I finished Veniss Underground (buy here or visit its web site) the same day (Saturday) that I finished American Gods. Unlike the former, latter is relatively short (about 200 pages), a book, and, well, a completely different story.

The book, or rather books, to which I would compare the themes and setting Vandermeer uses are ::China Miéville::’s Bas-Lag books. Like them, Veniss is set on an unknown planet and at an undescribed, presumably future, time (at least as far as I could tell). All are phantasmagoric and grotesque at times – one scene in Veniss actually left me feeling faintly nauseous even.

Compared to the Bas-Lag books Veniss is more focused and less epic – both of which I appreciated since I’ve been more in the mood for that sort of story lately.

The setting is the city of Veniss on an unnamed planet and at an unspecified time. The story focuses on paternal twins, Nicolas and Nicola and their friend, Shadrach. Nicolas is a starving artist, Nicola is Shadrach’s ex, and Shadrach is Nicolas’ best friend.

After Nicolas’ apartment is robbed, and his works stolen, in desperation he begs Shadrach to get him a job with the mysterious underground figure Quin. Against his better judgment Shadrach agrees. When Nicolas goes missing, his Nicola searches for clues to his whereabouts and discovers his last known location to be 10 levels under the city. Shadrach, refuses to help her, but soon something happens to Nicola which compels him to action.

The book is broken into three parts, Nicolas, Nicola and Shadrach. Each part is written in a different person, 1st, 2nd and 3rd respectively. I’ve not read much written in the second person, and found this a very different experience from first or third. It put me in the story in a different way from other voices. Although I’m not sure I would want to read much written this way, it was a very effective method of creating a connection with the Nicola character.

Shadrach’s journey miles beneath Veniss is reminiscent of classic underworld stories like Dante’s Divine Comedy and that of Orpheus and Eurydice. The journey is not only phantasmagorical and grotesque, but archetypal and oneiric as well. Vandermeer constructs a compelling story, compelling as much for the characters as the prose he writes. I was left feeling almost hollow, though not in a bad way, but because living through, even peripherally, what the characters go through as Vandermeer skillfully relates it to us is draining. That he is able to evoke this sort of reaction is a testament to his gifts as a writer.

Needless to say, I look forward to reading more of Jeff Vandermeer’s books!