The Pillars of Hercules - David Constantine

Around these parts I commit myself to finishing everything I start. Why, you ask? Because I think it's important for me to help my reader make decisions about what they should buy and what they should avoid. If I only read things that I enjoy, how will I ever fulfill the second half of that commitment? I'm also loathe to spend 800 words eviscerating someone's baby. Thus, Cheryl was born. Cheryl is my imaginary personal assistent who helps me "review" novels I really did not like. Instead of just doggedly attacking a novel's failures, I try to have some fun with it and get some laughs. Hopefully it's taken the way I intend it.

This is my fourth installment of posts featuring Cheryl. If you enjoy this one, I suggest finding the Cheryl tag on the right sidebar for the others.

Oh and there's a new reoccurring character joining the blog today...

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Here's the blurb:

Alexander, Prince of Macedon, is the terror of the world. Persia, Egypt, Athens . . . one after another, mighty nations are falling before the fearsome conqueror. Some say Alexander is actually the son of Zeus, king of the gods, and the living incarnation of Hercules himself. Worse yet, some say Alexander believes this . . . . 

The ambitious prince is aided in his conquest by unstoppable war-machines based on the forbidden knowledge of his former tutor, the legendary scientist-mage known as Aristotle. Greek fire, mechanical golems, and gigantic siege-engines lay waste to Alexander''s enemies as his armies march relentlessly west--toward the very edge of the world. Beyond the Pillars of Hercules, past the gateway to the outer ocean, lies the rumored remnants of Atlantis: ancient artifacts of such tremendous power that they may be all that stands between Alexander and conquest of the entire world. Alexander desires that power for himself, but an unlikely band of fugitives-including a Gaulish barbarian, a cynical Greek archer, a cunning Persian princess, and a sorcerer''s daughter-must find it first . . . before Alexander unleashes godlike forces that will shatter civilization. 

The Pillars of Hercules is an epic adventure that captures the grandeur and mystery of the ancient world as it might have been, where science and magic are one and the same

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Justin: *buzz* Cheryl! Get me The List.

Cheryl: Yes sir. I'll bring it right in.

Justin: *impatient foot tapping*

Cheryl: Here you go, sir.

Justin: *sigh* What the hell?

Cheryl: I'm sure I don't know what you mean.

Justin: I've been trying to come up with an original idea for a novel for the past decade. Every time I think I've hit on just the right niche someone comes along and beats me to it.

Cheryl: Humm...

Justin: What?

Cheryl: Oh nothing.

Justin: Cheryl...

Cheryl: Well, maybe it's because you spend more time talking about writing a novel than you do writing one.

Justin: What did you just say, Cheryl?!

Cheryl: I said you're lazy.

Justin: That's what I... wait, what?! I should fire you!

*poof*

Mysterious Wizard: Calm yourself, Justin.  It isn't Cheryl whom you should be mad at...

Justin: Who the hell are you?

Mysterious Wizard: I'm Fizbane, the Wizard who inhabits your blog.

Justin: *boggled*

Fizbane: Perhaps, who you're truly mad at is David Constantine, author of The Pillars of Hercules.

Justin: Um, I'm pretty sure I'm pissed at Cheryl. She's supposed to do what I say, it's in her contract which I have here, written in her blood and notarized by Cthulu.

Fizbane: As the Google representative in charge of this blog, I regret to inform you that Cthulu is not a licensed notary.

Cheryl: Face.

Justin: Shut it, Cheryl! You're telling me you work for Google?

Fizbane: I am your blog wizard. We come standard with every blog. For the most part we lurk in the background, but given your wholesale attack on fair Cheryl today, I felt it was time to assert myself.

Justin: Oh my God, this is why Google opposed SOPA. I mean you're clearly a rip-off of Fizban.

Not a notary... apparently.

Fizbane: *wizardly chortle* Come now, I clearly bear no resemblance to that fictional charlatan of the floppy hat and grandfatherly humor. Any similarities are purely coincidental, I assure you.

Justin: Uh-huh.

Fizbane: Now, back to the topic at hand. Pillars of Hercules. It sure sounds like a great idea. Advanced technology set during Alexander's conquest of Europe and Asia.

