1983 fantasy. Brendan Doyle, an expert on nineteenth-century English
poets, takes a job as a guide for time-travelling tourists, off to
listen to an unrecorded talk by Coleridge. But he soon finds himself
stranded in London in 1810, fleeing from sorcerers, a werewolf, and
even his employer.
This is the Powers book that I come back and reread most often.
It's the first of his I met (it was, indeed, his breakout success),
and to me it does an excellent job of making clear all its mysteries
without ever over-explaining. Everything is connected to other things,
and by the end of the book it will all make sense. (With one obvious
and pleasing exception.)
Even though there's body-switching and name-changing, and even though
Doyle rapidly sinks to the gutters, and below. Not to mention
excursions to Egypt, and to the 1600s; even the bad guys' schemes make
sense, within the confines of their knowledge, world-view and
abilities.
All right, there's only one significant female character (apart from a
Motivational Dead Wife), but she does at least get to do things
rather than just be rescued. (Indeed, she has a Motivational Dead
Fiancé of her own.) Most of the characters, even the villains, have
reasonable depth to them.
Powers was part of the group of writers with Blaylock and Jeter who
devised the formal idea of steampunk, and this could be regarded as
one of the foundational works of that genre, but don't expect Amazing
Gadgetry or Heroic Engineering here. This is a magical book, and if
the magic has rules those rules are still baroque (and sometimes prone
to argue with the magician).
He rolled his head and looked at what had, a few seconds ago, been
Tewfik. There was still some bulk within the agitated heap of
clothing, but most of the glistening, crab-like pieces into which
Tewfik's flesh had broken up had struggled free and were crawling
away in random curlicues across the dirt.
The writing is decent if not always inspired, and there's a sense of
fun here among all the grime and squalour. I know it's a terrible
thing to say of any author, but this early work is still the Powers I
like best.
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