I have no idea why I didn’t pick this up when my library card sister Sandhya was reading them. Something about the covers? They sort of looked like super generic trilogy-of-magic and I wasn’t really feeling the vibe, despite not having even cracked the first one open. Clearly, that was a mistake.
It does take a bit to get into the novel–I found it pretty easy to set it aside when I first started. But once the outlines of the magic system started to take place, I found that I was desperate to read it (even though a 32 hour shift at work, although I thought better of it as I didn’t want to forget what I was reading) and see where the story was going to go.
In the broadest, broadest strokes, The Kingston Cycle is another entry in my newest favorite genre, “gay Victorian-era/-esque magic with lots of rules mystery,” with some of the best additional elements as well (cool female character who isn’t shoehorned into a relationship by virtue of being the only woman around). It’s clearly the first in a series, but I get that sense that Polk was told by their editor/agent/writer buddies that this should be a bit self contained in case it didn’t get picked up for additional volumes. There’s obviously a path towards where the story will go (things have changed by the end, and we have to figure out what to do about that) but it’s not a cliffhanger so to speak. If you never read beyond this novel, I think you could actually be pretty content. I do not understand why you would, but if tomorrow is the apocalypse and the written word were to go out of style, I think I would be okay. Ish.
In less broad strokes–the magic of this world (which is not, for the avoidance of doubt, ye olde England but an entirely different world with a similar vibe–actually maybe a sort of ye olde England x 1982 – the surveillance aspect) is primarily based on Storm Singers, who can literally sing storms into and out of existence. While that doesn’t seem all that important, it’s all that stands between apocalypse and prosperity, as that power prevents devastating typhoons and storms from ravaging the land. Because it requires a lot of power, those who have magic but can only do ‘tricks’ (like our main character, Christopher/Miles, who can heal people) are forced to serve as Secondaries, sort of like indentured/enslaved human batteries, bound to whichever Storm Singer claims the right. Miles, the intended Secondary to his sister, ran away from his posh home ages ago to become a field medic in a war against a neighboring country…but now he’s been spotted, and he’s about to get wrapped up in a conspiracy that goes much deeper than he can imagine.
Because, you know, they always do.
Also along for the ride is Tristan Hunter, an enigmatic magic user who operates outside of the Storm Singer/Secondary framework and is very interested in Miles. You know. Very interested. And Miles…might be, as well, if he wasn’t so caught up in everything going on.
It’s an all around excellent book, with some truly devastating stakes and characters who do a minimum number of illogical things for the sake of tension (when followed, Miles has the presence of mind to…not go to the location of the people he’s trying to protect). Small clues dropped along the way pay off in later plot reveals, so that you feel like you could have figured it out (if you are, unlike me, a more actively astute reader). I also dig the proto Tolkien elf vibe of [Tristan], as those bits of the LotR books were always my favorite.
A separate side note based on some thoughts I was sharing with my BooksApp friends–I was thinking, why is it that I’m so taken with stories of gay men doing things (especially magic things)? One would think that after stories of straight women I’d gravitate towards stories of queer women, all things equal (they are not, there are still many more stories about straight women) but that’s not always the case. A part of me tired of reading books that made me put myself in the shoes of straight male protagonists because, well *waves at the world.* And usually gay male leads in the genres I like are written by women or non binary authors and while many of them identify as queer they are nevertheless constructing leads from a perspective of what ‘manhood’ could be.
Aka, you’re reading through the lens of characters definitely recognizable as socialized men, but by virtue of the author’s lived experiences + their queerness in a time when it wasn’t openly celebrated or normalized/minority status/etc they are more relatable. And the always have a side hobby of having and examining their emotions around all sorts of events, not in the least the intriguing other gentleman with the charming personality (who, let’s be honest, is oftentimes also handsome).
All of which is true here, and just doubles down on why I found this book so enjoyable!