Justin: Damn good idea, you're right. Although, I have to admit, it didn't really come together. Constantine asks, "What if Alexander didn't die in Persia and instead, went west?" But he does nothing beyond that to explain this vastly advanced technology. Submarines, steam engines, explosives, etc. As though by Alexander's mere survival all the technology that Plato and Aristotle theorized became a reality. It's a stretch and never made much sense.

Fizbane: So you're a bully and a nitpicker. *stern stare*

Justin: Jesus, Fizbane. What are you my dad?

Fizbane: And a blasphemer.

Justin: Really?

Fizbane: I call 'em like I see 'em.

Justin: Anyway, it's not just that. I mean the whole book has a boatload of modern affectations. All the language is super modern with high-fives and current day idioms. There's also no concept of Greek/Roman/Carthaginian cultural mores. All the PoV characters are progressive thinkers. One of the major plot points is that Alexander believes he's the son of Zeus. No one really believes him though. I mean, even those who think he might be telling the truth don't seem to find any particular sense of reverence associated with it. It's almost like every character is in on the joke that the gods aren't real.

Fizbane: *aghast* The gods aren't real? Who does Constantine think he is?

Justin: Now who's the grouchy one?

Fizbane: The opinions expressed by your blog wizard do not reflect those of Google corporate.

Justin: Right. Well, despite these problems, it might have worked if the book was put together right. Unfortunately, it really wasn't. From a craft perspective, the book is just one long frustration.

Fizbane: *back under control* How so?

Justin: Constantine has about eight different PoVs that he uses. Only one of them has a distinct voice, making it difficult to become immersed in the characters. He switches PoVs every 3-5 pages on average and sometimes as often as every page.

Fizbane: That seems overly frequent, like the number of times you badger poor Cheryl.

Justin: Ok ok, I get it. I'll be nicer to Cheryl. I'll treat her like Flint treats Tasslehoff in Dragon's of Autumn Twilight.

Fizbane: Don't you dare!

Justin: Ah ha! I knew it! I caught you Fizban the Wanna-be.

Fizbane: Any similarities between your blog wizard and fictional characters protected by copyright law is purely coin...

Justin: Coincidental, whatever. Back to Pillars of Hercules. By the novels conclusion I realized Constantine was switching PoVs primarily to hide things from the reader he wasn't ready to reveal and to build tension. It felt cheap. All of this shifting around totally sucked the pace right out of an absolutely action packed novel. I was so busy keeping track of whose head I was inside that I lost all track of the action and plot moving around it.

Fizbane: I'm beginning to see your point despite my Google programming that requires me to be as unassuming as possible as to not upset any government entities that may consider invoking anti-trust laws.

Justin: That seems to be an unnecessary level of personal detail for you to share, Fizbane.

Fizbane: *pats Justin on the head* I like you. Call me Fizzy.

Justin: It's not just craft, inexplicable world building, and odd language choices, but the plot really isn't very interesting. It just crawls along without sense of context. The characters all feel like little miniatures in a massive game of Risk. Constantine just pushes them around the board from one conflict to another with no sense of ramification.

Fizbane: It seems that perhaps your anger in Constantine is misplaced. His execution was poor, the idea is still worth exploring.

Justin: You make a good point... Fizzy. I could start my version of the novel tomorrow. Yes.

Cheryl: Oh give me a break. I can't listen to this any longer. You'll actually take the time to sit down and write a novel around the same time I get up out of this digital space and smack you on the back of the head. Constantine is twice the writer you can ever hope to be!

Justin: Do you see what I have to deal with here Fizzy?!

But the wizard was already gone, a white... turkey... feather all that remained of his benevolent presence.

All Men of Genius - Lev AC Rosen

I had a bit of frustration with Lev AC Rosen's debut novel, All Men of Genius, and I recognize it may be a controversial one as it has nothing to do with his talent as a writer or the quality of his novel.  In fact, the novel's voice is great, using third person omniscient that strikes a perfect balance of authentic Victorian and modern convention.  The tagline on the dust jacket calling it inspired by Shakespeare's Twelfth Night and Wilde's The Importance of Being Earnest is right on and I might add a dash of Charles Dicken's knack for character and setting.  Even the plot is well executed, demonstrating the power of a straightforward story when populated by things the reader cares about.

