Dark, arrowing and brutal, this is a book for fans of bleak worlds and grimdark'esque content. The prose especially is something to savour, yet may not be for everyone. It's haunting and beautiful as the author takes the reader into a journey of twists that will bend your mind. The emotional punishment is hard and hitting, but still a phenomal read, if you are into that sort of thing.

One of the most unusual tales I have ever read.

🔥Mordew (Cities of the Weft #1) by Alex Pheby

It gets 3 dark stars from me
⭐⭐⭐

Thank you to the publisher Tor Books for the gifted copy.

When Tor Books offered me their new release Mordew for review I instantly agreed because of the blurb.

🗡Nathan Treeves is a young boy eking out a meagre existence in the slums of a sea-battered city called Mordew, by picking treasures from Living Mud and the half-formed, short-lived creatures it spawns. Until the day he is sold by a desperate mother to a Master. The Master of Mordew, who derives his magical power from feeding on the corpse of God, that has been hidden in the catacombs beneath the city.
But Nathan has a power of his own. One great enough to destroy everything the Master has built, if only Nathan discovers how to use it.

🗡'Nathan was a good boy … But even good boys do wrong, now and again, don’t they? Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference between good and bad, anyway, between right and wrong. His father needed medicine, and the Itch wanted to be used.'

🗡The book was off to a solid start and had me instantly hooked with the predicament of a little scared boy. Especially since the world he was living in seemed so unique and delightfully creepy. Nathan had a special talent and was forbidden to use it. That got me intrigued, particularly because of the 'WHY?' behind it. And this is just the beginning.

🗡What starts as a seemingly predictable zero-to-hero tale, rapidly turns into an unusual and fascinating dark tale of extremes.
🗡The city and magic powers, the living mud and the creatures, each and every one of them is downright fascinating. Creepy and occasionally quite a bit disgusting, but nonetheless fascinating.
The plot and wordbuilding beautifully complement each other in the first quarter of the tale drawing the reader in and setting the stage for something more. The middle of the book however seems a bit drawn out. But then the pace kicks up again towards the end, practically turning into a whirlwind and ending with a blast. The cliffhanger type unfortunately.

🗡Overall, the narrative is outstanding and incredibly descriptive. 'Terrifyingly alive' would be the perfect description for a good number of scenes in Mordew. They are simply exceptional through their strangeness and hair-raising creepiness.
And yet, we do stumble upon the occasional hitch here and there, when both prose and plot feel confusing and lacking.

🗡Mordew - a city where God was murdered, and darkness reigns. Dark, vicious and brutal to the extreme. And the very same can be said for the tale itself.

🗡This is one tale where every single thing is brought to the extreme. From violence and brutality to the darkness within human nature, everything is emphasized and taken to the max. And this is precisely why Mordew may not be everyone's cup of tea. Saying that it's dark and brutal may be the understatement of the year.
It is a testament of the author's talent the fact that certain scenes can downright get under a reader's skin.

🗡‘It will corrupt you. It will pervert you. You will come to degrade those things you love. Without knowing it. And, in your ignorance, you will relish it. Do you understand, Nathan, my love? Do you?...'

🗡The addictive lure of power and it's effects on any being, alongside a nicely blurred line between good and evil, right and wrong, are two of the main themes of this tale. Unfortunately however, they fell a little short for me. Partly because of the characters that seemed a tad too dark and strange. Despite being morally grey, each and every one of them in a different shade, one darker than the other, they lacked that little something which makes them relatable and I couldn't quite get myself to either care or root for any of them.

🗡Speaking of strange, I really need to mention yet another peculiar particularity of this book. The fact that the blurb describes events that are NOT known to the characters themselves. And readers are warned of it right at the beginning.

🗡'Be careful. Some entries contain information unknown to the protagonist.
There is a school of thought that says that the reader and the hero of a story should only ever know the same things about the world. Others say that transparency in all things is essential, and no understanding in a book should be hidden or obscure, even if it the protagonist doesn’t share it. Perhaps the ideal reader of Mordew is one who understands that they, like Nathan Treeves (its hero), are not possessed of all knowledge of all things at all times. They progress through life in a state of imperfect certainty and know that their curiosity will not always be satisfied immediately (if ever).
In any event, the glossary is available if you find yourself lost.'

