A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies, said R. R. Martin in his fifth book about the same group of characters inhabiting the same functional universe, and I keep wondering whether or not it is at all worth sacrificing seven of mine to see his epic through to the end, when it will be televised by HBO anyway. I could easily spend that time exploring other worlds, other ideas and other stories instead of worrying whether or not Tyrion is going to get brutally murdered at some wedding (this is not a spoiler, at least not that I know of). The mere fact that I care about Tyrion and Danny and bunch of other characters (most of whom are dead now) is an undeniable testament to Martin’s craft. He found our literary g-spot and he is working it raw (albeit very slowly). God bless him for that. I hope he lives a hundred more of valve-time years and writes 15 more books for us. But as great as his series might be, it isn’t about anything in particular. Entertaining and captivating and heart breaking: yes. But new installments don’t necessarily explore many new depths.

Miéville’s fantasy series is different in that each book about something. Each one has a particular theme and set of ideas it tries to explore. While the setting is recycled, protagonists are not and so each novel comes with a new set of personal journeys and character arcs. Each book has something different to offer. Perdido Street Station was a fantastic steam-punk thriller with a really cool nightmarish monster, and a deliciously tragic story of a man (well Garuda but whatever) guilty of an esoteric crime seeking to escape the punishment he actually deserves via arcane magical science. The Scar was a pirate adventure story with a big treasure hunt, a larger than life sea monster, floating city and explored bizarre, exotic cultures. Iron Council is probably the most ambitious and the most literary installment in the cycle because it deals with a rather loaded topic: inequality and class warfare. It is a novel about revolutions and social upheavals.

The Book Cover

Perdido touched upon New Corbuzon’s corrupt political system, and The Scar did introduce the readers to the plight of the setting’s subaltern underclass: the Remade – men and women marked for life, and stripped of human dignity and human rights as punishment for crimes both real and imaginary dealt out by the ineffectual, corrupt and dysfunctional bureaucracy. Iron Council however brings these themes to the forefront and builds the story around them.

It wasn’t so long ago that young idealistic dreamers, united by their dissatisfaction by the growing wealth disparity and the progressing annihilation of American middle class went out on the streets and occupied Wall Street in a peaceful protest accomplishing a whole lot of not much at all. Iron Council’s Ori is one of such idealists who realizes peaceful resistance and activism and other ways of affecting change by working within the system are only effective when said system isn’t completely broken. He is tired talking about how bad things are and he wants to start doing something to change it. He seeks out and ultimately joins a fringe resistance group which seeks to disrupt and ultimately overthrow the government by force. And so begins his ascension through the ranks of New Corbuzon’s most infamous terrorist cell. While he thinks that their cause is just and while he finds camaraderie among his fellow freedom fighters he is plagued by doubts and appalled by the amount of collateral damage his group is causing.

Parallel to Ori’s story we also get to follow Judah Low, a restless adventurer and a master golemist who, spurned by the sad state of affairs and social unrest in New Corbuzon sets out on a journey to find the titular Iron Council. Said council is a New Corbuzon legend: a symbol of equality, solidarity and a big middle finger directed at the corrupt government. The city’s most ambitious railway project was hijacked when a group of low wage rail workers and remade slaves rebelled against poor work conditions, overthrew their taskmasters, defeated the City militia army sent to quell their rebellion then stole the train and much of the rails driving off to some unknown lands and creating a society of their own. It became New Corbuzon’s Tiananmen Square – an uplifting symbol to the people and a shameful embarrassment to the government which officially claims it never happened. If anyone can find this legendary secret commune, it is Judah Low because he was once counted among the council’s leaders and political instigators. He hopes that by finding council and convincing it to come back, he can help to unite New Corbuzon’s fractured underclasses and create a spark of an open rebellion.

One can’t help but notice that the novel is somewhat topical. The book was published in 2004, but Miéville seems to have successfully tapped into the global sense of dissatisfaction regarding the income inequality and accumulation of wealth and power that started to skew former democracies toward oligarchic like systems. That pressure has later erupted into events like the Arab Spring, the Occupy movement and myriad of other bigger and smaller inequality related protests. Reading the novel now, one can see that the author has extrapolated on these notions and created microcosm exploration of social upheaval brought about by crushing inequality. Granted, we are talking about a revolution in a steam-punk/fantasy pseud-democratic-but-not-really New Corbuzon here. A city populated by frog-men, bird-men, sentient cacti in which corrupt judges can order your left ass-cheek to be magically fused with an angry porcupine as a punishment for littering. It’s not like this is a strong one to one metaphor for something particular. But it does make you think.

It does put you in the mind of the people involved in such revolts. It does a great job showing both the hope and hopelessness of fighting against a seemingly immovable unjust system. And the ending is as poignant and as fitting the story as it is unsatisfying. But most importantly it is rather unique, and very different from all the other novels in the same series. It is probably the most mature of the three Bas Lag books I have read so far, and one with a most diverse cast of characters. It is one of the few SF/Fantasy titles I have read this year that features not just prominent gay but also bisexual characters. Especially that last group has virtually zero representation in popular culture, and especially in SF and Fantasy. So it is nice to see Miéville making bisexuality the least interesting aspect of a vibrant and dynamic protagonist such as Judah Low.