Violet Adams is a brilliant young scientist barred from study at the world's greatest scientific institution by her gender.  Determined to continue her studies, and prove that women deserve a place at the table, she disguises herself as her twin brother Ashton.  Of course, keeping the secret of her sex isn't easy with her friend Jack’s constant pranking and the headmaster's (Duke Ernest Illryia) young ward, Cecily, developing feelings for Violet’s alter ego.  Add in some blackmail, mysterious killer automata, and Violet’s burgeoning affection for the duke, and Rosen has a steampunk Victorian response to J.K Rowling's Harry Potter franchise (albeit more adult).

Where the novel raises an eyebrow, for me, is in the constant emphasis on sexuality and gender.  Here's a run-down of some of the related plot devices.  Violet is a woman dressed as a man.  Violet's twin brother, Ashton, is gay.  Professor Valentine likes to have sex with senior citizens.  Duke Illryia is questioning.  No one seems to have a sexual relationship with anyone their own age.  Cecily has a thing for the cross-dressed Ashton (Violet).  I could go on, but things might get spoilery.

Early on I found the treatment of Violet's cross dressing and Ashton's sexuality to be both refreshing and authentic.  But, as the novel wore on I became overwhelmed, as I felt constantly assailed by the sexual proclivities of every character.  I applaud the desire to put alternate lifestyles in the spotlight.  However, I think it does a disservice when it feels like token offerings to inclusiveness, which too often seemed to be the case in Rosen's debut.

And yet, here I am talking about it.  In pushing the envelope, then sealing another one and pushing it right behind the first, Rosen compels his readers to confront the issue.  Despite my frustrations with it from a storytelling perspective, I can't help but applaud him for what he's trying to accomplish.  All Men of Genius is a novel I would happily hand to my someday teenage daughter (she's two now).  The message embedded in it is one of tolerance and acceptance, but also of demanding equality, making it one of the more important 2011 novels I've read -- especially considering its cosmetic appeal to younger readers.

Some might criticize the stiffness of the characters, an unfortunate side effect of Rosen's chosen narrative style.  Other's might turn their nose up at the neat bow Rosen puts on everything. or the general acceptance of prostitution.  To the latter point, some might call that an indictment of its appropriateness for a younger reader (and they might be right, as that, and several other items, are mature in nature).  My response?  It's Victorian!  Reflected in everything from the narrative voice, to the novel's structure, to the mores of the time, Rosen never forgets it and embraces it with aplomb.

All Men of Genius is a novel I can recommend -- especially to younger readers or parents although others will find enjoyment as well.  In an ever expanding world full of those alike and not, it's imperative that published works lead the way in engendering mutual understanding.  My only caution is to let the ideas speak for themselves, overworking them only reveals an insecurity in their veracity (which I'm sure the author doesn't have).  While I would have preferred more (any?) deconstruction, the novel is a wonderful homage to the source material of Shakespeare and Wilde.  It's not clear if Rosen plans to continue Violet's story, but I'd certainly be interested if he is.  If not, I'd be intrigued to see what he's capable of in a space unconstrained by Victorian virtue.

Alloy of Law - Brandon Sanderson

I love Brandon Sanderson.  I've read everything he's written for the adult market, from his first novel Elantris to his printing press busting The Way of Kings.  His finest work to date is the Mistborn trilogy which contains one of the best beginnings and endings ever done in fantasy. So, it is with great remorse that I must say his most recent Mistborn universe release, The Alloy of Law, isn't very good, or rather it's not nearly as good as everything else Sanderson has written.