🗡If you decide to read Mordew, this is one thing you need to keep in mind. You as a reader will know, from the blurb, a lot of things the MC doesn't and you'll be able to follow how Nathan discovers them himself and, perhaps more importantly, how he reacts to those discoveries. Here the how is just as important as the why and the journey may reveal more than the goal.

🗡All in all, Mordew is hands down one of the most unusual tales I have ever read. Strange, dark, and unsettling. I didn't really love it. In fact, I even disliked it at times. And yet, I found it fascinating.

This book was extremely hard to follow and was just uncomfortable in many ways. While there is no discounting the author's prodigious imagination, it felt like there was little left to discover for ourselves. He explained it all. It is definitely not a happy read, but well written.

Mordew by Alex Pheby is a stunning and imaginative novel that defies genre conventions. Set in a sprawling city of the same name, the story follows a young boy named Nathan as he navigates the city's many districts and uncovers its dark secrets. Pheby's writing is rich and evocative, bringing the city and its inhabitants to life. The characters are complex and nuanced, with their own motivations and desires. Mordew is a captivating work of fiction that blends elements of fantasy, sci-fi, and steampunk into a unique and unforgettable narrative. It is a must-read for fans of imaginative and unconventional storytelling.

This one was such a fun adventure that I ended up buddy reading it with my husband! We both agreed that this is a must read for fantasy fans!

Tons of familiar storytelling and history of this story, with some fresh bits to keep interest..excellent worldbuilding and tons of wider appeal to a story like this.

DNF @ 40%

I'm not even sure what to say about this book, honestly. It wasn't bad, but it was clear that it wasn't for me. I'm very hit or miss with epic fantasy under the best circumstances.

Mordew takes place in a dark fantasy world that is gruesome and horrific but which Pheby absolutely brings to life. The worldbuilding is top notch, and I loved so many things about this world (which may be a weird descriptor to use for a dark fantasy/horror world, but I'm sticking with it).

However, I feel like the blurb was a little misleading. 40% of the way through and very little of the blurb has actually happened, and I don't conceivably see how the rest of the blurb could be addressed satisfactorily in the remaining 40% of the book. I say 40% because the last 20% of the book is a glossary that, ostensibly, could be its own compendium about the world. Interesting in its own right, but not really something I want to read through outright at this point in time.

What's more, I just have no desire to continue. That's really the crux of it. The blurb sounded so interesting, but so far all I've met are horribly characters (and if you've ever read any of my reviews, you know I dig horrible characters). But these are horrible characters that are kind of dull? Protagonist is the typical "just discovered his power and is now the most powerful ever" character trope, and the other characters are, so far, forgettable.

That being said, I would absolutely give Pheby's other work a try. His writing style was very engaging, vivid, and enjoyable, and it's clear he's a talented author. This work just wasn't the one for me, personally!

What EVEN is happening in this novel???? I don't know but I couldn't put it down. Very Gormenghast in its gothic weirdness.

I was unable to read this title due to archive date coming before downloading. Thank you for the opportunity.

Alright, huge unique fantasy lover here and I just loved the concept of the city this book takes place in having been built on the corpse of God, but the twist the author chooses to write is to divulge a lot of information in the form of lists before you even get to chapter 1 might've been a killing blow for me, not totally! but it took a lot the fun and adventure out of exploring the world and experiencing the events with the protagonist. It's like the author didn't want readers to be surprised or have to piece anything together but other than that, I enjoyed my time here!
Full review to come on YouTube.

I think I made it to chapter 3 or 4. The synopsis, the reviews, and the hype surrounding this book got me so pumped to read it but the book left me so confused. I am not sure what was happening besides animal and child abuse (I know phoenix's aren't real, but it's still sad to read about them being bludgeoned to death). Like, what exactly were those worm things the kids were trying to find? I know why they were digging them up but, why did they exist, why do people want them? Maybe all that was answered but the book was just written in a way I didn't comprehend. Guess I'm not big brained enough for this book, lol.

Amazon reviews weren't really kind to this book, so I guess I'm not the only one who though it was 'eh.' I kind of want to read someone's spoiler filled review so I can find out what happened to God because I am curious; like I said the synopsis does sound very intriguing, just getting to the juicy part was too much of a struggle for me.

“To be God, Nathan, is to be the Devil. Better to die than to be God.”



Reading, and reviewing, this book has been nothing short of an experience and I find myself at the end of it still being conflicted as to the best way to approach it. Overall, my emotions over this book are complicated and warring at best and muddled at worst, so I will endeavor to make my points as clean and clear as I possibly can.

Mordew, in general, is a very curious book that from the first moment gives you a profound sense of mystery and solemnity that is very appropriate for this city filled with magic and the raw understanding of the hardships that living at the bottom of the social hierarchy entails. It's quite visceral and brutal and fascinating through and through.

The fact that our protagonist is Nathan Treeves, a twelve-year-old is a great entry point to the arduous work of discovering the many secrets scattered around the city.

Seeing as how my own feelings towards this book are a complicated mess I decided that breaking it up would be the most serviceable way to truly get into all of it.

World-Building: 100%

“These shelves contain the wisdom of the ages, which the Master has curated and archived, which, if only we could contain it all, would allow us to know those things that have been known by the greatest thinkers of the past. Imagine. If we could only let their words pass into us, to understand and hold them, would not we, then, be as great as they were?”



By nature, Mordew is a very magical and wondrous place, a dark sort of wondrous but wondrous nonetheless. This really comes across on the rich details that we are granted.

Everything, really, about the way that the world around Mordew is constructed is nothing short of well-cared-for and intricate. Mind-bending, too, in many aspects as the central idea of the book is established around the power of creation and the many bizarre and mutilated products this can generate. All the bits and pieces that amplified and connected Mordew with the rest of its world were nothing short of fascinating and deeply intriguing.

The way the world was constructed made it feel complex and massive in a very reassuring way.

Most of the time I just wanted to see what more was possible to be done and what else was there to discover.

Characters: 90%

“Self-sacrifice id noble, we are told, but when it is unnecessary? When that sacrifice has effects on those around one? Then it is something else. There is a seduction in pain, as well as in pleasure, and if there is no need to suffer, can we not say that those who choose to do so, those who choose to make others suffer with them, have they not made a mistake? Or perhaps they do not have the perspicacity that would allow them to see other ways?”



Now, strong characters make for a more interesting and engaging story all around and a good factor of a strong character is how well we get to know them and explore them; I believe that Pheby wrote a plethora of strong characters and presented them to us in a nicely executed subtlety that was most pleasant.

Motivation, intent, and personal feelings are all factors that need to be explored in order to reasonably understand any character. If I cannot understand why someone is acting the way they are then how can I relate to them?

There are many ways to go around doing this, of course. Pheby chose a very understated and organic manner that enriches the complexity and the dynamics established. It may not be as easy as simply stating why everyone is doing what they are doing, though it certainly is a resource that is used but actually showing it letting actions speak louder than any words.

It made them feel all the more real.

That being said, I would have appreciated some characters to get more light shed over them.

“His vengeance would be acted out on the blameless, never on the prime mover, never to any effect, only loss.”



Plot: 70%

“Where there is power, Nathan, there is conflict. such a thing is a tautology, for what is power, after all, but the power to overcome that which stands in one’s way?”



A strong beginning for a story, though not always necessary on, say, films, is a necessity on books, after all, they are the ones that will propel us to dive into a new world with excitement. It is also the one that will set the tone for the unfolding narrative.

Sadly the one we can find in this particular story is floundering and inconsistent making it hard to get swept off your feet right away.

The proposed idea, this magical city and the Master that rules it, are introduced and glimpse early enough in the story that I was sure we were gonna have one kind of story, reinforced by the synopsis of the book, only for the plot to veer so hard to the left that it left me confused and lost for the next big chunk of the book.

Plot twists are fun and something I generally look forward to in a story, but when they affect so much the whole tone of the story it makes them harder to digest.

It felt like I was reading one book through that first 10% of the book only to be reading a completely different one for the next 50 or 60 percent and return to the original idea at the end of it all. It was interesting, to a degree, but I would have certainly appreciated a gentler easing into these wildly different plot points.

Of course, once you have gone through the squigglier bits of it all and things start to connect it becomes a lot more fun. Because, yes, the plot is solidly built and it all makes perfect sense and adds up at the end but that does not subtract from the necessity of it all to not feel like three different books.

Pacing: 40%

“… since isn’t feeling nothing close to being dead? Isn’t feeling less more deathly than feeling even unpleasant things? And since death is worse than life, then numbness is worse than sensitivity, regardless what of.”



Certainly my least favorite part of this book.

This one links heavily with the plot and the prose and can be helped by a very intriguing one of the former and an engaging and enveloping of the latter. Neither of which added much in this particular instance.

It was really hard to get through most of the book because the pacing was just so incredibly slow, even in the parts where some important information was being given I found that I couldn't quite enjoy them because the pacing ruined them.

Details are, of course, important and vital in order to submerge the reader into the story help create a solid mental image of what's going on. There are no visuals to aid, after all. Too much detail, however, is distracting and makes a story drag quite heavily.

Mordew had entirely too many details.

Taking paragraphs upon paragraphs to describe a new setting, and sometimes even a room we had already explored or expending too much time to set an especific exposition by making it sound rather clever and articulate and scholarly, well, it made me want to skip them.

While I would not make the argument that there were unnecessary scenes, though there may certainly have been a select few - because the immense majority of the scenes we get drive the plot further and become relevant in due time - I would argue that they could have been sped up and we would have not lost any important meaning.

After all, when talking about pacing, it is the small details that make all the difference.

The addition of too many details seems to be, however, quite on the spirit of this specific model of High Fantasy; reminiscent of authors such as J. R. R. Tolkien or George R. R. Martin, both of whom have the same archetype though handled with different degrees of success.

Unfortunately, the rhythm in which this story was told made this 600 pages-long book about double that and then some.

Prose: 77%

“You can tell a lot from tears. There’s magic in the tears of a young boy, as you’ve heard.”



The way Pheby describes everything is nothing short of mesmerizing. Really articulate and elegant using a more selective vocabulary, and though it's fitting and it enhances the gorgeousness and rawness of each scene it has the side effect of making the whole thing heavy to read and pulling you from the all surrounding ambiance of the story.

It was just this unconsciously slowing feeling that was a bit off-putting.

Even though it did make me have a harder time getting lost in the story I do have to give credit where credit is due, because it had some quotes that with the very specific wording given to them became whimsical and gorgeous even though the general tone of the idea was anything but. It really surprised me in that regard.

Not only that but the philosophical and near-clinical way in which we explore deep thoughts and ideas, such as the nature of power, is so clearly complex and yet so accessible and comprehensible that they quickly became some of the parts I looked forward to the most.

“Can a prisoner be lovely? Can the tortured be? These creatures speak endlessly of their misery. If you only knew their language.”



Overall, I did enjoy the book, the story in itself has me, still now, curious as to its development and the characters cemented themselves quite firmly in my brain but, well, all the particular elements have made my total experience a bit more complicated than I would have wished.

It is a world that has a lot to give; that is without doubt and so expansive that it can be already felt, even throughout this first book. That is enhanced by the ending, which was such a twisted cliff-hanger that it took me a good deal of time to process.

Pheby is without a doubt a talented writer who created a beautiful world, in all its twistiness, and I'm sure that any continuation is going to be fantastic.

“But even good boys do wrong, now and again, don’t they? Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference between good and bad, anyway, between right and wrong.”

Nathan Treeves lives in the slums of Mordew with his parents. His father is quite ill and his mother has a succession of male visitors that helps pay the bills. Nathan is only thirteen years old but he does have a potential weapon even though he doesn't know how to use it. He has a spark that creates an itch and it really is much like it's called. He wants to use it but his father has warned him against using the spark or any magic. Things become desperate and Nathan is sent by his mother to be sold to the Master. In the course of events, he ends up linked with Gam, Prissy, and the Joes, other slum dwellers who make money by doing jobs for Padge. Gam has been after him for a while, trying to get him to join the gang. Nathan finally gives in and joins with them, and the story continues with various scrapes that he gets in along the way. The story has danger, drama, betrayals, and secrets to be revealed.

I'm really uncertain how to feel about this book. I know many really loved it but I'm not in that category. I liked some aspects of the story, especially the secrets that get revealed. Nathan himself is one of the most passive characters I've seen as a protagonist. He almost always does what others tell him to do: his father, his mother, Gam and Prissy. Then the Master and Bellows and a few others. It's only the magic that pushes him to take any initiative and then he goes almost too far. He shows a surprising lack of curiosity but maybe he's just a product of his life in that respect.

There's a sense of horror in the slums, particularly with the Living Mud which produces all sorts of creatures, including children who are distinguished from those natural born. I suppose that's kind of the thing about slums though. I've heard comparisons to Dickens' poverty in relation to this story and I think there are elements of that. There certainly is the hopelessness and the cut-throat survival of the fittest that keeps things moving along. Not to mention the wealthy and powerful who exert control over the slums.

The book itself is quite lengthy and goes into considerable depth to show us the world we are encountering. I wouldn't say it's slow-moving but it definitely isn't fast either. I feel like this is all meant to set us up for the rest of the story. This is book one of a trilogy and ends on a major cliffhanger. I had forgotten that fact when I reached the end and it left me feeling totally uncertain. But in the right context, it sets up the next book and leaves me with an interest in reading further.

I will point out there is a massive glossary after the main book. This was mentioned at the beginning but there were warnings of spoilers. I didn't read the entire glossary but did skim over some of the entries. In some ways, there's a fair bit of repetition from the main book and it seems like a bit of overkill. But maybe there's a good reason for it that will become apparent. Also, there's an addendum relating to the Weft and that goes on a bit and is tedious reading at the moment. I repeat my feelings about the glossary for the addendum.

So in the end, I am still interested in the story but approach it with some hesitation and reservation. Overall, I will give this 3.5 stars and look forward to reading the next book. Thank you to MacMillan/Tor and Netgalley fro providing an advanced reader copy. My review has been written voluntarily.

Wow. Where do I even start? You know you're in for a wild ride when there's a Dramatis Personae at the beginning of the book! I enjoyed the authorial voice in the additional content, and the story itself is.... well, it's an experience. At first I struggled with it, there's a big world here with LOTS of different pieces unknown to the reader, and thus it was really confusing to try and figure out just what was going on. However, I decided to restart the book, and just give it a read without trying to figure things out. Kind of, let the story wash over me. I enjoyed it a lot more once I did this. It's very much the kind of story where you're just along for the ride -- and what a ride it is.

This was an excellent book. Imaginative and well-written. It drew me in from the start; Nathan’s need to cure his father, no matter what it takes—even going against his wishes and using his magic. The world is strange and fascinating with its living mud that gives birth to horrible creatures as well as actual children, and its sea wall that keeps away the threat of the Mistress.

Nathan is an interesting boy. Too old for his thirteen years, yet still a child in his wilfulness and need to use his magic. The core is good, but the world he lives in is doing its best to break him. As is the Master. The book description made me expect a typical master–apprentice story, but during the first third, Nathan had met the Master once and been dismissed, leaving him to figure out his magic the best he can and being exploited by the more entrepreneurial members of the slums.

This was also a hopeless and gloomy book, and very slow. It’s far too realistic in its description of what people in dire poverty will do to survive. There’s no quarter given and no easy ways out for Nathan and his companions. And in the end, the hopelessness wore me out. I tried to read on, eager to find out what will happen to Nathan, but I give up before mid-point. Maybe one day I’ll be in a suitable frame of mind to finish it.

To be honest I am quite confused by this experience.
Experience is the right word when talking about Mordew. I can't tell if this book is a masterpiece or if it is an ambitious novel that actually achieves nothing, and builds and builds and builds without concluding anything.At the same time, though, I am almost sure that this uncertainty was the intention of the author.

At the same time I am not able to answer the simplest question ever asked.
Did I enjoy it?

I was surely captured, fascinated, I could not stop reading for hours, I wanted more, I wanted to know more.
But I don't think I can say I actually enjoyed it.

This can be the favourite book of a lot of readers, not mine, but it is for sure a book I will keep thinking about in the future.

The author brings us into a hellish landscape full of horrors and magic. The mystery permeates the pages of the book, that is in reality two books. A novel and a glossary. I appreciated this choice that gives a quite unique twist to the narration.
The glossary has all the answers, the novel presents the questions. The reader has two choices: when to read the glossary and if to read it at all.
I decided, after spoiling myself some entries, to wait for the book to present both questions and answers, even if most questions don’t have answers.

The blurb of the book is a lie.
Let's be clear, it is a summary of the last one/two hundred pages more or less. And honestly I don't understand why to spoil the death of God in the blurb when it's a major plot point. But it was quite interesting to know more than the protagonist for the entirety of the book, which I think was actually the point.

The book wants to be both cryptic and over-explanatory, confounding the readers with a huge amount of details at the same time essential and useless.
The author has not complete control on the novel, and many passages don't really make sense to the reader. There are scenes full of words, description, probably symbolism, but in the end some of these scenes mean nothing.
The book has a growing rhythm, it starts slow and explodes in an intense ending.
I was often bored by what was happening on the pages, nevertheless at the same time I was captured by the intense worldbuilding and mystery that the author carefully created. I was viscerally disturbed by most of the scenes (in a good way). Even though some scenes left me with a strong "So what?" feeling.

