Review: The Clockwork Dagger by Beth Cato

One way I survive all that shit life throws at me is through compartmentalizing. I create (artificial) boundaries, I develop boxes for thinking within and without, I live in context, I have many limits. In many ways it’s a fundamental part of human nature, though some people do it more than others. However, we all have our own system.

Likewise, books beg to be shelved, and the system for shelving can be deeply personal. Sure there’s that Dewey Decimal system that anyone under the age of 35 can’t possibly fathom, and every time I visit a library I realize just how much I’ve forgotten about it, but I digress. How do books get shelved, categorized, or boxed? Do you first sort by read versus not read (I often do)? Then do you alphabetize? By author’s name, by book title? Do divide into genre? What about subgenre?

I’ve rambled through the beginning of this review because context is so important. The context I come from, the way I categorize books, and how I approach it. And more directly, all of these variables can allow one to see a book at many more levels than may be first evident.

The Clockwork Dagger by Beth Cato is one such book. It’s set in a secondary world – so it must be fantasy? It has clockwork in its title and largely occurs on a dirigible, so it must be steampunk? But there’s magic, so back to fantasy? But there all these machines and clockwork technology – plus Victorian-like monarchy, so it has to be steampunk? But, there’s clearly a romantic story-arc, so it can only be paranormal romance? Oh please, can’t you tell it’s really a post-modern, weird western?

All of the above characteristics of The Clockwork Dagger are very real and inform what it is, but let’s approach it as a steampunk book, since that’s the way it’s dressed and it would seem that’s what it wants the world to think it is. In this respect, it has everything that a good steampunk book should offer – Victorian-esque world, mystery, secret agents, clockwork/steam technology, guns, and dirigibles.

But, look at what I’ve written above…does it matter? I’ve written about what box the book goes in, what shelf it belongs to. I’ve written about the setting, the world built to frame the book. I haven’t really touched on what this book is and what it has to say.

To get to what the book is and what it says, one must start with the heart of the book – Octavia Leander. Octavia is a young woman starting out on her first independent, professional venture in the world. She is a healer, a magical healer, one of great talent and who must be careful in what she shows the world around her. Her world is war-torn and she bears scars of that war herself. She is the maiden with a heart-of-gold who is out of her depth in the great big world. Predictably she meets a man who becomes a love interest, there is threat to her wellbeing, she is betrayed by someone close to her, and it all has big implications. But, just because those things are predictable, doesn’t mean they are bad. Because it comes back to Octavia who is a wonderfully compelling character with a perspective on things that is downright amusing even when deadly serious.

The Clockwork Dagger is also a (almost) traditional murder-mystery set in an enclosed space. Most of the book takes place on a dirigible where strange attacks keep occurring. Why? Who? It all gets mixed up with agents from the eastern wastes, agents from the crown, a long-missing princess, and of course, Octavia herself, who is slowly realizing that she’s not just an average magical healer, but something more.

And wrapped up in all of this are some really excellent ‘goodies’ that round out a great story and loveable protagonist with some meaty depth. In a secondary, Victorian-world, it’s hard to leave out those troubling bits of colonial, post-colonial, racial and ethnic tensions, and Cato certainly does not. Additionally, there’s a juicy bit of science vs. magic vs. religion wrapped up in the story. Rounding this out is another little bit that I always love to see in SFF books – realization that the status quo is not a good thing. There are implications of social justice, poisonous leadership and a real need for progressive change.

Now, I’ve rambled on for quite a bit, wrapping this review up in the context of boxes and shelves, then knocking those aside, rambling more, and I still haven’t flat-out offered up my opinion on all this, which is what I strongly believe is the most important part of a review. Did I like this book?

Yes.

This book is a fun mystery and adventure through a creative, well-rounded (western) steampunk world. But it’s Octavia and her merry band of friends and conspirators that make it the fun book that it is. Of course, I want more, and more there is. The Clockwork Crown rounds out the duology and is available now, along with a (prequel) novella, The Deepest Poison.

The Clockwork Dagger: Indiebound, Book Depository, Amazon

The Clockwork Crown: Indiebound, Book Depository, Amazon

The Deepest Poison: Indiebound, Book Depository, Amazon

Review: The Last Page by Anthony Huso

The Last Page by Anthony Huso (Book Depository, Powell’s Books, Indiebound) is turning out to be one of the more interesting SFF debuts of 2010. While it hasn’t garnered the marketing push of some of the more memorable debuts of the past few years, The Last Page has been released to quite a bit of praise from reviewers with wide-ranging comparisons from Harry Potter to China Mièville to Brent Weeks and Daniel Abraham and such varied terms as Epic Fantasy, Steampunk, Urban Fantasy, Lovecraftian Horror, New Weird and Military Fantasy. The jacket description may hint at some of this and actually does a pretty decent job of describing the book, but it can’t capture the undeniable mood and raw talent that Huso invokes through The Last Page. I won’t claim it’s the perfect debut, but it’s one that stands out.

