Blackfish City
by Sam J. Miller
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After the climate wars, a floating city is constructed in the Arctic Circle, a remarkable feat of mechanical and social engineering, complete with geothermal heating and sustainable energy. Now crime and corruption have set in, the contradictions of incredible wealth alongside poverty are spawning unrest, and a new disease called "the breaks" is ravaging the population. When a strange new visitor arrives--a woman riding an orca, with a polar bear at her side--the city is entranced. She very show more subtly brings together four people--each living on the periphery--to stage unprecedented acts of resistance. By banding together to save their city before it crumbles under the weight of its own decay, they will learn shocking truths about themselves. show lessTags
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This is a delightful read. The investment you make in the first 100 pages pays off in a rich, enfolding experience of very able, capable worldbuilding by Author Miller.
Four PoV characters seems like a lot, I know, but each presents the reader with a different lens on a world that is all about where you are in its hierarchy as to what it looks like, feels like, and how Qaanaaq functions to meet your needs. Wealthy and privileged and bored Fill and Kaev, males at opposite ends of the city's caste system, and Kaev the professional fight-thrower is about to slip a few more rungs down the ladder. Ankit and non-binary Soq are the mobile middle-dwellers, each functioning in their differing-status jobs to support the power structure. Soq the show more messenger, the Mercury of Qaanaaq, was probably my favorite PoV in the book. The stealth they possess; the invisibility that rejecting binaries confers on them; all the moments of revelation this leads to make them a character I'd've loved to hear more from.
Author Miller is a top-notch talent, a maker of archetypes and a weaver of worlds whose skills are already as sharp as many with much longer résumés. What points of complaint I have are negligible compared to the central, overarching concerns he presents in this three-year-old and already timeless title.
Some of my favorite lines:
Four PoV characters seems like a lot, I know, but each presents the reader with a different lens on a world that is all about where you are in its hierarchy as to what it looks like, feels like, and how Qaanaaq functions to meet your needs. Wealthy and privileged and bored Fill and Kaev, males at opposite ends of the city's caste system, and Kaev the professional fight-thrower is about to slip a few more rungs down the ladder. Ankit and non-binary Soq are the mobile middle-dwellers, each functioning in their differing-status jobs to support the power structure. Soq the show more messenger, the Mercury of Qaanaaq, was probably my favorite PoV in the book. The stealth they possess; the invisibility that rejecting binaries confers on them; all the moments of revelation this leads to make them a character I'd've loved to hear more from.
Author Miller is a top-notch talent, a maker of archetypes and a weaver of worlds whose skills are already as sharp as many with much longer résumés. What points of complaint I have are negligible compared to the central, overarching concerns he presents in this three-year-old and already timeless title.
Some of my favorite lines:
Money is a mind, the oldest artificial intelligence. Its prime directives are simple, it's programming endlessly creative. Humans obey it unthinkingly, with cheerful alacrity. Like a virus, it doesn't care if it kills its host. It will simply flow on to someone new.show less
–and–
The American fleet had lacked a lot of things—food, shelter, fuel, civil liberties—but it hadn’t lacked weapons. The global military presence that had made the pre-fall United States so powerful, and then helped cause their collapse, had left them with all sorts of terrifying toys.
–and–
“Fine line between good business and a fucking war crime,” he said. “Ain’t that the goddamn epitaph of capitalism.”
The first book of Sam J. Miller's I read, The Art of Starving, was definitely a mixed bag--good on one hand, flawed on the other (review here). In that instance, for me, the flaws won out: the book wasn't sufficiently SFF to satisfy me. Thankfully, that isn't the case here. This book is all in on its science-fictional concept: an Earth deep in the throes of climate change, with refugees and cities flooding and burning, dire enough to get a new name that says it all: the Sunken World. Governments are being overthrown and humanity is fleeing to floating cities, in particular an eight-armed city in the newly opened Arctic (because of complete icemelt, one assumes) called Qaanaaq.