I think Iron Council is definitely worth revisiting Bas Lag universe, even if you are getting tired of the setting. I don’t know if this can be said about all Miéville’s books set in the universe but Iron Council was definitely not an attempt to grind that commercial sweet spot. Personally I prefer his one of SF excursions like City and the City or Embassytown but I must admit that this novel might be the most serious and thoughtful I have seen him so far.

However, in my honest oppinion Miéville shines when he is doing Science Fiction. I absolutely loved his The City and The City and Embassytown novels – both of which were smart, poignant and intriguing – much more than his trademark fantasy books.

The Scar, is another book in the New Corbuzon series – it takes place in the same universe as Perdido Street Statiom but it is not a straight sequel. While it references the events and characters from the first book, it has a whole new cast of characters and a new city.

You see, cities are essentially characters in Miéville’s literature. Perdido had the corrupt, dirty and diverse New Corbuzon. The City and the City had the “cleaved”, space sharing city states. Embassytown had… Well, Embassytown. He spends as much time describing and developing his cities as he spends on his heroes – sometimes more. The Scar is no different – it takes place in Armada – a floating pirate capitol of the world. And as such it is unsurprisingly weird.

The Scar: Book Cover

Do you remember that floating town from Waterworld? It’s kinda like that but times a thousand. It is a gigantic city-state composed of thousands of ships, rafts, platforms and random flotsam bound together into a huge metropolis. Ships are re-built and re-fitted as housing projects, gardens, factories and etc. It is not merely a pirate base but a fully functioning, self sufficient mobile city. It has schools, places of worship, universities, parks, theaters, concert halls, libraries and everything else you would expect in a large metropolitan area. While the city profits from piracy, most of it’s citizens are not actually sailors, and never live their floating capitol. In fact, only those who prove themselves to be loyal and trustworthy are allowed to sail the seas and pillage in the name of their home city.

You see, a large number of Armadans are not natives. While many were born there, more are “press-ganged” captives. Whenever Armadan pirates take over a trade ship, they execute high ranking officers and take the crew and passengers captive. They are then given lodgings and jobs in the city that fit their past professions and skills. They are not allowed to leave, but are otherwise free to live the rest of their life in the city, as long as they abide by it’s laws. For some – like New Corbuzon slaves and criminals “rescued” from being transported to hard labor camps, this is an improvement and they welcome their piratical overlords and pledge their loyalty to them.

Here is the thing about Armada: despite it’s compulsory citizenry, it is otherwise quite democratic and liberal. Instead of being ruled by some despotic pirate king it is divided into independent “ridings” – each with it’s own political system, militia and philosophy. There is a democratic riding, a theocratic one, one ruled by a merchant king, one ruled by a vampire who extracts a “gore tax” from his citizens and etc.. Citizens pay taxes and must abide by the decrees of the riding where they live, but are free to move at any time. Furthermore, Armada has no aristocracy and recognizes no class. All citizens are equal, and their position in the social strata is mostly based on merit. It is a place where vampires can openly walk the street without prosecution, and remade can become respected politicians or administrators.

While ridings quarrel, play political games trying to outmaneuver and out profit each other they never really stoop to physical force or military conflicts. While internally fractured and conflicted the Armada is unified against outside enemies.

Our protagonist is Bellis Coldwine, a New Corbuzon native who is running from the state Militia due to her ties to Isaac Dan der Grimnebulin (the protagonist of Perdido Street Station). Isaac is on the lam after the events of the first book, and the state is determined to find him – and so all his friends start to disappear. Rather than risk a close encounter with the New Corbuzon militia, Bellis leaves for the distant colonies. Her plan is to rough it out for a year or two, and then catch a ship back to her home city when things quiet down. Unfortunately, Armada expeditionary force boards her vessel, executes all the high ranking commanders and takes the crew and passengers as captives. And so she becomes an unwilling inhabitant of a strange alien city full of pirates.

And she is not happy. While the prospects of ever leaving the city look bleak, she decides not to give up. She is determined to escape no matter the odds. And the odds improve as she discovers there is something big and nefarious going on in Armada. There is something underneath the city – enormous structures tucked away under the hulls of major ships, camouflaged and obscured by hexes. There are legions of scientists building strange machines, and pouring over ancient texts, searching for something. The rulers of the Armada have some plan, but it’s details are hidden from the citizens.

The Scar has a colorful cast of characters, and reveals a lot of new and interesting details about the “Bas-Lag” setting. Miéville does a lot of world building, introducing new races, new lore and new mysteries to his universe. It is fun and interesting adventure romp. Unfortunately it is nowhere near as poignant and riveting as Perdido Street Station. Part of the problem here are the characters.

Bellis is just not as easy to identify with as Isaac. She is cold, calculating, selfish and proud. She is careful not to form attachments to people, and she makes a point of giving all Armadans the cold shoulder as an act of defiance. Compare this to the New Corbuzon scientist from the first novel who was driven by passion: he was passionate about his work, made genuine connections with his clients and always spoke his mind, even if it offended people. He was a crude, rude ball of passion – driven, ambitious and in love. Bellis is the exact opposite – she is aloof, detached and somber. The side effects are that for her, the stakes are never high. Bellis only cares about herself and so she is never really in danger of losing someone. And when she does lose people, she is more bewildered that she actually misses them, than distraught.

