Un Lun Dun

In an unremarkable room, in a nondescript building, a man sat working on very nondescript theories.
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There was no doubt about it: there was a fox behind the climbing frame. And it was watching.

The opening line of the prologue and the opening line to the first chapter of Un Lun Dun. Not the greatests starts ever, but they were good enough to get me interested. It's a YA fantasy by adult author China Mieville, and I liked it quite a bit. Very inventive. Sometimes too cutesy or contrived or ridiculous, but generally I like the absurd and I liked this. Especially since it was wrapped around a good story with a strong and unexpected protagonist. And I'm not going to ruin the story by explaining just how he turns inside out the fantasy trope of the prophesy, but I really like the themes he developed out of doing so.

A few specific examples of his writing that I liked and minor hints at his inventiveness:

The girls had never seen any animal so still. It wasn't that it wasn't moving: it was furiously not-moving. By the time they got close to the climbing frame they were creeping exaggeratedly, like cartoon hunters.
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Some sort of silence--more than the absence of noise, the presence of a predatory quiet--was settling around him.
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The one or two bulbs let light out resentfully, as if they were misers who hoarded it.
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"What on earth are you wearing?" someone said. Zanna turned as someone picked at her hoodie. The man was tall and thin, with a jagged halo of thick, spiky hair. His suit was white and covered with tiny black marks.

It was print. His clothes were made from pages from books, immaculately sewn together.

"No, this won't do," he said. He spoke very quickly, tugging at Zanna's clothes too fast for her to stop him. "This is very drab, can't possibly keep you entertained. What you need--" He flourished his sleeve. "--is this. The hautest of couture. Be entertained while you wear. Never again need you face the misery of unreadable clothes. Now you can pick your favorite works of fiction or nonfiction for your sleeves. Perhaps a classic for the trousers. Poetry for your skirt. Historiography for socks. Scripture for knickers. Learn while you dress!"
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" . . . then it would be perfectly safe. Well . . . reasonably safe. Safe-esque. But, yes, it would be 'dangerous' if we didn't think ahead, and we took a wrong turning into Wraithtown, or met some scratchmonkeys or a building with house-rabies, or, lord help us, if we ran into the giraffes . . . "
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"I'm Margarita Staples." She bowed in her harness. "Extreme librarian. Bookaneer."