City of Saints and Madmen
Jeff VanderMeer's City of Saints and Madmen starts out so strong. The first three novellas are surreal and imaginative. They introduce you to the fascinating, frightening, and alluring city of Ambergris. Like all great cities, you're scared of it and drawn to it at the same time. The more you learn about Ambergris, the more intriguing it becomes.
I love how mushrooms and squid play such major roles in Ambergris' history and culture. After reading this, you'll never look at mushrooms the same again-- which is crazy and awesome. I've always been a little disturbed by mushrooms. I mean, don't you find it slightly creepy that a cute little toadstool might just be an adorable protrusion from an enormous fungal body lurking beneath the earth? Until now though I'd never really thought of them as sinister or, weirder yet, perhaps misunderstood.
The squid of Ambergris are also a huge part of the city's culture. They are the inspiration for the annual Festival of the Freshwater Squid. They also arouse a particular brand of madness known as squidanthropy, a disease in which the afflicted's desire to become a squid takes over the mind. Squid have even entered the realm of literature. VanderMeer refers to a series of Ambergrisian books about the Torture Squid, a band of juvenile delinquents who metamorphosed into squid-men but lost none of their thuggish ways:
So far, so good. Like, really good. So where does it all go wrong? I'll tell you where: the last novella before the appendix, "The Strange Case of X." In it, the main character, X, is an author who finds himself in an insane asylum because he believes the fictional city that he created (Ambergris) is real. VanderMeer's gone and written himself into it, which is an annoying self-indulgence, but even worse, it gives the reader no further insight into the city they now yearn to explore. In fact, VanderMeer the Character (X) whines about how everyone wants more stories about Ambergris from him. This kind of crybaby crap belongs in a personal diary.
The conceit carries into the appendix which is ostensibly a collection of papers X kept in the asylum. The stories are hit or miss, but admittedly my irritation at the whole concept for the appendix biased my reading of it. There are some real gems though, especially "King Squid" and "The Cage."
Here's hoping that the next tales of Ambergris are less poisoned by obnoxious onanism!
2008-12-01 23:44:57 UTC