China Mieville is the author when it comes to cities. I've found some of his other works tedious going because he puts so much love and adoration into his settings that he can't help but nudge the plot out of the way to show you his cool setting. Luckily, when it comes to The City & The City, Mieville had a brilliant idea: the detective novel provides a perfect frame for him to show off his city without it fighting for attention with his plot. Because there's a mystery to investigate, the details of the setting become critical to the plot, and can be properly showcased. Inspector Borlu is perfect for the job of tour guide -- the archetypal detective, he neither truly inhabits his life, but clinically examines his surroundings, and his arms-length remove from the city sets up the theme nicely.

Of course, where The City & The City shines is in the titular cities and there are (at least) three: Beszel: a prototypical Eastern European Olde Country; Ul Qoma: nouveau riche and glitzy; the combined physical reality that contains both, transposed on top of each other, not to mention Orciny -- the mythical third city that lies in the interstitial space. The idea is just so cool. And then the more I thought about it, the more I reflect on life, and that, my friends, is what makes a good book into a great book.

The central conceit is this: Ul Qoma and Beszel occupy the same space. I at first thought that this requires science fiction or fantasy, but Mieville employs neither here. Instead, he simply invents a political system where Ul Qoma and Beszel refuse to notice each other, even when physically located in the same place. They speak different languages, follow different rules and have different cultures. This was a stretch for me at first -- more of a stretch than imagining a magical system, to be honest. But then I started thinking of real-life split cities, like Jerusalem, where adjoining spaces belong to different governing bodies, speak different languages and in general refuse to acknowledge each other (even though in the book this exact example is brought up and belittled). And then I started thinking more generally and more close to home: I live in a neighborhood that walks the fine line between diversity and gentrification. Could it not be said that there are the neighbors, whether I know them or not, that I acknowledge more -- that, because I see similarity in the way they dress, talk and hold themselves, I am more likely to make small talk? When I talk about buying a house, there are blocks -- right next to highly desirable blocks -- where I would never live, because of the style of the houses and the presumed personalities of the neighbors (and the imaginary line dividing real people from the loathed undergrads.) And then I reflect on the recent political events and it's hard to argue that the same laws apply to everyone in the city, even in one physical location. So I spent a lot of time thinking about what these imaginary-but-real divisions in my life are, and what to do about them, since there is no all-powerful Breach in real life.

This ability to write a book that is intriguing prima facie, but that has used speculative fiction to explore deeper truths about real life is the exact reason that I read speculative fiction. The back of my copy of the City and The City compares it to Orwell and Kafka, but honestly, I think it transcends that and can only be compared to the true master: [a:Ursula K. Le Guin|874602|Ursula K. Le Guin|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1244291425p2/874602.jpg]. And to say it holds up well in the comparison is a compliment of the highest order.