The Half-Made World

The Half-Made World #1

by Felix Gilman

The world is still only half-made. Between the wild shores of uncreation, and the ancient lands of the East lies the vast expanse of the West---young, chaotic, magnificent, war-torn.

Thirty years ago, the Red Republic fought to remake the West---fought gloriously, and failed. The world that now exists has been carved out amid a war between two rival the Line, enslaving the world with industry, and the Gun, a cult of terror and violence. The Republic is now history, and the last of its generals sits forgotten and nameless in a madhouse on the edge of creation. But locked in his memories is a secret that could change the West forever, and the world’s warring powers would do anything to take it from him.

Now Liv Alverhuysen, a doctor of the new science of psychology, travels west, hoping to heal the general’s shattered mind. John Creedmoor, reluctant Agent of the Gun and would-be gentleman of leisure, travels west, too, looking to steal the secret or die trying. And the servants of the Line are on the march.

Genres: Fantasy, Steampunk, Fiction, Science Fiction, Westerns, Alternate History, Weird West

480 pages, Kindle Edition

First published October 1, 2010

Reviews

[Lena · Rating 4 out of 5]

Well, that was better than I expected. Therefore 4 stars, cos expectations were low. I don't really like steampunk, but good narration and well-written characters got me page-turning. But the cherry-on-top is a world-building: what have I read? An alternative history or a post-apocalyps? It's crazy and confusing but in a good way. The only annoying thing is that the plot didn't really led anywhere. Whatever questions you may have during the reading, you'll hardly get any answers, maybe in the next book, we'll see...

[Michelle F · Rating 4 out of 5]

In The Half-Made World Felix Gilman comes at the familiar with a wealth of imagination that turns expectations sideways. This book feels wonderfully fresh and innovative.

It's a tricky business trying to describe the strange meshing of genre and tropes going on here. A high stakes quest fantasy set in a magically half-made wild west. Kind of (and just kind of) like dropping competing bands of jaded murderous hobbitses on the dusty trails, with Mordor existing as a purgatory of land that has not yet been fully created. There's barbed wire tangles that blow like tumbleweeds, horses, demon-powered machinery, and weapons that control their bearers.

It is bananapants bizarre, and highly entertaining.

Essentially, the two factions warring for control over the 'wild west' are searching for one old man, whose fractured mind may hold the key to definitively ending the war.

The buildup of the first third is slow moving, but with purpose. The setting, the politics and the characters are crafted and plumped up carefully. Not all of the details end up fully relevant, but they give solid form and footing to the a world imbued with wild creativity.

It's all very grand and uses so many recognizable touchstones without being defined by any of them. The characterization is mostly superb, though our reader stand-in, Liv, ends up – despite her careful crafting – getting pulled along through the story with fairly ineffective agency.

This was surprisingly standout for me. I'd recommend it for speculative readers who are a bit played out by the most modern trends and are looking for something unique in feel. I've got Gilman, and the second book in the series, high on my watch list.

[Terry · Rating 4 out of 5]

Order and Chaos. The Line and the Gun. The battle between the two elemental forces of order and chaos has long been a favourite for fantasy literature and it has provided fallow fertile ground for many tales of human society as it gets caught in the middle of these two titanic ways of viewing the universe. What better stage for displaying this great and never-ending battle than the American West? What other time period more succinctly portrays the stark differences between these two great forces? Felix Gilman has taken this stage, albeit in an alternate world that only mirrors that of our own, in order to paint in the stark blacks and whites of this endless battle. Standing in for Order and Chaos we have, as has already been mentioned, the Line and the Gun. These two great unnatural (supernatural? abnatural?) forces are presided over by demonic spirits who drive on the humans in their service in an attempt to forever destroy their opposites. The Line are housed in great Engines that control and drive their human slaves in the name of industry and progress. Their tracks criss-cross the West and lay waste to all in their path, flattening the hills and mountains and filling in the valleys to turn all into orderly, flat wastelands populated only by their great Stations and factories. The Guns take a more personal approach, inhabiting their weapons of steel and wood and brimstone and riding their bearers, shaping them into superhuman gunslingers, able to move almost faster than the eye can follow and heal from grievous wounds in mere moments.

