| Title | : | City of the Iron Fish |
| Author | : | |
| Rating | : | |
| ISBN | : | 0006476538 |
| ISBN-10 | : | 9780006476535 |
| Language | : | English |
| Format Type | : | Paperback |
| Number of Pages | : | 300 |
| Publication | : | First published January 1, 1994 |
| Awards | : | Tähtivaeltaja Award (2005) |
City of the Iron Fish Reviews
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Another 90's book that I missed back then and now regret missing, more for historic reasons than actual quality.
If
Hot Head was clearly cyberpunkish, this one seems to advance the New Weird, before it became mainstream.
Looking back, what was new then is commonplace now, and the main character is pretty unlikeable, but it dares to tread terrain that genre fiction seldom does, and at times it feels as if a young China Mieville is testing his skill with vocabulary. However those moments are rare and at times it is an uphill struggle to parse the conflicting views of Art presented in the book. It can get a bit unpleasant as well with some of the varied sexual encounters.
More recommended for its position in the chronology of modern Fantasy than its inherent merit, as it is quite shallow in characterization and motivation, and even on the description of the world (or city). -
Well... I am not completely sure what to say about this book. I bought it on sale yeaarrrss ago, since it was really cheap. And now I know why. The author is someone I had never heard of before and still haven't elsewhere. The name of the book sounds slightly silly and together with the Finnish cover I was SURE this is like a fantasy/speculative fiction book meant for teens or something like that. And reading the first part of the book felt like one, too. Not a very good speculative fiction book meant for teens, but anyway.
And then we skip on to the second part, and poof, there is gay sex. Later on rape, all other kinds of violence, death, disease, more sex of about all the kinds you can think of... But it was the first sex scene and a few mentions of dicks that made me quite sure I had bought this book under false pretenses. And I am now not sure if I had liked this more if I had known what I was getting into.
For some reason I don't think it matters much though: this book just wasn't for me. The plot was uninteresting and very slow moving considering that there wasn't even much happening. Or, well, there was, but not much of it had to do with the actual plot. The main character seemed to change just to suit the author's need to make him do as many different, low things as possible, rather than the character would've grown and changed because of actual, proper reasons, like in... well, good books in general. So, a very uninteresting plot together with uninteresting characters. Yeah, not my kind of book for sure.
The translation was quite good, even though I disagree with the translator's choice of penile nouns, but it might just be me, a woman, misunderstanding the way men, like the translator, talk about their body parts. I don't know. But anyway, the translation was a lot better than the quite childish cover of the book. Or the very uninformative Finnish blurb. Or the slightly silly name, both in Finnish and in the original English. Tthe writing style was quite nice, but it doesn't help when there the nice writing tells you nothing of interest.
Now I'm interested to see what the people of Goodreads who really liked this have said about this. As there is at least a few people that like just about anything. And I'm sure I hate a lot of books that everyone else seems to love. But geez. I'm just glad this wasn't longer. And even more glad I get to get rid of this book before I move, I would be annoyed if I had to move this for the Nth time. I really should stop buying books just because they are cheap. There is usually a reason why they are cheap... -
No my favorite Ings book, but interesting, ambitious, and very philosophical. Lower on magic than I was anticipating as well. More soon in proper review length (I hope).
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Read my full review at
https://sfbook.com/city-of-the-iron-f... -
A lot to enjoy in the rituals (echos of Gormanghast) and some nice existential despair but what I like most is the unexplained nature of the world, a la The Deep.
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'Brideshead Revisited' if written by Mervyn Peake.
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I gave up on City of the Iron Fish because the author used colons in a really irritating way:
My mother, pressing her finger to her lips for silence, motioned for me to stand outside: she went in and closed the door after her.
That is not how colons work, Mr Ings!
The first several chapters had dozens and dozens of colons: some reasonable, some not. The unreasonable ones were grating; they interrupted the flow of the writing, which barely flowed as-is. It feels odd to say this about a novel, but the rhythm of the writing was so halting and awkward I just couldn't put up with it. The poor prose (and awful colons!) turned me off about a third of the way in.
It's a real shame. The setting and the concept were legitimately interesting: a disquieting, ethereal city with its own odd traditions, situated part way into a deep ravine and with little-to-no contact with the outside world. The book's ambiance was spot on. Not much of a plot, sure, but I've loved many highly stylized books with little to no plot. (At the moment, I'm rather enjoying Dhalgren, which is exactly that!) This one just didn't work. At all.
I can't really complain though. I originally bought the book exclusively because I love the cover artist (
Jeffrey Alan Love)—and it lived up to my expectations, looking absolutely gorgeous from all sides. The fish-and-city motif continues around the spine and the back, looks stunning and brilliantly fits both the title and the content; it's not just design for design's sake.
