Philip Reeve

The Hungry City Chronicles  — (2001-2011) Young adult. These are published in the UK first. Publisher: London is hunting. The great Traction City lumbers after a small town, eager to strip its prey of all assets and move on. Resources on the Great Hunting Ground that once was Europe are so limited that mobile cities must consume one another to survive, a practice known as Municipal Darwinism. Tom, an apprentice in the Guild of Historians, saves his hero, Head Historian Thaddeus Valentine, from a murder attempt by the mysterious Hester Shaw — only to find himself thrown from the city and stranded with Hester in the Out Country. As they struggle to follow the tracks of the city, the sinister plans of London's leaders begin to unfold...

THE FEVER CRUMB TRILOGY

Mortal Engines

In the years beyond the 30th century, after life as we know it is destroyed in the Sixty Minutes War, the world is divided into three: the Static communities, who live in farms and buildings firmly stationed on the earth, the aviators, who travel the Bird Roads in the sky, and the Traction Cities, the giant cities on engineered wheels who live by the Municipal Darwinism — the big cities devour the little cities for their resources. And the biggest Traction City of them all is London, on the move for larger hunting grounds and more resources.

Living in London are two very different young people — Tom, a Third Class Apprentice in the History Guild, and Katherine, an upper class noble daughter of the famed archeologist Thaddeus Valentine, whom both of them adore for his bravery and exciting exploits. Yet after London destroys the small town of Salthook whilst the three of them are touring the Gut (the engineering belly of London), one of the refugees attacks Mr Valentine in a furious rage, and is only just stopped by Tom's intervention. Chasing her up the levels of the Gut, Tom corners her before a chute that leads to the desolate Out-Country, and is horrified beyond comprehension when Mr Valentine pushes the both of them down it. Now stranded in the Out-Country with the young lady named Hester Shaw, with the hideously disfigured face, Tom is pushed into a series of adventures including aviators, pirates, slave-traders and Static towns, during which he begins to realise: things do not exist as he has understood them. And all the while, they are being hunted by a tragic and fatal being known as Shrike...

Meanwhile, back in London, Katherine is doing some investigating of her own concerning the disappearance of Tom and the assassin. Once her father leaves on a mission which purpose he conceals even from her, she begins to find pieces of the puzzle concerning an Ancient piece of Old-Tech that is somehow wrapped up in Hester Shaw and her father's unspoken past. Together with a witness to Tom's fall, a lowly worker named Bevis Pod, Katherine learns the truth about her father, and the catastrophic plans the Mayor of London has in store for the device known as the MEDUSA.

The real enjoyment of Mortal Engines comes from Philip Reeve's wonderful creation of an interesting and detailed post-apocalyptic world where colossal cities trundle desolate plains, filled with relics of the Old World — the world as we know it today. Usually descriptions of machinery or other technicalities bore and confuse me, but Reeve writes with such clarity, that the city of London and its layered Tiers is brought to complete and convincing life. Likewise, the cultures found outside the cities are unique and interesting, and once Tom and Hester start out on their journey, its very likely one will be unable to resist exploring with them.

Story-wise, the plot is simple, but with just enough twists to keep one interested. All the characters, even villains that at first glance appear one-dimensional have hidden motives to their actions, and the conflict between them and the cultures that they represent is believable, and morally complex. Only the ending disappointed me somewhat — Reeve seemed determined to kill off as many of his characters as possible, leaving me a little immune to the tragedy of death, and the conclusion ends more on a note of despair than hope for the future, given the sheer amount of death and destruction that the survivors leave in their wake.

Of all the major protagonists, the females end up being more interesting than the males, though in fact Tom is given the most attention. This is unfortunate, as I found myself disliking Tom for much of the story — he is a character like Lloyd Alexander's Taran in The Chronicles of Prydain, in that he dreams of glory, thinks highly of the wrong people, and holds tight to beliefs that the reader can see are false from the very beginning of the book. Unlike Taran however, it takes a long time for Tom to find self-realisation, and as such the reader feels on-going frustration for his ignorance and on-going commitment to make the wrong choices. However, he does eventually grow (albeit in a rather patchy manner), and through him Reeve addresses the important questions of life. Reeve's other hero, Bevin Pod is endearingly shy and uncertain of himself, showing immense bravery when he is aware of the horrors he would face in the Deep Gut should he be caught, and dotingly loyal to Katherine.

It is the girls that I found more likeable — Hester Shaw, an embittered, independent young woman whose hideous face is an ongoing pain for one who loves and appreciates beauty, and lives only to bring death to the one who inflicted this upon her. Katherine at first glance appears as a "poor little rich girl," but is intelligent, resourceful, and has a clear idea in her mind of the differences between right and wrong.

