Offering a freshly-imagined world of bizarre creatures and strange customs, this unique and sardonic allegory explores the power and price of science and the ambiguity of morality. Humorless and drug addicted, physiognomist Cley is ordered by the Master of the Well-Built City to investigate a theft in a remote mining town. Well-versed in serving justice, arrogant Cley sets out to determine the identity of the thief using the pseudo-science of judging people by their features, but becomes distracted from his task by a beautiful girl from town. When the young-but-wise woman rejects him, he looses faith in his abilities, and in a drug-induced frenzy he “remakes” her features. The subsequent horror of what he has done, what he represents, and the shallow life he leads forces him to seek atonement and true justice, risking the Master’s wrath, which may entail death by head explosion.
Jeffrey Ford is an American writer in the Fantastic genre tradition, although his works have spanned genres including Fantasy, Science Fiction and Mystery. His work is characterized by a sweeping imaginative power, humor, literary allusion, and a fascination with tales told within tales. He is a graduate of the State University of New York at Binghamton, where he studied with the novelist John Gardner.
He lives in southern New Jersey and teaches writing and literature at Brookdale Community College in Monmouth County. He has also taught at the summer Clarion Workshop for science fiction and fantasy writers in Michigan. He has contributed stories, essays and interviews to various magazines and e-magazines including MSS, Puerto Del Sol, Northwest Review, Hayden's Ferry Review, Argosy, Event Horizon, Infinity Plus, Black Gate and The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction.
He published his first story, "The Casket", in Gardner's literary magazine MSS in 1981 and his first full-length novel, Vanitas, in 1988.
Do you thrill to characters that display the worst traits of humanity, protagonists that wallow in the base muck of human indecency?
In short, do you like books about assholes?
If so you’re in for a treat with Jeffrey Ford’s Physiognomy
Cley, the main character of Physiognomy is an arrogant, cruel, misogynistic and abusive sadist who spends his life mercilessly judging people via their appearances.
Big deal I hear you say - these days people like Cley get elected to the highest of public offices – but Cley is worse than that, for he plays judge and jury over the people whose appearances he gauges, sending hundreds to their deaths based on the less-than-perfect angle of their noses, an unattractively placed mole, or an oddly shaped chin.
Cley is a Physiognomist, a man empowered by the state to decide who among the population is deserving of their citizenship, who is guilty, who is innocent, who lives and who dies based entirely on an exhaustive, pseudo-scientific assessment of their physical characteristics.
Oh, and he enjoys the occasional drug-assisted rape.
Cley serves the dictatorial master of his home – The Well-Made City – and does so without question, condemning the innocent, his kindly old teachers, and anyone else who falls foul of the administration to either brutal public execution or a slow death in the empire’s Sulphur mines.
As Physignomy begins Cley has been ordered - for sins unknown – to Anamasobia, a mining town on the edge of his master’s empire. The people of Anamasobia toil in deep and dangerous mines seeking a valuable but toxic substance that over many decades turns the town’s miners into living, immobile stone statues. A strange, ever-fresh fruit uncovered in the mines has been stolen and Cley is to subject the entire town to his Physiognomical methods to uncover the thief.
Without spoiling too much, Cley encounters both a beautiful young woman and some serious setbacks in Anamasobia that send him on a journey of (some) self-discovery that pulls back the curtain on the brutal empire he serves.
The origin and reasoning behind the Well-Made City is a treat, and it reminds me a little of China Mieville in its intricate and weird worldbuilding. Ford spins an entertaining story that had me racing through the pages to see what happened next. Cley’s character arc from disgustingly arrogant rapist/sadist to something less asshole-y is interesting and engaging, and by the end of the book he is a much more interesting character.
Ford doesn’t go for easy narrative choices and I was surprised on several occasions when events turned out other than I had predicted, and often ended up much darker than I had anticipated.
Physiogmnomy is really more fantasy (with elements of steampunk) than SF, but its good fantasy of the sort that isn’t overly indebted to Tolkien - there’s nary a dragon or elf to be seen. The end of the book - which clearly sets up for a sequel - isn’t as strong as the rest of the novel but this is still an entertaining read, and a chance to spend some time with a character who is one of the nastier people I’ve encountered in fiction.
Sometimes a book will spoil you and sometimes a book will amaze you and sometimes it will blow your mind.
This one comes close to doing all three.
Think phrenology taken to a full sociological extreme, with abuses of power included, throw it into a land that could be hell, but all it’s inhabitants are so used to the strangeness that they take everything, including architectural explosions created by headaches, in stride.