It just turned out to be the sort of book that's far better closed than open. -
I mean, it's pretty clear that this is supposed to be allegorical: a city that changes form based on its citizen's prayers, surrounded by a border that literally drains trespassers of meaning or distinction, a clash between artists repurposing the past into new forms and nihilist grandmothers demanding that everything should burn, resulting in apocalyptic riots - it's imaginatively ambitious. Ing is writing about the artist's struggle, though I'm not sure who they're struggling with - reality? Ignorance? 'The Brutes'? I don't know. Ing's characters seem to choose artistic expression over staid ritual and (possibly) blue-collar stoicism, but art never saves them; instead, it leads them to insulate themselves in debauchery and excess, to varying disagreeable outcomes.
Maybe that's what he's getting at: a more meaningful existence can be achieved when one tempers artistic vision with a grounded perspective? That order and ritual need not be as stagnant as they seem, provided they incorporate flexibility and adaptation into their disciplines?
Huh. I'll have to think on this, maybe reread it in a few months. Regardless: it's a good read. I'd call it Victorian/Edwardian fantasy (I always get those eras mixed up), almost as if Edward Gorey's illustrations came to life. I look forward to more.
8/10 would def eat here again, as long as no one tried to stuff me into a bonfire. -
I really enjoyed the first half of this book. Thomas Kemp grows up in a city with a long history, but most of the people around him don't remember much of that long history. Only his father faithfully follows all the old rituals, and knows their meaning. Once every 20 years, there is a special ceremony which is supposed to enact change within the city. Only, in recent memory, the ceremony hasn't caused much change at all.
Reading this part of the book, you're filled with wonder at the unique city. How does this magic work? what do the old rituals mean? What does everyone mean when they talk about "the edge of the world" and there being "nothing beyond"? Literally nothing? What's the mystery here.
Thomas grows up, goes to school, learns some things about himself, makes some mistakes. Then he and his friend decide to go find the edge of the world. Most people can't understand, they just say "Why? There's nothing to see." When they get there, they do find an edge they can't cross. A magical barrier of some sort that strips meaning from existence. A person who steps through finds themselves transformed into dolls, a complex drawing that blows through becomes mere stick figures, and then scratches.
As you can imagine, finding this is the boundary around their entire world, one city, is fairly demoralizing, not to mention difficult to understand. Thomas and Blythe go back to their previous lives, both changed by the event. Its easy to fall into despair, knowing there is nothing outside of your city, and not understanding why.
This section of the book falls into heavy nihilism. There is no meaning, so why bother doing anything? Why bother feeling for anyone? Be passive. Blah blah blah. Thomas is an idiot and a bit of an asshole. The world around him starts falling apart. Riots in the street. Bands of crazy women dressed in black rove the city, killing artists, burning down buildings.
And somehow, 20 years has passed, it is time for another ceremony of the iron fish. This time, Blythe is chosen as "the fishmaker," an artist honored and selected to build the memorial of the ceremony. Thomas pulls himself out of depression, convinced that if they can just find the old secrets to the ceremony and perform it "correctly" it will fix the world around them.
And in the end, just when you're hoping for some sort of explanation, and the ceremony begins, and the world falls apart, the author starts in on a strange sequence that makes utterly no sense. A giant golem comes out of a doll Thomas sewed as part of a ritual in his childhood. The golem starts eating everything: eating the shadows, eating the "meaning."
And, suddenly, you're in the next chapter. Where the city is a new city, on an island instead of in a desert. And everyone that has died in the last few chapters is there in the bar, drinking with Thomas and Blythe. Why? Don't ask questions, the "world is still mutable." And Thomas and Blythe are going to go searching for the edge of their world again. Why? Because the world is still "mutable," and they might be able to get through. To what? And the book ends. No explanation. No resolution. No satisfaction.
My main beef with this book is that the author intended it that way. I am convinced that he wrote an entire novel just to get this one quote in:
There is, at the heart of things, no meaning. Meaning is a quality, not a thing in itself. It cannot be held in the palm of your hand. It cannot be distilled. It cannot be mapped. meaning is if you like, a half-opened door, through which one cannot enter. There is nothing of use behind that door, but it is the nature of living things to prise and pull and lever at that door, in the hope of finding - what? Another room, perhaps, and at the end of it, another door, teasingly ajar? Would we ever be satisfied? Would we ever cease to tug at those doors? Of course not! The meaning of our lives is that we lead them. The rest - my friends, my children - is ashes in the wind.
Insufferable navel gazing. An excuse for nihilism which is not nihilism? I prefer books where authors treat their characters as real people, not ones where they manufacture whole worlds and people just to get in some cheap philosophy at the end. It seems a bit lazy to me, he is using this as a metaphor for meaning, and as an excuse not to actually write a proper ending. Ah, you see, you human, you want me to provide a meaning for this world and what happened to the people in it, but you see, there is no meaning in meaning! The only meaning is our quest for meaning!
I get the feeling that the author had that quote in his mind, and backfilled an entire book just to use it. We're supposed to learn from Thomas, who even as a small child always wanted to know "why?" Who studied history to ask "why?" Who went to the ends of the earth to learn "why." And after getting depressed, being miserable, watching his world fall apart around him, is doing the same thing all over again.
