K. J. Bishop

Holy sXXt. This is a wonderful novel and, as a shining example of fantasy (I guess ...?) without all the elf bullshit, is exactly what I was looking for.

It is staggering to me that this was a first novel: the world building and character work is so mature and self-assured, and the ambition / daring so ... well, fulfilled, that ... ick, sigh, I'm running out of superlatives. READ THIS.

Note it is also refreshing that this fantasy (or whatever it is) is neither 850 pages long nor part of a show more trilogy or longer series. It's under 400 pages, and feels like a universe. show less

I've been looking out for this book for several years now, since it was held up as one of the leading examples of the 'New Weird' movement when it first came out, being compared with the works of China Mieville and Jeff Vandermeer. As far as I know this is the only book by this Australian author, but after finishing it I certainly hope she gets around to writing more because this is a truly entertaining read.

The story follows two former revolutionaries, Gwynn and Raule, who flee the Copper show more Country to arrive in the phantasmagoric city of Ashamoil. Gwynn takes up as a enforcer for a slave-trading crime lord, while Raule, barred from the city's medical universities and hospitals by dint of being a woman, turns her medical skills to helping the poor in a hospice in the city's slums. The story that unfolds is well told and skilfully draws a world where beauty and horror co-exist simultaneously, as do the mysterious and the mundane. The plot unfolds in a stately and unobvious fashion but dwells on the themes of belief and disbelief, change and statis, catharsis and death and a great deal more. The comparison to Meiville holds up, though Bishop's work has less spectacle and less action, perhaps. show less

There's a strange dream-like quality to Bishop's debut novel which is alternately fascinating and frustrating. In places, the book is simply incredible - Bishop has created a wonderful world, and populated it with a number of conflicted, troubled characters, each with their own stories to tell and secrets to hide. Indeed, it's when these characters are given room to express themselves that The Etched City is at its strongest: Bishop's prose is often remarkable for a debut novelist and show more complements the stories=within-stories that fill the book amazingly well. And the characters themselves are intriguing, both the central character Gwynn - pianist, murderer, and reluctant romantic - and the supporting cast of Raule, Beth, Marriot, the Rev and the rest.

And yet at the same time it's impossible for me to say that this is a great book - in truth, I'm not even sure it's a good book. It's certainly a book that will frustrate many readers. The first sixty or so pages (part one of three, in theory, though part two is by far the longest section of the book) are quite unlike the rest of the novel in tone and setting, and no doubt many people will wish the story had continued in that vein. Raule, despite being billed as a co-protagonist in the blurb and indeed assuming this role in part one, soon becomes overshadowed by her companion Gwynn, which is a double shame: both because her character had the potential to be studied much more in its own right and because doing so would perhaps have complemented and added to Gwynn's story (as at times I suspect it was intended to do so).

And for all the wonderful prose and images, there's a sense that Bishop isn't quite sure where she wants the story to go; the book jumps between philosophical musings and violent action in a slightly uneven way, and many of the book's mysteries remained unsolved at the story's end. That may well be intentional, of course, but it's also frustrating (and the fact that might also be intentional doesn't help). Quite simply, it's clear that Bishop has a point to make, but it's not clear what that point actually is.

There's no denying, on the strength of this performance, that Bishop is an extremely talented author, and I look forward to reading her future works with interest. But despite enjoying The Etched City a great deal, I cannot recommend it without reservations, and I'm in no hurry to read it again myself. show less

’La ciudad del grabado’ (The Etched City, 2003), de la australiana K.J. Bishop, es una novela de fantasía oscura, aunque es difícil de encasillar, ya que conjuga el spaghetti western a lo Sergio Leone, de ‘Por un puñado de dólares’, por ejemplo, con toques de fantasía New Weird a lo China Miéville.

La novela empieza en el País de Cobre, donde la doctora Raule y Gwynn, ex capitán de una compañía de soldados, huyen a través del desierto. Tras el fracaso de la revolución, sus show more cabezas tienen precio. Pero hay otra protagonista en la historia, la ciudad de Ashamoil, cercana a la desembocadura de un río plagado de cocodrilos. Ashamoil, una ciudad decadente, mezcla de país tropical y africano y colonia victoriana, donde el crimen organizado y la esclavitud están muy vigentes.

El punto fuerte de la historia de Bishop reside en las descripciones. Con un lenguaje barroco, no exento de belleza, Bishop nos muestra los olores, sensaciones, arquitecturas, calles y pasajes, de esta peculiar ciudad. Pero si hay una faceta donde la escritora destaca, es la creación de imágenes impactantes y extrañas, como los viajes oníricos de Gwynn, los grabados de la enigmática Beth, o ciertas historias relatadas durante la trama. Si tuviese que ponerle un pero al libro, sería el afán de la autora por querer transmitir al lector todo el mundo que tiene en su cabeza en pocas líneas. Pero se trata de una primera novela, y es perfectamente perdonable.

Recapitulando, ’La ciudad del grabado’ es una novela original, que sorprenderá y agradará a los paladares más exigentes de la fantasía, y de la literatura. show less