Nathan is at the same time an anonymous main character and the perfect point of view for the reader.
I definitely appreciated more all the remaining characters: the Master, the Mistress, Gam, the Mother. These characters are more fleshed out than the actual protagonist and their destiny is far more interesting for me then Nathan's.

I think this book is perfect for all the readers that want something new and a challenge. Readers that want to be fascinated and are ready to leave with more questions than answers. Questions I am not sure will ever receive a satisfactory answer, because this is not the kind of book you read for answers.
But if you want concreteness and certainty you are not the right reader and this is not the right book.

E-galley kindly provided by Tor/Forge via Netgalley

If Charles Dickens had been locked in a room, given only 20th century fantasy to read for five years, and then told to produce a novel, he would have produced Mordew. Alex Pheby is only ostensibly the author; I’m still not entirely convinced that it isn’t an elaborate misdirect, and that Dickens isn’t really scribing this series from some lich’s dungeon somewhere.

Of course, since this is so very Dickensian, you really have to be willing to lean into all the tropes. There’s the intense focus on poverty and privation. There’s sentimentality without the slightest irony. There’s that slightly gross, highly elaborate prose that’s so essentially British that the book should probably arrive wrapped in the Union Jack. Mordew progresses from outrageous squalor to include a gang of cutpurses who certainly dodge artfully, and various other characters who impose themselves as slightly exaggerated caricatures, although they’re lambasting tropes that are long-past, like the supercilious butler and the naïve innocent. It’s Oliver Twist with magic, in other words.

But unlike Oliver Twist, Nathan still has his parents—for the moment. His father is desperately ill with a disease that also made me faintly sick, his lungs full of proliferating worms. Nathan soon falls in with a gang of child thieves as he tries to earn the money for medicine, and they learn to value—and exploit—him for his unique ability. Nathan has magic, the weird and wonderful kind of magic that he can’t control, magic with truly astonishing effects. It’s not the highly systematized magic we’ve become used to in SFF. It’s wondrous.

Nathan, however, thinks of his magical ability as the Itch, a mundane and even rude fact of life. To relieve the Itch, to release the magic, he has to Scratch. I like this ordinary physicality, the way it undermines the grandiose ways magic has gotten built up in most other fantasy. Nathan can accomplish extraordinary feats without even meaning to, banishing ghosts and healing wounds, but in the end he is only scratching an itch, doing something that, for him, is ordinary and minorly relieving—sometimes. Sometimes, Scratching an Itch only makes it worse.

It is this tension that drives the philosophical drama of the book—whether it’s better to do and to know than not. Whether suffering or scars are better, the Itch or the Scratch. It’s a very interesting question, and one that Pheby considers with the utmost seriousness. Mordew is tirelessly Victorian, sometimes to a fault. It lacks the humor of Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell or the slyness of the Gormenghast trilogy, which are ultimately only Victorian-inspired. Mordew, by contrast, is utterly sincere. Most SFF that relies on sincerity also relies on action to hold the reader’s attention, but the action here is a bit uneven, coming in great gulps and then receding to the slow and nuanced examination of the city again. I would be fine with the stop-start seriousness too—life is not smooth, after all—except that Nathan does not unite the quiet moments with the loud ones.

After 500-some pages, Nathan is more of a cypher than at the beginning, when at least his objective was clear. In the first pages, he only wanted to cure his father from a terrible disease. At the end, he has found the corpse of God and not even considered that the strangest of his discoveries, and yet he—and we—know so little, and Nathan asks almost no questions to alleviate this. People explain things to him or not, as they like. It’s Nathan’s seeming incuriosity, the opacity of his feelings, that make him intermittently frustrating. He’s meant to be a capital-I Innocent, but to modern sensibilities he seems dense, easily manipulated. He also seems passive, though he isn’t that either, not with his father’s life and his mother’s happiness at stake.

Though Pheby makes Nathan desperate for medicine and short-tempered with delays, the story itself meanders and winds like a cat, intent on doing exactly as it pleases and ignoring any open and obvious doors in favor of scratching at shut ones. What's behind here? Oh, a trip to the zoo to kill time. And here? Oh, a playroom full of fantastic toys. Pheby’s imagination is prodigious, but it renders some parts of the book sloggy with scenery and side trips. It’s not that these interludes are uninteresting, it’s just that they feel like those parts in Dickens where he was so clearly getting paid by the word.

