Ex Libris: Cities that burn the Mind

"Gilding the lily".

Unfortunately, that's the only thing that comes to mind when I think of trying to write quick reviews of M. John Harrison's Viriconium and Italo Calvino's Invisible Cities. But then again, I figure this is one good way to explain why I'm fascinated about such mysterious cities.

Let's see: Harrison's Viriconium is the ultimate dark door into the world of speculative fiction. You see those rows and rows of generic (read: Quest) big fat fantasy books lining the shelves of your neighborhood bookstore? This book is the drug of choice, the pill Morpheus offers to all of us Neo-phytes reading fantasy books. You want the rug pulled out of you? Well, this is definitely not your daddy's J.R.R. Tolkien.

There are many stories involving Viriconium-- also called the Pastel City-- situated at the edge of an ancient future time. However, like a crystal, these stories are facets of the same thing. In one, a noble swordman (with a poor hand in poetry) and his less-than noble companions battle to save the city's lovely queen. In another, gang-members hunt each other down in a maze-like city for honor using vibrating-knives that cut without blood. In a third, a modern-day young man knows Viriconium is just a crazy tale told by an old man. Of course one could say these protagonists are the same but bear different names. Ditto with the city: called Viriconium in one story, Uroconium in another. They're all different but all the same.

As you can see, Harrison likes to mess with your mind a little.

It took me quite a while to finish reading collection of stories as every now and then, I had to put the book down to absorb what I read. Of course, Harrison doesn't make it easy: his prose almost verges at times to dance out of reading range. But the imagery of various scenes have a tendency to stay in the mind: tegeus-Cromis' mad charge against the Moidart's army; the assassin, the clown and the dancer dancing in the wasteland; the last flight of a dying breed of man.

So is Viriconium the story or the city within the story? I would hazard a guess that it's both and leave it at that.

On the other hand, I blame JP for introducing me to Calvino's Invisible Cities (though in a good way).

One may ask: What's Calvino doing here? Isn't he (L)iterature? Yes, but whether he is or not, Invisible Cities can be regarded as a story of imagination: Marco Polo regaling Kublai Khan with stories of the different cities he has supposedly come across on his journeys. Of course 'stories' is a misnomer since Invisible Cities impresses as a travelogue of sorts with the Venetian describing each city (and Calvino slotting each city into different categories like a scientist describing new species).

So if Viriconium is a crystal with many facets, then Invisible Cities is a veritable funhouse full of mirrors: so many questions surround the true nature of the mysterious cities. After all, there is also the question of whether or not Marco Polo is being truthful: Kublai Khan accuses him of actually describing only one city, i.e. the merchant's beloved home, the canal-striated Venice. Are the cities actual locations in the Khan's empire or are they just reflections of another thing?

Like Viriconium, Invisible Cities makes you ask: what is the true nature of the city?

Of course, it's not all cities, all the time. It's also about the relationship between the two characters: between the merchant and the barbarian, the traveler and the emperor, the guest and the master. Eventually, the bond between two is tied tight that they do not need to speak in order for the other to know their mind. (Reminded me actually of the chess-players scene in Hero.)

Am I careening from subject to subject like an out-of-control automobile on a darkened highway? Well, Calvino does that to you.

To summarize, both books are highly recommended... but only if you've got brain cells to spare.