This is an exploration of the horrors of climate change, but show more it's also an indictment of capitalism, the system that has led (and will lead, if humanity doesn't come to its senses and muzzle it) to this worldwide disaster. There is no police or law enforcement presence on Qaanaaq, and the "government," such as it is, consists of a very uneasy balance of shareholders and crime syndicates. The rich live on the upper arms of the city, One through Three, with plenty of food, room and warmth, and the poor live on the lower arms (Six through Eight), stacked worse than sardines, with dozens of people per living space and many with no homes at all, just renting sleeping bubbles for the night. Due to these conditions, there is a sexually transmitted disease called "the breaks" sweeping the city, a poorly understood disease that behaves like a virus but also seems to transmit memories from its previous hosts.
Naturally, this explosive, immoral status quo cannot stand, and the arrival of a woman on a skiff, accompanied by a nanobonded killer whale (a rather clever idea, using nanotechnology to explain what has traditionally been psychically bonded humans and animals, in SF's past) and a polar bear, is just the match to set this smoldering city alight. But we don't get the revolution right away. Instead, we get several viewpoint characters, each with their own storylines and a slow, careful braiding thereof. It's a measure of Miller's skill at characterization that all of these characters held my interest, even when I didn't have the slightest idea how or if they would eventually meet. But about halfway through the book, the death of one of the POV characters snaps everything into place and sets the rest of the plot in motion, and from there on we have a wild, fast-paced ride. The secrets from the past come to the fore, a newfound family is discovered, and those who have created this terrible set of affairs are going down.
I believe this is a standalone story, although a sequel could certainly be written. I do appreciate the tight focus on Qaanaaq--the author could have pulled back to show the wider drowned world, but the horrors of what humans have done to themselves are effectively communicated through implications and the wise use of fragments of backstory alone. This is definitely not a future anyone would wish, and I think books like these are essential in pointing out the hell we will unleash on ourselves if we don't get serious about climate change. show less
This is an exploration of the horrors of climate change, but show more it's also an indictment of capitalism, the system that has led (and will lead, if humanity doesn't come to its senses and muzzle it) to this worldwide disaster. There is no police or law enforcement presence on Qaanaaq, and the "government," such as it is, consists of a very uneasy balance of shareholders and crime syndicates. The rich live on the upper arms of the city, One through Three, with plenty of food, room and warmth, and the poor live on the lower arms (Six through Eight), stacked worse than sardines, with dozens of people per living space and many with no homes at all, just renting sleeping bubbles for the night. Due to these conditions, there is a sexually transmitted disease called "the breaks" sweeping the city, a poorly understood disease that behaves like a virus but also seems to transmit memories from its previous hosts.
Naturally, this explosive, immoral status quo cannot stand, and the arrival of a woman on a skiff, accompanied by a nanobonded killer whale (a rather clever idea, using nanotechnology to explain what has traditionally been psychically bonded humans and animals, in SF's past) and a polar bear, is just the match to set this smoldering city alight. But we don't get the revolution right away. Instead, we get several viewpoint characters, each with their own storylines and a slow, careful braiding thereof. It's a measure of Miller's skill at characterization that all of these characters held my interest, even when I didn't have the slightest idea how or if they would eventually meet. But about halfway through the book, the death of one of the POV characters snaps everything into place and sets the rest of the plot in motion, and from there on we have a wild, fast-paced ride. The secrets from the past come to the fore, a newfound family is discovered, and those who have created this terrible set of affairs are going down.
