On Thursday, we visited the British Library, and by luck or fate, I found a copy of Neverwhere. I’d thought of that book when we were on the Circle Line (which actually makes a sort of curlicue shape) and passed the closed Blackfriars station, which features in the early part of Neverwhere.
Then I remembered more of the story–how Richard comes to London from a small town, how he gets sore feet in the Tate, and how he eats curry in the Floating Market. And the more I remembered, the more I wanted to reread it–and there it was, in the British Library bookshop.
I started rereading it almost immediately, and it is perfect, the right book at the right time. I am generally terrible at reader’s advisory, but I will say without reservation that anyone traveling to London for the first time and suddenly feeling that it might be a bit much for a person (and who doesn’t mind a little fantasy, either), Neverwhere is required reading. Don’t argue. It is.