And the follow a wildly abusive character filled with outright funny insults, watch him self-destruct, bring innocents along with him, and then have him go through a transformative arc.
A lot of these aspects may seem usual in the fantasy realm, but what I’m neglecting in my description is the sheer imaginative force of this world, the people within it, and the amazing richness of every line.
I can easily recommend this for anyone tired of the same old fantasy. This is really rich fare.
Gene Wolfe meets Kafka meets Orwell. Weird fiction at its best. No wonder Ford won the world fantasy award for this. Recommended to everyone who like serious fantasy that can also be entertaining. It's a crime that this book (and the other two in the series) is out of print. There is not an ebook version either. If you want to read it you have to order a used copy. Dystopian fantastic literature the way it's supposed to be. No secondary worlds, no magical systems, no "likable characters", no bullshit. Criminally underrated.
After having been seriously underwhelmed by one of Ford’s most recent books (Out of Body)—which I’d randomly picked up at the library while specifically looking for this book—I didn’t know what to expect from this much earlier outing of his—the first entry in The Well-Built City trilogy. I need not have worried, however, for this turned out to be a wonderfully original hybrid work of fantasy, magic, mystery, and science fiction that reminded me of Michael Swanwick’s Stations of the Tide. I've also enjoyed a similar strain of genre hybridity in Samuel R. Delany’s Dhalgren and much of Michael Cisco's work. Even though these writers are often wielding common genre tropes, the way they blend those tropes together makes the resulting works seem sui generis.
This novel is predicated on the notion that a superlative magician—named Drachton Below but more commonly referred to only as the Master—has employed the concept of a memory palace to create an entire physical city based on his own memories. It sounds cool, except that the Master is diabolical and has used his powers to impose an autocratic, dystopian structure on the city and subjugate the entire population, toying with them according to his various perverse whims. These include, among other examples, public execution (e.g., head explodings), the creation of hybrid cyborg beings that are forced to fight one another in the streets, and the use of physiognomy as an overarching system for meting out justice. The head physiognomist, Cley (a confidante of the Master), narrates the story. He is a believably flawed anti-hero of sorts, who over the course of the novel will be forever changed.
I don’t want to say much about the plot, as this is a really fun book to go into without any foreknowledge beyond the very basics. It’s very well-plotted and paced, has natural and witty dialogue, and does not belabor or overexplain the world-building components. I’m looking forward to reading the other two books in the trilogy.
Since this book won the World Fantasy Award, I'd wanted to read it for a while. Thanks to NetGalley and Open Road Media for giving me the opportunity.
I see why the book won the award - it gives us a strikingly original and interesting scenario: a fantasy world ruled by an oppressive dictator, who utilizes civil servants to maintain his cruel regime. One of the tools in his arsenal is the faux-'science' of physiognomy, where an 'expert' uses phrenology and other physical measurements to determine if one is (or will be) guilty of a crime.
Physiognomist Cley is one of these experts. He's also a thoroughly unsympathetic person - one of the most repulsive protagonists you're likely to encounter in fiction. He's willing to lie and be used, has no moral or ethical compass at all, and allows his drug addiction to take him to escalating acts of cruelty and depravity.
Some reviewers have described the story as a tale of Cley's redemption - but I don't see it that way at all. Yes, over the course of the story Clay's position changes - but only because his position literally changes in relation of the locus of power. He's motivated by resentment, not ethics.
Overall, I can't say the book was a 'pleasant' experience, although it was 'well-built.' In feel, it reminded me a bit of Mervyn Peake's 'Titus Groan.' It had that same sort of oppressive, hallucinatory atmosphere.
I'm glad I read the book, but can't say I'm eager to go and seek out the sequels.
Twenty-odd years of Steampunk nonsense have diluted its weirdness: brass clockwork in inappropriate places, a pseudo-Victorian aesthetic, and a nightmare urban landscape. But latter-day Steampunk ignores the essence that Ford captures so handily here with a deeply distrustful and almost fearful look at the technological march of progress. Nearly every technological innovation is used as a tool to manipulate or oppress, and it is clear that the Master of the Well-Built City, Drachton Below, considers the population to be vermin contaminating his perfect expression of architecture.
A major question arising early on is the role of physiognomy itself. Is it a reality here, or is it balderdash that has been given a cutlass edge by political degree and conventional wisdom? Cley believes in it with religious fervor, but as a drug-addicted apparatchik is not reliable narrator.
