Just a quick link to my review of China Miéville’s Embassytown in this morning’s Weekend Australian. As the review hopefully makes clear, I think it’s Miéville’s best book by some distance: brilliantly conceived, powerfully imagined, thrillingly fertile, and while I do think there’s a slight slackening in the second half, when the narrative frame opens out to take in the large-scale breakdown of the society it depicts, the first half is so good it hardly matters. All of which is a roundabout way of saying just read it, it’s fabulous.
If you’d like to know more about the book you might want to check out Justine Jordan’s profile of Miéville in last week’s Guardian, or my reviews of his last two novels, Kraken and The City and the City. And I know I’ve linked to it before, but if you’re interested you can also read an excerpt from the first chapter on the Tor website.
Just a quick note to say I’ve got reviews in both The Australian and The Sydney Morning Herald this weekend. The first, in The Australian, is of Michael Cunningham’s rather underwhelming new novel, By Nightfall. As someone who admires a lot of Cunningham’s work (especially his last book, the gloriously weird Specimen Days) I wanted to like By Nightfall more than I did, but in the end it’s just too finely wrought and exquisitely felt to ever quite come to life.
The second, in The Sydney Morning Herald, is of China Miéville’s Kraken. Some of you may have seen my review of the nominations for the 2010 Hugo Award for Best Novel a few weeks back, which talked a bit about Miéville’s last book, The City And The City, which went on to share the Hugo with Paolo Bacigalupi’s The Windup Girl. As I said in that review one of the things that’s fascinating about The City And The City is how thoroughly it expunges the glitter of Miéville’s earlier work, and in that sense Kraken reads like a return to more familiar territory for Miéville (if a writer as restlessly imaginative as Miéville could ever be said to have a “territory” in any meaningful sense). But it’s also a much more light-hearted and playful book than many of Miéville’s earlier books, a quality which is oddly disarming at first but which (at least to my mind) means the book never seems prepared to fully commit to its own existence in some deep sense.