The Girl in the Steel Corset, by Kady Cross

I’ve been on the lookout lately for good steampunk fiction (reason for my interest here) but have had a hard time finding anything that was worth my attention, other than a few kids’ books that may or may not have actually fit the bill for “steampunk” (Such as Larklight, by Philip Reeve or Patricia Wrede’s Thirteenth Child, which is admittedly far more “frontier fantasy” than it is steampunk, but I digress). Unfortunately for those of us wanting good, clean adventures without unnecessary grub, too much of the steampunk genre seems to focus entirely on either the “steam” aspect—unfortunately, not steam engines, but steamy “romance”—or on the “punk” and nonconformist side of the genre, creating stories about people in a Victorian-esque world who don’t fit in and want to disrupt the status quo. All well and good until you realize that most of these are coming from a secular worldview that wants to do away with “Puritanical” standards of right and wrong in favor of a “modern” society where an individual’s desires trump social and moral values.

So it was fairly refreshing to spot this book, The Girl in the Steel Corset, at my library over Christmas break. I was hesitant at first, just looking at the cover (plus, I first assumed that this was yet another installment in the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo craze, which, since it apparently has nothing to do with actual dragons, I have not managed to work up any interest in) which looked far more “steamy” than “steampunk.” However, I was intrigued by the blurb inside the front cover, and found it hard to resist something that actually touted itself as The Steampunk Chronicles.

Described by the author as a cross between The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen and a sort of teen-age X-Men, The Girl in the Steel Corset is the tale of Finley Jayne, a young lady with unfortunate abilities and an equally unfortunate face—that is, one that attracts far too much attention from her employer’s rake of a son. Forced to flee from her place of employ, Finley finds herself taken under the sheltering wing of Griffon King, the young Duke of Greythorn and head of a misfit band of young people. Young people with mysterious abilities like Finley’s own. Emily, who is a wiz with machines and can actually communicate with them. Sam, whose immense strength is as much a liability as an asset, especially as he struggles to recuperate from a terrible accident that left him nearly dead. Jac, an American cowboy with astonishing reflexes and a shadowy past. And of course, Griffin, who has the ability to access “the Aether”—a foggy realm of energy for him to use. When the originator of the attack on Sam—a mysterious figure known only as The Mechanist—threatens the safety of Queen and country, the ragged fivesome must put aside their differences and work together. If they fail, there’s no predicting the political and mechanical chaos that could ensue.

Overall, the story is good. The characters are well fleshed-out and believable on the whole, though the character of Griffin is a bit cliché and a dodgy-but-intriguing criminal kingpin provides his oh-so-darkly-handsome-and-dangerous-and-cliché counterpart in a pairing that can only be referred to as an Edward-Jacob-entity. Necessary for the story this may have been, but annoying? That it definitely was.

I very much enjoyed the almost suspense-novel pacing to the novel. As the characters collect clues from what they already know and try to zero in on The Mechanists’ identity, the reader learns more about their inner conflicts and the tensions and ties that bind them together in a web that they don’t even completely see until near the end of the novel. Finley’s connections with Griffon’s parents and their research was particularly fascinating—I won’t ruin it for you, but suffice it to say that her abilities remind one of a very well-known literary duo, and for good reason.

My biggest problem with this book was Griffin’s ability—his access to this thing called the Aether. Basically, this is some kind of a spirit realm, where dead folks hang out and vast amounts of unused energy wait for someone like Griffin to tap in. This is undoubtedly based on the Victorian fascination with spiritualism—even folks one would assume to be rational about such things were taken in. For example, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, creator of Sherlock Holmes, was obsessed with the occult and firmly believed to the end of his days in the existence of ghosts, ghouls, and fairies. I understand the historical fad that has been turned into fictional fact here, but that doesn’t mean I have to appreciate it. That being said, it plays a relatively shallow role in the overall story, limited to one conversation with Griffin’s departed parents and multiple bursts of Aetheric energy from the teen. Oh yes, and a fairly ingenious device that Griffin uses to surf the Aether like the Internet and gather news articles, clippings, photos, and documents related to The Mechanist.

What pleased—and surprised me most—was the lack of sexuality or foul language. Based on the cover art, I was expecting to have to skip a few chapters, but other than the usual teenage angst one comes to expect in YA books, The Girl in the Steel Corset was remarkably clean. As for language, a few creative substitutions for coarse language, as well as one or two “slips” near the end of the book would earn probably only a PG rating if this were a movie.

On the whole, I enjoyed this book—though I can’t say that I’ll be waiting on the edge of my seat in eager anticipation of the sequel. It was interesting, and one could easily see the elements of The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen and X-Men that the author was drawing from, and if some of the characters could have used a bit more depth, well—it’s only a first book. Cut the author some slack. She ought to be given the credit due her for delving the as-yet unplumbed depths of the steampunk genre and giving those of us looking for something in that realm a decent option.

The Brownie gives The Girl in the Steel Corset a mild four quills.