The entire time, you as the reader are also asking "why?" And this author is way way way way too smug about wanting to say "haha, there is no meaning! Sucker, you read my whole book wanting to know why, but now watch as I impart this valuable knowledge into your head. There is no because, there is only why. I'm so clever!" No, you're just too lazy to write a proper ending, to actually create meaning, to supply reason. -
I found the pacing up and down but whilst that was a negative in an engagement way I dont think it was a negative to the story.
I liked how it ebbed and flowed like you would in life. I found the more the story built the more i enjoyed it.
I wont pretend that I was smart enough to understand the meaning of it all, but it did make me think. Even if I wasn't always sure about what exactly I was thinking about. -
A grubby & baroque journey through a familiar yet mystery-laden world and one of the many questioning minds formed within and by it. I enjoyed the journey, though the ultimate destination may not quite fulfil its promise for many.
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Didn't get very far into this before I gave up. I was just bored and I didn't like the way he kept misusing colons and just the general oddness of the punctuation.
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I have to say that this one wasnt what I thought it was going to be. I did finish it but I kind of didn't enjoy it.
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It's one of the worst books I have ever picked up. I could not finish it.
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Not since reading
Lewis Shiner’s first two novels have I come across an author who has changed style, content, and direction with such dexterity as Simon Ings has done between his first novel,
Hot Head, and this novel.
Hot Head was a proto-cyberpunk novel as if written by a young
J.G. Ballard with a hip adventure plot, but proved ultimately disappointing because the sum of it didn’t add up to the excellent nature of the individual parts. City of the Iron Fish, however, is a
M. John Harrison pastiche that deftly walks that same tightrope between fantasy and science fiction that only Harrison and
Gene Wolfe have been able to manage before. While the whole is still not as satisfying as the parts, City of the Iron Fish is an impressive achievement, made even more so by the knowledge that Ings is only starting his career. If people are wondering where the stars of the 90s in SF are, they need look no further than Simon Ings.
Thomas Kemp is the curious scion of a minor academic in one of the strangest cities to come along since Todos Santos or Gormenghast. The City reinvents itself every twenty years through an arcane ceremony involving the year-long creation of a sculpture of an iron fish, culminated by a processional feeding of the sculpture with bits and pieces of art, poems, and pamphlets created by the City’s inhabitants. What kind of city is this, with a huge bridge that spans a granite “river” upon which boats on wheels ply their trade, where gulls are metallic and must be fed by the populace, where nothing exists except for the city itself. What does it all mean? That’s Thomas’ question, and his attempts and failures at answering it make up the “plot” of the book.
The scenes and descriptions that are involved here rival some of
Gene Wolfe’s mysterious creations in The Book of the New Sun. Unfortunately, Ings isn’t able to draw everything together and provide an underpinning to the world that he’s created. While parts are most enjoyable, the plot doesn’t satisfy.
Ings’ first stories in Interzone carried a true promise of someone to watch, and he has yet to disappoint that prediction. I look forward to his next novel and the obvious leap in skill and content that it will have. Until then, City of the Iron Fish exists as a promise of even better things to come. -
Very good weird Victorianish fantasy. As I started reading it, it wasn't obvious whether the characters' beliefs about the world they lived in and the traditions they followed were "mere" superstition or actual reality, which was a wonderful brain-bender, especially as the characters started exploring that question later in the book.
In tone, it's similar to China Mieville's books, but with less politics and weird horror and more metaphysics. My only criticism is that the world feels hopeless and bleak (for good reason!), and that feeling kinda rubs off on the reader. I could have used a few bright spots here and there. -
Less magic than I was anticipating, a little slow at first and picked up towards the end. Very philosophical and begging the question "is there originality?" It left me wanting more.
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This is a fantasy of a closed-off world, maintained by arcane rituals which are falling out of favour and the public consciousness. As the city decays, its people are turned in upon themselves, creating, destroying and recycling in an ever-reducing spiral. Some want to revive the true essence of the rituals and bring the sustaining magics back to the city, while others want to burn away the closed existence entirely.
This side of the book is excellent, the knowledge that there is literal nothingness beyond the desert surrounding the city affecting its inhabitants in fascinating ways. The implications for the art and philosophy which underpin their lives (at least the "educated" sections of their society) are huge and are seen throughout.
However, this is also (probably mostly) a story of Thomas Kemp, an irritating and unaware student and artist who drifts lower and lower as the story progresses, leaving a trail of dead friends and family in his wake and ultimately scraping towards some redemption he barely deserves.
Kemp is self-centred, believing himself to be passive and without agency; to his mind, his actions have no consequences on those around him, only theirs on him. As he sinks further, his sins grow greater, from rudeness and neglect to abuse and rape. The writing is aware of the type of person he is and the reactions of the other characters highlight it, but I felt like it still asked the reader to sympathise.
And, to a certain extent, I did. The writing is great and illustrates the pervasive nihilism inherent in the city's situation. If you can stomach a story focused on the worst "that guy" from an art or philosophy class, then there is a big, emotional story which gives plenty of Art and Philosophy to think on while building to its world-revealing conclusion.
