Dee's Reviews > Low Town: the Straight Razor Cure

Low Town by Daniel Polansky
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Mar 01, 12

bookshelves: loanage, grit, a-kind-of-magic, seriously-urban, thriller, world-fantasy, buy-me
Read from February 24 to March 01, 2012

This is so close to being really excellent that I'm possibly more disposed to be harsh on its flaws. It was occasionally a magnificent exercise in language (from the arch-Confucian slanging matches to the pithy reflections) but occasionally merely good. It's a charmingly complex and historied world, but a somewhat same-old urban setting. The Chinese-based race teetered alarmingly on the verge of racefail now and then; I'm quite uncomfortable with some of the decisions made there. But our "hero" is convincingly part of a really gritty underworld in a way that far too often thief-heroes aren't.

Overall, I feel like it was quite a short, sharp and simple story; done very well, but I would have really loved some complexity, complication, extrapolation... MORE. I'm really just terribly demanding.
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Quotes Dee Liked

Daniel Polansky
“I remember the lightning in the air, and the lovers bidding goodbye to each other in the streets, and I can tell you what I think. We went to war because going to war is fun, because there's something in the human breast that trills at the thought, although perhaps not the reality, of murdering its fellows in vast numbers. Fighting a war ain't fun - fighting a war is pretty miserable. But starting a war? Hell, starting a war is better than a night floating on daeva's honey.”
Daniel Polansky, Low Town
tags: war


Reading Progress

02/25/2012 page 65
18.0% "Loving the grit, uncertain about the magic; haven't seen much of it yet, but it seems potentially too twee."
02/26/2012 page 106
29.0% "Always like a fantasy book that talks often about food."
02/28/2012 page 262
71.0% ""I remember the lightning in the air, and the lovers bidding goodbye to each other in the streets, and I can tell you what I think. We went to war because going to war is fun, because there's something in the human breast that trills at the thought, although perhaps not the reality, of murdering its fellows in vast numbers." (This book is whitecaps of brilliance on waves of generally good on a gritty, noir sea.)"
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