I was skeptical before starting China Miéville’s The City and the City. I had read and enjoyed Embassytown, but he did go on and on towards the end and I found myself skimming a lot. The City and the City was far more gripping, until the final quarter when it descended into conventional detection (really almost Agatha Christie) genre resolution. “The old man did it, Scooby!” I guess, what else can you do? But until then, an amazing concept of the city and the city unseeing to each other. You could discuss for hours (well maybe 30 minutes?). My loss, I stingily read books from the library, years after everyone else has read them, and they no longer remember nor do they care. The mood of this novel will linger.
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