Despite the scientific trappings, this story is more fantasy than anything else. Drachton Below wields strange powers that might be outright magical, and his mental state is reflected in the city itself. Dreams and drug hallucinations intersect with reality.
El propósito que lo guiaba no era imposible, aunque sí sobrenatural. Quería soñar un hombre: quería soñarlo con integridad minuciosa e imponerlo a la realidad.
Este fragmento de Las ruinas circulares de Jorge Luis Borges resume La fisiognomia. La trampa del idealismo, esa filosofía utópica que mueve a los hombres a crear un nuevo mundo, es que busca el reinicio, reducir a cenizas lo presuntamente negativo para construir un mundo más justo, más igualitario y más racional. La historia bien nos ha enseñado a qué conduce el idealismo y el final que, por lo general, aguarda a sus artífices. La ciudad bien construida es otro intento de utopía, una diseñada en la imaginación y construida por la voluntad. El villano Drachton Bellow, es el arquitecto de La ciudad bien construida, y la crea como una extensión de su palacio mental, una estructura mnemotécnica que permite al usuario, un memorioso portentoso, compartimentar los recuerdos y experiencias situándolas virtualmente en forma de objetos dentro de un edificio con infinitas habitaciones, buhardillas, arcones y cajones; sin embargo, las altas capacidades de Bellow hacen que sus conocimientos no quepan en una casa: necesita de una ciudad entera. Así, desde su pensamiento, crea La ciudad bien construida, en la que él es amo y actúa como administrador, legislador, juez y verdugo. Para garantizar el perfecto orden urbano, Bellow se vale de la vigilancia extrema y del miedo a castigos mucho peores que la muerte. Una de sus ingeniosas herramientas de control social es la fisiognomia, una pseudociencia que existió realmente y que, según sus practicantes, lograba conocer las intenciones y descubrir los pensamientos ocultos mediante el estudio de los rasgos faciales y craneales. Los garantes del orden son, pues, los fisiognomistas, y Cley es el mejor de todos ellos.
Cley, protagonista y narrador, ha perdido el favor de Bellow por una transgresión no del todo clara, algo que cada vez va volviéndose más habitual en el gabinete presidencial cercano al amo, por lo que se le encomienda una misión especial, a saber, acudir a una ciudad deprimida situada en las fronteras del imperio construido por Bellow en busca de una fruta que otorga poderes a quien la consume. Su tarea consistirá en estudiar a toda la población, encontrar a la persona o personas que han tenido contacto con la fruta y terminar con el conato sedicioso, para lo que tendrá que usar sus artes como fisiognomista.
Ford es un imaginador a la altura de su Bellow. A partir de pequeños detalles Ford va confeccionando su particular universo en que los hombres pueden petrificarse tras pasar años de su vida en las minas, cadáveres momificados de seres lejanamente humanos que habitan más allá del mundo conocido, híbridos entre máquina y carne y muchas otras absurdas transformaciones y metamorfosis. Todo el texto está diseñado para provocar extrañeza en el lector, para que a lo netamente fantástico se le añada una capa más de delirio y surrealismo. Para ello, Ford usa la narración en primera persona y Cley como narrador, uno que no desentonaría en una novela de Gene Wolfe.
En efecto, el lector no puede fiarse de Cley. No solo se trata de un arribista cruel y despreciable con una visión distorsionada de la realidad, también es una herramienta de Bellow, un peón en un juego que no entiende del todo que habita un mundo diseñado por un demiurgo enloquecido. Esto último es muy importante, pues La ciudad bien construida, en tanto que utopía, solo funciona en la mente de su diseñador, por lo que es tan robusta como las fibras cerebrales que la sostienen. Y qué ocurre cuando la mente del imaginador da visos de perder facultades... que el castillo empieza a tambalearse.
La novela, por tanto, no tiene un desarrollo convencional. Lo que a priori comienza como una misión clara, a saber, encontrar un objeto y detener una presunta rebelión, al poco toma unos derroteros nada claros y cada vez más surrealistas. El juego que nos propone Ford es uno al que es difícil entrar porque las reglas van cambiando constantemente: ni el mundo sigue las mismas leyes que el nuestro ni el narrador nos las presenta ni nos ayuda a comprenderlas. En ese aspecto, La fisiognomia puede resultar un desafío. Pero si uno está dispuesto a dejarse llevar descubrirá en Ford a un escritor superdotado, de una imaginación asombrosa y gran capacidad para crear imágenes truculentas, poéticas y, en última instancia, memorables.
