In literature, islands have often occupied a special imaginative space, either as utopia, or the isolated playground of human desires and passions, or even as escape. The self sustaining, and usually verdant nature of a typical island as imagined in popular culture is attractive in how it becomes, in one fell swoop, something which actually exists and yet lends itself sufficiently well to the imagination. The possibilities allowed by such a space are endless: they are within civilization's grasp, and yet beyond it, all at the same time.
Christopher Priest has been writing about a certain specific set of islands for some time now in his Dream Archipelago stories. They are set in a fictional world where the northern and southern continents are trapped in a never ending war, and a large group of islands are trapped in the middle, protected from the warfare only by what is known as the Covenant of Neutrality. But in spite of this, they are not beyond controversy, as the islands become a refuge not just for war deserters, but for misfits and outcasts: artists, social reformers, painters, sportsmen are all drawn to the islands for reasons which are, even at the end of the novel, left unexplained.
That is the heart of the mystery, as propounded by this magnificent exercise in unreliable narration. Trying to explain to anyone what this book is about would be, at once, doing a grave disservice to what Priest tried to achieve here: a Borges like fabulation that takes itself very seriously, replete with excessive, and in some sense, it could be argued at first glance, unnecessary detail. But the accounts of the islands themselves are not all consistent. Their identities overlap and are often contested. Some islands don't have straightforward descriptions. Instead, what we do have are accounts and anecdotes of characters who recur every now and then, and are probably not to be trusted. And, as a result, perhaps what you make of the 'novel' will depend on how many times you reread it.
Is it a bloated exercise in post-postmodern fireworks? Not at all, in my honest opinion. The novel is a multifaceted crystal. When you read it the first time, you might be forgiven for finding it to be overindulgent, with little in the way of plot: a collection of encyclopedic entries on a fictional archipelago, interspersed with first hand accounts of the islanders themselves. It's probably on the second read through that you might start paying attention to the characters who might have evaded notice previously. They, like the islands, become keys to behavioral patterns, and then you begin reading even more carefully, while not trusting a single sentence on face value. Soon you will unearth a murderous painter, a mime artist who takes the stage a little too seriously, towers of rock which are in a state of constant temporal flux, and extreme visionaries who tunnel through rock and create entire musical instruments out of the islands themselves.
Perhaps what is most striking about Priest's novel is that, all said and done, it is entertaining, in spite of the dry voice and the objective narration. The islands themselves become as important, characteristically, as the islanders themselves. The sense of place the novel exudes is enthralling. It is the most entertaining fictional travelogue you will ever read. The fact that it's also a novel is a welcome bonus.
Christopher Priest has been writing about a certain specific set of islands for some time now in his Dream Archipelago stories. They are set in a fictional world where the northern and southern continents are trapped in a never ending war, and a large group of islands are trapped in the middle, protected from the warfare only by what is known as the Covenant of Neutrality. But in spite of this, they are not beyond controversy, as the islands become a refuge not just for war deserters, but for misfits and outcasts: artists, social reformers, painters, sportsmen are all drawn to the islands for reasons which are, even at the end of the novel, left unexplained.
That is the heart of the mystery, as propounded by this magnificent exercise in unreliable narration. Trying to explain to anyone what this book is about would be, at once, doing a grave disservice to what Priest tried to achieve here: a Borges like fabulation that takes itself very seriously, replete with excessive, and in some sense, it could be argued at first glance, unnecessary detail. But the accounts of the islands themselves are not all consistent. Their identities overlap and are often contested. Some islands don't have straightforward descriptions. Instead, what we do have are accounts and anecdotes of characters who recur every now and then, and are probably not to be trusted. And, as a result, perhaps what you make of the 'novel' will depend on how many times you reread it.
Is it a bloated exercise in post-postmodern fireworks? Not at all, in my honest opinion. The novel is a multifaceted crystal. When you read it the first time, you might be forgiven for finding it to be overindulgent, with little in the way of plot: a collection of encyclopedic entries on a fictional archipelago, interspersed with first hand accounts of the islanders themselves. It's probably on the second read through that you might start paying attention to the characters who might have evaded notice previously. They, like the islands, become keys to behavioral patterns, and then you begin reading even more carefully, while not trusting a single sentence on face value. Soon you will unearth a murderous painter, a mime artist who takes the stage a little too seriously, towers of rock which are in a state of constant temporal flux, and extreme visionaries who tunnel through rock and create entire musical instruments out of the islands themselves.
Perhaps what is most striking about Priest's novel is that, all said and done, it is entertaining, in spite of the dry voice and the objective narration. The islands themselves become as important, characteristically, as the islanders themselves. The sense of place the novel exudes is enthralling. It is the most entertaining fictional travelogue you will ever read. The fact that it's also a novel is a welcome bonus.
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