I came upon Edward Carey's Iremonger series by mistake. I don't mean that I stumbled across his books and didn't know what I was getting into…it was more that I had Mr. Carey mixed up with Edward GOREY. If you've seen their artwork at a glance then you might see how I came to make such a grievous error. I had seen some of Gorey's art a few years ago and made a note to grab some of his work…and then I was recommended this trilogy and thought I had finally got around to completing my goal. However, I think this was a happy accident because I really enjoyed this disturbing set of books. Firstly, I appreciate authors who do their own illustrations because they see their characters and worlds most clearly and they tend to feel like living things instead of one dimensional drawings. Heap House, Foulsham, and Lungdon make up the Iremonger trilogy and they chronicle the story of that clan of foul, loathsome dealers of filth, the Iremongers. In particular, these books detail the misadventures of Clod Iremonger and the irascible Lucy Pennant. Even though this sits on the shelves of the young adult section and are chock full of illustrations I must caution that no punches are pulled. All that is base and evil is dragged to the front and shown in shocking detail which is probably why I like it so much. There are no characters without flaws. However, this is not to say that this is told in a realistic fashion because if it was then I'd immediately fear for our very lives. The Heaps are made up of all the trash of that great offal generating city that goes by the name of London. The Iremongers are Regents of the refuse and under them are the residents of Forlinchingam (or Foulsham as it comes to be called). They are kept separate from London (Lungdon to some) by giant walls. You'd think this cruel enough but there's a terrible illness striking at the people. It's ridiculous. It's unsettling. It's…well I don't want to give the game away.

I was going to try to do a bang-up job on this review, because Edward Carey is a completely unique and, I think, brilliant author and more people should read him. I even got myself signed up as a gr librarian just so I could enter his author profile and then 'fan' him. But there's not very much to be found on him out there, and although his agent's website claims he's written a third novel (called Little), I'm not sure it's ever been published. It would seem this guy is out of print. So even if you were inspired to read him, you probably couldn't get a copy of this, his second book, anyway. My own copy was purchased second-hand and comes from the Osceola County Library System, Central Branch. Which is weirdly fitting in some random and surreal way.

According to my gr friend list, only three of you out there have read any Edward Carey - and that, Observatory Mansions - his first.

Of the three, one of you read it only because I foisted it into your hands and begged you to give it a try. The other two are karen and greg, and they both rated it a 5. So this review is for them, and them alone. The rest of you - move along, there's nothing to see here.

So, karen and greg: imho, Alva and Irva is even better than Observatory Mansions. It has all the same gothic fairy-tale/allegorical/symbolic/surreal stuff going on and even some of the same themes (loneliness and isolation; marginalized and socially-stunted characters; obsessions and compulsions galore), but it seems to hold together as a story better. The lead characters, twin sisters (one of whom - Alva - narrates), are the Romulus and Remus of a fictional, Germanic city called Entralla. They are sweetly rendered, and if you are like me, you will identify with both of them - although they are opposites - and find them sad and lovely at the same time.

The book is nested within a conceit that it - the novel - is a guidebook to Entralla for the reader who might visit one day. It comes complete with restaurant recommendations and sight-seeing suggestions, and helpful reminders to the reader/tourist to display prominently a copy of the novel to obtain a ten per cent discount from participating establishments. There are just enough of these fourth-wall-busting interludes to keep things interesting and a little off-centre; not too many to bog down the main narrative flow in gimmickry. And because Carey is toying with the construction of reality as an over-arching theme, it works really well.

On the surface of it, this is a novel about "place" - home, I suppose you could say - how it shapes character and how characters - here, literally (in plasticene), shape it. Place is also psychology: the approach/avoidance conflict with Entralla embodied in the twins is also a separation/individuation conflict. The story is as much a coming-of-age one as anything else - but a twisted, dark and symbolic one.

Alva, the extroverted twin with wanderlust and a strong desire for friendship and adventure, wants nothing more than to leave Entralla to experience the world; and Irva, the introverted, agoraphobic one, is content with her sister as her only company and her painstakingly-rendered miniaturized version of Entralla as her world.

These two might as well be conjoined, they are so enmeshed: physically indistinguishable until Alva's frustration and pent-up desire lead her to make a permanent distinction (it's a delicious and ironic twist, and I'll not spoil it - caution if you read any of the other reviews here); psychologically, to separate will mean the end of one or both of them.