7,5/10 Σκοτεινό Δυστοπικό Φάνταζι. Ωραία γραφή και χαρακτήρες αλλά ο "κόσμος" που διαδραματίζονται όλα αυτά είναι λίγο "μουτζουρωμένος"(λίγο απ' όλα δλδ) που χαλάει την όμορφη συνοχή του βιβλίου. Δεν κουράζει αλλά αν συγχέεις αυτό το βιβλίο με κάμποσα καθαρά τρόμου που εχει βγάλει η εκδοτική σειρά κόλαση-σκοτάδι των εκδόσεων οξύ θα απογοητευτείς.Αναγνωστικό μουσικό "χαλί":Draconian-Under a Godless Veil(2020)
Thanks to S̶e̶a̶n̶ for the tip. I've had mixed experiences with Ford, and was staying away from him after A Natural History of Hell.
But this was great fun. The sheer absurd inventiveness of the first 150 pages or so was irresistible. It was good to see Cley get what he deserved in the sulfur mines, but I got less patient with Cley's problems afterwards. Could have been tightened significantly.
Esta obra que obtuvo el World Fantasy de 1998 está ahora relativamente olvidada y no entiendo demasiado bien el motivo de esto. "la fisiognomia" es una novela de fantasía que sorprende bastante por sus personajes y emplazamientos atípicos. La verdad es que no me sorprende nada que ganará ese premio porque es un soplo de aire fresco y originalidad.
El libro nos narra la historia de el Fisiognomista Cley, un experto analista de caras que trabaja para el amo, Drachton Below, el creador de la maravillosa Ciudad Bien Construida. Un "gran hermano" que ha diseñado un mundo de cristal donde el pueblo es analizado y eliminado si se atisba el menor rasgo de rebelión en las formas de sus caras. Cleyes eviado a una ciudad lejos de La ciudad bien construida para investigar una extraña fruta que da supuestos poderes a quien la consume. A partir de ahí el soberbio y engreido Cley aprenderá mucho sobre la vida fuera de la ciudad de su amo y tendrá una gran evolución personal durante su viaje.
Tanto la historia como los personajes me han parecido muy interesantes. Y todo ello en menos de 300 páginas. No es preciso escribir tochos para parir grandes obras de fantasía. Ahora a por "Memoranda", la segunda parte de esta aventura.
Physiognomist Cley has been sent by Master Drachton Below, the evil genius who constructed the Well-Built City, to the faraway mining district of Anamasobia to investigate the theft of a fruit that’s rumored to have grown in the Earthly Paradise and to have supernatural powers. Upon arriving, the skeptical and arrogant physiognomist finds a whole town of morons whose physical features clearly indicate that they are all backward and generally pathetic. Except for Arla, whose beautiful features suggest that she is intelligent and competent, and who seems to understand the science of physiognomy (even though that’s impossible because she’s a woman). But Cley likes looking at Arla (women do have their place), so he invites her to be his assistant as each of the dimwits in the town comes one-by-one to disrobe, pose, and present their bodies for physiognomical inspection, measurement, and analysis.
But Cley’s investigation starts to go badly when he attempts to read the physiognomy of “The Traveler,” the dark man who was holding the supernatural fruit when it was originally found in the mines. Knowing that “dark pigmentation of the flesh is a sure sign of diminished intelligence and moral fiber,” Cley is surprised to find that his scientific measurements don’t add up. He’s also shocked to find other strange impossibilities happening in Anamasobia. Soon, his knowledge and skills begin to fail him and, eventually, things spiral out of his control after he performs an experimental surgery on Arla while under the influence of his favorite hallucinogenic drug. Master Drachton Below is not pleased with Cley’s work… and Master Below is not a man to disappoint.
The Physiognomy, with its original ideas, setting, characters, and symbolism, is sometimes brilliant, and always bizarre (which is probably why it won the 1998 World Fantasy Award). The focus on the debunked science of physiognomy is especially appealing and the characters, though they are not likable, are fascinating, too. Physiognomist Cley — who computes personalities with calipers, wears formaldehyde as cologne, is addicted to drugs, and is afraid of the dark — is one of the most narcissistic, sarcastic, and generally nasty characters you’ll ever meet. Master Drachton Below, who developed the Well-Built City as a perfect representation of his elaborate version of the mnemonic device called The Method of Loci, and who enjoys reviving dead human bodies by fitting them with mechanical devices and neural implants, makes a great villain. I listened to Audible Frontier’s version of The Physiognomy which was read by Christian Rummel. All of the characters were expertly and entertainingly rendered by Mr. Rummell, who perfectly captured the arrogance of Cley and the malevolence of The Master.