I believe this is a standalone story, although a sequel could certainly be written. I do appreciate the tight focus on Qaanaaq--the author could have pulled back to show the wider drowned world, but the horrors of what humans have done to themselves are effectively communicated through implications and the wise use of fragments of backstory alone. This is definitely not a future anyone would wish, and I think books like these are essential in pointing out the hell we will unleash on ourselves if we don't get serious about climate change. show less
‘Blackfish City’ is in some ways an extrapolation of Donna Haraway’s proposal in [b:Staying with the Trouble: Making Kin in the Chthulucene|28369185|Staying with the Trouble Making Kin in the Chthulucene|Donna J. Haraway|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1458692014s/28369185.jpg|48445485] that humans should bond with wildlife in order to improve our relationship with the environment. The initial impetus for the plot is the arrival in Qaanaaq, a floating city located in the Arctic Circle, of a woman bonded to an orca. Although she isn’t a point of view character, the disparate group who do narrate all turn out to have some connection with her. The narrators are an appealing, diverse, and interesting bunch. It was very satisfying show more when the long-lost family teamed up to break Ora out of the Cabinet, deploying their conveniently heist-compatible skillsets in an exciting series of action scenes. The city setting was also very well developed, reminding me in different ways of Bankok in [b:The Windup Girl|6597651|The Windup Girl|Paolo Bacigalupi|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1278940608s/6597651.jpg|6791425] and Armada in [b:The Scar|68497|The Scar (New Crobuzon, #2)|China Miéville|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1320435192s/68497.jpg|731674], both of which are memorably evoked. Miller extrapolates a vivid and convincing world ravaged by climate change, in which private shareholders have built a city that is run by landlords and smugglers. A mixture of refugee cultures have been thrown together after their previous homes disappeared under rising seas. The city has achieved a kind of fragile equilibrium, which is threatened by a strange, apparently incurable STD called ‘the breaks’. I was pleased by the link between the breaks and nano-bonding. Kaev’s recovery from his debilitating case of the breaks was very moving, making it all the more upsetting when Liam the polar bear dies. The book ends with Kaev’s prospects looking dark again, although at least he has his family around him.
The inclusion of an orca and a polar bear in the main cast was a very good choice and results in some spectacular imagery. I would love a faithful film adaptation of ‘Blackfish City’, as it has great cinematic potential: a tightly controlled mystery plot and plenty of exciting action set pieces. Not to mention an excellent set of characters who start the book alone and find companionship along the way.I must also respect Miller’s willingness to kill off major characters, not something I’ve come to expect. Fill dies quite abruptly, although I did feel like redeeming him would have been difficult after he knowingly infected Soq with a deadly STD. Dao’s death just seemed gratuitous, while Go’s death reminded me of Katniss murdering Coin at the end of the Hunger Games series. That same unwillingness for an ambitious woman to take power from the incumbent powerful man, because her agenda is not different enough from his and no systemic change would occur. After the 2016 US election, I have considerably less sympathy for this narrative conceit.
Indeed, the ending did strike me as a slight cop-out: escaping from Qaanaaq, leaving total chaos behind. It wasn’t obvious what the reconstituted family would have done if they had stayed, but the fact the final sentence takes the story back to its beginning implies an inability to truly leave the place behind. After living in such a teeming metropolis, I find it hard to believe that Ankit, Kaev, and especially Soq would immediately take to the abandoned wilderness of America. I’d happily read a sequel in which they gave it a try, though. EDIT: Looking back at the ending, I realised it's left ambiguous whether they stay or go. Staying seems more plausible. Either way, I'd be interested in their further adventures.
As the title suggests, the city itself should probably be considered the main character. Via the conceit of a popular podcast guide to Qaanaaq, Miller gives the reader considerable amounts of detail about its history, society, economy, and culture, not to mention its cuisine. I love this sort of dense world-building. The source of the podcast was clear to me from the start, as it had a narrative elegance to it.That Ora communicated with the outside world in such a way was very appealing. The concept of the breaks as shared memories, spread further in the form of a Lonely Planet travel guide, served well as a medium of world-building and a useful plot device. Miller is an ingenious and compelling writer. I enjoyed ‘Blackfish City’ very much and will look out for what he writes next. Also, if you’re looking for fiction with nonbinary, gay, bi, possibly even asexual characters, you will find them here. show less
The inclusion of an orca and a polar bear in the main cast was a very good choice and results in some spectacular imagery. I would love a faithful film adaptation of ‘Blackfish City’, as it has great cinematic potential: a tightly controlled mystery plot and plenty of exciting action set pieces. Not to mention an excellent set of characters who start the book alone and find companionship along the way.
