Set in a devastated London the story follows Scholl, a man who lives alone in an abandoned London bus. The world has been brought to ruin by the escape of Imagos. Thousands of years earlier these beings had been imprisoned in the Tain and compelled to form reflections in mirror, windows, puddles etc.

Over the centuries odd members of this race have escaped to this world, and as they don't have reflections form part of the reason for the vampire myth. But now the barrier has broken and Imagos have invaded our world.

The London of this book is one which is mostly empty and decaying. There bands of humans here and there, some organised by surviving members of the armed forces, some just scavenging. These bands fight periodically with the Imagos, or with each other, or roam the streets attacking anyone they find and looting for what they can get.

Scholl however decides to confront the Imagos, and overcoming his fear ventures into the lair of Imagos that is Victoria Station.

This is a wonderful if somewhat harrowing read. In many ways it reminds me of some of the post-apocalyptic works on Edmund Cooper (and as he's a favourite author of mine it's a good comparison). It definite evokes the best of the New Wave authors, and strong parallels can also easily be drawn to J.G. Ballard.

But whereas both Messrs. Cooper and Ballard would have had tried and trusted sf devices to engineer their situations there is a magickal reason behind this London. Here, like in his other works, the author blurs the edges between the genres.

It's a wonderfully written piece, Mr. Miéville has a fine writing style and the tale is well paced. The only downside I could mention is that it is dark in mood, but this is only a downside if you like black & white, good versus evil, happy ending stories. This is richer for not having clear sides and for not conforming to the Hollywood style hero story pattern.

On reading this book you will quickly realise that China Miéville is worth his reputation. This is good stuff! Had I read this before compiling my choices of 2002, the list would have an extra member.

Synposis
The river was clogged with wrecks. Besides the mouldering barges that had always been there jutted the bows of police boats, and the decks and barrels of sunken gunships. Inverted tugs like rusting islands. The Thames flowed slowly around these impediments.

Once, in a city seemingly deserted, Sholl would have explored, in fear and loneliness. But he had grown disgusted with those feelings, and with the prurience that quickly mediated them. He walked north, along the top of the train. He would follow the tracks down past the walls of London, into Victoria station.

From some miles off, from the direction of South Kensington, came a high mewing sound. Sholl gripped the shotgun. A multitude lifted from the distant streets, many thousands of indistinct bodies. They were not birds. The flock did not move in avian curves, but with spastic jerks, changing speed and direction with a suddenness birds could never manage. The things trilled and chattered, moving erratically south.

"[China] has the art of estrangement increasingly wired. The Tain is deeply uncanny." M. John Harrison, from his Introduction