The plot of The Physiognomy starts confidently and with purpose, but when Cley’s troubles begin to accumulate, the story dissolves into a series of bizarre, vaguely-related occurrences which feel more like one of Cley’s time-distorted hallucinations than a plot. Like the hallucinations, the imagery is excellent (e.g., the hellish symbolism of the sulfur mine), and the prose never falters, but the things that happen to Cley, and his subsequent changes in personality, feel vague, arbitrary, and unbelievable.
It’s disappointing when a book which starts so well fails to completely satisfy, but I’m not giving up on Jeffrey Ford or his Well-Built City trilogy. I loved the idea of the city based on The Method of Loci and I am hoping to learn more about it in the next book which is propitiously titled Memoranda.
As punishment, Physiognomist First Class Cley is sent by the Master to investigate a minor matter. He sets out to do so with his usual brutal, privileged, directness, only to end up on a course toward disaster.
The Physiognomist struck me as a self-consciously quirky story – as with Jeff Vandermeer, Physiognomist author Jeffrey Ford trying too hard to be outlandish and strange. This feels a story asking - begging, even - to be placed with Kafka. It would have succeeded better if it had made more clear what it was trying to achieve.
Reading The Physiognomist, left me feeling constantly as if I were missing some several layers of hidden meaning. Unfortunately, the subtletly confounded me - or simply wasn't there. Rhere are several obvious aspects of satire, such as focus on looks as a surrogate for capability, However, Ford spends quite a lot of time hinting at other layers relating to religion (the Master's name is Drachton Below) and psychology (hints at representations of ego and id) without ever committing to them. Several promising avenues are thrown out and then simply let lie.
Quite a bit of the story simply doesn't make much sense within its own universe, and the problem is exacerbated by the narrator's addiction to the drug 'sheer beauty' and its pyschedelic effects. The result feels more like a pastiche of surreal dream sequences than a purposeful narrative. It's original and interesting, but it's not good. It's a disappointment; the concept holds a lot of promise that Ford never follows up on, and the ending is flat and anti-climactic.
Having read Ford's later work (especially his short stories) before coming to this novel, I had certain expectations about his writing style and subject matter. And so, the baroque and decadent world of The Physiognomy was, at first, a huge surprise. But as I became accustomed the the more formal rhythms of Cley's narratorial expression, and to the casual cruelty of the world's grand architect Drachton Below, I found myself completely immersed. Both magic and science have an uncomfortable coexistence, and the fact that the pseudo-science of physiognomy is taken to be gospel truth is compelling and thoroughly unsettling, justifying the most horrible of atrocities. Cley's arc as a character has more twists and turns than I would expect from such a short book, a yet it is all believable, even amongst the strangeness. There is so much to like here.
This book has a monkey who runs a hotel. He's a fairly secondary character, but I've got a soft spot for hotelier monkeys.
Also, like his short stories, this novel helps explain why Jeffrey Ford's name gets thrown around in lists of New Weird writers, and justifies my desire to read everything by him that I can. At some point this should be re-issued in a collection with the other Well Built City novels and I'll have to re-buy it. Assuming the Trilogy is as good as this one, I won't mind.
Jeffrey Ford is the master of the hauntingly bizarre. This novel, along with the two others in the Well-Built City trilogy, have a steampunk feel to them, but steampunk filtered through Faery, Alice's Wonderland--or maybe, more accurately, Salvador Dali. What you think you see may not really be there, or may be something else all together. I suspect people will either hate it or love it.
The characters are often as strange as their surroundings, but I was completely engaged by them, even when they were doing terrible things. Cley, a drug addict and a practitioner of the "art" of physiognomy, a pseudo-science which literalizes the concept of "your face is your destiny," spends his time rearranging people's features in order to improve their character. He commits atrocities convinced all the while he is doing good work. His mentor, the evil dictatorial leader of Cley's society, Drachton Below, is grooming Cley for better things, but Cley soon runs afoul of the power structure. Cley's battles are not only with himself and the attitudes of his society which he has taken for granted, but with the corrupt heart of that society.
Ultimately, this book and the entire story arc of the trilogy (which is really one grand book) is about redemption. There are no easy heroes or heroines here, no easy answers, no neat messages tied up with ribbons. There are mysteries leading to more mysteries--and answers, of a sort, though Ford requires something of his readers.
I was transfixed, unable to look away, even when I wanted to sometimes.
Jeff Vandermeer might have written this book when he was 10 years old and sick with influenza.