Indeed, the ending did strike me as a slight cop-out: escaping from Qaanaaq, leaving total chaos behind. It wasn’t obvious what the reconstituted family would have done if they had stayed, but the fact the final sentence takes the story back to its beginning implies an inability to truly leave the place behind. After living in such a teeming metropolis, I find it hard to believe that Ankit, Kaev, and especially Soq would immediately take to the abandoned wilderness of America. I’d happily read a sequel in which they gave it a try, though. EDIT: Looking back at the ending, I realised it's left ambiguous whether they stay or go. Staying seems more plausible. Either way, I'd be interested in their further adventures.
As the title suggests, the city itself should probably be considered the main character. Via the conceit of a popular podcast guide to Qaanaaq, Miller gives the reader considerable amounts of detail about its history, society, economy, and culture, not to mention its cuisine. I love this sort of dense world-building. The source of the podcast was clear to me from the start, as it had a narrative elegance to it.
Climate change has turned much of humanity into refugees. Qaanaaq is a floating city in the Artic, controlled by its shareholders and teeming with both registered and unregistered occupants. When the sole survivor of a genocide arrives with an orca and a captive polar bear, she provides an impetus for a war by a crime syndicate against a powerful shareholder. All the while, the strange disease the breaks is driving people to horrible deaths amidst images of lives they’ve never led, and the AIs running the city can’t do anything about it. Although almost everything goes wrong and key players don’t make it to the end of the story, it’s also about the kind of hope that can persist even in ashes, and the family connections that show more survive all kinds of wrongs. show less
I wish I'd liked this more :/
The worldbuilding is amazing. The titular city is a wonder of creativity, both fantastical and terrifyingly realistic at the same time. In the beginning I loved the different POVs, characters from various rungs of the city's social ladder moving through a world wracked by inequality and a strange deadly disease no one seems to understand. It reminded me a little bit of Malka Older's [b:Infomocracy|26114433|Infomocracy (The Centenal Cycle, #1)|Malka Ann Older|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1444883445s/26114433.jpg|46061300] in that the worldbuilding and the POVs offer a wonderfully complex into a possible future.
But what kept me from really loving this book was its pacing.
The book went from a great show more exploration of its world to a sort of action-movie-esque sequence of events that all happened so quickly they had little significance. The ending left things open for a sequel so I wonder if the author was holding back for future volumes but as it stands, the strong first half is brought down by a much weaker last half.
Pacing is such a difficult thing in books like this, where worldbuilding is required to set the scene and the mood. It's a delicate balance that very few books get right. Despite the pacing issues, I still found this a fascinating story about a possible future and will look for more of Miller's work show less
The worldbuilding is amazing. The titular city is a wonder of creativity, both fantastical and terrifyingly realistic at the same time. In the beginning I loved the different POVs, characters from various rungs of the city's social ladder moving through a world wracked by inequality and a strange deadly disease no one seems to understand. It reminded me a little bit of Malka Older's [b:Infomocracy|26114433|Infomocracy (The Centenal Cycle, #1)|Malka Ann Older|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1444883445s/26114433.jpg|46061300] in that the worldbuilding and the POVs offer a wonderfully complex into a possible future.
But what kept me from really loving this book was its pacing.
The book went from a great show more exploration of its world to a sort of action-movie-esque sequence of events that all happened so quickly they had little significance. The ending left things open for a sequel so I wonder if the author was holding back for future volumes but as it stands, the strong first half is brought down by a much weaker last half.
Pacing is such a difficult thing in books like this, where worldbuilding is required to set the scene and the mood. It's a delicate balance that very few books get right. Despite the pacing issues, I still found this a fascinating story about a possible future and will look for more of Miller's work show less
I'd been wanting to read this book since I first heard of it (great cover, polar fiction, intriguing concept), but was forcing myself to wait for the paperback, as per usual. Except then I discovered that the hardback cover glowed in the dark, and then my friend challenged me to make some glowing earrings to coordinate with it, so to the library I went.
(The paperback actually came out while I was reading the library copy, and I ran out to buy it. Tragically, the paperback doesn't glow. But it's still gorgeous.)
