Jamie Revell

The main plot of Proxima centres around a colonisation attempt on a habitable planet orbiting Proxima Centauri, and mankind's first exploration beyond the solar system. A weakness here is that the actual United Nations plan here doesn't really make a lot of sense, and, while we're presumably supposed to put it down to the geopolitics of the setting, it's never properly explained how anyone could think this was a good plan.

That aside, though, the book has a number of strengths. The depiction of the alien world and its ecology is possibly the strongest, giving a real sense of atmosphere and a believable yet strange biology. The main plot keeps moving, changing in tone as events unfold in sometimes unexpected directions.

A subplot back in our own solar system deals with a scientist who makes an amazing discovery that turns out to have great relevance to what's going on on Proxima. Here we get to see some of the background to what's happening elsewhere, although not everything is coloured in in precise detail. Here, too, there are some sudden changes in tone as the Earth's history develops, and which keep the story moving on to new events.

The story is quite an epic, and unexpectedly ends on a cliffhanger (a sequel has since been released). At times it's rather grim, and it certainly doesn't have a positive view of human nature. There are also a lot of questions left unanswered - presumably intentionally so - which may put some readers off.

But, on the whole, I found it a good read.

I've listed this book as fantasy, which seems the consensus, but it's a little harder to classify than that. It's set in a far future solar system where power is in the hands of necromancers, so there are spaceships and signs of high technology, but most of the latter has been abandoned and the necromancy is never explained as anything other than magic... so fantasy is perhaps the closer vibe.

The story concerns a deadly trial being undertaken by representatives of each of the solar system's planets (including Pluto, from which the title character hails... I mean, it's never called ‘Pluto', but it obviously is). The fact that necromancy is the only form of magic anyone practices, and that the two central characters spend most of their time with skulls painted on their faces gives this a distinctly goth vibe and it can get pretty gloomy - and viscerally violent - at times. This is offset by Gideon's irreverent attitude, often bringing in more present-day sensibilities and speech when things threaten to get too highfalutin'.

At times, the large size of the cast becomes a little overwhelming, and it becomes confusing who exactly is who and which of the Nine Houses is which, but this does become easier as the book progresses. (There's also a glossary and a guide to the characters and houses, but these aren't so easy to access in the Kindle version I was reading as they would be in a physical book). The result is on odd book, but one that feels worth it by the end, and that does some good worldbuilding as well as providing us with a memorable title character. And, to be honest, a fair amount of Gothic gore alongside the splashes of humour.

One suspects that most people familiar with genre fiction will have a pretty good idea which famous figure has a name that literally translates as “Son of the Dragon”, so it's no great surprise when the TARDIS arrives in 15th century Romania.

However, this is a straight historical, and it's the figure from history we see, not the supernatural version later popularised by Bram Stoker. This makes the story understandably gruesome in places, but it manages to work in a decently exciting story based around the real historical events of 1462. (As a non-expert, the only historical inaccuracy I spotted was that Radu the Handsome is here shown to be a Christian, whereas, in reality, he had apparently converted to Islam long before).

If there is a flaw here, it's that the author is a little too willing to excuse Vlad's behaviour as a product of the times. Such apologetics, however, did not seem to me to be as central a point as they were in “Medicinal Purposes”, and so were easier to ignore.

Which leaves a pretty good story, with some dramatic scenes and interesting characterisation of Erimem. The latter, of course, does not come from our enlightened times, and, moreover, since Vlad is from her future, doesn't automatically associate his name with the things that we would today. This obviously doesn't work out very well for her, but is quite plausible, given her background.

All in all, I enjoyed this, and I think it works well.

The second book in the series replaces London's theatrical history with jazz music, as Grant investigates the magical murder of a musician. This brings in more of his family background, as well as expanding on the world of magical Britain, and we also see more of his boss's backstory.

Perhaps the two things that stand out most about this book are the details of the police work and the obvious love for the London setting. The former are unusually authentic for a book that's as much about dark wizards and supernatural beings as it is about a murder mystery (and honestly, whodunnit isn't that hard to work out - the real mystery is in the why). The latter comes across in the use of real locations, and the asides about the city's culture and history. One can almost feel the discomfort when Grant has to head out to Norfolk to follow up a lead.

Once again, though, there's the beauty of Aaronovitch's style, combining light irreverence and fast-paced action with some quite gory (and definitely not kid-friendly) detail. It successfully steers a middle line between say, the remorseless grimness of Paul Cornell's London Falling and the comedic tones of something like Gail Carriger's Parasolverse, and is much the stronger for it. It's another great outing in what's turning into a high-quality series... and the final line opens up a whole new set of possibilities for future books.