Set some 300 years (about?) after the events of The Hero of Ages, Waxillum is a lawkeeper from the Roughs who happens to be a member of one of the richest families in Elendel.  When his Uncle dies in an accident, Wax is called home to administer the family fortune (or what's left of it).  Of course some trouble has followed him from the Roughs and he'll have to stop it with the help of his snarky partner, Wayne.  Yes, you read that right - Wax and Wayne.  If this paragraph sounds a bit lighthearted, then I nailed it.  Much like in Warbreaker, Sanderson is testing his limits in humor and levity to varying degrees of success

The novel starts with a prologue featuring Wax in the Roughs, six-shooter in hand.  The tone in these opening scenes conjures up rolling tumbleweeds and Danny Glover saying, "I'm too old for this shit," Assuming Sanderson would allow Danny Glover to say shit (he wouldn't).  While most of the rest of the novel feels more Victorian than Wild West, the plot items are recognizably Western.  Train robberies, good guys and bad guys, a protagonist with a personal code of honor, all conjure up the whistling theme of Ennio Morricone's The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.

That said, thematically Alloy of Law isn't a Western. The Western, as a genre, is about 'civilizing' the wilds, whether that's the natural element or the people that live there is inconsequential.  None of that is present.  Additionally, the Western world is organized around codes of honor and personal justice - not abstract law.  Some of that is there, but only through Wax, and to a lesser degree Wayne, whom represent the ideals of the Roughs.  For those in Elendel, where the entire narrative is housed, the social order is not only rigorous, it's set down and fundamentally abstract.

That sounds a bit like I'm being negative because Sanderson didn't deliver a Western.  Not the case.  I'm being negative because he didn't deliver substance.  Alloy of Law is shallow.  It has moments of entertainment - action packed sequences and witty back and forth.  Of course, Sanderson excels with his world building and magic system concepts and applications.  He shows how Scadrial has evolved since Vin and company triumphed over Ruin.  Sazed (now Harmony) is not only mentioned, but present.  All of that adds up to a fun little story designed to be a pallette cleanser as much for the author himself as for his readers.

Sample of Alloy of Law Audio Book, courtesy of 

Macmillan Audio

Given the beginning of the novel, and the flexibility to use the koloss and/or kandra (who are both functionally absent) to represent the 'indigent people', I saw many ways Sanderson could have engaged a deeper level with the novel as he does in nearly everything else he writes.  Am I being unfair?  Am I demanding a novel that Sanderson didn't want to write?  Is this reader entitlement?  Maybe.  Probably.  But expectations are a part of the game, and given Sanderson's past work I have an expectation of what I'm getting when I pick up a book with his name on the cover.  For me, Alloy of Law under delivered, offering what was essentially an adventure short that lacked any of the thematic support necessary to sustain a novel.

Now, the real question... was I entertained?  Yes!  I enjoyed Alloy of Law.  It interrupted my read of Never Knew Another (McDermott) and The Winds of Khalakovo (Beaulieu), two novels from Night Shade Books that are dense and full of nuance. Distracting me from these two titles was a surety as Sanderson's new novel is both bite sized and breakneck in its presentation.  I would read it again, although not a second time and therein lies the rub.  Visceral enjoyment is not enough, for the same reason that Independence Day is not a good film.  Alloy of Law fails at a basic level to engage me as a reader beyond the words on the page.

In an interview with Nethspace, Sanderson was asked where Hoid was in the novel.  His response was to say:

Hoid is in the book, though his name doesn’t appear. But the things happening here during this interim are not of deep interest to Hoid like the things happening in the original trilogy, so he is playing a much smaller role here than he was in the original trilogy.

Well, that's because they aren't that interesting.  There's nothing epic here, in plot or in intent.  It's just a guy named Wax and his buddy Wayne, fighting off a criminal who may or may not be part of something larger (admittedly the end of the novel hints strongly at the former).  If Hoid isn't all that interested, why should I be?  Alloy of Law is an aside for Brandon Sanderson, a break from his tireless schedule of his Stormlight Archive and Wheel of Time commitments.  Unfortunately, that's exactly what it felt like when I read it.

The Strange Affair of Spring-Heeled Jack - Mark Hodder

Wait, solid covers in the UK and the

US? Poppycock I say!