Set in a magically-powered industrial world of factories, military-industrial complex, zeppelins, and international commerce and rivalry The Last Page opens in sort of preparatory academy combined with university where we meet Caliph Howl, the reluctant heir to the throne of The Duchy of Stonehold. We are introduced to Caliph as an intelligent, crafty, vengeful, yet somewhat mediocre student, yet more importantly, we see him meet his mysterious lover, Sena. The remainder and larger part of the story is told primarily through these two points of view as Caliph inherits his crown, inciting a civil war and Sena seeks a book of great power as she at once rapidly ascends within and seeks her independence from the shadowy Witchocracy that she is a key member of.

Huso writes with a relatively dense prose – perhaps most analogous to China Mièville, but certainly independent enough to feel fresh. With this prose comes vivid description, and like early Mièville, the tendency to over-indulge a bit too often. Another suffering of this writing style is the occasional use of large, obscure words when simpler words that don’t require a visit to the dictionary would suffice. Though the positives outweigh the negatives by a fair margin – this style also provides a rich, layered read with visceral descriptions that perfectly set the mood.

As a result of Huso’s use of this style one cannot deny the incredible realization of the world. This isn’t traditional epic fantasy worldbuilding – the world is not fully described, only the details relevant at the moment. It paints a wonderful mood and leaves the mind craving for more. The dark, dirty setting of an industrial world powered by what can only described as magical power is adeptly shown. The inclusion of zeppelins invokes a Steampunk spirit without actually using a Steampunk setting. Politics, economics, international relations all come into play in a world that feels real rather than ideal. Huso doesn’t water-down the details – they are fully present and often confusing, but manage to further build the dark mood of the novel.

Huso creates a complex plot that never completely gels. On one hand I love the approach because it made me work for every bit of understanding and it reflects the lack of complete understanding of actual reality. On the other hand it was downright confusing at times which caused a fair amount of frustration. The biggest fault in this is a failure with his characterization – motives are either never understood or never revealed. Perhaps this reflects complexity of character that mirrors actual people, but it too often felt like Huso played his cards too close to his chest with confusion the result. This becomes a real issue with the conclusion of the novel – it isn’t developed fully, which increases the uncertainty too much and lessens the impact.

Much of The Last Page is a love story between Caliph and Sena, though I’d hardly call it a romance. It’s more of a revelation of two people attempting to discover what love is, two people who have commitments in their lives that at least seem more important than their love lives. In this Huso portrays a relationship between real people with actual lives which stands apart from much of what is seen in the fantasy genre. This love story takes place along side of the rest of the book – I suppose the question remains, was the love story the central part of the book or was just another complication in their lives? I suspect that Huso would be pleased with that sort of questioning, though the end of the book provides answer enough.

Along the way Huso seems to enjoy throwing out a few moral dilemmas of personal and political nature that are relevant to present time, though most boil down to the question of ‘is a little evil OK for the greater good’? He never gives a real answer, but asks the question in several ways to get the reader thinking. He also touches on economics and government intervention a bit, but only just. Nothing is remotely didactic, just questioning, because there aren’t tidy, sound bite answers to these sorts of questions.

One of the aspects that I enjoyed most about The Last Page is that Huso seemed to know just what I would anticipate. I suppose that it could be called subversion of genre tropes or reader expectations, but it felt much more natural. Particularly in the first half of the book, I would think something like ‘that guy will turn out to be the spymaster’ or ‘Caliph will do __’ or ‘___ will become ___’s closest ally’, etc. It seemed that each time Huso would set it up and shoot it down, subtly letting me know what I thought I’d figured out. This was a fun, pleasant surprise as I read and another example of Huso’s solid writing, particularly for a debut.

Though my thoughts on The Last Page by Anthony Huso are ultimately mixed with a healthy lean toward positive, I won’t hesitate to call it one of the most promising debuts I’ve read in the last few years. It invokes what I love best in fantasy – a wonderfully imaginative world, strange creatures, darkness, complexity, political and economic intrigue, real-world analogues, and characters I can root for. The Last Page largely stands on its own, but for me the ending left me confused and wanting and I’m pleased to know that it is merely the first entry in a duology, with The Black Bottle scheduled for release next year. I can’t wait. 7.5/10