Mortal Engines is ultimately a well-crafted book, along the lines of Philip Pullman's Northern Lights and Garth Nix's Abhorsen trilogy. If you liked the atmosphere and flavour of those two books, I strongly suggest that you give Mortal Engines a go. —Rebecca Fisher

Predator's Gold

We Will Unleash a Storm that will Scour the Earth.

It had been a while since I'd read Philip Reeve's first installment in the Hungry City quartet, and so my memories of the events that happened in Mortal Engines were a little hazy. However, nothing could make me forget the imaginative post-apocalyptic world that Reeve had created, in which massive Traction-Cities trundled across the wastelands according to the laws of Municipal Darwinism; eating any smaller city that crossed their paths. There was a massive death-toll by the end of the book, in which many of the principal characters had been killed (to the point of desensitisation), but our protagonists Tom and Hester managed to ride off into the sunset in the battered old airship "Jenny Haniver."

Predator's Gold is set several years later, where we find that Tom and the horribly-scarred Hester are still together, taking on passengers and cargo to make a living. One such passenger is Professor Pennyroyal, a pompous explorer and adventurer with a penchant for stretching the truth (think Gilderoy Lockhart) who join the couple as they flee to the Ice Wastes and are saved by the Traction City of Anchorage. The city is ruled over by the young Freya Rasmussen who makes a radical decision to return to the Dead Continent in the hopes of escaping the dual threats of both predatory Traction Cities and the Anti-Traction League.

Unbeknownst to her, her city is being discreetly ransacked by a trio of 'Lost Boys' who answer to the mysterious thief-lord Uncle (who as another reviewer pointed out, deliberately bears less resemblance to the carefree boys of Peter Pan than to the wretches of Oliver Twist under the tyranny of Fagin) a man who has his own game to play in the rising tensions. But when Hester witnesses a foolish kiss between Tom and Freya she makes an equally foolish decision to betray the city. From here the action keeps rolling: escapes, intrigue, kidnapping, betrayals, battles... you name it and its here. As an adventure story, I would be hard-pressed to recommend anything more exciting than this.

Most interesting is Reeves use of political agendas and intrigue. The world is roughly translated into two groups: the Traction Cities and the Static Communities, who are bitterly at odds. The Static communities (headed by the Anti-Traction League) despise the parasitical scavenging cities, whilst the roaming Cities are arrogantly casual about their allegiance to Darwinism and their right to any prey that comes their way. Naturally, one would expect to be on the Anti-Traction League's side (after all, the thought of consuming smaller cities sounds barbaric to our contemporary ears), and yet the fact that Tom is a citizen of a Traction City and Reeves's deliberate admiration for their roving spirit throws the whole scenario into a hefty shade of grey.

Plus, if we really analysis the situation, is there really a difference between the Traction Cities and the phenomena of the Western world's colonisation across the rest of the world (and its current insistence on globalisation)? Add to the fact that a branch of the Anti-Traction League — the Green Storm — is undoubtedly a terrorist network whose members wear "the shiny, smug expressions of people who know they are right," and the book suddenly takes on a level of depth and allusion that you would never expect in what appears to be a simple adventure story.

Neither the Traction Cities nor the Static Communities are right (in fact most of the time they are very much in the wrong), and the conflict of the book is not which side wins, but whether Tom and Hester can survive the conflict that goes on between them, living long enough to make a decent life for themselves. This is a great set of books: read them! —Rebecca Fisher

Infernal Devices

It has been sixteen years since the events of Predator’s Gold, and the Traction City of Anchorage has been peacefully settled on the Dead Continent for years, undisturbed by the war that rages throughout the rest of the world between the adherents of Municipal Darwinism and a terrorist faction of the Anti-Tractionist League.

Okay, if you haven't read the previous two books in THE HUNGRY CITY CHRONICLES, then you probably didn't understand a word of that sentence. To recap, Philip Reeve has created one of the most vivid and exciting fantasy worlds in recent fiction, a post-apocalyptic world where massive itinerant cities roam the wastelands, preying on smaller cities and static communities. Those that want to put a stop to this dog-eat-dog world, as well as protect their homelands from the predator cities and "bring back the green," are known as Anti-Tractionists. Though their goals may be noble, they have long since resorted to questionable tactics in order to win the war, including resurrecting dead bodies as mindlessly obedient soldiers known as Stalkers.

With its multi-tiered traction cities, deep underwater complexes, floating aerial cities, and plethora of submarines and airships that travel between all three, it's only a matter of time before someone makes this series into a visually splendid film. But Reeve does more than create a fictional world that is right up there with (and perhaps even surpassing) the likes of Philip Pullman's HIS DARK MATERIALS and Garth Nix's THE ABHORSEN TRILOGY. This is a gritty, realistic, steampunk world where difficult decisions have to be made, where there are no clear cut "goodies and baddies," where life and relationships are precious and difficult, where characters fight for a dystopian world that may or may not be worth the effort, and where our protagonists Tom Natsworthy and Hester Shaw have no real commitment to either side, but are just trying to keep themselves and their family intact. The greater conflict of the world around them is microcosmically recreated in their own relationship, as each comes to terms with how far they are willing to go in order to survive.

