Close on this whistling, the wire fence in front of the cave entrance filled with eyes, some low, some high, and some in the middle range. Fingers curled between gaps. The eyes were huge and wide of pupil, the fingers were long and uncut of nail, and the group of faces behind were all in shadow. This was the Mother of Mordew’s entourage – troglodytes from deep potholes intersected by the mines, wan and nervous and out of their element on the surface. Rekka, determined to destroy its summoner, destroys the glass quarantine that has been imprisoning Dashini.

Pheby hides within Malarkoi some wonderfully clever easter eggs and literary references, only a few of which I caught but I am certain there were many more.After publishing the first instalment in Alex Pheby's Mordew trilogy earlier this month,Galley Beggar has announced it has securedthe next two books in the fantasy series. An assured exercise in the high style of fantasy, with lashings of magic, a dark, gothic mood, a vivid sense of place, plenty of sharply drawn characters and visceral detail, lots of pace, sharp dialogue and sparks of humour.”– The Times Literary Supplement Suffolk University Creative Writing MA visit – 10th November, 2020 – interview and reading of Lucia

While reading I was also reminded of a weird and less clear version of His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman and of Ada Palmer her baroque and also very imaginative way if storytelling. Just less well executed. The gang go to the Fetch and threaten him with murder if he doesn’t take them up the Glass Road to the Master.

In its variety of narrative methods and sublime, descriptive language it is a really fine novel.”– The Dublin Review of Books

I enjoy fantasy normally, however Malarkoi is Weird with a capital W, and seems rather indulgent on the all knowing narrator, info dumping convenient “Weft” magic to any situation the characters find themselves in. The weft is centre stage and an interesting concept. Time is meaningless here. It passes, as time must, but it is possible for those with the power to move around in time and space, although this comes at a cost. THE ASSASSINS employed by Mr Padge were sitting at a table outside The Commodious Hour, his restaurant, shaded by a green and red striped parasol, sipping at pipes of opium and wetting their dried throats with wines of rare vintage. The atmosphere was heavy with late summer pollen and the drowsy humidity of an endless afternoon. They sat, seven of them, a little slouched, long of limb, alert – though secretly so. This will be a spoiler-free review, but it does very lightly touch on character POVs, so if you are wanting to go into this absolutely blind then just know that I adored this book and read no further.*

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Next to Anatole was a pretty-looking person, all ringlets and almond eyes and glistening lips, quiet, shrinking into her chair. On each finger she had rings, and every one had been taken from someone she had killed, all at the direction of Mr Padge, who had recently sequestered himself in his office, having delivered a lunchtime peroration to the gathered that had now concluded. Anaximander, who can talk, threatens the children with death, and Sirius eats the faces from Joes, whose one body has become two bodies. THE ASSASSINS EMPLOYED BY MR PADGE were sitting at a table outside The Commodious Hour, his restaurant, shaded by a green and red striped parasol, sipping at pipes of opium, and wetting their dried throats with wines of rare vintage. The atmosphere was heavy with late summer pollen and the drowsy humidity of an endless afternoon. They sat, seven of them, a little slouched, long of limb, alert – though secretly so. Hearing Voices Project, University of Durham, January 2017 – multimedia performance of Afterimages of Schreber and Playthings

Impressively ambitious… vividly imagined… [Mordew] takes the reader on a memorable journey, with unexpected twists.”– The Daily ExpressWith one more instalment still to go, not all questions are answered. It is clear that there will be outside forces to contend with, but the roles given to the weft population – few of whom seem to entirely disappear even when killed – will be of interest.