I ATE THIS BOOK UP. Interesting world-building, some great, spiky characters, lots of polar-fiction flavor, despite the hotter, climate-changed world. I was on this ride 100% and careening through it as fast as I could to find out show more would happen until a certain plot point I am avoiding because spoilers. I mean, it's not as it didn't make sense, necessarily, as an in-world consequence. Maybe it just felt bigger to me than the book seemed to make it out to be -- I wanted more build-up to it, more impact after. (Not that there wasn't impact after.) I just felt kind of hollow after that moment -- not 100% on the ride anymore. Which is fine, it just knocked the book down from a 5-star for me, which it was well on its way toward being until then. show less
(The paperback actually came out while I was reading the library copy, and I ran out to buy it. Tragically, the paperback doesn't glow. But it's still gorgeous.)
I ATE THIS BOOK UP. Interesting world-building, some great, spiky characters, lots of polar-fiction flavor, despite the hotter, climate-changed world. I was on this ride 100% and careening through it as fast as I could to find out show more would happen until a certain plot point I am avoiding because spoilers. I mean, it's not as it didn't make sense, necessarily, as an in-world consequence. Maybe it just felt bigger to me than the book seemed to make it out to be -- I wanted more build-up to it, more impact after. (Not that there wasn't impact after.) I just felt kind of hollow after that moment -- not 100% on the ride anymore. Which is fine, it just knocked the book down from a 5-star for me, which it was well on its way toward being until then. show less
Blackfish City is a dystopian, post-climate-change novel set in Qaanaaq, a floating city north of the Arctic Circle. Political corruption, organized crime, and a mysterious illness called "the breaks" shape life in Qaanaaq, where life is gritty and the environment unforgiving. Daily survival is a struggle for most residents. No one looks too closely at anything around them. Few ask questions that might draw attention.
When a stranger shows up, a woman riding an orca and accompanied by a polar bear, people look up. They notice this nanobonded human, Masaaraq, wonder to many and abomination to some who would kill her, given the chance. But Masaaraq has other plans. The last survivor of her kind, she's come bearing change—and justice—to show more Qaanaaq.
Blackfish City is told through the experiences of four very different main characters, as well as a narrator who relates pieces of backstory through "City Without a Map" broadcasts on a frequency available to all residents of the city. In the beginning, each of the characters' tales are given to the reader in isolated patches. Yet as the story evolves, its threads begin to form a recognizable pattern until we see that these individuals are connected in unexpected ways.
The city itself is also a sort of character. Warmed by a massive underwater geothermal vent and built on a floating platform with boats docked at stations all around it, Qaanaaq is shaped almost like an asterisk, with eight arms. Each "arm" is distinct in income level and thus lifestyle, and each has its own offering for the city. The uppermost arms, pointing northwest, north, and northeast, are home to the least fortunate of the city. Personal space is non-existent. Residents rent sleep bubbles, stacked atop one another in columns and rows that make the most of available space. Migrant workers, paid to harvest ice for water, fill the ships that dock at the edges. The southernmost arms hold gardens, glass tunnels that connect the buildings at the upper levels, comfort unthinkable to the masses. Most of the story takes place in the contrast between those extremes.
The world that produced Qaanaaq is one the current climate change predictions could have foretold. Coastal cities are flooded. Heat extremes have forced people to move north. Water wars have waged for years, as well as race riots and shortages of space. It's a very different global situation than what we have today, and though this sort of scenario has appeared in a number of sci-fi novels by now, it remains a stark and unsettling view.
The characters themselves are distinct, intriguing, and well-rounded. Fill is distinguished by his wealth, and naivete. Ankit, by her conflict between ambition and doing the right thing. Kaev, by his fighting skill, and his emotional turmoil. Soq by their deliberate distance from the people around them and by their pragmatism. Each character deepens as the story unfolds, slowly drawing the reader in. I was unsure how these very different individuals would connect, but was certain from the beginning that they would, somehow, some way. While I did foresee part of the eventual reveal, I was surprised by at least part of the conclusion.
