A lost girl, an automaton and a sprawling map of a beguiling, unsettling city.
Wren Lithgow has been following her concert pianist mother around the cities of Europe for almost two decades. When they arrive in the mysterious city-state of O, where she was conceived during the civil war, Wren resolves to track down the man she believes is her father.
As the city closes in around her, Wren gives herself over to a place of which she understands nothing but to which she feels a profound connection in a story of the watchers and the watched, the ways in which we conceive of home and, finally, the possibility of living on our own terms.
‘Ominous, subtle and beautiful – an intensely resonant trawling of suffering’s deep currents.’ —Michael Marshall Smith
‘Menmuir’s homespun horror has flashes of Daphne du Maurier’s ghost-gothic and John Wyndham’s dystopia while displaying its own individuality and flair … Menmuir steers a steady course; the result is profound and discomfiting, and deserving of multiple readings.’ —Catherine Taylor, The Guardian
‘Paperback of the Week It would be wrong to give away the precise reasons for his protagonist’s state, but as Menmuir’s allegory becomes decipherable, it is increasingly affecting, and the moment when we understand how the bay and its darkly looming ships might be the warped echo of an earlier, shattering scene is one of great power.’ —Stephanie Cross, The Observer
‘He deserves 10 out of 10 when it comes to the creation of atmosphere, and Menmuir can certainly write… A writer to watch.’ —The Independent
‘An intriguing, evocative and formally ambitious debut.’ —Luke Brown, Financial Times
‘If it is possible to describe a book as being rich on spare detail then The Many is it, like a stock reduced to its very essence, and I suspect it was this lack of extraneous waffle and digression in the company of Wyl Menmuir's beguiling writing style that grabbed my attention and kept me wedded to this novel in the days immediately after Port Eliot festival.’ —Dovegreyreader