The alternate world that Gilman has created for this story has a great continent broadly divided into two great zones: the settled East, where things have been 'made' or 'shaped' into their final forms as we know them. Peace, order and (good?) government are the rule here and the countries of the East seem to combine elements of both the settled eastern states of the historical U.S. and the 'old world' of Europe. Science and Technology, law and order, are well-founded here, though not with the inflexible singleness of vision of the Line. Out beyond the borders of the map, however, lies the West. Beyond the great, and aptly named, World's End Mountains, lies a country that grows more lawless, and even physically unformed, the farther out you go. Only the Line has brought Order to parts of the West, but its order is a sterile thing, consuming all in its path and replacing it with factories and stations for its great engines, peopled by its hive-like minions who are driven to build and destroy in equal measure. The Agents of the Gun are themselves compelled by their masters to halt the Line wherever they are able, revelling in death and chaos no matter the price. Caught between these two forces are the small communities of 'normal' people who seem to simply sit back and hope that both the Line and the Gun will ignore their presence, at least in their own lifetime.

Amidst these great swathes of black and white, however, Gilman does manage to include many shades of grey in his story at both the macro and the micro level. At the macro level we have the Red Valley Republic, a gathering of many smaller nation-states of the unformed West under one banner and the leadership of the great General Orlan Enver. The Republic is another great power, able in its heyday to do the impossible: hold off both the Line and the Gun, and prosper in the unformed West. They are not, apparently, driven by any demons or supernatural forces, but only the human ideals and hopes of their founders...though these prove to be as dominating and heedless, in their own way, as the more metaphysical powers. At the micro level we have Gilman’s nuanced characterisation, especially as seen in his three main protagonists who move the plot forward: Liv Alverhuysen, a bored widow and professor of psychology at the Koenigswald Academy who dreams of the possibilities of adventure that await in the West, John Creedmoor an aging charmer who also happens to be an Agent of the Gun, and Sub Invigilator (Third) Lowry, a lowly cog in the great human machine of the Line.

As the story proper begins the Red Valley Republic is nothing more than a dream and a memory: a failed fable and cautionary tale of the price of opposing the two great Powers. Liv has received an enigmatic letter requesting assistance from the aptly named House Dolorous, a hospital and hospice on the very edge of the settled West designed to care for those broken by the endless war of the Powers. She jumps at the chance to leave her comfortable and staid life behind and go into the unknown. Creedmoor, a somewhat cowardly and lazy adventurer who has been laying low and avoiding the call of his harsh masters, is suddenly prodded back into service and set on a track that will lead him to cross paths with the other main players of the tale. Lastly, we have Lowry, the lowly, but ambitious, peon of the Line, destined to rise in the ranks of the great machine as he too is goaded on by his masters to find the prize that all three characters will eventually pursue: the great General Envers, thought lost, though now convalescing at the House Dolorous in a fit of madness brought on by one of the horrible weapons of the Line. Apparently the general holds a great secret of the First Folk (the somewhat elvish, somewhat aboriginal, somewhat otherworldly first inhabitants of the West who are enslaved by everyone else when they are not free to roam the unformed wilderness), that both Powers crave for their own, and fear may fall into the hands of their enemies.

I really enjoyed this book, and Gilman's prose is very fluid, so even though it is a sizable tome I found that the pages flew by fairly quickly. This is my first introduction to what has been labelled the ‘Weird West’ in genre circles, and which shades mildly into areas of steampunk, and if it’s an indication of what else is out there in this genre then I’m excited to continue in my discoveries. I thoroughly enjoyed this book both for the extensive worldbuilding that Gilman did, as well as his admirable work with characterisation. Each of the main protagonists is nuanced and interesting, and even Creedmoor and Lowry are able to rise above being simply placeholders for their respective Powers. For his part Creedmoor combines the nostalgic regret of an old gunslinger seeing something of the error of his ways, though held back from change by inertia and cowardice, while Lowry, despite being born and bred as simply a cog in a wheel, displays aspects of individual thinking and initiative that could just as likely get him killed by his Masters as promoted by allowing him to complete his goal. Liv stands in for the rest of us, those ‘normal’ people not beholden to any supernatural Power for their goals and abilities, and who must make her way in the world with only her own intellect and conscience to guide her. General Envers, even though insane and mostly silent for the majority of the book, is also a very interesting figure who, despite his affliction, looms large in the story and stands almost as a power unto himself.

Highly recommended.

Also posted at Shelf Inflicted

[Felicia · Rating 4 out of 5]

I will go on record that my hatred of the Western genre has been sorely shaken lately. I think the revisionist Steampunk lit has really infused a classic genre with much needed freshness. I dare to say that Half-Made World is the apex of these selections.
The author takes the American West and plops it into a fictional world, with several warring factions fighting over the future of the country, none all the way black or white. The complexity of the world and characters was so engrossing, similar to how Joe Abercrombie infused a fresh grittiness into High Fantasy. Highly recommend this book to men and women. Looking forward to the sequel (which is deftly set up).

[Terence · Rating 3 out of 5]

My first experience with a GoodReads’ giveaway was not a very happy one. The book was subpar but it was free so my complaints couldn’t be too excessive. I’m happy to say that my second giveaway win was a considerably different experience.

The Half-Made World gets a solid 3 stars – it falls between 3.5 and 4 but I can’t quite bring myself to give it the coveted fourth star.

When I first read the blurbs for the book I was immediately reminded of the opening scene in Michael Moorcock’s The Weird of the White Wolf: Earl Aubec of Malador braves the perils of Castle Kaneloon, lying on the edge of the World, and is sent forth by its mistress, Myshella, to create new lands out of the stuff of Chaos. As it turns out, however, that’s not the only point of similarity between Moorcock’s and Gilman’s stories. I can see reflections of Law in the Engines of the Line and Chaos in the Agents of the Gun and the neutral Utopia of Tanelorn in the Red Valley Republic. If I wanted to push the parallels a bit further, I might compare John Creedmoor, an Agent, with Elric of Melniboné – a reluctant servant of uncaring masters who can’t find the courage to give up his addiction to the power that keeps him alive.

The stories themselves, however, couldn’t be more different.

Many reviews mention that this is a steampunk/Western alternate Earth but I’m not so sure it’s our Earth. The geography is definitely not our Earth’s. The unformed West lies beyond the World’s End Mountains and its contours do not conform to North America’s. There are elements that make it Earth-like. The chronology of discovery mirrors our own: A pass through the mountains was discovered in 1482; the initial colonies are tentative, fragile things; but by the time of the book (1889), the borders of the Made World have advanced considerably. But what those years are based on is never elucidated and there doesn’t appear to be a Church or much of any religion. There are Smilers and Liberationists and the Knights of Labor and other creeds but nowhere are there institutions like the Roman or Protestant churches.

The Engines of the Line and the Guns are extra-dimensional powers that may have been called forth by the aspirations and ambitions of humanity. The Engines manifest as enormous rail cars. Even if destroyed, they (like their enemies, the Guns) are reborn time and again, and they form the vanguard of a nightmare landscape of the Industrial Age. I can’t imagine that it’s an accident that their chief objective is “oil.” The humans who live under the Line are stunted, pasty-faced cogs in a vast machine. In this respect, I’m reminded of 1984’s proles and the bleak vistas of Oceania.

The Guns are no better. They recruit men and women and imbue them with superhuman speed, strength and healing ability, and employ them in a war to destroy the Engines. It appears to be a hopeless task as the Line continues to advance across the continent and the Agents do little more than commit murder and bring down destruction on the communities they enlist in the cause.

The Red Valley Republic was an attempt to create a “third way.” By the time of the story, it’s been a memory for 40 years, having been crushed by the Line. No one on the eastern side of the World’s End Mountains know much about it, and in the West it’s best remembered as a childhood fable but its most famous General turns up in a hospital on the (literal) edge of the World, where it turns out his mind has been destroyed by one of the Line’s more vicious weapons – a “noisemaker,” a bomb that shatters the mind and leaves an mostly empty physical shell. Both the Line and the Guns are convinced that hidden in that mind is a secret that will bring their war to an end so they dispatch emissaries to get it by any means.

The tale revolves around three characters: John Creedmoor, an Agent of the Gun; Lowry, a Line officer; and Liv Alverhuysen, a doctor of psychology. Of the three, Liv is the most immediately likeable and – at the end – the strongest of the three. But what I like about Gilman’s characterization is that she’s a real product of his ersatz late Victorian society of the Made World. The most telling aspect of this is her treatment of Maggfrid. Today, Maggfrid would be classified as a high-functioning, mentally retarded person. During Liv’s time at the university, he’s become a special case and travels with her when she heads West. There’s a scene where he provokes some Linesmen into beating him senseless, but the next morning Liv has him hauling her baggage onto the Engine as if nothing had happened.

Creedmoor is a coward. He’s become thoroughly disillusioned and disgusted with the Guns and what they make him do and he knows how to get out from under their (figurative) thumbs but he doesn’t have the courage to do it. You could read his and Liv’s flight into the West as his feeble attempt to escape the Guns’ influence without having to give up the Guns’ gifts. By the end of the book, it’s still a toss up whether or not he can find the courage to live without a Gun.