So that's all - or at least some - of the high-falutin' intellectual plot and thematic stuff going on. But at the same time, there is this voice--this incredible Edward Carey voice that is whimsical, strange, idiosyncratic, creepy, quirky, dark but delicate, strangely "old fashioned" yet also contemporary, really indefinable in terms of time/place. The few reviews and jacket blurbs struggle to describe it as I am. Other reviews here on goodreads seem to have hit the mark a bit better. I especially liked "the love child of Edward Gorey and Franz Kafka."

Observatory Mansions has been referred to as: "Amelie meets [b:We Have Always Lived In a Castle]" and "Edward Scissorhands, but without the blame."

But really, the only way to 'get' Edward Carey is to read Edward Carey.

And that, as I started out by saying, is not an easy task.* Such a shame.

ETA: *my Osceola Public Library, Central Branch copy, just slightly more used than it arrived, is available to the next home that would welcome it. First come, first served -- PM me your address, please.

What is there to say about this book? The environment of these characters, and the characters themselves for that matter, is sad, a little pathetic and sometimes contemptible - but things slowly turn around.

Carey created some of the most eccentric characters I've read in awhile, and it is strangely believable. All of it, their situation, their troubles, their habits...I feel as if I'm rambling but all I can add is that I really enjoyed this one.

I have been racking my brain trying to remember the name of this book ever since joining goodreads, so that I could put it on my "read" list.

I've just found it -- seconds ago!! -- in a pile under my living room coffee table. Which tells you how well (badly) I catalogue my books, not to mention remember them.

This book is extraordinary. I'd give it five stars, but I'd have to re-read it to be absolutely certain of my recollection. I don't even know if my 4-star rating is because I liked the book, so much as it is a comment on the absolute originality of it.

It is difficult to describe and do any justice, especially over the distance of a year or more since I've read it. As it is, it exists in a kind of wash of bizarre, eccentric, strangely charming and quirky details about the voice, the characters, the themes and plot.

Francis, central character, is wonderfully disturbed and described: a kleptomaniac, obsessive-compulsive, possibly autistic? 37-yr-old, who lives in a crumbling apartment building with his parents (kind of). A new person moves in, shaking Francis to his very core and upsetting the very delicate balance he requires to retain his sanity (is he sane? I don't know)--but also freeing him, forcing him to learn to live a different way and more 'in the world'.

I will re-read this, and perhaps come back with a more articulate review. Consider this a tease. If A Confederacy of Dunces married The Curious Incident of the Dog In The Night-time, while keeping Bartleby the Scrivener as its mistress, and Kafka and Edgar Allan Poe were both distant ancestors, Observatory Mansions would be the offspring.

Francis Orme may be one of the greatest characters in literature, not because he is warm and lovable (quite the contrary) but because of the way he draws strong emotional reactions from the reader. This reader is no exception. I went from feeling suspicious about him to really wondering about his motives to loathing him to fearing him to admiring his quirkiness (an understatement, to be sure) to feeling a bit of sympathy for him to feeling a flood of pity for him to hating him to loving him - in that order. I'm sure that the flow of emotions is different for different readers, but I've spoken to others who felt the same evocation of emotion drawn out of them and into the book. Observatory Mansions is a bit of a game, a tug-of-war of the heart and mind between the antipodes of love and hatred. There's no strength of plot, and some are quick to point out that they grew bored of the book at the beginning. I say, stick with it. The book is full of rewards and will pull at your inner-self for years afterwards. It's a bit like working with a complex recipe. You'll need time to put it all together - it's not overpowered by any one ingredient, but forms a subtle mix of setting, plot, character, and atmosphere seasoned by Carey's supple style. I would rate this near the top of my favorite books of all time. If I were to use all the superlatives I wanted to in describing how great this book is, you'd think I was engaging in hyperbole. But I wouldn't be. Please read this book.

PS: Important safety tip - I wasn't nearly as impressed by Carey's "Alva and Irva," which was a good book, but nothing of the caliber of Observatory Mansions. Observatory Mansions is one of those "perfect storm" books that every writer wishes he or she had written, but which pours forth out of an author's pen only once in a lifetime. Yes, it's that good.