Since the last novel, Tom and Hester have married and had a daughter, Wren. But like most teenagers, Wren is restless and bored with life upon Anchorage-inVineland, and longs for adventures like the ones she's read about in Professor Pennyroyal's memoirs. A very strained relationship with her mother doesn't help matters either, and so it is like a gift from the heavens when Wren sees a mysterious submarine landing on the shores by night. A charming and handsome pirate is willing to whisk her away from her mundane life, if only she does him a little favour: bring him an object from Anchorage's library.

To say anymore would be to give away one too many of the plot twists and turns that course throughout Infernal Devices. As always, Reeve delivers a story that is chocka-block full of action, danger, excitement, mystery and suspense; fairly generic words when used to describe a story, but in this case, entirely accurate. Reeve can keep a story racing along like no one else can; the biggest problem is finding an appropriate place to try and stop.

The McGuffin of the story is an artifact known as the Tin Book. Nobody knows quite what it is or why it's significant, save for the person who wants it so badly: the Stalker Fang, leader of the Green Storm. From the shores of Anchorage to the submerged realm of the Lost Boys, to the floating resort paradise of Brighton, the Tin Book and its pursuers eventually converge in an action-pack climax that sets everything up for the forth and final book in the series: A Darkling Plain. Up until then though, Reeve masterfully weaves several plot-strands that involve Tom and Hester's search for their daughter, Wren's attempts to escape from slavery, and the resurrection of the Stalker Strike by a doctor with her own agenda; all against the backdrop of an escalating war.

Also noteworthy is Reeve's careful character development and sense of humor. There are moments of levity throughout the book, including several comic characters and even a sly reference to Pride and Prejudice, all of which helps to offset the darker aspects in both the world and in the characters' souls. Struggling with greed, fear, hate and difficult moral decisions, Reeve certainly doesn't make it easy for his protagonists and makes the brave decision to make his protagonists downright unsympathetic at times. Just as many villainous characters can have misguided or understandable motivation, Hester Shaw has a rather callous nature, as well as a very dark side to her that even comes to resent her own daughter's existence. Likewise, Wren herself is annoyingly stupid at the inception of the book, though naturally she grows leaps and bounds throughout, after realizing that she's not half so clever as she thought she was. Be that as it may, Reeve's characters are always fascinating, but sometimes difficult to easily like.

Infernal Devices is not my favorite in the series: two promising characters are killed very early on in the story, and the idea of Brighton as a holiday-resort city doesn't quite seem to mesh with the brutal nature of the rest of the world, plus by the end of the book you realize that most of the last quarter has been setup for the final installment, but the depth of the story, weightiness of the issues it raises and the sheer creativity at work here means that it can be nothing less than a five-star book. Depressingly though, THE HUNGRY CITY CHRONICLES seem to be all but unknown among the annals of children's literature. You honestly don't know what you're missing. —Rebecca Fisher

A Darkling Plain

Whatever becomes of us, we’ll be together…

I read the first installment of THE HUNGRY CITY CHRONICLES back in 2003 with Mortal Engines and now I finally come to the end of the four-part story with A Darkling Plain. There is still a prequel to enjoy, but for all intents and purposes, this is the last chapter of Tom Natsworthy and Hester Shaw's adventures in a world filled with airships, traction cities, predator suburbs, static communities and terrifying animated human corpses fitted with robotic parts called Stalkers. With the title derived from Matthew Arnold’s "Dover Beach," (“and we are here as on a darkling plain, swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight, where ignorant armies clash by night”) a line which perfectly encompasses the tone and content of the story, A Darkling Plain begins with a reasonably tranquil scenario.

An uneasy peace has been formed between the Traction Cities and the Static Communities, ending years of conflict between the various factions of the Traktionstadtsgesellschaft (cities that adhere to the city-eat-city policies of Municipal Darwinism) and the Anti-Tractionist League (which includes the terrorist organization of the Green Storm). The truce has been secured mainly due to the efforts of Lady Oenone Naga, who disposed of the Green Storm's fanatical leader Anna Fang by programming the ancient Stalker Strike to destroy her. However, her actions have made her several enemies, and dissenting members of each side are determined to end the stalemate between townies and mossies through espionage, terrorism and assassination.

If you have yet to discover the steam-punk, sci-fi, post-apocalyptic world that Philip Reeve has created, then there's no use starting here. A Darkling Plain is the accumulation of the three previous books and their steady build-up of character and situation. Six months after the explosive events of Infernal Devices, Tom Natsworthy and his daughter Wren are living as aviators and traders when Tom recognizes a familiar face from his past: Clytie Potts, who lived in his home city of London, which was presumed to have been totally decimated years ago. Teaming up with a dashing but prejudiced young lord of a strange tunneling city, father and daughter cross the lines and sneak into enemy territory in order to investigate rumours of life in the destroyed remains of London.

