Reading China Mieville’s latest, “Iron Council.” There are a handful of authors for whom I will lay out money for a hardcover, no questions asked–Pratchett, McKinley, Gaiman, Martin. Mieville, author of “Perdido Street Station,” is the most recent addition to the list. (Not to be confused with “will maybe lay out money for a hardcover after dithering about it for awhile and feeling vaguely guilty,” of which there are many more, depending on my mood and current cash flow.)
Still waiting for the megaplot to start. Mieville has this tendency to get all the characters, get them motivated, get you interested, and then suddenly, several hundred pages in, drops the REAL plot on you like a ton of intriguingly painted bricks. I’m not sure if he’s going to do that here, or not, but I also don’t much care–I’d read a manual on fixing Volvo engines if Mieville wrote it.
And boy, reading this stuff before bed will give you some seriously weirdass dreams. Had a whole montage of steampunk cyborgs grinding through my brain for half the night. Gronk.