A young boy lives in a dystopian
future; he and his parents live on a lonely hill outside of town. The mother scavenges
things and grows vegetables that she trades for other foods in the run down
town where a pack of feral children run. The father is a key maker; his keys
are magical and can bring money or love to the purchaser. The father also
occasionally kills animals- and maybe more- and throws the bodies down a pit in
a cave. One day, the boy runs into town in a panic: he has seen his father kill
his mother. Or vice versa. He’s not really sure. But the townspeople rule that
he must be returned to his father- there is no proof the mother didn’t just
leave. So he lives in constant fear of his father. Is the father a killer, or
did the mother leave?
There are no answers in this
book. There is no answer to the disappearance, there is no answer as to why the
world is so broken, there is no answer to why the boy, now grown, is in prison,
writing his memoir. Nor is there much depth to any characters; even the boy
whose eyes we see the story through (changing from first to third person
constantly) is not a person but bundle of fear, tension, and despair. The book
is almost nothing but atmosphere. This is not a world any reader would want to
live in. It’s a world without hope.
It was a kind of interesting
read- I kept reading, trying to find some answers- but not one I’d put in the
same class as Mieville’s other work. It’s a tone poem of despair, not a novel.
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