I love historical fiction.  Shogun by James Clavell, Pride of Carthage by David Anthony Durham, and Gates of Fire by Stephen Pressfield, are a few of my favorites off the top of my head.  What I love about the genre is how it stimulates me to learn about historical events or individuals that I haven't had an opportunity to pay much attention to.  If an author is clever enough to take this historical fiction element and blend in some science fiction the end result is something I can't help but want to read.  After finishing The Strange Affair of Spring-Heeled Jack by Mark Hodder I feel a great deal of conviction in saying, "Please sir, can I some more?"

Set in London, 1861, Sir Richard Francis Burton and Algernon Charles Swinburne stand at a crossroads in their lives. They are caught in the epicenter of an empire torn by conflicting forces: Engineers transform the landscape with bigger, faster, noisier, and dirtier technological wonders; Eugenicists develop specialist animals to provide unpaid labor; Libertines oppose repressive laws and demand a society based on beauty and creativity; while the Rakes push the boundaries of human behavior to the limits with magic, drugs, and anarchy.

The two men are sucked into this moral and ethical vacuum when the Prime Minister, Lord Palmerston, commissions Burton to investigate why werewolves are terrorizing London's East End and if there's any connection to the assaults on young women committed by a weird apparition known as Spring Heeled Jack.  Their investigations lead them to one of the defining events of the age, and the terrifying possibility that the world they inhabit shouldn't exist.

As an American, I didn't have a great deal of historical attachment to any of the characters in Strange Affair.  Before cracking it open the only two characters I had any real conception of were Burton himself (only barely), Charles Darwin, and Florence Nightingale (cameo appearances!).  As for the many other historical characters in the novel I was largely blank - although Isambard Kingdom Brunel was a sad oversight on my part.  I can't begin to describe what a pleasent sensation it is to finish a novel and immediately adjourn to wikipedia.  Who knew Spring-Heeled Jack was a real figure? Mark Hodder reminded me that life is stranger than fiction, and life with a heavy dash of fiction is even stranger.

The central figure in the novel is obviously Richard Burton whom represents the paragon of English maleness for the Victorian era.  He is rugged, overtly sexual, and excessively educated.  It's unfortunate that he often seems to possess some incredible powers of deus ex machina.  He always has the answers and manages to be in the right place at the right time regardless of the circumstances.  Faced with a sword wielding panther man, well wouldn't you know it, Burton is a master swordsman!  This is a minor complaint as Burton's renaissance man capabilities were well established early on and it did little to take away from Hodder's plotting which is - if I'm being frank - masterful.

Most of the novel's early going is spent introducing Burton and "Victorian" London now powered by all kinds of incredible contraptions.  There are message delivering robot dogs, street sweeping crabs, armchair helicopters, and some form of early botox to name a few.  Once all that's out of the way and Burton gets his assignment the novel begins to read a bit like Sherlock Holmes before descending into a paradoxical mind trip.  Paradoxical I say? Yes, not everything in Strange Affair is steampunk and I think calling the novel anything but science fiction obscures the truth.

The real Spring-Heeled Jack!

If what I write here is a bit obscure, I apologize, but it's in an effort to avoid spoiling any of Hodder's twists.  While the novel's early parts are historical urban steampunk, the latter half goes in a disparate direction culminating in a lengthy section told from the point of view of a character other than Burton or Swinburne.  Things very much slow down as this point and scenes become somewhat redundant as Hodder runs through the reasons why in 1840 history as we know it ceased to exist.  I don't begrudge the time spent as the explanations are necessary to unravel his dense plotting.

By the novel's conclusions everything makes sense, which for anyone reading the middle section described above may seem like quite an accomplishment.  None of that would have been possible without some brilliant writing.  I don't mean that Hodder is some kind of wizard of metaphors like Lauren Beukes or an efficient wordsmith like K.J. Parker (although he does write a fine sentence).  Nor has he put together a layered narrative like Lev Grossman.  Instead, what I mean by brilliant writing is that he's written something that feels Victorian, but reads modern.  Compare it to Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, which feels Victorian and reads the same way leading to an occasionally frustrating experience.  I think it's quite an accomplishment to write a dated voice but make it so easily readable to modern sensibilities.

