I've just finished reading The Parasol Protectorate series by Gail Carriger, and now I'm not quite sure what to do with myself. It's been a fair while since I've experienced such severe book-hangover and I've suddenly become that friend, compulsively pushing it on everyone I know just so that I can talk to people about it.
I picked up Soulless on a whim from my library a few months ago and was completely charmed within the first few pages. The story follows heroine Alexia Tarabotti, a half-Italian Victorian gentlewoman, who has just been unexpectedly attacked by a vampire. The unexpectedness is not a result of it being a vampire - this Victorian England has embraced the supernatural enough that they form the cultural elite - but because it is such a shocking breach of etiquette. Luckily, Alexia just happens to be preternatural - without a soul - and this grants her the ability to turn supernatural creatures temporarily mortal by touching them. She thus de-fangs the vampire and overcomes it, and the subsequent investigation into why it attacked her proceeds to thoroughly upend her life as she knows it, not least because it forces her into contact with Lord Conall Maccon - head of the Bureau of Unnatural Registry, Alpha of the Woolsey werewolf pack, and an all-round insufferably abrupt Scotsman. I think you can see where this is going.
Fortunately, at no point does the book descend into merely a soppy paranormal romance. Carriger writes with her tongue firmly in-cheek throughout the series, giving the narration a strong flavour of high-camp humour and saturating it in an inescapable sense of jolly good fun. The focus is very much on the mysterious disappearances of supernaturals within London and Alexia, like all good heroines, is too nosy to let propriety get in the way of a good investigation. She is also quite prepared to wade into dangerous situations, so long as she has her trusty parasol at the ready to thwack any threats over the head. She knows her own mind - having no soul, she is indeed ruled almost exclusively by it - and she is not going to stay away from a potential lead because 'she might get hurt' or 'this is man's business'. She has an unladylike fascination with all things mechanical and the intelligence to understand the most cutting edge scientific theories, which stands her in good stead to help figure out what the devil is going on. She also, like any good Englishwoman, appreciates the miracle of a good cup of tea, and she is forever endeared to me because of it.
One of the most delightful parts of the series is the distinct threads of steampunk-inspired technology running through it. While not quite substantial enough for some purists, there is just enough present to indicate that this Victorian era is slightly different to ours (as if the supernatural population running about wasn't distinction enough) and even better is that as time progresses, we get to see the technology progress as well. Aethographers - machines that transmit telegraph-like messages via aether frequencies - are introduced as a brand new luxury technology in the second book Changeless, and are so new that they are essentially fancy toys for the rich. By the fifth book Timeless they are slightly more commonplace, with public aethographers existing as far out as Egypt. The inclusion of dirigible travel, the rising popularity of 'glassicles' and the mysterious inventor Madame LeFoux all add to the steampunk side of things, and enough detail and explanations are provided to help immerse the reader into this living, breathing universe of Carriger's creation.
My absolute favourite part, though, is the characters. That's where the true vitality of this series lies, because a nice little romp through a supernatural steampunk Victorian London is all good and well, but it's not going to matter much if you don't care what happens to the people in the story. And you do. Carriger infuses them all with their own brand of charm so skillfully that often I didn't realise a character was my favourite until they'd been placed in a position of peril and I suddenly found myself very, very scared for them. Lord Akeldama's drone Biffy was a stellar example of this, and don't even get me started on Professor Lyall (except do, because I have an awful lot of Lyall feelings that I need an outlet for). With the exception of a few downright nasty pieces of work, I fell in love with almost every character introduced for some reason or another. Ivy Hasselpenny with her bad taste in hats and tendency towards malapropisms, Lord Akeldama with his razor-sharp wit and even sharper fashion sense, the ever-stalwart and obtuse butler Floote - each was endearing on some level. I even liked the rather unlikeable Major Channing Channing of the Chesterfield Channings, although in his case I think my affections are reserved for his ridiculous name more than anything else. Still, the series is carried on a solid framework of good characters, who change and grow as events progress. Carriger writes them with such skill and subtlety that when secrets do come out, they manage to hold the appropriate element of surprise and yet nothing feels like it came completely out of the blue. There is a sense that clues were there, but you were too focused on other things at the time to notice. I'm actually quite eager to read them all over again and look for all the unassuming signs of things to come that I overlooked before.
In terms of pace, some may find the series to be a slow starter. I was fond of the first two and it wasn't until the third that my fondness was upgraded to frenzied adoration. I can't really hint at why without giving away key plot points (although the blurbs tend to be annoyingly spoileriffic if you haven't read the previous books) but the third book Blameless is where events start transpiring from which there is no going back, and suddenly no one seems safe. The pace picks up significantly from this point on and does not slow down until the very end, which is somewhat of a double-edged sword as it ups the sense of excitement but brings the finale forward much too quickly for my liking. However, the last three books are also where you can feel all the threads of the series being deftly woven together, and when it does end there is a satisfying sense of all lingering questions being answered, even if there is a bitter-sweetness to having to say goodbye so soon. Thankfully, reports indicate that Prudence, the first installment of The Parasol Protectorate Abroad, is due for release this Autumn, so those longing for more from this universe (such as my frantic self) will soon have their wishes fulfilled. I just hope it can live up to my expectations. The legacy of Alexia Tarabotti will be a tough act to follow...
