Unreal City by Michael Smith

"Strolling through this wide sweep, gazing across the fleet of trains bound for Paris or Brussels, the powder blue steel vaulting soaring above them, the inside of a giant whale's ribcage, a hymn to the infrastructure of our hyper-connected age; like Jonah swallowed up by it all, by the hum of the giant extractor fans, the deep hum at the heart of it all - back here, home again, lost in London..."
 
With a property portfolio consisting of a beach hut in Kent, and a career as evanescent as it is unprofitable, the narrator of Unreal City is a flaneur fallen on hard times, a creative bewildered by the slick speed of the digital age, watching as the sculptors and painters and bon viveurs begin to slip away and the advertising hipsters take over old stomping grounds.

Sounding to me like something akin to a Sabres of Paradise song come to life, this forthcoming novel from Michael Smith seems to offer an interesting story of dark streets and old characters lurking behind wooden doorways and under arches losing ground to gentrification and beigeifying , (yes,a new word I just made up) brought on a new age of capital city dwellers claiming more land as their own.

 From the nights in old Soho, where an anonymous green door was the gateway to a decadently dingy paradise, to the days amid the shabby post-industrial elegance of Hackney's canalside warehouses, this is a nostalgic love song to the drifters, the artists, the glamorous misfits, the degenerate waifs and the barmaid-enchantresses of the capital's backstreets and shadowy corners.

Funnily enough  *cough cough* the perfect soundtrack to this tale (which is unbound in a sleeve folder) is to be provided by Mr Weatherall, the special edition comes with a 10 track cd of songs by the artist in residence at Faber as well as a remix 10" vinyl of one of the aforementioned tracks. Also available on iBooks Author and ebooks at £7.99 as well as Amazon.

Link innit...

(Thanks Amba)

From the nights in old Soho, where an anonymous green door was the gateway to a decadently dingy paradise, to the days amid the shabby post-industrial elegance of Hackney's canalside warehouses, this is a nostalgic love song to the drifters, the artists, the glamorous misfits, the degenerate waifs and the barmaid-enchantresses of the capital's backstreets and shadowy corners. - See more at: http://www.faber.co.uk/catalog/unreal-city/9780571235803#sthash.j15W7b5x.dpuf

From the nights in old Soho, where an anonymous green door was the gateway to a decadently dingy paradise, to the days amid the shabby post-industrial elegance of Hackney's canalside warehouses, this is a nostalgic love song to the drifters, the artists, the glamorous misfits, the degenerate waifs and the barmaid-enchantresses of the capital's backstreets and shadowy corners. - See more at: http://www.faber.co.uk/catalog/unreal-city/9780571235803#sthash.j15W7b5x.dpuf

With a property portfolio consisting of a beach hut in Kent, and a career as evanescent as it is unprofitable, the narrator of Unreal City is a flaneur fallen on hard times, a creative bewildered by the slick speed of the digital age, watching as the sculptors and painters and bon viveurs begin to slip away and the advertising hipsters take over old stomping grounds.
Unreal City is a nostalgic love song to the drifters, the artists, the glamorous misfits, the degenerate waifs and the barmaid-enchantresses of the capital’s backstreets and shadowy corners.
- See more at: http://fabersocial.co.uk/2013/07/faber-give-dbc-pierre-michael-smith-andrew-weatherall-the-special-treatment/#sthash.04tBy4ke.dpuf

With a property portfolio consisting of a beach hut in Kent, and a career as evanescent as it is unprofitable, the narrator of Unreal City is a flaneur fallen on hard times, a creative bewildered by the slick speed of the digital age, watching as the sculptors and painters and bon viveurs begin to slip away and the advertising hipsters take over old stomping grounds.
Unreal City is a nostalgic love song to the drifters, the artists, the glamorous misfits, the degenerate waifs and the barmaid-enchantresses of the capital’s backstreets and shadowy corners.
- See more at: http://fabersocial.co.uk/2013/07/faber-give-dbc-pierre-michael-smith-andrew-weatherall-the-special-treatment/#sthash.04tBy4ke.dpuf

With a property portfolio consisting of a beach hut in Kent, and a career as evanescent as it is unprofitable, the narrator of Unreal City is a flaneur fallen on hard times, a creative bewildered by the slick speed of the digital age, watching as the sculptors and painters and bon viveurs begin to slip away and the advertising hipsters take over old stomping grounds.
Unreal City is a nostalgic love song to the drifters, the artists, the glamorous misfits, the degenerate waifs and the barmaid-enchantresses of the capital’s backstreets and shadowy corners.
- See more at: http://fabersocial.co.uk/2013/07/faber-give-dbc-pierre-michael-smith-andrew-weatherall-the-special-treatment/#sthash.04tBy4ke.dpuf

With a property portfolio consisting of a beach hut in Kent, and a career as evanescent as it is unprofitable, the narrator of Unreal City is a flaneur fallen on hard times, a creative bewildered by the slick speed of the digital age, watching as the sculptors and painters and bon viveurs begin to slip away and the advertising hipsters take over old stomping grounds.
Unreal City is a nostalgic love song to the drifters, the artists, the glamorous misfits, the degenerate waifs and the barmaid-enchantresses of the capital’s backstreets and shadowy corners.
- See more at: http://fabersocial.co.uk/2013/07/faber-give-dbc-pierre-michael-smith-andrew-weatherall-the-special-treatment/#sthash.04tBy4ke.dpuf