Meanwhile, their estranged wife and mother Hester is traveling with Shrike as an assassin-for-hire, only to get caught up in events when she stumbles across the survivors of an attempt to sabotage the truce. With such a painful reminder of her duties to her family, Hester reluctantly throws herself into the ensuing battle.

Finally, the Stalker Anna Fang (not as dead as some might have hoped) makes a journey of her own along with Fishcake, one of the final Lost Boys who holds a grudge against Tom and Hester. Devoted to Anna, Fishcake follows her as she undertakes a secret mission into the mountains, carrying in her mind the coordinates of a satellite that orbits the planet and which has the capacity to destroy all life on earth. There are other plot-threads too, concerning familiar characters such as Theo Ngoni, Nimrod Pennyroyal, General Naga and Shrike (sadly Freya and Caul do not appear here and we learn nothing of them; although there are a couple of bittersweet moments that recall Katherine Valentine and Bevis Pod, way back from the first book).

Reeve weaves these storylines into a magnificent whole as the world veers dangerously close to a second apocalypse, and at twice the length of the first book, A Darkling Plain is certainly a book to savour over several nights. As with the end of all long-term sagas, the ending comes with a fair amount of satisfaction, bittersweetness and sadness that it was over; even though I know I can read it again, I'll never be able to read it again for the first time.

Possibly the most noteworthy aspect of Reeve's worldview is that there is no clear-cut good or evil in regards to the two opposing sides of the conflict. Rather, the Traction Cities and the Static Communities (or the "townies" and the "mossies" as they dismissively call each other) each have idealistic leaders, worthy opponents and dangerous fanatics. Just as the ideology of Municipal Darwinism is reminiscent of Western focus on materialism, consumerism and globalization, the otherwise peaceful Eastern Anti-Traction League have a discordant terrorist element in their midst that isn't above employing dubious tactics in order to destroy its enemies. There is no good or bad side to this war: only people with opposing world-views that refuse to compromise, in which bad situations are made worse by the greed and hatred of a powerful few.

It would be wrong to give too much away in terms of plot-lines and character development, as half the joy of this series is the element of discovery, as well as the unexpected twists that Reeve litters throughout (he is certainly not afraid of killing off major characters when the need arises). There are a few missed opportunities that I was disappointed that Reeve didn't take (there is no much-deserved reconciliation between mother and daughter), but I can say with a fair amount of confidence that once you read any book in this series, you will never forget it. It has the raw creativity and rich world-building that only the most consummate storytellers can create and sustain, and this series combines the very best of adventure, romance, suspense, character development, tragedy, pathos and sacrifice into an unforgettable reading experience. —Rebecca Fisher

Fever Crumb

I loved every second of The Hungry Cities Chronicles, and knowing that there was a prequel in the works helped ease the sorrow that came with concluding the original four-part series. Though it is still set far into the future, "Fever Crumb" takes place what could be several centuries before the start of Mortal Engines. The Sixty-Second War doesn’t seem to have happened yet; instead the characters refer to a sinister sounding event known as the Downsizing. This isn't a post-apocalyptic world, but it's certainly heading that way, and the human population has long since forgotten how to wield the technology known to the Ancients.

London is the large but seedy backdrop to the proceedings, recently liberated from the tyranny of the Scriven, a group of genetically mutated humans whose short but brutal reign is still recent history to the citizens. The uprising that followed even now leaves its mark on the city, particularly in the respect accorded to the Skinners (those that dispatched the final Scriven) and the simmering apprehension that a few of the dapple-skinned mutates may still remain...

It is in the giant metal head of the Scriven overlord Auric Goshawk (part of a commissioned statue that was never completed) that Fever Crumb is raised among the Engineers of London, a guild that has forsaken emotion for reason, and work away diligently in the attempt to understand the past technological mysteries of the Ancients. Fever (who gives Albus Severus and Renesmee Cullen a run for their money in the weirdest name competition) is a foundling: bald, beautiful, and sporting a thin scar on the back of her head, who spends the first fourteen years of her life helping her foster father.

That is, until she is commissioned into the service of an archeologist: the young, charming, father-of-two Kit Solvent, who has discovered a locked room in the network of tunnels beneath his house. For reasons that elude Fever, he seems to think that she is instrumental in opening the vault. His belief seems to have some merit, for while she copes with a world that runs on heightened emotions rather than the cool detachment of her guardians, she finds herself struggling with an influx of memories that don't belong to her. Even worse, her odd appearance has caught the attention of the final Skinner, who believes that she's a Scriven and that it's his duty to exterminate her for the good of the city.