There can be no sympathy for Lowry. He’s thoroughly unlikeable, and he’s unable (unwilling) to shake off the Line’s hold on him. At most, this reader could only muster sympathy and horror at the monster into which the Line had shaped him.

I haven’t mentioned the Hillfolk. Simplistically, they’re analogs of Native Americans, fairies and black slaves all rolled up together. They are the inhabitants of the not-Made World, and they chose the General for some PURPOSE that accident foiled when the noisemaker exploded.

As to the General: Throughout most of the novel, his mind is elsewhere but there’s a point toward the end where he shades into a prophetic figure. In a flashback, we see him writing a letter to his daughter and granddaughter where he laments having to go back up the mountain. This immediately put me in mind of Moses or Jesus or Muhammad going up to God and bringing back his revelations.

All these elements came together in this book to make me want to read more. I was “annoyed” to be left hanging at the end but look forward to the story’s resolution.

Confidently recommended to all.

[Kara Babcock · Rating 3 out of 5]

I have great respect for writers who can create entirely different worlds without succumbing to the need to explain every little detail of the world’s workings. Felix Gilman accomplishes this with The Half-Made World. His world is nothing like our own. There is the barest patina of the Wild West to it in the set dressings and costumes: frontier towns, guns and lawmakers, the looming spectre of industrialization, and disillusioned soldiers from a forlorn war. But this world has no connection to our own; it is as fantastic as any other high fantasy book, just more mechanistic in its setting. Gilman skilfully tells an adventure/chase story while touching on deep motifs, such as loyalty, one’s duty to history, and the ability for a single person to make a difference. It’s a half-made world, but it’s not a half-baked world.

(I’m so, so sorry.)

Gilman’s success at creating such a rich world and telling such a brilliant story is due in large part to the characters who carry its weight. He succeeds in that difficult task of portraying a cast whose goals are at odds with one another, yet every character is sympathetic in their own way. This puts the reader in the unenviable position of watching one or more of their “favourite” characters fail in some way. Not all of Lowry, Creedmoor, and Liv can succeed. But thanks to the way Gilman introduces and develops them, we develop a measure of sympathy for each.

Lowry is the closest thing The Half-Made World has to a human villain, and I’m almost tempted to say he’s an anti-villain. He believes in the order brought by the Line; that this belief is the result of indoctrination does not diminish its power to shape his actions. As the book’s chief representative of the Line, Lowry shows us the dark side of an industrialized, bureaucratized superpower. He is repeatedly compared to a cog in a machine: when his superiors expire from incompetence, he is promoted by inheriting their positions because he is “not significantly less adequate” for their task. The Line is all about depersonalizing and removing an individual’s sense of self or accomplishments. Lowry, despite his desire to be a good little Linesman, has a stubborn streak of pride that keeps him from staying under the radar. (Incidentally, this is the second book in a month where I’ve encountered the word “Linesman”, in entirely different uses!)

In contrast, Creedmoor is definitely an anti-hero. Dedicated to the more chaotic forces of the Gun, Creedmoor is not a nice man. He has killed and will kill again and will let innocents suffer. Yet his allegiance to the Gun and dedication to its irreconcilable animosity towards the Line is tenuous: he joined up because he was attracted to the power of the Gun, not its motives. Unlike the true believer that is Lowry, Creedmoor questions and chafes against the orders of his inhuman masters. He is Liv’s sometimes-ally, sometimes-enemy, helping and hindering as he sees fit. This provides for no end of entertaining conflict and contributes to the richness of the characterization here.

Liv Alverhuysen is the closest we come to a protagonist. She is of the unlikely variety, in that she does not set off to get involved in this war. It’s only by chance she ends up in a position to be kidnapped by Creedmoor along with the General, in whose precious but addled mind might lie the key to ending the war between the Gun and the Line, once and for all. Liv quickly proves her mettle though. She sets off from her cushy Ivory Tower with a friend, the cheerful but childlike Maggfrid, and in no time at all negotiates herself into the business side of a trader’s operation. Soon enough she arrives at the House Dolorous to work with mentally ill patients, which is where she meets Creedmoor and the General. As the three of them flee farther west into the unmade parts of the world, Liv’s even-tempered compassion is an essential counterweight to Creedmoor’s manic bouts of trigger-happiness and restlessness.

