Perdido Street Station - China Miéville my dear Perdido Street Station,

perhaps it is fated not to be. or perhaps i need to grow a bit more, until i am able to understand and appreciate your unique charms. but for now, i am just not ready. please don't take this personally - i promise that i shall try you out again sometime, perhaps soon. too many people love you, and they love you too, too much for me to give up on you altogether.

i will admit that my first impression was off-putting - the way you talked and gestured and sought attention only created annoyance. but still, i was determined to soldier on, knowing of the wonders that many others have enjoyed in your embrace. i thought that there
must be something there, some quality underneath all of the affectation and all of the almost-desperate attempts to dazzle and to provoke. i felt confident that beneath all of the ruffles and ribbons and silky trifles and shiny buttons that there would be something interesting and of value, buried down deep. but as i undressed you, instead of a warm beating heart, i found only more rococo haberdashery. there was no there there!

but you know, once i felt the same way about samuel delany, about ronald firbank - and lo & behold: i now admire them both, i respond rather quickly to their bold instigations, their often sharp tongues, their secretly dreamy temperaments. it just took time. and i'm sure yours will come as well. but not now! i simply haven't the energy or patience to get to know you. and i am certain, in the end, my affection must mean little to you, Perdido... you are too beloved by all to be wounded too deeply by this minor affront. please do forgive my rash bout of grappling and its abrupt finish, this
lectio interruptus. i take full responsibility.

this i do promise:
to be continued! we will once again tumble into each other's arms, hoping for some kind of delight or satisfaction. this evening was... simply not meant to be. the housekeeper will take care of the sheets and mess; please do me a kind favor and take your leave through the servants' entrance.

'til the time of our sweet reunion,

mark monday

this review was inspired by another, infinitely superior review: