And Finally a Review

I have to admit that I almost didn't read this book. The cover art gave the impression it might be a bit light and the banner across it that it might be a bit too straightforward. I'm very glad that I didn't judge this book by it's cover, though, because it ended up being a very satisfying read. A disclaimer at the end reads:

This is not a historical novel. It is a yarn. Although the Realm is based roughly on England at the start of the eighteenth century, I have taken appalling liberties with historical authenticity and, when I felt like it, the laws of physics.

It's not historical fiction, but instead resembles a fantasy novel in the author's world building. It offers a complex society, with a well-developed and confusing array of social, religious, and political factions. All made up names and situations. Yet there is nothing fantastical about it. The characters are mundane and deal with "real" situations. The banner across the cover asks us to, "Imagine a world in which all books have been banned." This is only partially true, and the situations and issues presented in the story are so much more. These are some tangled and intricate concepts.

But they are couched within an exciting and engaging story. Mosca is a 12-year-old orphan living with her cruel aunt and uncle in a backwater village. When a smooth talking con man and lover of words is arrested as a swindler, Mosca decides to set him free, burning her uncle's mill in the process so there is no option of going back. She latches onto Eponymous Clent despite his efforts to leave her behind. They end up in the big city of Mandelion, where her father lived and she was born. Before she realizes it, she and Eponymous are drawn into a world of espionage and intrigue among the various factions fighting for control of the city. I recommend giving it a try to learn the rest of the story.

At last she riased her head to look at the imagined figure of her father, whose desk was now perched up on the rag mountain.

"You weren't much help," she murmered bitterly. "Why didn't you tell me anything about all this?"

"If you want someone to tell you what to think," the phantom answered briskly, without looking up, "you will never be short of people willing to do so." . . . "Come now," he said at last, "you can hardly claim that I have left you ignorant. I taught you to read, did I not?"