It’s this perfect balance between this trio of characters that makes me smile so much. The Half-Made World isn’t just an adventure story or a chase novel; it’s an adventure story and a chase novel with three viewpoints that all see the world in radically different terms, and by exposing us to those viewpoints, Gilman provides a more complete picture of that world. Liv’s naivety and aloofness when it comes to the Gun and the Line is a tonic for the embedded ideas of Creedmoor and Lowry’s that this war is inevitable and eternal. Similarly, Creedmoor’s anarchic tendency to buck his master’s commands and chafe at his mission parameters finds a parallel in Lowry’s decision to press forward, no matter the cost, in pursuit: both show traces of individuality and remind us that even when in thrall to inhuman forces, human free will is a powerful determining force all on its own.

The chase and its ultimate goal of uncovering the weapon hidden within (or pointed to by) the General’s mind proves somewhat of a MacGuffin. Its origins lie in the First Folk, Indigenous peoples analogues who are literally immortal and perhaps represent a midpoint between the inhuman demons behind the Guns and the Engines and the briefer, mortal humans ground down in this war. The First Folk regard humans, rightly so, as children (not that it’s our fault). Gilman does little to delve into the mystery behind the First Folk, and I’m ambivalent about that. On the one hand, I appreciate the kind of magical realism vibe that he is going for here. On the other hand, even though the First Folk are not explicitly Native Americans, their analogous resemblance means that this teeters dangerously close to another example of Indigenous cultures being Othered and their spiritual beliefs and practices exoticized for Western consumption.

As far as stories go, though, it is hard to beat the deadly effective combination of a fast-paced plot with a romantically dangerous world. The Gun and the Line are imposing forces wrestling to wrest control of human civilization from human hands. Liv and the other main characters suddenly find themselves at a pivot that could change everything. The stakes increase immeasurably, yet Gilman keeps everything grounded in the goals and motivations of his main characters. The result is something captivating and difficult to put down. I was left with a bit of a Harkaway feel, and not just because the book’s title is similar to The Gone-Away World , which also features a hefty dose of unmaking reality.

[Wealhtheow · Rating 4 out of 5]

Really fantastic, imaginative adventure set in something a bit like America's Wild West of old. Like many Westerns, the main characters are damaged people in pursuit of their own interests, demonstrating occasional bursts of heroism. But unlike most Westerns, people are queer, female, and not necessarily white. And of course, there is the magic: the Line, with their noise-bombs that tear at the mind and their sentient engines; and the Agents of the Gun, whose weapons confer superhuman power but can also control the minds of their possessors; and the indescribable magics of the First Folk, to whom names are anathema. The characters are interesting, the adventure thrilling, and the world absolutely enthralling.

I can't wait to read the next book!

[Nicky · Rating 3 out of 5]

I'm not sure I enjoyed The Half-Made World. I was intrigued by it, which is something different. There's nothing here to hang your hopes on, to get emotionally attached to: the Linesmen are interchangeable, the Line unpleasant; the Agents of the Gun are as bad or worse, though at least they're individuals; the General is nothing but a tool for the plot; Liv is colourless... Even the Republic is hollow. The narration follows a Linesman, an Agent, and Liv, who is neutral. It really just emphasises that there is no right or wrong: it's a sea of moral ambiguity. I don't even know what moral goodness would look like, in this world.

Creedmore is, despite being despicable, at least an interesting character. His conflict, his relationship with Marmion, his unpredictability and irreverence... If I kept reading for any of the characters, it was for him. He's colourful, at least, even if it's the colours of hell!

The world itself is interesting -- the concept of it, the idea of the Line and the Guns, and the half-made nature of it as you go out West. I was intrigued by the steampunk and Western aspects (though, again, I'm not sure I'd use the word enjoyed). Some of the most interesting things, the Folk, drift around on the outside...

And it's all very inconclusive. Has anything changed, at the end? It doesn't feel like it's waiting for a sequel -- it just trails off.

Despite all of that, which sounds very critical, I was (here's that word again) intrigued: I kept reading, all four hundred and eighty pages of it, which is something.

[Jason · Rating 5 out of 5]

4.5 stars, a questionable ending at best kept this wonderful novel from being perfect. This is a dark, pseudo-western, pseudo-steam punk, fantasy that is centered around an anti-hero named John Creedmoor and his gun Maggfrid. He really pushes the boundaries of being a protagonist, but I found his character to be deep, and fascinating. I loved the world that is portrayed here, the "magic", the gods and the demons. I cannot wait to read more from Gilman, and hopefully read more about the characters in this book. The only flaw to this gem is the ending. It is not necessarily a bad ending, but it felt almost anti-climatic. Don't miss this great dark fantasy.



Updated May 2015

I really enjoyed this one again as a reread. But, once again the lack of an ending was way too anticlimactic. I wanted to go on to book two but have come to find out that it is an unrelated story to this one. It also has a questionable ending. So for now I am done with this book and what could be an awesome series.

