Despite what I said in my post about the previous book in this series, I hadn’t actually sought this fifth and final book out. But then there it was sitting temptingly on the shelf of free-to-take books in the kitchen at work. So I took it. I didn’t read it immediately, and wasn’t even that excited about reading it, but then I had a transatlantic plane trip to take, and needed reading material. I was in the mood for something not too taxing, and this book seemed like it would be a good choice. Which it was: this book was an excellent companion on the plane (until my drowsiness got the better of me) and then when I couldn’t sleep that night (2 am hotel room hot cocoa and cookies biscuits, yay), and then during my very bleary lunch-break and evening the following day, and my slightly-less-bleary lunch break and evening the day after that.
Though I found that I only dimly remembered certain plot elements from the previous books, it was easy to get reacquainted with the world of Alexia Maccon, her werewolf husband Conall, her vampire best friend Lord Akeldama, and all the other familiar characters from the series. As usual, Alexia et al. are in for adventures: in the first chapter, Alexia learns that the vampire queen of the Woolsey Hive has a message for her—instructions for her, really. It turns out that Queen Matakara, oldest known vampire and queen of the Alexandria Hive, wants Alexia to come to Egypt with her daughter, Prudence. Being the daughter of a soulless/preternatural mother and a werewolf/supernatural father, Prudence (or “the abomination,” as the Woolsey Hive queen and some other vampires call her) is a “flayer” or “soul-stealer,” aka a “metanatural”: someone who temporarily takes on the supernatural state of any vampires or werewolves she touches, while also temporarily rending them mortal. Meanwhile, a werewolf from Alexia’s husband’s old pack has been sent to Egypt to do some investigation of a mysterious plague that turns supernaturals mortal, but he’s gotten into trouble, and Alexia’s husband wants to take over the investigation. And so, off to Egypt everyone, or nearly everyone goes: Alexia and Conall and Prudence, along with Alexia’s close friend Ivy Tunstell, her husband, and several others who are part of the Tunstells’ acting troupe: the cover for the Maccon’s trip is that Alexia is Ivy’s artistic patron, and Matakara is, supposedly, desparate to see the Tunstells’ new play. There’s a nursemaid, because Ivy and her husband have young twins, and Madame Lefoux, the excellent French inventor in gentleman’s clothing, comes along as well, ostensibly on business for the Woolsey Hive vampire queen, but for her own reasons too. Meanwhile, back in London, Professor Lyall and Biffy, two werewolves in Conall’s pack (who are charming and excellent in different-but-complementary ways) are left to keep things running smoothly at home. The story shifts back and forth between Egypt and London in a way that I found satisfying, though the plot in Egypt was sometimes a bit too frantically paced: danger and vampires and mummies, oh my!
But it’s not really the plot that I appreciate this series for: it’s the style and the characters. Carriger’s steampunk/supernatural twist on a Victorian comedy of manners still charms, as in passages like this, about Lord Akeldama’s decorating choices and the travails of being a parent (adoptive, in Akeldama’s case: he’s Prudence’s legal guardian, for complicated supernatural political reasons):
A thick Georgian rug lay on the floor covered with cavorting shepherdesses, the walls were painted in pale blue and white, and he’d had the ceiling frescoed with sea life in deference to the troublesome child’s evident unwillingness to associate with such. The cheerful otters, fish, and cephalopods above were meant as encouragement, but it was clear his daughter saw them as nothing more than squishy threats. (5)
The style does sometimes veer into over-the-top silliness—as when a vampire queen orders, “bring me my sippy goblet,” (61) but mostly I find the narration frothy in a fun way, rather than an annoying way. As for the characters, Professor Lyall and Biffy are so the highlight of this book for me: both are smart, observant, perceptive types, and the friendship (and then love) between them is just perfect. Also, Madame Lefoux remains a charmer—a smart and dashing flirt.
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