The Etched City [Paperback]

Aussie author Bishop turns in her first novel, and what a first novel it is. The language in The Etched City demands to be savored, lingered over. It is beautiful to the point of astonishment. This is, basically, the fastest way to get a top review from me.

The problem being that when held up against such masterpieces of perfect prose as Walker's The Secret Service, Mieville's Perdido Street Station (to which The Etched City is oft-compared), or McCarthy's Blood Meridian, The Etched City suffers in one respect: pace. The first half of the book, give or take, is told at a leisurely pace, to be kind. (It took me over three months to make it to the last half of the book.) Bishop takes her protagonists, the gunslinger Gwynn (who bears a striking resemblance to a more cynical, lighter-hearted Elric of Melnibone) and the doctor Raule, through a few episodes in another land before getting to the city at the heart of the book, Ashamoil. Once in Ashamoil, Bishop takes her time setting up character, setting, and theme before actually getting down to plot. A few subplots are begun, a few episodes spun out (and The Etched City is very much an episodic novel, contributing somewhat to its overall sense of languor), but the biggest ball doesn't get rolling until almost two hundred pages in. If you love language, though, it is doubtful you will care; the book can be put down and picked up at various times allowing the reader to go on to more pressing matters and return at leisure.

Perhaps the oddest thing about the novel is that Raule, with whom the book begins, ends up being such a minor character in the general scheme of things. Once they get to Ashamoil, Gwynn quickly becomes the focus of the story, which cuts back to Raule now and again to ensure we remember she exists. Gwynn's main quests are involved in working for a tyrannical slaver, Elm, and trying to find (and considering what to do with) the artist of an etching Gwynn stumbles upon in the night market, an etching that contains him. When not hunting down sex or violence, he's usually involved in theological debate over dinner with a fallen priest, whose name we never know but who grows to be one of the book's most endearing characters.

Bishop's ability to draw characters, especially minor characters, puts her into the realm of such authors as McCarthy and Stephen King, much of whose reputations are based upon their ability to create memorable characters. Bishop can certainly be added to this list. The reader will be hard-pressed to forget most of Gwynn's band of cronies, especially Sharp Jasper and Elbows. Lovely folks the both of them. Really.

All in all, a good first novel that would have benefitted from better pacing at the beginning. Recommended for lovers of language and strong characters. *** 

Fans of Tanith Lee's Paradys series will feel instantly at home in the enigmatically beautiful and terrible world created by Bishop, where a lyrical weaving of details and unforgettable characters becomes far more important than an action packed plot.

If you enjoy atmospheric tales written with a distinct literary style, you'll definitely fall in love with this book.

Bishop's imagination soars. She presents vivid pictures of bizarre things and makes them tangible and real. Her descriptions are clear and detailed, allowing the reader to become engrossed in the world she has created.

My only criticism of the book is that its plot is so miniscule that it almost seems absent at times. There are long stretches where you almost feel like it is going nowhere at all, and it seems to meander around from one idea to another. Despite that, however, the characters and scenes are vivid enough to keep one's interest through to the end.