I read Lanark for the first time when I was about 18 and it took my breath away, and, having just turned the last page again this time 20 years later, I still feel the same way.

The novel contains interwoven narratives touching on society, politics and religion in a blend of autobiography and fantasy that took Gray 25 years on and off to put together. Gray's writing is similar in style to his artwork (I think it reads like a painting), full of rich detail, imagery and allergory. The book blurb mentions Hieronymus Bosch and I think that's pretty apt.

The only flaw I can find in the novel is that it is too rich. There are so many ideas crammed into the pages that it could have easily been split into two or more novels. Having said that I think it is a work of genius, even if slighly flawed. ( )

Creative pot of realism and fantasy, salted with science fiction, an apocalyptic coming-of-age story ( )

It's not easy to describe this book. Half of it (the middle half) is a semi-autobiographical tale of a young artist growing up in Glasgow and trying to make his mark on the world, but failing partly because of his unique vision and partly because his difficulty understanding and engaging with other people. This is embedded in a book about the same man in a science fiction style dystopian futuristic universe, with flashes of (rather unsubtle) satire about the contradictions and shortcomings of global capitalism.

I wasn't sure whether I was meant to sympathise with the main character and dislike the people (mainly women) who criticise his personality, or whether they were meant to be throwing light on his nature. And - although I enjoyed reading it - I never really wanted to pick it up.

I think in the end the overwhelming (literally!) thing for me was that there was just too much in the book. The middle sections, where Thaw is struggling to contain the art he wants to express into a manageable format, were fascinating - I could imagine it was almost a narrative about how the book in my hands was being written.

The problem was that I started to feel that Gray didn't trust his readers - he had to put in everything, and explain as much as possible, rather than leaving some of it up to us. The edition I read even had an afterword where Gray explained that in the sections he wanted the reader to go more slowly, he'd put in more punctuation, with correspondingly less if he wanted the reader to go quickly. ( )

Lanark is divided into four books; the outer, fantastic, two tell the story of Lanark, a man who awakes to find himself in a decaying world ruled by the feuding Institute and Council, in which increasing numbers of people are either disappearing altogether or suffering from strange maladies such as having their skin converted into tough, reptilian ‘dragonhide’, and time passes at unpredictable and varying rates. Lanark rises, mainly by accident, to a high position in this society, but finds this to be of questionable benefit.

The inner, realistic, two books tell the story of Thaw, a young art student in Glasgow. Thaw is similar in character to Lanark, suffers from eczema, and is in other ways an analogue of Lanark, just as Unthank is Glasgow in a state of severe collapse. As Gray himself was born in Glasgow, and trained as an artist there, there is clearly an element of autobiography in this story - and, having spent a mere two days in Glasgow myself, I could recognise a distinctive Glaswegian air about the work.

Such a bare summary does little justice to the book, which is a bizarre mixture of Kafka, Dante, Orwell and Robert Sheckley, part horrific, part humorous, part soberly descriptive. Gray even reminds me of Gene Wolfe at times in the way he provides explanations for seemingly incongruous events just after you’ve given up hope of understanding what’s going on.

All these comparisons may make the book seem forbiddingly intellectual, but it’s actually very readable. I particularly like the way in which the humour in the book arises naturally out of the situations Lanark and Thaw find themselves (themself?) in, whereas many SF humorists appear to insert their jokes on a so-many-per-page principle after the rest of the book has been completed.

As a bonus, Gray has illustrated the book himself, and the illustrations are remarkable - rich and detailed panoramas of his gloomy cities. ( )

Have to counter the reviewer who said that this novel's unusual structure should tell you you're probably dealing with someone pretentious, or at least intentionally obscure. Now I've only read two of his books, so I may not be too qualified to speak to this. But I think Gray is a sort of postmodern William Blake, a visionary whose approach to writing is too sublime for gimmicks or even for intentional obscurity. Blake, right down to the beautiful and intricate illustrations. As a friend of mine once said of a different author (Alan Moore): "he says he's seen demons, and I believe him." This book is too impossible to describe in a brief review, and it's certainly not for everyone, but if you have an open mind, sit back and let it be blown. ( )