Oh, and a group of technologically-superior nomads are advancing on the city, presumably to invade and enslave. Yeah, there's a lot of stuff going on in this book, but as anyone who has read the original Hungry Cities books knows, Philip Reeve is more than up to the challenge of combining rich characters, a suspenseful plot and a fully realized world into a riveting whole.

Reeve is a brilliant writer who isn't afraid to take risks with his style: utilizing point-of-view changes, switches between past and present tense, direct addresses to the reader, made-up adjectives (Fever speaks "Engineerishly" and "Goshawkishly"), and even categorizing things right in the middle of sentences, complete with bullet points. A few chapters skip back a few years in order to chronicle a character’s part to play in the rise and fall of the Scriven, and Reeve's hysterically dry wit always leaves me shaking my head in wonderment that such a dark, gritty story can be told in such a light, casual tone.

With a setting that is highly reminiscent of Philip Pullman's Oxford and Garth Nix's Old Kingdom, but with a steampunk sensibility that's all its own, Reeve includes a few sparkling winks to the reader in the midst of his grim worldview (such as a religious procession for the prophet "Hari Potter"), and sheds new light on old clichés: his "car chase" had me in stitches as well as on the edge of my seat. His mastery of descriptive language is on full display here, from the Engineers who live inside Goshawk's nose and exit out "through his nostril like a well educated sneeze" to a man whose "coughs rumbled endlessly down in the wet cellars of his lungs." And his surplus imagination seems to know no bounds, particularly in the sinister paper-boys, who are far more frightening and macabre than they sound (I now dread paper-cuts).

Fever Crumb is an endearing protagonist, particularly in her stumbling toward a less stoic outlook on life, but no less intelligent, vulnerable or brave for her upbringing. She's surrounded by a Dickensian cast, none of whom are cast in solid black or white; rather all are placed somewhere on a spectrum of greys. First impressions of characters change, for better or worse, and often in the most unexpected ways. New information is gleaned from the viewpoint of other characters, and new light is shed on nearly all of them by the end of the book, sometimes even after their deaths. Reeve seems fascinated with the ideas of memory and identity, and the question of how much one influences the other, a theme present in The Hungry Cities Chronicles but explored in more depth here.

Fever Crumb is a wonderful example of a prequel done right. Opinions may vary, but personally, I feel that this book was written, and meant to be read, as a prequel. In it we can see the establishment of archeologists as people of eminence, the genesis of the Engineering Guild of London, the discovery of the technology that will one day make the Traction Cities a reality, and (best of all) the tragic backstory of the Stalker Strike, which is sure to cause a lump in the throat, particularly in light of his part to play in the preceding quartet.

I really have nothing but good things to say about Fever Crumb. The characters, the plot, the world-building — it all comes together in a complex, satisfying, thought-provoking, amazingly good read.
—Rebecca Fisher

Fever Crumb

Fever Crumb is a prequel of sorts to Philip Reeve’s fantastic HUNGRY CITY CHRONICLES, which started with Mortal Engines. I say “of sorts” in that it’s set in the prehistory of the HUNGRY CITY CHRONICLES world, but far back enough in time that Fever Crumb doesn’t act as a direct lead-in to the larger series: instead of giving us more of the same characters, it sets up the major concepts and incipient events of the series. Though it’s set earlier, I recommend beginning with the later books, because while I enjoyed Fever Crumb, the HUNGRY CITY CHRONICLES have a much stronger impact (think starting the NARNIA series with The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe vs. The Magician’s Nephew).

In the later series, cities are large, mobile monstrosities that war with one another in order to gain needed resources, one city devouring another. It’s an annex-or-be-annexed world. In Fever Crumb London is still geographically bound to one place, though smaller localities have taken up the nomadic life, and one such alliance from the North — The Movement — appears on the horizon, seemingly ready to invade. People are clearly on edge, especially as, not all that long ago, there was a violent uprising in London against the Scriven, the long-lived and seemingly inhuman tyrannical overlords who had ruled over London for centuries. All the Scriven were killed or driven out, but the memory of death and violence is still fresh, as is resentment toward anything remotely “other.”

Fever is a young woman, a foundling brought up by Doctor Crumb in the uber-rational guild of Engineers, who consider emotions silly and hindrances to logical living (they live, fittingly enough, in a giant head). The book mostly begins when Fever is sent out to work on an archaeological dig with Kit Solent, who is looking into secrets possibly buried beneath the home of the last Scriven overlord.