[Julie · Rating 5 out of 5]

ORIGINAL REVIEW (AUGUST 2014)
Ahahahaha wow I read this so quickly?? Fair warning, I'm gonna gush unreservedly in this review because this book turned out to be my EVERYTHING and hit all my buttons.

The Half-Made World is a steampunk Western with some helpings of magic, set in an alternate world where the land is still half-made, where reality disintegrates at the frontier. It's a wonderful fantastical stand-in for a Western, depicting a world at war caught between two inexorable factions: Gun and Line.

Gun is the spirit of the Old West, a terrorist faction of rakish charming ragged outlaws, each one carrying a gun hosting the spirit of a demon that rides them like a steed but grants them superhuman powers: these forces have demonic names like Marmion and Belphegor. Line is the unstoppable power of progress and industrialisation, the pseudo-British Empire made into pure logic and order and bureaucracy, driven by immortal Engines named like Angelus, Gloriana, and Dryden (every angel is terrible). The men of the Line are all nondescript and generic, with names like Lowry, Carpenter, Carr -- where the people of the Gun are fantastical and romantic: Dandy Fanshaw, Abban the Lion, Rattlesnake Renner.

There's also the First Folk, which are First-Nations-but-not -- I wish they'd played a bigger role in the book, but Gun and Line certainly take the forefront (I hope this changes in the subsequent books, because the Folk are also intriguing: they are literally immortal).

The very simplified gist of the plot is that three people all converge on a mad old general in a hospital at the edge of the world, trying to extract the secret locked in his mind that might be able to end the war: Gun and Line clash over the man while a female psychiatrist, Liv Alverhuysen, is caught in the middle. The three of them hurtle towards the General and their inevitable clash (what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immoveable object?).

Another review I read described this as what happens when Chaotic Evil and Lawful Evil duke it out, which is a fantastic description. Gun definitely seems more appealing as a romantic ideal, but they're also depicted in shades of grey, practically destroying everything they touch: the book is careful to show that absolutely none of the factions are truly good. And though the men and women of the Gun are handsome and charming, they're still shackled by demonic possession: that's the exact appeal of the devil, after all, that whispering tempting voice in your ear.

Cripes, I just really really really loved the worldbuilding. (There are several other factions I'm not even going to mention.) The characters are also so good: Liv is strong and resourceful and independent; John Creedmoor and Lowry are nuanced in ways that I'm not even going to get into because #spoilers.

It's pretty slow-going at the start, and heaves you in the deep end wrt worldbuilding -- but that's my favourite kind of exposition, just hit the ground running and hope for the best. For me, the book sped up and sped up until I finished the last hundred-or-so pages in a headlong sprint, immediately screeched THERE HAD BETTER BE A SEQUEL, then went and purchased said sequel. I also wonder if Gilman was a little indebted to The Dark Tower, considering this setting of the world coming apart at the edges, the old and unhinged places, a long walk across the wastes to reach their destination, and there's even a scene where Liv is entranced by a rose...

Gilman's writing style is great, too, once you get accustomed to it (slash get past the General's disordered first chapter). Liv's earlier sections have a sort of arch, wry voice that I associate with something like Jane Austen. Creedmoor's seem more dashing somehow, all hot iron and visceral blood. Lowry's are neat and to-the-point (but Lowry is also an interesting 'villain', in the way he diverges from the Line's ideal).

I feel like I'm giving too much away. I didn't know jackshit about this book apart from what it said on the back, just dove right in. But I just wanted to gush! Highly recommended! I'm probably going to read the sequel pretty much immediately.

A couple quotes below -- not as many as usual, since I read this in paperback rather than ebook:

"Apparently this man once saw something important, or heard something, or knows something. Some secret. The world is full of secrets. Maybe--maybe--what he has in his memory could help us slow the Line's advance. Not stop it. That's all I would dare hope for. We did not come to the service of the Gun because we wanted to enjoy victory, but because we wanted to lose magnificently."

***

When Lowry stamped along in the morning's freezing fog, he kept thinking of the Agent and the woman, down in the valley where, for some reason, it was warm, talking. He resented them deeply.

