The Works of Vermin is an evolving beast. You jump in thinking it's one thing but it mutates and changes into a new creature, breaking genres and opening its giant maw to swallow you in. There's layers to the story, the people, and the world-building, and peeling back each layer and seeing how everything comes together is a big part of the enjoyment in the story.

Trying to summarize this transforming and evolving organism is not something I have enough words to do. I don't think the summary available online captures exactly how chaotic but wonderful, whimsical but grotesque, and rotting but filled with life the novel is. Is it about an exterminator hunting bugs? Yes, but also no. There's so much more to the world: rival mafioso-type extermination companies, gladiatorial opera houses, botanical steampunk, queerness, rebellions disguised as artistic movements, mind-altering perfume, etc. Art is deeply intertwined with life and living in the city of Tiliard. It tackles themes of exploitation, trauma, cycles, dehumanization of the marginalized class, art used as propaganda, resiliency and survival, and many more.

The writing is lush, lyrical, precise, and intentional. For those who loved the writing in The Salt Grows Heavy (I read this just before The Works of Vermin), this has the same immersive and gritty feeling. There's a feeling of movement in the writing (trading adjectives to describe the environment for action verbs), like the story is alive, instead of static descriptions. It made the city of Tiliard feel more like another character than a simple setting. I especially love how it circles back to descriptions of art and insect-like movements or characteristics. Here are just a few that I've highlighted in my copy:

The terror and vagaries of boyhood melted away in that precious moment, making way for the sing of skin opening, the heat of his thumb pressing against Guy's, the pressure as they sucked away the blood, the beauty of Guy's laugh, of his singing.

Heads will roll like fruit, but he knows those that fall will be the ripest, not the rotten.

He still can't quite contend with the hugeness of the Opera, the vast maw opening over him, its tongue the lush proscenium, its teeth the chipped glass of the chandeliers.

Though the story starts with two main POVs (Guy's and Aster's), I think it's more of an ensemble piece. Every character is given time in the spotlight, and we follow their development through this weird, extravagant world until the very end. In the middle of these chaotic events, the tender moments of care and understanding between characters really shine. There's layers upon layers of details, references, and callbacks to previous scenes or descriptions. Meaning changes constantly, and it's such a great exercise for analysis and finding connections within the fictional world and the real world. Even now when I've already finished the book, I still find myself realizing the meanings of certain details or finding new connections within the book (as if my yapping in the forum isn't already enough😂). It's masterful in creating a layered and intentional structure that makes me want to reread it to catch more details I have missed before.

While I deeply love this book and it has now taken its rightful place in my My Taste section, I do understand how this book might not work for other readers. Since it's more of an ensemble piece, readers don't spend as much time learning the intimate workings of a single character's mind and motivations. There are so many details in the writing that it can be quite overwhelming for some (though this is intentional with the themes and the tone of the book). The start is slow to set up a lot of details and events that would make sense in the latter part of the book. Some have said that it feels slice-of-life at first before it devolved into disorder and pandemonium. Through this transformation, the story does not hold the reader's hand. No information is spoonfed or said plainly. Because of this, readers will have to be okay with not understanding everything happening as it happens before it is all tied together by the end. As mentioned before, the story does stray from what is written in the blurb/summary. This might affect a reader's expectations of the book.

I think this work is for a specific mood or preference. If it hits, it really hits.

The Works of Vermin is like Baroque theater. It's dramatic, layered, illusionary, grandiose, ambitious, artistic, and emotional. The story is an experience, a play you line up to see again or a painting that sucks you in with every brushstroke. It's art imitating life, especially the dark, gritty corners of history, the pests that infest the seats of power, and people with the resiliency of vermin.