I've been making up sub-genres lately.  In my Zoo City review I coined urban noir magical realism and now I'm forced conjured up historical science fiction steampunk.  Whatever.  Regardless of what I call Strange Affair it's a premier example of how to do historical fiction through the specfic lens.  Hodder has given readers a tremendous trip into the history books, a dynamite adventure to keep things lively, and a science fiction twist to get the mind working.  Consider me a big fan of Mark Hodder moving forward.  I can't wait to check out the sequel The Curious Case of the Clockwork Man.

Roil - Trent Jamieson

It seems like steampunk is the new vampire with a huge number of new titles claiming it as a sub-genre.  This probably shouldn't be surprising given the huge boom in the urban fantasy market in recent years.  For the most part steampunk tends to be more familiar to people than second world fantasy or space opera with no connection to the "real world".  It is traditionally set in a Victorian or Old West environment with historical elements that make sense to mainstream readers and don't require vast amounts of information dumping to understand.  I only mention these things because Roil by Trent Jamieson isn't that kind of steampunk despite the familiarity of airships and steam engines.

Existing in a second world setting, Roil reminded me of The Last Page, Anthony Huso's 2010 debut novel from Tor.  Since reading Huso earlier in the year, I'd been looking for something similar that captured his talent for world building but exceeded the uneven storytelling.  Roil did just that.

Shale is dying and the Roil is spreading.  A black cloud of heat and madness has crept through the land, absorbing city after city.  Where the Roil goes, life ends.  Once there were 12 metropolises, now only 4 remain.  Only the cold can stop it, but things are getting hotter.  A young drug addict, an orphaned girl seeking vengeance, and an Old Man are all that stand between total darkness and the annihilation of humanity.  Armed with cold suits, ice rifles, and the Old Men mysticism, the three begin a journey north to the Engine of the World - a force capable of beating back the inexhaustible Roil.

If it seems curious that I capitalized Old Men thus far, it should.  In Jamieson's world the Old Men are something akin to the Apostles of Christ if the Apostles had an insatiable hunger (use your imagination) and the ability to conjure ice at will.  In this bad analogy the Engine of the World would be Christ.  Throughout the novel who, and why, the Old Men are is of utmost interest.  It is clear from early on that the Old Men are a bastion against the Roil.  Where the Roil is hot as the sun, the Old Men are cold as hell.

Jamieson populates his worlds as much with "villains" as with heroes.  I put quotes around villains because to be frank, I'm not sure Roil has a villain.  It's clear Jamieson wants his reader to dislike Stade, the leader of the city of Mirrlees who begins the novel by murdering his rivals in the street.  He sees the Roil as an inevitability and he wants to protect as much as Mirrlees as possible (everyone else can kiss his ass).  Sure that's distasteful ends justifies the means kind of stuff, but does it make him a villain?  Even the Roil itself, which is about as evil as it gets on the surface, is more a force of nature than a malevolence.

Given that, it should be no surprise that Jamieson's heroes aren't particularly heroic.  David, a young man of privilege is addicted to a drug called Carnival (heroinesque).  He is often more concerned about scoring than he is about staying alive.  His companion, an Old Man named John Cadell, isn't all roses either.  In fact, he killed David's uncle a few years back.  He's feels bad about it though.  The list goes on and on.  If a novel's strength is judged on its characters, then Roil is She-Hulk.  Not the Incredible Hulk mind you (there isn't necessarily an iconic character in the bunch), but Jamieson has created a smorgasbord of captivating characters that bring everything to life.

That said, Roil is not without some fault.  For all his world building and lush characterizations, Jamieson's story arc is a quest fantasy that will be decidedly familiar to anyone who's read a surfeit of speculative fiction novels.  Additionally some might find quite a bit of frustration is the lack of information he provides about the world.  In the early goings Jamieson sets up scenes of emotional loss, but doesn't provide a great deal of history about why it's important.  He forces his reader to infer and imply a lot which is it at times charming and at others equally infuriating.

On the strength of his setting and characters alone, I believe Jamieson has begun something that has the potential to be a standard bearer for Angry Robot while pushing the boundaries of steampunk as a sub-genre.  Roil is something I would recommend to all fans of epic fantasy.  The sequel, Night's Engines is due out next year and I'm very much looking forward to it.