It tries so hard to be weird and edgy, and it is neither. The dialogue is like if a 14-year-old wrote an episode of House. All of the characters are sniping jerks and none of them have any redeeming qualities. The protagonist (I guess) fondly remembers raping a prostitute, and later calls a woman he is infatuated with a slut because she has had sex once in her life. Worst of all, the story is told from his point of view.
It is so poorly plotted I found myself not caring that my attention was wandering as I listened to it. It wants to be "dreamlike" or "hallucinatory" moving from scene to scene and blurring the lines between them, but instead it is disjointed and it seems like everything is happening for no reason, building towards nothing. It's really bad.
The plot involves a guy who is real good at a bunk science going to some remote village in search of a stolen fruit and he has to use his science to find out who did it because his boss told him so, and during his search ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ you fall asleep because nothing in this book has any weight and there is no sense of urgency or stakes, at all.
The real star of the book should be the setting, but it is poorly realized and simply not interesting when you hold it up to Bas-Lag, Ambergris, Area X, Discworld, or any other fantasy setting from recent memory.
This thing sat on my reading list for years. What a bummer.
I really wanted to love this book. I stopped reading for a day and then started over in attempts to love it, but sadly, I did not. Now, before I go any further, please know this book is a three star book, for me. It’s very well written, very well thought out and executed, as well as developed. It’s super imaginative and in some areas, will bewitch you. However, it lacked just a small something for me. I don’t even know what it lacks to be honest. For about a day, I paced around my garage trying to think this through because again, I wanted to love it. Then I realized that it just didn’t excite me. Nothing in the book made me feel any one way or another. It evoked much thought, but little feel - from me. So, it was just that one little scintilla of something that differed between a three star and four.
Even so, I think readers are denying themselves a good (possibly great to many) read if they don’t give this novel a shot. While I may not have enjoyed this book the way that wanted, I fully intend to read a different story from Jeffrey Ford. He is just too good of an author to ignore.
I absolutely loved this book. The seemingly unlikeable protag/narrarator, First Class Physiognomist Cley was such a pleasingly dynamic character. Ford's imagination and creativity gleamed like the Well-Built city. His prose was not flashy but effective and economical. He told an excitingly new, weird, original tale in such a short time. I really appreciated that he was able to accomplish so much in a 244 page novel.
El inicio malo tirando a bastante malo. Luego mejora y ya. No pasa de meh!
Libro frío, historia sin interés ni por la trama ni por la ambientación y lo que para mí suele marcar la diferencia, personajes aburridos, sosos y sin carisma.
Se intuye cierto interés del autor por salirse de caminos muy transitados y opta por iniciar la historia con el protagonista en su posición de poder y privilegio* para ir bajándolo a los infiernos y a partir de ahí reconstruirlo. La intención puede ser interesante pero da igual la senda recorrida cuando el resultado es tan pobre.
*tampoco mucho que épica este libro no tiene. Cierto es que no la busca en ningún momento.
He de decir que el libro tienen una cosa buena: es corto.
I didn’t like this book for about the first half. I was sure I was going to give it two stars. Then something happened and I got completely caught up in it and couldn’t wait to see how it would end. The main character is not likeable for a long time. The prose is dense. The world-building was bizarre. But it all came together into a couldn’t-put-it-down experience. This book is described as Kafkaesque, which often translates to depressing and not understandable, but here, it was more of the oppressive and nightmarish quality of a Kafka story. This certainly isn’t a good time read. But it has depth and weight. This book won the World Fantasy Award for 1998.
Cley is a great narrator. He is such an arrogant prick in the first half of the book that you want something bad to happen to him. And yet, you somehow, bizarrely, root for him anyway. He does some absolutely horrible things--one in particular made me actually cringe and shudder while reading.
He does pay for his sins, however, but I can't say that I ever truly like the character all that much. Even after he reforms, he seems to be still mostly a prick. But he is nonetheless a compelling prick.
The strongest part of the novel, I think, is Ford's ability to evoke the colorful and weird imagery of the world. There are so many strange elements--a thinking, plotting monkey, a monstrous mechanical man with a heart of gold, a woman so hideous her face can kill--I kept wondering where the hell he comes up with this stuff. This is not standard fantasy or sci fi fare; it's imaginative and bizarre, and I was not able to predict where the hell the story was going at any time, for the most part. Which is a good thing.
Ford's writing is lyrical and evocative. I first stumbled across his work in a short story collection. His story "The Honeyed Knot" was so amazingly good that I read it aloud to my students every year, and it sparks MUCH discussion and passion. What makes it even more powerful is that Ford swears that it's a true story (I don't believe him, but it's still fun to tell students that it's 'true'). 'Physiognomy' is equally good, but different. It has a more poetic quality to it, a quality that coincides well with the content.
