There
are many complaints and expectations in mainstream media these days about the
weakness of bridge novels in trilogies.
Gary K. Wolfe even goes so far as to posit they are unnecessary; the
first and last book in a trilogy can be read with nothing of significance
missed in the stop-gap. But what is
implied but never stated in these statements is the inherent linear nature of
the series under discussion. What about
those series wherein the author chose to think laterally, to move their story
in unexpected directions? M. John
Harrison’s Viriconium novels are an
artistic statement about a setting, it’s plotting and characterization the
opposite of contiguous throughout the four books. Jeff VanderMeer’s Ambergris stories
individually earn praise, but again, the major point binding them together is
setting. Jeff Ford’s Well-Built City
series, as its title indicates, deserves mention in the same breath. Memoranda
(1999), the second in the trilogy, is anything but a standard bridge novel.
The Physiognomist the macabre
tale of the man Cley finding ‘the light,’ Memoranda
opens with him living in a small town, putting his medical talents to use as
local surgeon, midwife, pharmacist, and whatever other medical talents are
requested of him. A huge mechanical bird
landing in the town square one day, it explodes, filling the space with a toxic
yellow mist that puts the townsfolk into a deep sleep. Knowing the evil Drachton Below must be the
mind behind the mass slumber, he heads to what remains of the Well-Built City
to find him and extract the antidote—by force, if necessary. But what he finds is a nightmare of the most
sublime proportions.
As
atypical a hero’s story as they come, Memoranda
is an examination of the mind of evil—literally, then figuratively. Rife with colorfully rendered symbolism,
Cley’s trip into the dreams of Below is one of the reasons to read
fantasy. Beautifully and fittingly
imagined, not all is bats and demons, hellfire and brimstone; Drachton Below
evil, he nevertheless remains a fallible man.
Wrapped up in self-delusion, dishonesty, and many other traits that make
us all human, Ford effectively portrays the mindset behind malevolence in
vividly sketched scenes. The floating
Fetch, the receding beach, Dr. Hellman’s basket trip to collect an ‘ocean’ sample,
the physical manifestation of sheer beauty—all float vibrantly in the mind
while reading, making the best part of Memoranda
perhaps Ford’s insistence never to resort to insipid imaginings.
The
narrative voice maintaining a distance throughout Memoranda, the reader is never forced to empathize with either Cley
or Below. Rather, they are brought to an
understanding of the novel’s import via symbolism and allegory. This distance is largely achieved by pacing.
Brisk and abrupt, Memoranda moves at
the relatively quick speed of The Physiognomist. Never allowing
proceedings to become maudlin or trite, something that easily could have
happened were Ford a less aware writer, the result is another bildungsroman but of an entirely
different hue.
Zigging
where much of fantasy these days zags, Memoranda
is an atypical second novel in a trilogy, to say the least. Possible to be read on its own, in fact, its
connection to the novels which precede and follow is limited—important in the
larger context of theme, but not dependent in terms of plot. Ford’s imagination continues to prove itself
not only capable of producing vividly realized scenes and characters, but a
singular story comparable to other works in the field by theme only. Looking ahead, the final novel, The Beyond, possibly cements the
Well-Built City series as one of the best of the modern fantasy era.
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