Clearly Philip Reeve is going to be working several plots here. One is the simple suspense of the encroaching Movement — what do they want?  Is it an invasion or something different? Will London fight or not?  Another is the suspense regarding the dig — what, if anything, will they uncover?  Will uncovering it be a good or bad thing?  Yet a third is Fever’s slow discovery of the truth of her lost background. Still focused on Fever, Philip Reeve also explores her growing conflict between the rational, emotion-free approach she’s spent almost her whole life with and her newly-awakened sense of the emotional life. There are side-plots and mysteries as well surrounding several other characters: Doctor Crumb, Kit Solent, the old man who killed the last Scriven overlord and who remains ever vigilant, the old man’s young apprentice in Scriven-hunting (called “skinning” for reasons you might imagine), and an ambitious tavern owner seeking to use the unrest to his own ends.

The characters are all pretty complex, even those that don’t get a lot of page time. It’d be tough to accuse any, save one or two of them, of being “stock” types, and those that are play a pretty minimal role. From Fever to Kit to the old man and his apprentice, Philip Reeve has created complicated, human, fully fleshed out characters.

The story does sometimes (not often and not for long) lag here and there — I would have argued for a stronger edit of Fever’s back-story for instance.  While I wouldn’t call it “gripping”, it mostly pulls you along quickly and smoothly as you’re eager to learn what happens. You’ll also enjoy many of the mangled bits and pieces of our time that get sprinkled into the language of Fever’s era, though a few times these felt a little forced. There are also some wonderful bits of creative imagery here that I won’t spoil, though it’s tempting to rave about one in particular.

While not quite as strong as the HUNGRY CITY CHRONICLES, Fever Crumb stands well enough on its own and is certainly worth a read, even for those unfamiliar with the series. But while I recommend reading Fever Crumb, I strongly recommend doing so after picking up the series, not so much for plot as for a stronger introduction to Philip Reeve’s writing. If for some reason you don’t and find you’re not enamored with Fever Crumb, don’t let it prevent you from trying the series. —Bill Capossere

A Web of Air

You Can’t Murder the Truth!

The second of the prequel trilogy to Philip Reeve's wonderful Hungry Cities series continues Reeve's imaginative, exhilarating, unpredictable story of life in a post-apocalyptic world where seagulls have rudimentary communication skills, people live in houses that can be hoisted up and down hillsides, and an ominous event known as the Downsizing has left technology beyond the understanding of the human population.

In this brave new world lives Fever Crumb, an engineer who has left the city of London in order to join the traveling theatre known as the Lyceum, escaping her newfound parents and caring for two children orphaned during the course of Fever Crumb. Though she enjoys her independence, she feels that her talents are wasted in lighting the stages of a theatre troupe. Her upbringing among the engineers of London means that she's been raised to reject the fanciful and to embrace everything rational. As such, she feels she has never quite belonged among the colorful performers, though she has no desire to return home to London where it's said that the new ruler is rebuilding it as a gigantic, tracked vehicle.

Taking a dim view of romance and religion, Fever is even more uncomfortable in the beautiful city of Mayda, where ships sail in and out of the harbor, mansions rise and fall thanks to funicular rails on the cliff-tops, and religious fanatics demand worship of the sea. But things are about to change. A chance meeting with an engineer and the discovery of a glider during an evening walk leads Fever to the reclusive Arlo Thursday, a man who is rumored to be building a flying machine.

Flying machines have long since been dismissed as legend and flight deemed impossible, but Fever is intrigued despite herself — especially when she meets Arlo, a young man who can talk to the sea-birds, who lived a month in solitude on Thursday Island after his entire family was swept away by a freak tidal wave, and who may well have a connection to Fever's own strange family. Fever is just the engineer he needs to complete work on his flying machine, but unbeknownst to both of them, there are plenty of enemies out to steal their creation, or to destroy the secrets that they've uncovered.

Once again Philip Reeve delivers a near-perfect story of suspense, invention and excitement, one that opens up questions about the human condition and the future of mankind. Sometimes it's hard to believe that this is technically a children's book. Just as Fever Crumb dealt with identity and growing up, Web of Air takes a shrewd look at the power of religion and bases its denouncement on sacrifice, betrayal and a great lie. Although Fever herself is an atheist who describes religious belief as "controlling knowledge and standing in the way of progress," the concept of religion is not totally condemned, for at the conclusion of the novel Fever understands the very real need that people have for something larger and more meaningful than themselves.

As always, Reeve's world-building is incredible. The setting of this story is the city of Mayda, built in a bowl-shaped island crater, (beautifully rendered on the cover by David Wyatt in the British publication) vividly described and populated by a melting pot of cultures with a dark underbelly, where the theater troupe perform the tale of Niall Strong-arm and the Conquest of the Moon and a traveling market is known as the Rolling Stone. The novel is positively littered with little in-jokes like this, demanding a second read just to pick them all up.

As a protagonist Fever Crumb is endearingly oblivious to her own vulnerability, whilst still displaying intelligence, resourcefulness, bravery, and a dry wit that is cultivated over time. Gentleness isn't something that comes naturally to her, but over the course of the story we see her heart open to new possibilities and new people, and it makes for rather heart-breaking reading when she's finally called upon to weigh up her integrity against her heart. Reeve has always been a master of creating morally ambiguous characters and placing them in a story where the good guys can be ruthless, brutal and oblivious to the pain they cause; and bad guys can be gentle and amiable and genuinely loving to their families. It's rich, deep, thought-provoking stuff and it is best never to trust your first impressions of a character.

As a prequel we get a few more puzzle-pieces clicked into place, including the first look at the Jenny Haniver (I got a tingle down my spine) and news of the engineering feats in London that will eventually end in the world's first Traction City. Story-wise there are a few glitches: Fever is perhaps saved one too many times by a deus ex machina, and the poignancy of her decision at the end of the book is somewhat undermined by the fact that we know humankind has regained the ability to fly in the original series, but the bittersweet note of the final chapter is both promising for the third and final book, and memorable on its own terms. I can't wait for Scrivener’s Moon.

Reeve is a brilliant writer and it continues to baffle me that there are so few reviews for his work. He manages the perfect balance between likeable characters, unpredictable plot and fascinating setting, with a female protagonist that easily stands alongside Garth Nix's Sabriel and Philip Pullman's Lyra in terms of sheer resourcefulness and competence. —Rebecca Fisher

A Web of Air

I’m a huge fan of Philip Reeve’s Hungry City Chronicles, a series that has always seemed under-hyped and underappreciated to me. The first four books, beginning with Mortal Engines and ending with A Darkling Plain, are simply fantastic, set in a far future after the world has been destroyed by war and where Traction Cities roam the planet consuming all they come across (including smaller cities). More recently, Reeve has plumbed the depths of the world just on the cusp of entering the mobile city era. Fever Crumb, the first of the prequels, was a good start, with rich characters and an interesting multi-stranded plot (I gave it 3 ½ stars), but it was not quite as strong as the original series. With the second of the prequels, A Web of Air, Reeve has fully found his touch again.

A Web of Air picks up a short amount of time after Fever Crumb. Fever has left London (which is preparing to make itself mobile) with the two children who became orphans due to the events of that first novel and is working with a traveling theater group as their technician, something she feels is not really fulfilling her years of training as an Engineer. When the Lyceum stays for a few nights in the city of Mayda, however, Fever’s life takes a sudden turn as she soon gets embroiled in the attempts by Arlo, an eccentric young man whose family and home were destroyed by a tsunami in the book’s eye-popping opening, to construct a flying machine.

While this is the major storyline, Reeve tosses in a handful of issues to spice up the story: semi-intelligent sea birds, an attractive Engineer from London who has let his Guild back home know he’s found Fever Crumb (Fever’s parents have been wondering about her), an assassin who seems to be picking off anybody involved in research into human flight, the Mayda crime syndicate, the possibility that Arlo’s family and Fever’s family have some connections in the past, rumors of a mysterious and lethal spider-like creature associated with Arlo’s family, “funicular houses” that move up and down the steep sides of Mayda (built inside a large impact crater), and the conflict between religion and reason. Along with this are the character conflicts: Fever’s growing conflict between her obsession with reason and rational behavior and her ever-more powerful emotions, and Arlo’s conflict between his sense of isolation and his need for Fever’s help. Fever is a great character — independent, smart, resourceful, loyal — and one made better by her flaws. As readers, we can chuckle fondly at her own lack of insight and enjoy the ride as she slowly opens up to herself and others.

The plotting is tight, suspenseful, fast-paced most of the time but slower when necessary, and has its share of twists and turns, including an especially complex and painful one at the very end. As always with Reeve, the characters are vivid, rich, and complex, from the main characters all the way to those who barely appear on the page. And as is often the case with Reeve, there is a lot of grey in the “bad” characters. Did I mention it was tight? I love the concision of this book; Reeve chisels it down to the essentials without sacrificing richness or complexity with regard to character or atmosphere. The city of Mayda, for instance, is a simply wonderful creation, one you stop reading for so you can enjoy some moments just visualizing how the city must look.

As mentioned, the ending is quite painful. Reeve has never shied away from the bittersweet (or just the bitter), and the same holds true here. For those who think YA means “easy emotions,” Reeve’s work is the perfect counterpoint.

There are a few some flaws here and there, but really nothing to distract from the sheer pleasure of the read. As I said in my review of Fever Crumb, I still think it best to read the Hungry City Chroniclesfirst and then tackle the prequels. First, because I think the first four sweep you off your feet more quickly and more thoroughly (though A Web of Air matches their quality) and are more “epic” in scale. Another reason is that having them in your background will allow you a little frisson of delight when Reeve throws in little tidbits that you can recognize as elements of or direct precursors to events or objects or people in that series. Strongly recommended. —Bill Capossere

Scrivener’s Moon

What is to Become of Fever Crumb?

