Mieville mentioned Colquhoun in The Last Days of New Paris, so I thought I would see what her book was about. It was strange (though less strange than I was expecting), and read more like a dream diary than a novel; I nonetheless found it surprisingly compelling. I quite enjoyed Colquhoun's writing style.
I've been told that this book has secret alchemical meanings, but since I know nothing about alchemy, I was unable to detect or interpret them.
Rather than trying to summarize the book's plot, I will instead relate a dream that I had while reading it. I was back in my parents' neighborhood, visiting a neighbor of theirs who had never liked me. Her daughter (who had also never liked me) had just had a baby, whom I was helping to watch. These neighbors acted very warm and welcoming to me, despite their earlier dislike; I wondered whether this was genuine. At one point, I and another guest ventured outside to their backyard. The portion directly outside their house was normal: ordinary grass, mowed to an ordinary length, with picnic tables and yard furniture and children's toys. But then the grass very abruptly gave way to a lush field, stretching up a hill, with woods behind it. The field was completely full of low, leafy plants, maybe 4 or 5 inches tall, and all of these plants were completely full of berries: some strawberries, and some other kind which looked like blue cloudberries. I stayed in the ordinary mowed grass; I had an intuition that we shouldn't step into the field. But my companion, standing in the ordinary grass, knelt down, and reached across the threshold, to pick and eat a berry from the field. Just in time, the neighbor rushed out the door and warned my companion to stop, explaining to her that this field was a burial ground for her family's ancestors, and that if my companion were to set foot in this field, or to eat a berry from it, she would surely die. My companion, looking frightened and relieved, thanked the neighbor for the warning. I turned to the neighbor and said, "Given that this danger exists, don't you think you should put up a fence, or a warning plaque, or something to prevent people from going into the field?" And my neighbor said no. And I said "No, seriously; my companion was about to die. This wasn't just me being an idiot with no social skills; a totally normal guest at your house almost ran into this problem. It's clearly a real danger for people, and you should do something about it!" But the more I argued, the more my neighbor pursed her lips and looked down her nose at me in disapproval. Eventually I gave up arguing and went back inside.