Interestingly, the name of the book is taken from Masaaraq, "the orcamancer" as she is known by city residents. She is a heavy presence throughout the story from the very first page, yet she is given point-of-view voice in only one chapter. Bonded to her orca from a young age through nanite therapy, she doesn't quite think like other humans. Part human, part animal, her perspective is unique in the story, and offers some insight as to how she can see solutions everyone else overlooked. It also explains the savagery of her sense of justice. An orca is not known for its gentle nature, after all.
The other unspoken character in Blackfish City is the mysterious illness called, by most, "the breaks." Characterized by mental instability, a loss of capacity for clear speech, onset of memories in a victim's mind that come from someone else, and other odd symptoms, no one knows what it is or where it originated. The breaks is always fatal. There is no known cure. Several characters in the story are infected, some to a greater degree than others, and it is this looming death sentence and the mystery surrounding it that drives at least part of the subplot.
Author Sam Miller did a splendid job in building this grim world, which is not at all like most Western settings I've seen. Qaanaaq is a blend of Norse, Swedish, Mandarin, Thai, Icelandic, and other cultures, and American voices are few and far between—as well as being viewed with some disfavor. I actually liked that departure from the usual expectation. Qaanaaq itself strikes me as a bit of a cautionary element in the tale. I can see parts of it, enough to know I wouldn't want to live there. But some of the details – the slide boots and slideways used by Soq and the other messengers, the implants in their jaws to allow communications and messaging, the type of commerce that takes place here – was so alien to my experience that it was hard to imagine. Some of it, the sleeping capsules for example, might not be far removed from contemporary reality in overcrowded cities where climate does not allow sleeping on the streets. I'm not sure, but I can imagine it being a possibility.
I must admit that I found some of the plot resolutions a bit of a stretch. Overall, though, I enjoyed the story. It's definitely worth a read. show less
When a stranger shows up, a woman riding an orca and accompanied by a polar bear, people look up. They notice this nanobonded human, Masaaraq, wonder to many and abomination to some who would kill her, given the chance. But Masaaraq has other plans. The last survivor of her kind, she's come bearing change—and justice—to show more Qaanaaq.
Blackfish City is told through the experiences of four very different main characters, as well as a narrator who relates pieces of backstory through "City Without a Map" broadcasts on a frequency available to all residents of the city. In the beginning, each of the characters' tales are given to the reader in isolated patches. Yet as the story evolves, its threads begin to form a recognizable pattern until we see that these individuals are connected in unexpected ways.
The city itself is also a sort of character. Warmed by a massive underwater geothermal vent and built on a floating platform with boats docked at stations all around it, Qaanaaq is shaped almost like an asterisk, with eight arms. Each "arm" is distinct in income level and thus lifestyle, and each has its own offering for the city. The uppermost arms, pointing northwest, north, and northeast, are home to the least fortunate of the city. Personal space is non-existent. Residents rent sleep bubbles, stacked atop one another in columns and rows that make the most of available space. Migrant workers, paid to harvest ice for water, fill the ships that dock at the edges. The southernmost arms hold gardens, glass tunnels that connect the buildings at the upper levels, comfort unthinkable to the masses. Most of the story takes place in the contrast between those extremes.
The world that produced Qaanaaq is one the current climate change predictions could have foretold. Coastal cities are flooded. Heat extremes have forced people to move north. Water wars have waged for years, as well as race riots and shortages of space. It's a very different global situation than what we have today, and though this sort of scenario has appeared in a number of sci-fi novels by now, it remains a stark and unsettling view.
The characters themselves are distinct, intriguing, and well-rounded. Fill is distinguished by his wealth, and naivete. Ankit, by her conflict between ambition and doing the right thing. Kaev, by his fighting skill, and his emotional turmoil. Soq by their deliberate distance from the people around them and by their pragmatism. Each character deepens as the story unfolds, slowly drawing the reader in. I was unsure how these very different individuals would connect, but was certain from the beginning that they would, somehow, some way. While I did foresee part of the eventual reveal, I was surprised by at least part of the conclusion.