I just bought about four or five more of his novels based on the strength of this one. I am eagerly anticipating reading the rest.
As an aside, I met Mr Ford at the World Fantasy Convention in October, where he was doing a reading. You know how you sort of form an image of an author in your head--at least a little bit--when you read his/her work? His stuff is so emotionally charged and powerful that I pictured a slight, rumpled college professor type who was overly sensitive, forgive me for the stereotype. In fact, Mr Ford is a really big guy who talks with a strong Long Island accent. He definitely looks like he could kick some serious ass, and I thought it funny that he's writing this complex, sensitive stuff.
Sci-fi/fantasy in the mold of The Shadow of the Torturer by Gene Wolfe. This is one of the best books I've read in a while. The voice of the novel is Physiognomist First Class Cley. He works for a Hitler-like master named Drachton Below. Cley's job involves judging the character of others by reading their physiognomy. There are strict mathematical formulas for determining guilt, innocence or even what one may do in the future, but basically it comes down to if one looks like an imbecile they are therefore an imbecile. Master Below is intent on peopling his city with perfect human specimens. Sound familiar? Physiognomist Cley is sort of a Dr. Mengela, but after being convicted himself to serve eternity in the sulfur mines he has a change of heart. There are many repulsive aspects to this tale, but I found that gave it a grounding in reality.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Having enjoyed some of Jeffrey Ford's short stories, I was looking forward to reading The Physiognomy which sounded, on the face of it, very much up my alley. It does indeed have some great and disturbing imagery and concepts, but is also a supremely unpleasant read due in part to its supremely unpleasant POV character but mostly due to an odd lack of tension or narrative drive.
I couldn't get very far with this, and I'm not masochistic enough to try harder at this time. I think some readers will really love it -- those with a high tolerance for misanthropy, in particular; after all, it did win the World Fantasy Award! -- but it's just not for me.
** I received an ARC of this book via NetGalley ** (2015 Open Road Media edition)
This book follows a generally unlikable protagonist, Cley, as he heads to a remote city to investigate the evidence, and potential theft, of an item which the Master wants to use to extend his reign over all the people in the Well-Built City and beyond. Some snags occur, things go south, and Cley is on the run, captured, eventually changed, and less unlikable (though still not a saint). Then some more things happen and the book ends!
There are plentiful odd, weird, and otherwise strange passages/descriptions/events in the book, all of which did a good job in keeping my interest and making me want more. I enjoyed the story and everything pretty well, my biggest gripe is that it felt like the ending was quite rushed (to be fair, in the author's intro to the digital version of the trilogy I'm reading, he said he finished this book in a month's time after submitting the first few chapters, so that's not particularly surprising). Looking forward to the second book, which I'll be starting right about...now.
Physiognomist Cley has been sent by Master Drachton Below, the evil genius who constructed the Well-Built City, to the faraway mining district of Anamasobia to investigate the theft of a fruit that’s rumored to have grown in the Earthly Paradise and to have supernatural powers. Upon arriving, the skeptical and arrogant physiognomist finds a whole town of morons whose physical features clearly indicate that they are all backward and generally pathetic. Except for Arla, whose beautiful features suggest that she is intelligent and competent, and who seems to understand the science of physiognomy (even though that’s impossible because she’s a woman). But Cley likes looking at Arla (women do have their place), so he invites her to be his assistant as each of the dimwits in the town comes one-by-one to disrobe, pose, and present their bodies for physiognomical inspection, measurement, and analysis.
But Cley’s investigation starts to go badly when he attempts to read the physiognomy of “The Traveler,” the dark man who was holding the supernatural fruit when it was originally found in the mines. Knowing that “dark pigmentation of the flesh is a sure sign of diminished intelligence and moral fiber,” Cley is surprised to find that his scientific measurements don’t add up. He’s also shocked to find other strange impossibilities happening in Anamasobia. Soon, his knowledge and skills begin to fail him and, eventually, things spiral out of his control after he performs an experimental surgery on Arla while under the influence of his favorite hallucinogenic drug. Master Drachton Below is not pleased with Cley’s work… and Master Below is not a man to disappoint.
