First Impressions: 100 pages of Leviathan

I picked up Scott Westerfeld’s Leviathan last night and trail-blazed the first 100 pages before I finally fell asleep. If I maintain my current pace, I should complete the novel before the end of the week (only 434 pages, with plenty of illustrations and large print, to boot). The writing thus far has been serviceable if not spectacular, definitely targeted at a younger audience. My last foray into the young adult genre was Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy, which had absolutely breathtaking writing (though I might equivocate if asked to definitively state that His Dark Materials was meant for young teens). After reading 100 pages, I believe the story will be lively and entertaining, and Westerfeld’s replacement history is loads of fun to envision; the more vivid the reader’s imagination, the more exciting Leviathan will be. The art from Keith Thompson, scattered liberally throughout, is stylish and helps to ground the story.

I imagine most of the people reading this site are familiar with Leviathan’s premise, but just in case: the story is set in a fictional 1914, the dawn of World War I. In this alternate timeline, technological progress is far advanced from our own familiar history, in both mechanical and biological sciences. Europe has settled into two recognizable factions: the Darwinists and the Clankers. The Darwinists represent the Allied forces of WWI: Russia, France, and Britain. The English have used the discoveries of Charles Darwin to leapfrog far past our modern understanding of genetic engineering. So far, I’ve seen hybridized wolf-tigers, a hydrogen-breathing jellyfish serving the role of a hot-air balloon, and the massive airship Leviathan, a floating whale, technically composed from a delicately balanced conglomeration of hundreds of animals. On the other side of the battlefield are the Clankers, represented by Germany, the Ottoman Empire, and Austria-Hungary. I haven’t encountered as much of their technology yet, but their military utilizes immense (steam-powered or gasoline-fueled?) mechanical walkers, basically walking tanks. One of the real pleasures of reading this novel is that these marvelous toys feel like authentic parts of the world. One of the reviews I read complained about the genetic engineering, nitpicking at the implausible technology. I mostly say to that: why even read this book? Steampunk, of all the branches of science fiction, has very rarely been about what is realistic. When I think of steampunk stories, the premise always starts with the phrase: “Wouldn’t it have been cool if…” If hard science is your preference, I would advise you to locate a hard science fiction novel, as I doubt serious scientific speculation is ever going to be high on the list of priorities for a young adult, steampunk story.

The last thing I’ll say about Leviathan: the narrative alternates between the fictional son of Franz Ferdinand, escaped in a walker after his noble father was assassinated, and the girl Deryn Sharp, disguised as the boy Dylan Sharp so she can serve in the British Air Service. Deryn Sharp: fun, intelligent, interesting. Aleksandar Ferdinand: whiny, spoiled, not interesting. Let’s hope this changes as the storyline progresses.