The Ambergris series
began with this collection of stories and vignettes (or, arguably, a
fix-up novel of sorts) and was not only Jeff VanderMeer's first big
literary success that put him fully on the speculative fiction map, but
is also home to a setting that's equal parts unusual and seemingly
banal, equal parts humorous and macabre, and a setting that can stand on
its own, with its own particular identity. I feel that it doesn't have
to hide in the shade of other memorable fantasy cities, like its cousins
Viriconium, New Crobuzon or even Ankh-Morpork or the castle of
Gormenghast. It does really stand on its own, in its own particular
manner, unashamed of its own unique take on the archetype of the fantasy
metropolis, but also keeping to itself, standing somewhat aside of its
more famous cousins, as their shyer and "nerdier" relative.
Some
readers and critics have simply labelled the Ambergris book series as
"dark fantasy". That's hardly a fair label, especially if you're the
type of person who equates that label with "gratuitously dark,
gratuitously violent, gratuitously cynical and cruel, rawwrrrr,
edgyyy... crap". VanderMeer introduces us to Ambergris and its peoples
and individuals from several perspectives, frequently contrasting
perspectives. Though there is darkness and some degrees of
transgressiveness to several stories in this collection, VanderMeer
usually steers clear of being provocative for the sake of it. When he's
provocative, it's usually outside the bounds and templates of either
cheap or wannabe-erudite shock value, and instead serves a genuine story
purpose. A thought-provoking purpose, rather than a provocative one.
Jeff VanderMeer himself introducing the setting in Part I of 'The Rough Guide to Ambergris'
(July 2006, background music by Bob Devereux)
As
much as the Ambergris series delves into the strange history of its
titular metropolis, and many of the fictional and stranger elements in
the wider world of the setting, it's a fantasy series primarily
concerned with human beings. With their ideas, philosophies, dreams and
desires, failings and follies, their rational and intellectual side, as
well as their decadence, selfishness and stubbornness. A fantasy series
concerned with human beings' great creative and thinking potential, and
also with our misspending of that potential... in frequently
short-sighted, irresponsible, sometimes downright evil ways.
The
idea of a fantasy city as an archetype of the very concept of a "city" -
a construct of human (and non-human) history and civilization - is
nothing new in the fantasy genre, nor in any of the many other genres of
literature and related media. Rather than try to top other fantasy
writers or writers in general with regards to this archetype, VanderMeer
instead opts for something of a uniquely part-serious, part-humorous
exploration of the concept. The Ambergris series, especially in this
first book, is never only about "the setting", or its "lore" (as the
cool kids say these days), or its events and characters, as such... it's
equally a gradual meditation on the writing and telling of stories, as a
form of mental exercise and mental expression.
A sometimes
breezy and funny, sometimes thoughtful or even slightly melancholy
pondering about the creation of a fictional setting, about taking that
setting in various directions, creating certain details or certain
plots, changing them, reshaping them, exploring them, trying to both
keep a sense of mystery and create an illussion of historical depth...
and about what that does with authors. What challenges they have to
tackle with writing, their own imaginative ideas, and their own personal
experiences that might shape the writing. Sometimes, writing fantasy
can be a true joy, an ecstasy of creativity, atmospheric storytelling,
captivating characters and their ups and downs... other times, it might
devolve into an unexpected wrestling with your own figurative "inner
demons", you going to potentially darker or just confused places, trying
to make sense of your motivation to write stories and your motivation
to reflect certain themes and tiny bits of real world inspiration in
your own writing. Needless to say, it's not something that's easily
quantifiable, but it does and will leave you with plenty to think about.
The
fourth of the four main novellas in the first half of the book, "The
Strange Case of X", is very much a story all about exploring that
concept. Can a world we create in a story potentially be as real, or
feel as real to its own fictional inhabitants, as the world we live in ?
Are we ourselves just one particular world in a myriad of potential
stories ? Whereas these days, the word "multiverse" has been bastardized
into a buzzword in various overproduced flicks with gaudy superheroes
beating each other up, the idea of fiction spread throughout multiple
worlds has always been a worthwhile and rich one to explore by various
authors. VanderMeer explores the idea, bit by bit, in all three books of
the Ambergris series, but never so overtly as to resolve and answer all
mysteries. He always answers some Big Questions after a while, but
never to the point of robbing the series of interesting little
mysteries, or underestimating you as a reader who can put two and two
together, or make up your own thoughtful theories.
