This book has many of the things I love: Steampunk, electricity, Spring-heeled Jack, werewolves, a mystery, time-travel affecting the present, and the implication of liminal space. It also has a glowing recommendation from Michael Moorcock on the back. Note to self: Do not buy any other book Michael Moorcock likes.
I received this book in 2015. The fact that I haven’t read it until now says far more about the depth of my “to be read” pile than it does the quality of this novel. I promise you that.
“It’s no good hating them. They can’t feel it, and it will only make you bitter.” — p. unknown
The last two-book review I wrote was compare and contrast, because the material in each book related to the other book. This time, not so much: one is non-fiction, and one is fiction, and without performing some mental calisthenics at a level I’m not willing to do right now I don’t think I could write a unified review.
I really rather wish this book had been written back when I was in my late teens, so the girl-I-was could have been reassured that she wasn’t alone.
The What If of this book can be summed up as: What if Mystery, Inc., had actually tangled with chthonic beasts and didn’t realize it until their mid-twenties? What I thought of Meddling Kids? Well, that’s a bit of a mystery, too.
Hank Goodness is back — from a lot of things — and in Hogtown Market she trades one kind of trouble for about seven or so more. I had a habit of going along and being easy until I had an idea of what might happen next, but experience had taught me some good reasons not to do that anymore. (All quotes from the kindle version and I don’t have page numbers, sorry; title of this post is also a novel pull-quote) Minor spoilers ahead. Also, a side note of a sort: I am usually either the person who sits […]
Once upon a time, witches used to guide the dead to the afterlife. These days, in the world of Witchmark, only Storm Singers matter: witches are either guaranteed to go mad and require confinement in asylums or, if highborn enough, to be enslaved to the Storm Singers, who will use them as magical batteries, and breeders of the next generation of magical batteries. And what happens to the dead? Most folk assume they find their own way, I would guess.