The Physiognomy, with its original ideas, setting, characters, and symbolism, is sometimes brilliant, and always bizarre (which is probably why it won the 1998 World Fantasy Award). The focus on the debunked science of physiognomy is especially appealing and the characters, though they are not likable, are fascinating, too. Physiognomist Cley — who computes personalities with calipers, wears formaldehyde as cologne, is addicted to drugs, and is afraid of the dark — is one of the most narcissistic, sarcastic, and generally nasty characters you’ll ever meet. Master Drachton Below, who developed the Well-Built City as a perfect representation of his elaborate version of the mnemonic device called The Method of Loci, and who enjoys reviving dead human bodies by fitting them with mechanical devices and neural implants, makes a great villain. I listened to Audible Frontier’s version of The Physiognomy which was read by Christian Rummel. All of the characters were expertly and entertainingly rendered by Mr. Rummell, who perfectly captured the arrogance of Cley and the malevolence of The Master.
The plot of The Physiognomy starts confidently and with purpose, but when Cley’s troubles begin to accumulate, the story dissolves into a series of bizarre, vaguely-related occurrences which feel more like one of Cley’s time-distorted hallucinations than a plot. Like the hallucinations, the imagery is excellent (e.g., the hellish symbolism of the sulfur mine), and the prose never falters, but the things that happen to Cley, and his subsequent changes in personality, feel vague, arbitrary, and unbelievable.
It’s disappointing when a book which starts so well fails to completely satisfy, but I’m not giving up on Jeffrey Ford or his Well-Built City trilogy. I loved the idea of the city based on The Method of Loci and I am hoping to learn more about it in the next book which is propitiously titled Memoranda.
* - possibly two stars for effort, but I would never recommend this book.
There you go, I saved you the frustration of reading the largely inane convolutions of this story. As you, dear reader, might have gathered - I am not very fond of this tale. The rest of this review will be a self-important rant, where I vent my frustration over the insatiety I feel after finishing "Physiognomy". Or maybe it is the frustration of the unused potential of this story. Bear in mind these are my subjective opinions, and that in all likelihood I could never produce anything as intricate as this tale.
So. Unfortunately, J.F. is trying so hard with this book in each and every way. He tries to be surreal or weird - ending up being awkward or obvious. The attempts to weave a background which would give a mysterious backdrop to the story, take the form of snippets of disjointed information which fail utterly in producing any other emotion than annoyance, rather than a sense of mystery. I am not sure what the point of the drug-trips with 'sheer beauty' was, if it was inserting a "transcendental" element, blurring the lines between mind and reality - then it fell quite flat. The language and style are bland. The action is weak. The comings and doings of the characters are more than once unnatural and forced. Cliff-hangers and Cleys often miraculous rescues feel equally unconvincing. The descriptions of the Well-Built City in some instances remind me of a highly inferior imitation of New Crobuzon (see for instance Perdido Street Station). Okay, thank you. I'm done.
At the beginning of this book I really considered abandoning it. I assumed because the author is male that I knew what he was on about - another entry in the horrible canon of men writing male characters whose violently-broadcast hatred is viewed as progressive by some men (who feel oppressed because there are penalties for abusing their fellow humans), but is in reality just a repackaging of the same old hatred that still powers American culture. If you read the beginning of this book you will know exactly what I mean. Cley looks at everyone with disgust and malevolence. He takes pleasure in abusing those he views as his inferiors. He recalls his last "romantic encounter" which consisted of giving a woman a powerful hallocinogen and then raping her in a park. He is a proponent of The Physiognomy, a grossly expanded and systematized version of the "scientific" racism that really only fell out of favor last century and still haunts so-called objective thinkers. And the worst part is it that the book is in first-person so you experience all this through Cley's voice. There were some moments of dark humor and hints that this guy is really not a hero and actually completely deluded, but as I said before I do assume the worst of these male characters (and the fact that I was reading the first 50 pages or so while waiting in line at the DMV did not put me in a charitable mood). I kept reading because the concept of the world was so cool that I wanted to give it a chance.
I'm really glad I did because it's one of my favorite books I've read this year. It certainly deserves its accolades. It's compact and effective, every single short chapter contains a good arc of action and strange imagery. I read more than half of it today. It's weird in all the right ways. There were aspects of the story that reminded me of We by Zamyatin (one of my favorite novels), but it was very original, not veering too far into either the cliches of a single genre or surrealism for surrealism's sake. I'd rank it visually with The Book of the New Sun. After giving my first-paragraph disclaimer, I'd recommend it to anyone. Once Cley's awful attitude dissipates there's a real sensibility to the fantastic and wonderful, you know that je-ne-sais-quoi of certain fantasy books that you only find every so often. It will stay with me for a long time.