Jeff's Ambergris
stories, be they sad, harrowing, thrilling, mysterious, funny, even
heartwarming at times, are exploring not only their own setting and its
own sordid fictional history, but exploring questions as old as art
itself: What's the relationship of an artist to his own works ? What's
the role of art itself, including written stories or stories passed down
by oral tradition ? How does our love of narratives influence our
historical memory, by way of the narratives we write or tell about our
past, our history ? Asking these questions, all the while addressing
these topics in very mundane, very human terms, including by the
(institutionalised) writer only referred to as X (a self-ironic but
heartfelt self-fictionalization of Jeff himself).
Music from a 2002 concept album inspired by the Ambergris setting, by Bob Devereux
Oddly enough,
even though "dark fantasy" can be used to describe some of the stories
and their atmosphere in the Ambergris series, it's a fairly surface
level description. For all the darker and serious elements, VanderMeer's
thematic points throughout this book and the later two installments
are... surprisingly, some of the most wholesome "dark fantasy" you'll
ever read. Oh, Jeff will disturb you and make you consider many
interesting topics, but the darkness described here is a darkness born
from the fear and follies of thinking beings (humans and Gray Caps
alike). But he's not writing to shock you (how boring), he's instead
writing to make you engage with both the genuinely serious themes and
even the more humourous ones.
In that sense, when the Ambergris
stories, in this first book and the slightly more conventional two
novels that follow, explore the archetype of the fantasy city, Ambergris
is very much both a very particular, very literal place, a city with a
long and complex and tragicomic history, but also something of a more
abstract hub to explore ideas about society, civilisation, writing,
reading and telling stories. It's not an ever-changing, seemingly
patternless metropolis like M. John Harrison's Viriconium, nor does it
try to top the fantasy cities of other authors by trying to be overly
specific in detail, to a fault.
Though the whaling term ambergris
is pronounced in English as "ambergree", VanderMeer very intentionally
pronounces it as "ambergris" (with an s at the end), in practically all
interviews where I've seen him discuss the series. Like Tolkien, with
his preference for the plural "dwarves", VanderMeer is doing it for
phono-esthetic reasons. Wordplay. Ambergris, Amber-gris, containing both
the shiny and polished and opulent side, the amber, and the more
nauseating, decaying, unceremonious side, the gristle, of Ambergris as a
fictional city and society. A true city of highs and lows, a city of
(often ridiculous/questionable) saints and (often sympathy-evoking if
misguided and pitiful) madmen. Two sides of the same coin.
Ambergris
has some established and recurring geography (and the same goes for the
wider world surrounding it, filled with various more or less peculiar
countries and cultures), but as a city, it always feels expansive and
vague enough that you can use your imagination to fill in the blanks of
all its more amorphous, missing details. A bit of early days
pseudo-Byzantium here, a bit of warm-climate colourful New Orleans
there, a bit of gloomy and brooding Victorian era London or Edinburgh
there. I once came across a decent video essay on the storytelling
nature of Gotham City, Batman's traditional domicile. Some of the
concluding thoughts were excellent and still leave me with things to
think about all these years later. With the slightest paraphrasing,
those concluding thoughts might just as well apply to Jeff VanderMeer's
Ambergris, the lucky as well as hapless City of Saints and Madmen:
"(...) we have an exhaustive knowledge of its attitude, of its feel, of places there (...)
Yet,
unlike a real city, we can't map it out in the traditional sense. And
every attempt to do so is subject to change and sort of absurd.
Ambergris is a city that's performed. We know it by the stories that happen there, by the spaces generated from encounters in the night... (and in daytime).
In this view, its many versions (throughout its long history)
don't register as inconsistencies, but cohere perhaps into a new way to
think of cities. As a site of constant reinvention and varied
interpretation. As an expression of the traumas that are reenacted by
those who have suffered... And as a place that can't be mapped by its
buildings and streets, but by the events and people and minds that make them..."