Dead Iron - Devon Monk

I am fascinated by the necessity those of us interested in genre fiction seem to
have for classification. Cyberpunk, hard sci-fi, space opera, high fantasy, epic fantasy, etc. Oh and the debates that ensue throughout the community when something is misclassified. In any case, there is no doubt what Dead Iron is - steampunk. Unfortunately, for author Devon Monk, it is steampunk reminiscent of Will Smith's Wild Wild West. While a far more successful execution of storytelling it shares a confusion with Smith's flop film about what it's trying to be. This shouldn't be read as a condemnation, rather a point of reference for discussing a book I ultimately I enjoyed.

Cedar Hunt is a man cursed by the Pawnee gods to hunt the Strange. He bears his curse, but is forever tormented by how it twists his humanity. Traveling west, he follows the Strange to a town named Hallelujah that lies in the inexorable path of expanding rail. When a child mysteriously goes missing, Hunt takes on finding him despite the town's mistrust of an outsider. Hunt's quest soon becomes much more as he sets himself against the Strange who would destroy not only Hallelujah but humankind in their entire.

Like any novel of genre fiction the nuance and ambiance the author sets are critical to success. Monk, trying to create fantasy, offers the Strange. The Strange comes from another plane where something akin to demons rule. It spills into the world and taints it. Personified by two characters, Mr. Shunt and Mr. Lefel, it is linked to the expansion of the railway as it paves a way to carry the Strange itself across the land. There is an obvious, if not overt, metaphor here about the expansion of technology and its impact on humanity.

Monk combines the Strange and technology powered by gear and steam with something called glim. Glim is essentially the Strange made tangible. Placed into a construct of metal and oil it brings technology to life or at least supercharges it. Every time glim made an appearance I was reminded of Tim "The Toolman" Taylor from ABC's 90's hit, Home Improvement - more horsepower! I found the gears and steam extremely satisfying, but imbuing them with the Strange felt unnecessary and made inventing somewhat tangental to "magic". It made what I felt like was an alternate reality steampunk novel feel like Final Fantasy. A few times I was sure Monk was moments away from summoning Bahamut.

As for the worldbuilding, Monk does a satisfactory job. Hallelujah is well imagined. It feels right - a frontier town like any other in an old western, replete with blacksmith, banker, storekeeper, town bully, wild eyed dreamer, and hard working black man looked down on by his peers. While it felt authentic, at least as I imagine a western town to be (since all my experience in such comes from Silverado and The Magnificent Seven), it didn't feel particularly original or unique.

Beyond Hallelujah, the world is only hinted at. Airships, universities, unseen technology, and mysterious cabals lurk beyond the mountains in the east. In this I think Monk did a better job. Her world felt far more fleshed out and alive than the town itself. It is unfortunate that we never see this world in Dead Iron, but I am certain more will come in the promised sequels. That said, the novel itself is entirely self contained and should I never read a sequel I wont be worse off for having spent the time reading this one.

It should be noticed that I'm now easily seven paragraphs into his review and I haven't mentioned the plot outside of a brief introduction. Believe it or not, it's intentional. The plot in Dead Iron is good. It's fun, with adequate emotion and action. If it seems a bit abstract at times when Mr. Lefel waxes poetic about the Strange, it quickly finds it's way again. But to me, in a novel like this the plot is of secondary concern (assuming it's adequate, which it is). The success or failure of Monk's first installment in the Age of Steam series, and her subsequent sequels, will be entirely dependent on how readers connect with the world she's created.

For me, it was ok. I believe she would have better served if Dead Iron had been her second installment in the series. The remembrances of Hunt's time among the Pawnee and his days of learning in the east would have been far more compelling of an introduction to Monk's world. Furthermore she could have avoided the strong emphasis on the Strange and glim and instead explored more of the steampunk tradition before turning things on their head with the introduction of "magic". This combination is what seems to lead the book astray as it loses cohesion in trying to be a western, a steampunk novel, and more traditional fantasy all at the same time.

All that said, I enjoyed the book. The characters are warm and alive. I feel confident in recommending the book to fans of the sub genre. I feel even more confident in the fact that the next book in the series will be better than the first.