A collection of shortish stories and other pieces of imaginative fiction, many previously published (two I'd read before - Miéville's entry in the Lambshead compendium, and a creepy little number called "Details" which apparently appeared in some kind of Lovecraft tribute a few years back...). As is often the case with such collections, some of the author's preoccupations and recurring themes come through a bit more clearly than in his/her longer-form writings - here, it's Miéville's socialist politics and his fascination with place and space which are particularly prominent (both are plenty legible in his novels, too, but can sometimes get lost amidst the crazy architectures of those longer works). Also evident is his facility with the unexpected twist or shift in perspective - never done in a way which comes near gimmickry, and always forcing the reader to re-evaluate all that has come before. And I'm not sure if I've noticed the compactness of Miéville's prose before - its lean expressiveness - which was, I suppose, easily lost in the baroque multiplication of detail which characterises his writing.
"The Tain" is the longest of these tales, though probably not the most substantial. Taking a Borges fragment as its jumping-off point, it's a neat take on the vampire mythos, with particular emphasis on the significance of mirrors (and who doesn't like a good post-apocalyptic London tale?). In a somewhat similar vein is the title story, recounting events in a London which has been destroyed - or overtaken - by entropy. "Jack" recounts the story of Jack Half-a-Prayer, from the New Crobuzon books, going some way to explaining his significance and capturing the darkness at the heart of the series, and also getting me thinking more about the connection between the Remade and marxist ideas of human labour and commodification.
There's a pervasive air of ruinedness, decay and unease to nearly all of the stories, showing that Miéville's knack for creating such atmospheres isn't limited to the steam-punk sprawls of his novels (King Rat excepted, I guess), and of course they tend to be pretty dark. "'Tis The Season" is a nice exception - wearing its anti-capitalist principles on its sleeve, it considers the (initially trite-seeming) scenario of all of the apparatus of Christmas (holly, carol-singing, coloured paper as giftwrap, etc) having been patented and corporatised, and then runs with it in delightful style, savaging capitalism while also affectionately ridiculing a lot of the tendencies and splinters of the contemporary left activist scene, even managing a wonderfully bathetic ending.
As always with Miéville's writing, sailed through this in no time at all.
