Siang Lu David Kelly/UQPThe Miles Franklin judges described Siang Lu’s Ghost Cities, winner of the 2025 award, as “a grand farce and a haunting meditation on diaspora”. To my mind, it is perhaps the funniest novel ever to have won the Miles Franklin. In the last decade, its closest competitor would be Melissa Lucashenko’s boisterous, brilliant Too Much Lip. Turn the clock back a few more years, and it’d square off against the puerile humour of Tim Winton’s Cloudstreet, the zany folly of Peter Carey’s Oscar and Lucinda, and Thea Astley’s biting satire The Acolyte. It’d remain a strong contender even in such company.Lu earned a reputation for satire with his first novel, The Whitewash, in which he lampooned the racial politics of the film industry. Ghost Cities extends this skit, while dialling it up to 11. “Sitting within a tradition in Australian writing that explores failed expatriation and cultural fraud, Lu’s novel is also something strikingly new,” the judges said, praising its “absurdist bravura”.A comedy of tyrannyLu’s sense of humour relies on hyperbole. Over some 300 pages, the characters in Ghost Cities tie themselves in knots over a ludicrous series of edicts, demands and directives issued by a pair of dictators who grow crueller and more capricious with every chapter. Ghost Cities is a comedy of tyranny in two plots, told via alternating chapters. One begins in a semi-recognisable Sydney, then relocates to the fictitious ghost city of Port Man Tou; the other is a fable set in China’s Imperial City and its labyrinths millennia ago. Ghost Cities begins in the latter timeline, with the mock-heroic tale of Emperor Lu Huang Du’s ascension to the imperial throne and the beginning of his dictatorial rule. What defines his character, from the very first page, is his yawning ego; he yearns for an exceptional origin myth, a tale of patricide and regicide. The failure to fabricate myths of this kind later leads him to banish a trio of scholars to the Sixth Level of Hell and burn every book in the Imperial Library. What he wants is a hymn to his own “cunning, ruthless strategy and force of will”. But the truth is ignoble. Emperors should not come to power through inaction. They should not do so by “gawping as their purple-faced fathers clawed and sputtered on what would later be determined to be an awkwardly lodged chicken bone”. They should not “wait, in lacklustre fealty, for that final breathless minute to expire”. They should certainly not then proceed to order the death of every chicken in the land, because of the deranged belief “their traitorous bones were conspiring against His Imperial bloodline”. And they would be well advised not then to issue an edict forbidding the “breeding, eating and harbouring of poultry”, which leads the sons of “a hundred fallen agrarians” to swear vengeance.Perverse as he is, there is real pleasure to be found in tracking the consequences of Lu Huang Du’s whims. From his banishment of his brother, Lu Dong Pu, for the crime of intercepting an assassin’s blade, to his attempt to elude his prophesied death by conscripting a thousand lookalikes from among his citizens, the emperor is a character governed at every turn by an unspeakable fear of his own mortality. Through him, and the chapters that recount the consequences of his wildly temperamental rule in the form of an absurd fable, Lu offers a sharp yet entertaining study in the abuse of state power by the narcissistic and incompetent. Ghost Cities’ second dictator is a director named Baby Bao, who embarks on an egotistical undertaking of his own. His ambition is to create a “historical biopic of the infamous Indomitable Emperor Lu Huang Hu”, a self-styled piece of “cinematic history, a twenty-seven hour extravaganza – no intermission – in simultaneous worldwide release!”. Such a biopic would work primarily to reinforce his delusion that he is biologically “destined for greatness”, by illustrating his belief that his lineage can be traced to the emperor. The conceit makes gleefully explicit the egotism buried in so many artistic projects.The emperor is later opposed by his brother, Lu Dong Pu, and his nephew, Lu Shan Liang; his counterpart, Xiang Lu (note the resemblance of both their names to their author’s), is a phoney translator hired by the director after he goes viral for his ignorance of Chinese. Indecencies on indignitiesSiang Lu shares an interest in anagrams (and chess) with Russian-American writer Vladimir Nabokov, who appears in his own fiction under names such as Vivian Darkbloom and Adam von Librikov. Ghost Cities also includes a long, loosely iambic poem titled “Six Levels of Hell”, which narrates Lu Dong Pu’s escape from labyrinthine imprisonment beneath the Imperial City. Lu’s allusions to other texts are too various to properly discuss here. They include John Milton’s Paradise Lost, Dante’s Divine Comedy, Jorge Luis Borges’ Labyrinths, Nabokov’s Pale Fire and Italo Calvino’s Invisible Cities. These references extend Ghost Cities’ concern with the relationship between dictators, architects and artisans, rampaging gods and those humbler deities behind smaller creations.Women play an important role in Lu’s twin fables, albeit a comparatively subtle one. Wuer, first Lu Dong Pu’s wife and later (against her will) the Imperial Consort, records her husband’s torment in the poem Six Levels of Hell and mourns the death of Lu Shan Liang’s twin brother in a moving parenthetical aside. Yuan (who shares a name with Siang Lu’s wife), a translator and eventually Xiang Lu’s lover, is an intelligent interlocutor. But Ghost Cities is at its best when it piles indecencies on indignities – when it all goes totally wrong. When piglets are appointed to office. When the swine sits in the chair, and rules as it sees fit.Joseph Steinberg does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.