That said: I am fully cognizant that this is my personal problem. Being easily distracted by words is a challenging trait in a reader, and it really is rare that I get fully immersed the way I did when I was a kid (*weep* miss those days). I may also be suffering from this being my first Mieville. I don’t know him yet, and I can’t see him behind the verbiage he’s wielding like shield and weapon both.

I once had the same difficulty with Terry Pratchett, of all people. The first Pratchett I read, I bounced off the surface of that thing so hard. The book was (to my perception) nothing but joke after joke after joke, no space to THINK in between (my creaky old brain really does need some space to chew things over). A friend recommended a different Pratchett book, a much later work, and while there were still jokes, they weren’t as rapid-fire and I felt I actually got a glimpse of the human behind the words. Now I can read any Pratchett, even the really early ones, because I know who I’m looking for behind that shield-wall of humour.

That’s what I’m not getting from Railsea. The vulnerable human behind the flashy words. Is there another book where Mieville lets us see him a bit more?

I can see how the writing could be considered, ahem, self-indulgent (welcome, H. Munca!), but I definitely thought there was a wink and a nod that made it witty instead of offensive; it’s meta commentary on how self indulgent and serious Moby Dick and lots of other writing can be.

Also, punny. And I know, I know that the pun, or pune, is the lowest form of humor, etc, but, you know, I really like puns. And I know where the book got me — the “littoral minded” joke in chapter 5. And then I started to fall for the whole thing. Up until then I was skeptical and thinking it was not shaping up as a brilliant book, but that was the moment when the penny dropped and the idea that this rather serious uppity sounding narrative was a giant literary joke.

I also think that there is a whole something that is discovered — at the end, along with the why and how of the Railsea (really, Mark, 300 more pages and all your questions will be answered!), there is a fundamental thematic conclusion about greed and kindness. Kindness and the ability to look beyond oneself, as Sham does, however unintentionally, as the Shroakes do — that is critical, whereas selfish greed can remake the world but mostly is just bad. And once the ending is reached, it becomes clear that that thread has been there the whole time, but it’s pulled to the fore with the (action-packed) final section and conclusion.

So all y’all, give it another try! Join Tess and I and my one friend on Facebook in loving this one. Because it’s really smart. And it’s clearly written to elicit a reaction, so think about whether Miéville is manipulating you into the negative feelings. Maybe your hate is just another sign of the smart writing?

Or I’ve inhaled too much dirt from the Railsea and my brain is befuddled. But this is, so far, second only to CNV in my estimation.

ANYWAY.

For me, this one came down hard on the emotional/intellectual debate. I can abstractly admire the writing and the world, but reading it I just. didn’t. care. And I didn’t feel the payoff was very substantial… I slogged through ALL OF THAT and all I got was this lousy sense that they needed better frakking maps? Unlike Mark I could just barely suspend disbelief enough to accept the world of the Railsea, but it’s a book about discovering something fundamental about this world, something fundamentally different than what the characters believed–and I don’t feel I know what this *means* for them or the world. It brought things together and then *stopped*, instead of bringing things together *into* something.

(Also: deeply regretting that this is my first ever comment on this blog. Do I know how to make an impression, or what?)

I don’t deny that the sentence level writing is good, but the whole thing is just sooo heavy-handed. The moles that the captains are after are called “philosophies”? Really? Everyone is seaching for a philosophy? Really?!? The “whale chapters” which in Moby Dick were genuinely factual, as well as well-written and intriguing, here become virtually pointless. The fourth wall breaks never as amusing as Mieville thinks they are.

The railsea makes no sense whatsoever – as to how it could ever have gotten their, how it continues to exist, or how it works in any way.

And are their characters? Naphi seems like a total cipher until the (spoiler alert) twist with the prosthetic arm. I haven’t gotten to the end yet, but I haven’t seen any real growth, or much of interest at all, in Sham.

OK – I’m going a little overboard (haha). If you hadn’t mentioned this last week, I would have read a chapter or two, said “not for me” and put it down. So maybe I’m just cranky because I feel like I “have to” read it. But at the very least I can speak as a Lanagan fan and say – nope, that’s not how I felt about the language.