Speculative Fiction Junkie

Jeff VanderMeer

Jeff VanderMeer's work has won several awards and has quite a reputation, but I had never read any of it before picking up a copy of City of Saints and Madmen. The high esteem in which his work is held offset somewhat the trepidation I felt about the work's format. The book consists of four short works that take place in the fictional city of Ambergris: two traditionally formatted works of short fiction, one heavily footnoted pamphlet addressing the early history of Ambergris, and one story that consists almost entirely of an interview. These four works are followed by a handful of supporting materials that further flesh out the city and its inhabitants. I've stated before that short stories usually aren't my favorite, but the prospect of reading a fictional historical pamphlet sounded downright frightening.

The first story, "Dradin, in Love," details the attempts of Dradin, newly arrived in Ambergris, to win the heart of a woman he observes while walking down the city's main thoroughfare one day. In addition to familiarizing the reader--also newly arrived in Ambergris--with the city, this story gives us a harrowing glimpse into the nighttime world of Ambergris, including a view of the violence that occurs during the annual Festival of the Freshwater Squid.

The second work, "The Hoegbotton Guide to the Early History of the City of Ambergris," is in the form of a historical pamphlet published by one of the major importers in the city. Surprisingly--and completely contrary to my initial fears--this was my favorite piece in the whole collection. The main reason for this was that it added an entirely unexpected historical layer to the city. And this isn't the copy of medieval history that we've all tired of reading (King Blah the Fourth ruled over Blahland until such and such calamity occurred, etc.). This story reveals that Ambergris was in fact already inhabited when "discovered" by the ancestors of its current citizens. The saga of the interaction between the two races explains as much about the city itself as it does about the psychology of its current inhabitants.

Third in the collection is "The Transformation of Martin Lake," about the famous painter's invitation to a beheading. This story sheds further light on the violence of Ambergris as well as its cultural life, the tenacity of which is made clear by the street war that erupts following the death of the famous composer Voss Bender.

The fourth work is "The Strange Case of X," in which a person is interviewed as part of a psychological examination. Having finished "The Strange Case of X," the reader is still not even halfway through the material in the book. The remainder consists of various materials that were purportedly found on X's person and which shed further light on the city of Ambergris.

Despite the brutality and seriousness of some of the content of City of Saints and Madmen, the entire collection is shot through with humor. Consider this footnote to a citation of a book that the fictional author of a pamphlet on the King Squid obviously finds woefully inadequate:

"3. I first encountered Miss Floxence's text in the family library. My father and I had gone there to escape mother's wrath over some trivial offense and he pulled out the tome both because it was mother's favorite and because he thought I might enjoy a good laugh. He read me bits aloud to my cackling response. So I cannot pretend to be objective about Miss Floxence's books."

This sort of nineteenth century wordiness and unapologetic subjectivity characterizes the footnotes of the entire pamphlet. It is both hilarious and an example of how Mr. VanderMeer gives the fictional authors of the materials in the collection their own unique identities. In a similar fashion, Duncan Shriek, author of "The Hoegbotton Guide to the Early History of the City of Ambergris," bemoans the inadequacies of his readers:

"43. The impatient, feckless reader, possessed of no glimmer of intellectual or historical curiosity, should do an old historian a favor and skip the next few pages....I would assume that, in these horrid modern times, that will include most of you. Of course, those readers least likely to read these footnotes, and thus least likely to appreciate the next few pages, will skip this note and bore themselves upon the ennui of history...."

The main achievement of City of Saints and Madmen is the city of Ambergris itself. Mr. VanderMeer has given Ambergris an unbelievably vibrant culture, complete with celebrity composers, academic journals, heated intellectual debates, famous artists, publishing houses, coffee houses, competing religious faiths, and more. At the same time, the city, and its inhabitants, can be extraordinarily violent, and the city's history lends the place an ambivalent and often sinister feel.

While I loved it, though, this book may not be for everyone. Mr. VanderMeer often takes his time telling a story, which is wonderful if you like the way he writes, as I do, but which may otherwise seem to sometimes drag a bit. Additionally, if you are the sort of person who dislikes reading footnotes when you actually have to read them, you may not enjoy doing so in this book.

A majority of readers, however, will love this book. I can't quite describe how badly I want to read more about Ambergris. I can tell you this for sure: I'm going to read everything VanderMeer has written--or writes in the future--about this city.

Rating: 9/10

The True First

City of Saints and Madmen was first published by Prime Books of Canton, Ohio in 2002.

[Correction: I've since learned that a version of the book was initially published in trade paperback form in 2001 by Cosmos Books].

[This review was not based on a review copy]