The
minds that make Ambergris. The mind of the writer. The odd dream that
inspired Jeff to write the first few pages of "Dradin in Love" some
thirty years ago, initially not knowing where it's headed and whether
he'll ever use the same setting for any future stories. The minds of the
fictional inhabitants that populate the setting, and that, by some of
their own admission, might be just as real (on some level) or desiring
to be real as the writer who once sat down and thought "hey, I have an
idea for an unusual fantasy setting" and the readers that read his
story, stories, then this collection, then the whole loose trilogy.
Some
people have criticised this collection / fix-up in particular as Jeff
VanderMeer being a little too focused on the metafictional,
fourth-wall-breaking, philosophical aspects of his Ambergris setting and
him writing about it, or being too self-indulgent with the self-ironic
and self-referential humour peppered throughout some of the (especially)
non-fiction style stories and some of the vignettes. Personally, as
much as everyone has their subjective opinions, me included, I don't
think it's anywhere near as widespread as some readers tended to claim. I
did find a few sections and passages in some of the stories, especially
some of the vignettes and shorter pieces in the second half, that did
feel like VanderMeer belabouring a certain witty point or a runnig gag,
maybe one time too many. Not all of the humorous or winkingly ironic
parts actually work as VanderMeer intended. Many of the splashes and
touches of humor made me laugh out loud, others made me smile or smirk,
some made me shrug. I doubt my reactions are going to apply universally
to other people. Your subjective reactions to the humour or some of the
more playful ideas in this work are going to vary.
Of the more typical narrative stories in this collection, I don't think there's a single one that lacks atmosphere. My personal favourites were "The Hoegbotton Guide to the Early History of Ambergris", "The Strange Case of X" and "The Cage".
P.S. I am utterly convinced the creators of the Dishonored
game series had to have read the three Ambergris books by VanderMeer,
including this collection / fix-up novel. There are just far too many
similar elements (even a few similar touches of humour, though nowhere
near as good as many of Jeff's) for this to be a coincidence. I know the
authors acknowledged the influence of Miéville's Perdido Street Station
and other similar fantasy works, but I don't remember them ever
mentioning Ambergris. Though I've had my suspicions for years, I'm quite
happy if the Ambergris series also brought them plenty of inspiration.
As a potential "spiritual cousin" to the book series, it would even
hilariously add even greater depth to fiction-Jeff's sighing,
self-deprecating humour in the "The Strange Case of X" about "people
offering to make Ambergris computer games". Every bit as amusing as the
unusual take on the "About the author" section at the end of this book.
(P.P.S.
And it's even more amusing to consider something as kiddy-friendly as
the Super Mario Bros. series has a goofy fantasy setting of both
mushroom people and squids. Huh... I'll chalk that up to
coincidence, but knowing VanderMeer's humour, I wouldn't be shocked if
some subconscious inspiration by the most random of things crept into
his writing in the 1990s. :-))) )
(P.P.P.S. This should've been a final footnote by Duncan Shriek, but I don't even know anymore. Either I'm Peter writing this review, or Duncan writing Peter writing this review and... all right dear reader, have a nice day.)
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Another reviewer's perspective
Because I also like to include other people's reviews, to provide a second perspective for potential readers, here's a review by Laura of the 'Why the Book Wins' channel:
City of Saints and Madmen is reviewed during the first 16 minutes, up until 15:52. Beware of spoilers !
This reviewer has also done an overview of the different editions of City of Saints and Madmen (or some of its earlier published individual stories) and the other Ambergris books. The omnibus edition Ambergris doesn't contain the second half of the collection, consisting of shorter stories and vignettes. The discussion of the Ambergris series editions begins at 7:08. If the video link above does not move you right away to 7:08, please use the link included in the previous sentence. Pleasant viewing.
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Final thoughts...
Once I conclude reading Shriek: An Afterword, I'll follow up this review with another one.
I'll admit that I'm looking forward to that book, because though the many shorter stories and narratives in the collection are interesting, I'd like to finally read a novel-length single story about the Ambergris setting.
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