putting this here in case Vi @theatredelabsurde doesn't want spoilers on her post. @jessaerys, behold! my thesis.
my background: I've read two books by Miéville (Embassytown and Perdido Street Station).
in Miéville's defence: his ideas are genuinely unique and interesting. he writes aliens that actually feel alien. his fantasy has an equal 'scientific' approach to magic, while also maintaining a eldritch horror element. the eldritch horror and body horror are disgustingly awful.
the technical writing is fine. Perdido Street Station is all over the place when it comes to pacing, but it's one of those books that could work if you're in it for the journey, not the destination.
my specific issue is that when you peel away the fantastic elements, what his stories actually say is reprehensible.
Embassytown
the plot of Embassytown is basically:
galactic empire sets up a colony on an inhabited planet at edge of the known universe, for trade/etc.
due to the native inhabitant's biological quirk (two mouths/one mind) and how they conceptualise language (literal/similies, devoid of speculation, lying, etc) the aliens can't communicate with humans or even recognise our speech as language
humans develop a method to communicate in their language (bio-engineered clones conceptualising themselves as one person, therefore getting past the two-mouths/one-mind problem)
a method for two separate people to speak their language is developed and trialled
the contradiction of two mouths/two minds, speaking as one, is such a mindfuck that it has a drug-like effect on the aliens.
most aliens become mindlessly enthralled by listening to this type of speech. it is so extreme that they can no longer think for themselves, but are slaves to their addiction.
other aliens are literally mutilating themselves so that they don't succumb, and can keep their minds in-tact.
a solution is found by the main character: she teaches some aliens to basically think in metaphor, and eventually to lie, therefore allowing them to think in a way that's compatible with the two-mouths/two-minds contradiction.
the aliens adopt a human-like approach to language (lying, metaphor), which fundementally changes the way that they think.
the book ends on an optimistic note looking forward, like this is all progress.
so, what we have is a book about an empire setting up colonies, desecrating the local population, destroying their (primative, child-like) language (they can't lie), and replacing it with their own. the characters who resist are portrayed as terrorists holding back progress.
as far as metaphors go, it is so on the nose and so exact that I'd almost think it intentional. if the intention is to portray the horror of cultural genocide, Miéville completely misses the mark in remembering to portray any of this as 'bad,' or even to acknowledge what is happening.
Perdido Street Station
torture is a contentious topic. many people (even those who believe it's wrong) still think that torture is alright under the right circumstances: what if there's a bomb and this guy knows where it is? what if the victim deserves it? what if the victim is a paedophile?
these emotionally-laden arguments that lend credibility to the idea of torture by removing it from its context: a weapon of the state. if torture is effective, or if it's an acceptable measure to take against some people, then ultimately that means torture is okay.
but the real value of torture is not as an information-gathering tool, nor as an effective deterent for heinous crimes. it's a threat against enemies: this is what we'll do to you if you don't pack it in. the idea that it's justified in certain circumstances is propaganda to that end.
this book repeatedly presents torture as effective, justified, and a reasonable method of punishment.
about halfway through Isaac tortures a guy. this is presented as the correct thing to do. while unpleasant, via torture he's able to gather critical, time-sensitive information. also, his victim is a horrible man in favour of mutilation as a punitive measure (remaking).
his victim is also presented as undignified and cowardly while being tortured; this is presented as a weakness on his part, basically being unmanly and unworthy of the respect awarded to victims.
meanwhile, Yagharek's introduced as a victim of a different type of punitive mutilation, which is rightfully regarded as a disturbing violation. for most of the book, he's a sympathetic figure; it's acknowledged that he didn't deserve this, and that Isaac is right for helping him recover.
then it's revealed that Yag's crime is (basically) rape. Isaac is so disgusted that he backs out of helping Yagharek, which is seen as the uncomplicatedly correct position.
I've seen arguments that Isaac responded this way because he's personally affected by this crime via what happened to Lin. I don't buy it: Miéville included the context of Lin's rape as justification for invoking 'rape is a special kind of evil', therefore justifying why Yagharek actually deserved to be tortured and mutilated.
other examples of torture in this book are treated as disturbing, violating sources of horror and tragedy. but, critically, it's only bad when someone else does it; when Isaac tortures someone, or condemns Yagharek, it's okay.
essentially: torture is fine so long as the justification is compelling enough.
but in this case, the story itself is built on the idea that torture is not bad -- it's only bad when it's deployed by the wrong people, against the wrong people. it's threaded so consistently through this book, alongside ideas about which victims are sympathetic and which are inconsequential losses, that I find it impossible to separate this aspect from the rest of the story.
final thoughts
I don't think every story needs to have a moral or teach a lesson. but, when an author chooses to include something, I think it's fair to expect him to treat those subject with the respect they deserve. in both books of Miéville's that I read, I found his portrayal to be lacking.
neither cultural genocide nor torture are fictional. but for both, even in the real-world, they're very rarely acknowledged as serious issues; what acknowledgement exists often misunderstands it completely.
there are many people, for example, who actively think that languages like Irish or Welsh should be abandoned and left to die, because everyone speaks English now, so what's the point?
likewise, while many people do acknowledge that torture is bad, the severity of it is often understated, and many people do just straight-up think it's okay.
in both cases, these elements are included as explicitly positive forces that move the story to its inevitable end. I find it impossible criticise either element individually, without looking at Miéville's capabilities as a writer and what he chooses to portray as a whole.