Other characters are no better. Uther Doul is essentially a superhero (or rather a super-powered henchman). Silas Fenec, a spy deals in deception too much to serve as a point of view anchor. The engineer Tanner Sack and his young friend Shekel are the closest we get to actual likable protagonists, but Miéville keeps them in the background and focuses mainly on Bellis.

Granted, you can make a cold, calculating and aloof character interesting. Take the TV-series Dexter for example: he is a bloodthirsty, emotionless sociopath. And yet, when put in a right social context and with right framing devices, the audiences can fully empathise with him. And while he may or may not care about his family, the audience does, and becomes invested in that relationship. The Scar just does not have that.

So to summarize: The Scar is much more colorful than Perdido Street Station, but doesn’t have it’s emotional impact. The characters are weaker, and less identifiable – especially the protagonist. None of the side characters has the pathos of Yagharek – the wingless Garuda exile, and some (like Uther Doul) even take on annoying Mary Sue qualities as the book goes on. It is a weaker book, but for what it’s worth, its still entertaining.

Perdido Street Station Cover

Why do I like Perdido Street Station? Because it is a strikingly imaginative and original book. A lot of times when you pick up fantasy themed steam punk novels (or steam punk themed fantasy for that matter) what you get is Victorian era London with some wizards, Dwarves and Elves forcefully squeezed into the setting. But Miéville’s setting is fresh, and unconventional. He could have easily build the backdrop for his story using the same, tired Fantasy/Steam Punk writers handbook everyone else seems to be using, but he decided not to. He did the opposite: he went out of his way to make his setting to be different.

For one, his New Crobuzon city is not London and does not really resemble it in any way shape or form. It is a sprawling, totalitarian city state existing in a bizarre fantastic world very much unlike Victorian England. The interesting point is that the novel is as much about the city itself as about the characters who inhabit it. Unlike many authors who treat their locations as merely backdrops for their stories, Miéville makes his fictional city one of the main characters. It is a living, breathing place with specific geography, unique architecture, it’s own micro climate and breeds of pests and rodents.

I’m not sure if you have traveled to many big cities – I don’t travel often, but I grew up in one. Each city I ever have visited had a different vibe to it – a specific feel and character. It was something that hangs in the air and permanganate everything. It’s the mixing of the slums culture, the exotic flavors of the foreign quarters and bazaars, the haughty air of the high end boroughs, the ever-present dirt, the smog, the smells, the bird shit on the statures – all of that mixing together to form a flavor specific to that one city. Miéville’s absolutely captures that in his prose. His description of the city’s architectural mess, and it’s people manages to convey this feeling quite clearly. New Corbuzon feels like a real place, while at the same time being outlandish, exotic and fantastic.

Second, while the city is inhabited by many fantastic inhuman races, Miéville avoids the standard Tolkienesque bestiary. You won’t find Elves or Dwarves in New Corbuzon and I’m thankful for that. Not that I have any problem with these standard Fantasy races – they are great for stuff like D&D where they provide you with pre-made character archetypes. But in literature, this often becomes a crutch. When you see the word Dwarf on the page, you already know everything there is to know about this particular character. You know he wears a beard, you know he is probably either a warrior or a smith, you know he loves beer and loud drunken singalong, you know that his favorite weapon is an axe or a hammer, you know he dislikes Elves and hates Orks, you know he is probably honorable and trustworthy fellow, you imagine him having a Scottish accent… The writer does not even have to say one word beyond “Dwarf” and you already will have a firm grasp at who the character is, where is he coming from, his aspirations, morals and etc.. At that point he either has to subvert this archetype, or reinforce it… Either way this is not the best way to create subtly nuanced characters.

Miéville went back to the drawing board and built his fantasy races based on an entirely different set of mythical beasts. He built his insect headed Khepri based on an especially funky member of Egyptian pantheon, his frog-like Vodyanoi on eastern European mythology, his flying Garuda on Indonesian folklore, and his Cactus people on… Fuck… I don’t know – cartoons of cacti with faces I guess.

The point is that these original races are blank slates without any cognitive baggage. They can be described as real people rather than single minded stereotypes. And that’s exactly what Miéville does. He takes a great care not to pigeon-hole his newly created fantastic races. He writes about their culture, their religion and customs but he never tries to define their personalities based on the race.

He lets them define themselves through their actions, the things they say and glimpses at their internal monologues. His characters are interesting and dynamic. They change, they suffer, they overcome adversity – they drive the plot forward rather than being driven by it. They are far from being some cardboard cut-out action hero stand-ins you often see in fantasy. They are not defined by their profession or archetype – they define it.

If you happen to be a fan of Steam Punk, you will likely enjoy this book very much. If not, you still can safely check it out just to see what can be done with this genre. It is thought out, very well written and original novel. It’s definitely worth checking out.