I think there may be some additional dismay that will arise from the contrast between the dust jacket description and the actual book. This happens sometimes, and I can’t think of a better solution than simply calling attention to it. Book descriptions, written by marketing people, are necessarily concise and snappy. God is dead! the jacket declares. The book doesn’t address this fact for nearly 400 pages, though. Nathan is discovering his destiny! say the doubtless very nice and effective marketing people. The actual prose, however, mostly features Nathan understanding very little and falling into and out of circumstances far beyond his control. That makes sense for the story—after all, he’s barely a teenager and he was raised in such poverty that he can neither read nor write nor bathe regularly. How can we expect him to leap to greatness?

You will have a better reading experience if you take the book for what it is, rather than dwelling on the friction between novel prose and marketing prose. Nathan’s story, when taken on its own terms, really subverted my expectations in some delightful ways. Fantasy can particularly tropey, and so it’s always nice when authors demonstrate that they understand the tropes but refuse to be bound by them. The dichotomy between the Master and the Mistress, for example, painted in such luridly moral terms—the Mistress bad, the Master good, the Mistress wild, the Master civilized—begs from the first pages to be undercut or entirely turned on its head. Pheby subverts our expectations here, too. I won’t reveal too much except to say that it’s not a 180° reversal. It’s at once more grim and more delightful than that.

Pheby isn’t going for the twist, though. We aren’t meant to be shocked when the Master turns out to be as rotten as the city he rules, or when Nathan defies him. Everything follows a natural progression It’s strange reading a book that isn’t trying to trick its audience or prove its cleverness. It’s so smart it doesn’t need to prove anything, and so devoted to its style that it doesn’t care if you’re not a Dickens fan or a Victorian enthusiast. This, more than any other book I’ve read this year, is the book that it is. It makes neither concession nor apology. And whether I was occasionally frustrated or enthralled at length (and I was both), for the sheer moxie to write a book like this I have nothing but the tip of my hat.

Mordew is a story in a league of its own. A great read for lovers of Terry Pratchett, Neil Gaiman and Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, Mordew is a strange and visceral story that will stay with you for a long long time.

Mordew is the first novel in Alex Pheby's Cities of the Weft series – a series that combined gothic fiction with fantasy in epic proportions. So it's really no surprise that I was tempted into picking this one up!

Nathan grew up in the slums, finding ways to stay alive and help his family. Unfortunately, there came a day when his family decided the best way he could help was by selling him off. Thus, Nathan meets the Master of Mordew.

It isn't long before Nathan, and the Master both learn a thing or two about Nathan's strength. This fact will potentially save him or put him in further danger. Only time will tell, like magic, gods, secrets, and betrayal rise to the surface.

“A man seems reluctant to live his life and will take any opportunity to disrupt what limited feeling he has for it with whatever happens to be at hand – substances, other people, fighting, procreation – providing that the world becomes blurred to him, reduced”

Well, they certainly nailed it when they called Mordew an epic fantasy. Even before throwing in the characters, plots, and secondary elements, the world itself would have been enough to captivate me.

This novel is hefty, and I'm not just referring to the page count (though for those curious, my copy was 617 pages). There is just so much to this world, as I already hinted at. To somebody that doesn't read a lot of fantasy, it might seem like an awful lot to pick up on right from the start.

Still, I enjoyed the magical system. Mainly because it went into a fair amount of detail – which you guys know I adore. I wouldn't have minded seeing even more, though, but that's mostly because I'm a greedy reader.

The main reason I didn't love this novel more is fairly simple: Mordew didn't need to be this long. Now, don't get me wrong: I love a good long book. The problem here is that there are some tangents in this book. Tangents didn't seem or feel related or really leave all that much impact at the end of the day. Personally, I found these moments to take something away from the overall wonder of the world and story, so that was a bit disappointing.

Overall though, I did enjoy Mordew, and I'll probably be adding the rest of the series to my TBR list (which is really getting out of control at this point).

Wow, what a ride this was! It is a book extremely hard to classify- so original. A gothic feel, amazing world building, great character development and relationships, whimsical type of magic, a young protagonist, and the makings of a villain? I adored this. Book 2 can’t come quick enough.