Review: Gogmagog by Jeff Noon & Steve Beard
Blurb:
Gogmagog tells the story of an epic journey through the sixty-mile long ghost of a dragon. We travel by boat, a rickety steam launch captained by Cady Meade, a veteran taxi pilot on the river Nysis. In her heyday she carried people and goods from the thriving seaports of the estuary into Ludwich, the capital city. But that was years ago. Now she’s drunk, holed up in a rundown seaside resort, telling her bawdy tales for shots of rum. All that’s about to change, when two strangers seek her out, asking for transport, one of whom – a young girl – is very ill, and in great danger. The other, an artificial being of singular character, has secrets hidden inside his crystal skull. And so begins the voyage of the Juniper.
The Nysis is unlike any other river. Mysteries unfold with each port of call. Not many can navigate these channels, not many know of its whirlpools and sandbanks, and of the ravenous creatures that lurk beneath the surface. Cady used to have the necessary knowledge, and the powers of spectral navigation. But her glory days are well behind her now.
This might well be her final journey.
Perfectly balanced, funny, charming, and dark; an unforgettable trip downriver.
Review:
At first sight, this book called to me. The beautiful cover art promised me water, rickety creaking bridges and docks, and subtlety. Rarely have I found a book so well suited to its cover. In this case, Angry Robot has published a genuine work of art, and a treasure that will sit on my bookshelf forevermore.
Gogmagog makes its first statement by opening with a ‘waking,’ a writing no-no I am happy to see insulted.(1) It sets the tone for what is to come, as we set off on a journey through the eyes of Arcadia (Cady) Meade. She’s rude, crude, and old enough to justify her sour mood. The opening paragraph to this book made me laugh out loud. I re-read it a handful of times, trying to keep the tears from falling on the page, and then read it to my wife. Cady was such a strong protagonist that I find myself missing her; nobody can string insults together like she can. In fact, I found myself charmed by the entire cast of characters on display, all of which felt well written, and genuine, and each with their own story to tell, and goal to achieve.
The worldbuilding is stunning. Descriptions are crisp and visual, never pushy or long-winded. The setting reminded me of North Yorkshire, and the small fishing villages there, like Filey, and Flamborough, only at some point in the seventies or eighties, with a thick smog clinging to the mist, and the rattling of diesel engines behind the slap of water on the dockside. The prose on display here is a joy to read, and not to be missed, never taking your time for granted and loath to waste any of it.
I would cover the plot, but I’m hesitant to rob you of the joy of discovering it. Each chapter is punchy and compelling, sometimes dropping you unexpectedly into hilarious scenes with no prior warning. Like everything else in this novel, it is carefully crafted for your consumption.
I’ve heard this book categorised as Weird Fiction (a genre I am no stranger to) and I think it’s fair. If you’re looking for something a bit like Miéville but less heavy, this is your book. It’s also part of a Duology named The Chronicles of Ludwich. The second book Ludluda is expected to publish in December of 2024.
I, for one, will be waiting with my wallet out.
Fun trivia: Adrian Tchaikovsky also defied this ‘rule’ this year: see Alien Clay.
Photo taken by Karl Forshaw