Once again I come to review a Philip Reeve book, and once again I'm astounded to find that no one else seems to have anything to say about it. It's also gotten to the stage where it is getting harder and harder to write coherently about Reeve's books when all I want to do is squee indiscriminately. Every time I open a book in THE HUNGRY CITY CHRONICLES, I know without a doubt that I'm in for a fantastic read, and I'm running out of words to describe how wonderful I think they all are.

Scrivener’s Moon is the third book in the prequel trilogy to the original HUNGRY CITY quartet, following Fever Crumb and Web of Air. Set in a post-apocalyptic world after a mysterious event known as the Downsizing, humankind now lives in a quasi-steampunk world which has lost all understanding of advanced technology and refers to those that once commanded it as the Ancients. Since then, there has been a different kind of progress at work in the world: the use of the terrifying half-machine half-cadaver soldiers known as Stalkers, the existence of strange Scriven mutants with their long lifespans and dappled skin, and the ongoing development of London into the world's first Traction City.

Our protagonist Fever Crumb was raised among the engineers of London, taught to stifle her emotions and to embrace everything rational. Throughout the course of the three books her ability to feel love and pain in equal measure has been a key part of her character development. Now she returns to London with her engineering father Doctor Crumb and Scriven mother Wavey to oversee the final stages of its evolution under the direction of Mayor Quercus. Her ambitious mother is excited at the prospect, but Fever is still nursing a broken heart after the events of Web of Air and struggling against the visions that her Scriven grandfather implanted into her head as an infant. His micro-technology is currently causing visions of a strange black pyramid to the north, and her mother is excited at the prospect of getting her hands on more technology.

Meanwhile, another young woman is having similar visions, only hers are of the terrifying spectacle of a mobile London ravaging the countryside. Cluny Morvish is heralded as a seer by her people, and on hearing about her visions the tribes and nomad empires of the north begin to gather under the leadership of Rufus Raven to march on London and destroy the Traction City before it devours them.

Slowly the city of London rises, slowly the army from the north advances, and between them travels a circus known as the Carnival of Knives. As old friends of Wavey, the eclectic assortment of performers welcome mother and daughter aboard, providing transport as they follow rumors that an earthquake has opened up an entrance in the pyramid, providing access to the secrets hidden inside. Moving between books from the warmth and holiday spirit of Mayda to the barren and frozen wastelands of the north, Fever's journey is marked by run-ins with circus freaks, mammoths and nightwights, whilst back in London her father carries on his work, oblivious to the presence of a troublemaker in his midst.

One of the book's best and most intriguing characters, Charley Shallow, last appeared in Fever Crumb and here is still nursing a grudge against Doctor Crumb's daughter. As slippery as an eel, Charley has lofty ambitions to become a person of importance, and isn't squeamish (or not that squeamish) about lying, cheating, back-stabbing and eventually murdering in order to get what he wants. As horrid as he is, one can't help but feel absurdly sympathetic toward him, for Reeve expertly plots his descent from an embittered kid to a moral vacuum.

As always, even a detailed synopsis of a book in this series doesn't do the story itself justice. Philip Reeve has mastered the formula of uniting sympathetic characters to a riveting story and setting it all within a fascinating world that is both strange and familiar, filled with intrigue and danger and relics of the past. Any story set in the far-distant future holds a certain sense of melancholy for a reader, not least because it is a world none of us will live to see, but this feeling is especially intensified when Reeve sheds some light on what exactly happened in Fever's history (our future) to create such a dystopian world. This is a brave but dangerous vision of the future in which life is short and death is brutal; where superstition, religion and old technology are virtually interchangeable; and in which political intrigue, warfare and engineering discoveries are instruments wielded by the strong and ambitious. Reeve's imagination seems to know no bounds, and he has the mastery of pacing, descriptive prose and emotional punch with which to convey it all to the reader. I'm running out of adjectives with which to praise Scrivener’s Moon, but I can say that it is only once in a while that a writer comes along who can exceed on all fronts: action, romance, mystery, suspense — you name it, Reeve can write it.

Speaking of romance, it's heartening that in a world that's as grim and violent as that of THE HUNGRY CITY CHRONICLES, love remains a strong motivating force for so many characters. It's often painful, and sometimes it doesn't lead to a good end, but amongst all the nihilism and cruelty, it's still a fundamental part of human nature. Fever in particular faces questions about her capacity for love and sexuality that change the course of her entire life, and will hopefully be revisited in subsequent books.

And I dearly hope that there are more books. Although this prequel was advertised as a trilogy, there is so much more story left to be told, not just with Fever, but with Doctor Crumb and Shrike, and with past characters such as Arlo Thursday and the Solvent siblings. Furthermore, there is still a huge passage of time between the end of Scrivener’s Moon and the start of Mortal Engines — I'd be first in line to see how Reeve decides to fill it. —Rebecca Fisher