No one ever asked about Lowry's life. Lowry's stories were, he was keenly aware, of interest to no one. No one gave a half-an-ounce of clinker for Lowry's stories. No different from any other man of the Line, was he? Competent, not exceptional. Angelus born, Angelus raised. Father unknown, mother irrelevant. Unschooled--you picked things up on the way. Tunnel-scrabbling childhood, in dust and rust and soot. Stunted, pale, rheum-eyed, coughing. Pale girls laughing at him. Leery Lowry. Filthy appetites, in later life suppressed not so much through will as through constant grinding exhaustion. When he first saw an Engine, still on the concourse, he pissed himself in terror; that wasn't much of a story, was it? First uniform, ill-fitting on a child's scrawny body. Long barbed-wire nights at Black Cap Valley, long muck-and-blood nights, horrible but hardly unique, one of thousands of boys to fight, one of hundreds to survive. First posting to Gloriana. Two talents discovered: violence, mathematics--three if you count organization--four if you count greasing up and kicking down. Man of the Angelus Engine. Hardly the perfect model, but effective and cheap enough for mass production. Incapable of disloyalty; he lacked the parts.

================

RE-READ (DECEMBER 2019)
God, how I love this book. I barreled through it in just a few days again, and once again I found myself admiring the rich worldbuilding, the headlong collision of the plotlines at the end, the characterisations and how each character slowly grows to become more like the other. Creedmoor's slow devolution and Liv growing harder and more ruthless, out in the wasteland.

The only tragedy about The Half-Made World is how there are only two books in this series; I want so much more!!

[Emma Deplores Goodreads Censorship · Rating 4 out of 5]

My favorite thing about this book is the world, which is original and complex and imaginative, yet so thoroughly grounded in realism and sensory detail that it feels more like historical fantasy than Weird Fantasy. It’s as unique as something by, say, Mieville, but without having that weirdness-for-weirdness’s-sake feel that makes it so hard for a realist like me to really enjoy his work.

Half the fun of this book is not knowing where the plot is going and figuring out what’s going on in the world, so this review isn’t going to say much about that. In brief, most of the book takes place in a sort of alternate Wild West, in a world where uninhabited lands are still unformed. Dr. Liv Alverhuysen, a psychologist from the settled East, travels to the edge of the formed world to study patients at a mental institution. But the West is a dangerous place, dominated by two rival powers: the Line, a society based on collectivism and industrialization, and the Gun, a group of individualistic desperados with superhero-like powers. The other two main characters, Lowry and Creedmoor, represent the Line and the Gun respectively.

The characterization in this book is excellent; we can really see how the characters’ backstories have shaped them into the complicated people they are. And Gilman does a good job both creating them as individuals, and using them as symbols for the ideas they represent. There were times when, despite his mocking the romantic myth of the lone gunslinger with divided loyalties, Gilman seemed to get caught up in it--but the book is so thoughtful and thematically rich that I’m willing to forgive that.

My biggest gripe is one that other reviewers have mentioned: the ending. It’s not even the dangling plot threads, although they are certainly prominent, so much as the questions we’ve been wondering about the whole book and that aren’t answered. What is this McGuffin weapon everyone’s so intent on getting? And what do people mean when they say that people created the Gun and the Line out of their own hatred and fear? I’ll admit, I’m harsher about this when there’s no sequel in sight, and it is unclear whether there will ever be one, let alone when it will be released. And what is it with author websites that don’t include any information about the author’s next book? That’s the one thing I’m looking for when I visit them. I certainly don’t go there to read advertisements for books that are already published. Occasionally I might go for an especially interesting and regularly-updated blog, but Gilman hasn’t updated his since this book was released. But that, and the fact that I’m so over books with only one female character of any importance, are the only real problems I had.

Overall, this was a fascinating, well-written, original fantasy. I wonder if the sequel (if and when it’s released) will be able to do it justice, but I’ll be first in line to find out.

[Lori · Rating 4 out of 5]

What a remarkable book. It may yet turn out to be a 5, because it lived in me while I was reading it. But be warned, it's not advertised as such, but it is the first of a dualogy. THe ending hangs, and I was relieved to learn that it's not the finale.

I can't even place it in a genre. Steampunk with magic realism? Dystopian? Or fantasy? A Western? All of those. Clang clang go the Engines of The Line. Devouring the land into gray. The Guns embody their Agents to war with the Line, but they are demons. The only possible saving grace is the General from the Republic that fought valiantly but were wiped out 40 years ago. He's got a secret from the Folk that can change the tide, perhaps stop the war entirely, and everyone's after him. But his mind is completely gone, neurons frazzled by the Noise Bombs when he got caught by the Line. The Line and the Guns are after him. Lowry from the Line, Creedmoor an Agent, and Liv the Doctor, from the East but half-damaged herself, who gets caught up in the mess when she accepts an invitation to practice at the Hospital where the General is, in the half-made world far out west near World's End but protected by a spirit from the Folk.

