie Priest's Boneshaker, which was fun, don't misunderstand me, in a pulpy, steampunk Stephen King sort of way, but hardly revelatory in the mode of Finch - nor The Windup Girl and The City and The City; which is to say, the other best novel candidates I've read.

But the notion that bother me is that had Vandermeer tried to get Finch on the list, it would be on the list. And I ask you, internet: is that true? Are the Hugos really so easily swayed? Or is Vandermeer just miffed about the oversight?

>>> EDIT TO REFLECT THAT: Popular opinion has deemed this post accusatory, and were it not for the likelihood that some readers would accuse me of backpedalling, I'd gladly reword anything that suggests I genuinely believe Jeff is being elitist or disingenuous. That was not the plan at all. I was, of course, stirring the pot a bit, but I'd meant for the spillage to fall on the Hugos; to engender discussion about how, despite their perceived importance, they're basically the American Idol equivalent of more considered awards, awards less about how thoroughly one author has pimped their qualifying novel over the others and more about objective merit. Bottom line, though, is - as one anonymous commenter observed - I "failed miserably" at that. Apologies to Jeff if I've caused any offense, and indeed I'd extend my regrets to anyone who took what I'd intended to be interesting questions as out-and-out insults. I do not mean to be the Daily Mirror.

Book Review: Finch by Jeff Vandermeer

[Buy this book from

Amazon in the US]

"Tasked with solving an impossible double murder, detective John Finch searches for the truth among the rubble of the once-mighty city of Ambergris. Under the rule of the mysterious gray caps, Ambergris is falling into anarchy. The remnants of a rebel force are demoralised and dispersed, their leader, the Lady in Blue, not seen for months. Partials - human traitors transformed by the gray caps - walk the streets brutalising the city's inhabitants. Finch's partner Wyte, stricken with a fungal disease, is literally disintegrating. And strange forces are marshaling themselves against detective Finch even as he pursues his one clue: the elusive spymaster Ethan Bliss. How much time does Finch have before time itself runs out?"

***

The first thing about Finch that will strike you - the first touch of the blackness ahead that will leave you staggered - is the heartbreakingly beautiful cover art by John Coulthart. At once spectacular and grimy, stark and yet colourful, his startling composition perfectly captures the contrasting aspects of the city of Ambergris a century after the events of Shriek: An Afterword. And Coulthart's incredible illustration is but the first thing to take your breath away; far, far from the last.

Six years before the events chronicled in Finch, the gray caps swallowed an Ambergris already decimated by decades of petty civil strife. With the city weakened and its people hopelessly divided, the mushroom monstrosities that had colonised the cave systems beneath the great hallucinatory state rose up to rule over the citizens. Now, those who survived through the unspeakable horrors of The Rising live in a state of perpetual paranoia: there is something for them to fear around every corner, some terrible consequence of the fungal invasion on every street, every building, every person.

Ambergris has become a vibrant city of red, green and gold; purplish hues and dirty spatters of all the lurid shades of an artist's palette have infiltrated its every aspect in spore form. Certainly it is a more colourful locale than one might recall from City of Saints and Madmen, but for all that the urban landscape has been enlivened as a perverse by-product of the grey cap's attack, The Rising has also leeched the life from the once bustling metropolis of Ambergris. The ruined city detectives Finch and Wyte once swore to protect no longer takes much notice of a missing person, another moldering body. There is little in the way of law left for them to uphold, and no order but that which the grey caps impose for their own ominous purpose.

Finch has as its primary narrative thrust the titular detective's investigation into two dead bodies in a seedy apartment: a man and half of a dismembered mushroom who have looked mortality in the eye and found themselves unequal to its awful answer. It's not long, however, before Finch finds out that there is a much greater mystery afoot, and his subsequent discoveries soon come to threaten everything he holds dear. His lover and his life, his friends and his family are all at stake; and of course, his city, Ambergris entire.

As per usual, World Fantasy Award-winner Jeff Vandermeer spins a terrific yarn. There's a sense of inevitability to everything Finch sees, says and does, an inexorable forward motion that sustains the narrative all the way through to its brilliant cosmic climax. Few characters beyond the protagonist and his increasingly fungal father-figure Wyte are explored to any great extent, but many of those who appear only occasionally are able nevertheless to haunt the text in an extraordinary sense. Rathven, the enigmatic photographer, Heretic and one particularly sickening partial often lurk between the lines - even in their absence.

Singularly the most memorable character of Finch, however, is Ambergris itself. While I found the city struggling to establish a clear identity in Vandermeer's previous fiction, it is much changed in Finch, and the change has rendered it a spectacular marvel of wonder and horror.

Some readers will be disoriented by Vandermeer's sparse, clipped prose, but once they're able to acclimatise to its unusual, article-less rhythm and flow, Finch becomes an unforgettable experience akin to a darkly lucid dream. As one abrupt sentence follows another you come to realise that the curious, not quite stream-of-consciousness narration represents the disconnection between detective Finch and his city, the hard line he has drawn between his past and the terrible reality of the present. Furthermore, it emphasizes the isolation of Ambergris itself from the world surrounding it.

Vandermeer's distinctive storytelling device will surely discourage many attempts to summit the great narrative heights Finch eventually scales, but this is a novel made greater by the effort you must expend to fully appreciate it. It is assuredly the best of the three tales of Ambergris Vandermeer has told to date - high praise in itself - and despite a few unfortunate call-backs to the events of Shriek: An Afterword, this twisting hallucinatory fusion of tropes and traits stands well enough on its own that readers interested in any species of great genre fiction will find much about Finch to love.

***

Finch

by Jeff Vandermeer

November 2009, Underland Press: Oregon.

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