Interestingly, the name of the book is taken from Masaaraq, "the orcamancer" as she is known by city residents. She is a heavy presence throughout the story from the very first page, yet she is given point-of-view voice in only one chapter. Bonded to her orca from a young age through nanite therapy, she doesn't quite think like other humans. Part human, part animal, her perspective is unique in the story, and offers some insight as to how she can see solutions everyone else overlooked. It also explains the savagery of her sense of justice. An orca is not known for its gentle nature, after all.
The other unspoken character in Blackfish City is the mysterious illness called, by most, "the breaks." Characterized by mental instability, a loss of capacity for clear speech, onset of memories in a victim's mind that come from someone else, and other odd symptoms, no one knows what it is or where it originated. The breaks is always fatal. There is no known cure. Several characters in the story are infected, some to a greater degree than others, and it is this looming death sentence and the mystery surrounding it that drives at least part of the subplot.
Author Sam Miller did a splendid job in building this grim world, which is not at all like most Western settings I've seen. Qaanaaq is a blend of Norse, Swedish, Mandarin, Thai, Icelandic, and other cultures, and American voices are few and far between—as well as being viewed with some disfavor. I actually liked that departure from the usual expectation. Qaanaaq itself strikes me as a bit of a cautionary element in the tale. I can see parts of it, enough to know I wouldn't want to live there. But some of the details – the slide boots and slideways used by Soq and the other messengers, the implants in their jaws to allow communications and messaging, the type of commerce that takes place here – was so alien to my experience that it was hard to imagine. Some of it, the sleeping capsules for example, might not be far removed from contemporary reality in overcrowded cities where climate does not allow sleeping on the streets. I'm not sure, but I can imagine it being a possibility.
I must admit that I found some of the plot resolutions a bit of a stretch. Overall, though, I enjoyed the story. It's definitely worth a read. show less
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Author Information
22+ Works 1,623 Members
Sam J. Miller is an American author, based in New York. He writes novels and short stories in science fiction, fantasy, and horror genres. Before becoming a writer, he worked as a butcher, guitarist in a punk rock band, and a painter's model. He was co-editor of the anthology, Horror After 9/11. His other work includes Blackfish City, and The Art show more of Starving, which won the 2017 Nebula Awards, Andre Norton Award for young adult science-fiction and fantasy. (Bowker Author Biography) show less
Some Editions
Awards and Honors
Awards
Work Relationships
Has as a study
Common Knowledge
- Canonical title
- Blackfish City
- Original title
- Blackfish City
- Original publication date
- 2018
- People/Characters
- Masaaraq; Fill Podlove; Ishmael Barron; Ankit; Kaev; Go (show all 14); Ora; Soq; Fyodorovna; Jeong; Dao; Martin Podlove; Atkonartok; Liam
- Important places
- Qaanaaq, a floating city (fictional); Taastrup; New York, New York, USA
- Epigraph
- There is nothing safe about the darkness of this city and its stink. Well, I have abrogated all claim to safety, coming here. It is better to discuss it as though I had chosen. That keeps the scrim of sanity before the awful ... (show all)set. What will lift it?
-- Samuel R Delany, Dhalgren - First words
- People would say she came to Quanaaq in a skiff towed by a killer whale harnessed to the front like a horse.
- Quotations
- Epidemics do not have medical causes; they have social ones.
- Last words
- (Click to show. Warning: May contain spoilers.)"People would say she came to Quanaaq in a skiff towed by a killer whale harnessed to the front like a horse..."
- Publisher's editor
- Wagman, Zachary
- Blurbers
- Leckie, Ann; Machado, Carmen Maria; Gregory, Daryl; Sternbergh, Adam
- Original language
- English
- Canonical DDC/MDS
- 813.6
- Canonical LCC
- PS3613.I55288
Classifications
Statistics
- Members
- 908
- Popularity
- 29,246
- Reviews
- 33
- Rating
- (3.43)
- Languages
- English, French, Hungarian, Japanese
- Media
- Paper, Audiobook, Ebook
- ISBNs
- 19
- ASINs
- 4