Heh I've never done a summary before! This books calls for one.

[Liviu · Rating 5 out of 5]

The Half-Made World is quite a strange book. It is dark, dense and awesome, part steampunk, part magic, all within a wild-west kind of mythology

The world is divided between the settled East and the expanding into uncreation West. Some centuries ago the seemingly impassable mountains that formed the border of the settled world, opened and people started settling the lands beyond and in the process fixing them into reality.

However un-natural or supernatural things sprung out here and there, most notably spirits, demons and "magical" engines, while the local people of the "uncreation" who may be immortal and have magic are pushed farther and farther away, with the remnants enslaved.

The settled parts of the west consist of many independent lands but all live under the ever expanding shadow of the Line, a highly regimented industrial and well armed civilization of millions, led by the magical engines of above, currently 38 in number that span tens of thousands of miles of tracks; opposing them are the demon guns and their agents, also few - tens, maybe a hundred - in number, but who have extreme powers of endurance and who foment uprisings, rebellions and generally wreak havoc.

Some decades ago a "free republic" has risen led by a General who was rumored to have had a pact with one of the original natives and know how to use their magic; nevertheless after 40 years of flourishing, the Republic was finally crushed by the Line and after 10 more years of underground resistance, the General was rendered mad by a Line "noise bomb" in a kind of last stand and he was presumed dead.

However it is rumored that he is now a patient at an asylum on the farthest borders of the West with the uncreation, asylum that is neutral and under the protection of a spirit; a letter surfaces hinting of a powerful weapon the General may have been given by his native ally and both the Line and the Gun want it.

So effective but unruly Gun Agent Credmoor is sent to infiltrate the asylum, while a thousands strong - with guns, flying machines, poison gas, bombs, machine guns and the like - Line force is also dispatched to deal with the Asylum and their Spirit, with one sub-invigilator, grade 3 Lowry as one of their officers.

A lady psychiatrist from the far away settled cities of the East with a traumatic past of her own receives an invitation to join the Asylum staff - invitation actually addressed to her much older and recently deceased husband, but she figures out she would be gladly received too - and she engages on the long and harrowing journey with her sort of servant/protege, who is a relatively young man of her age, very strong but mentally challenged so to speak

And so it starts, with the three main characters above converging on the Asylum and then of course lots and lots of things happen.

While the ending has enough closure, the book reads like the start of duology at least and begs a sequel. All in all, a very powerful novel that confirms Felix Gilman as a master of the new weird fantastic

[sologdin · Rating 3 out of 5]

The opposite of post-apocalyptic--antegenetic, maybe--and, like the old Rahab story from Jewish legend, the setting is not yet truly created--but nevertheless the narrative proceeds. I'm not sure if it's a brilliant conceit about the writing of speculative fiction to leave the setting rough along its margins (and we are constantly reminded of the writtenness of the setting, insofar as the story consistently refers back to its own "outright myths and stories and the most unplesant sort of fantasies" (119))--or if it's a gimmicky writerly indolence, where most of the story occurs within those margins. Either way, I likes.

The principal conflict involves a chase after crucial information lost for many years, into uncreated space, involving proponents of an industrializing theofascist state and of an atavistic violence cult, along with some mystical aboriginals, members of neutral liberal states, and some leftover radicals in exile, living with "no money at all" in a manner "communistic after the manner of the prophets of the ancient texts" (396). The fascists, the atavists, the mysticals, and the commies all seem to be fundamentalists of a sort, and the first three involve express supernaturalisms--their principals are immortal. The communists base their fundamentalism on their charter, which sounds more liberal than marxist in its several descriptions--in some ways, this is an answer to The Iron Council, wherein a group of dissenters casts off into the unformed wilderness under the banner of emancipation. Despite those descriptions of the constitution, the practices and symbolisms are leftwing.

The conflict does not appear to be resolved at the end, so there's likely a welcome sequel in the works. It is a nifty trick to have the conflict focused on an old guy's memory, render the guy unresponsive, and then leak out details of the contents of the hidden memory, which may or may not be dispositive of the setting. I'm not sure if it's a red herring, ultimately.

The setting, as the title tells us, is half-made--which is something of a drawback. We don't really know what the primary mechanisms of the supernaturalisms are--it's vaguely described as devilry, which is perfectly in character for the describers, but the lack of an authoratitive opinion from the text leaves something to be desired. But perhaps that's something revelatory for later installments. The geography is difficult to chart out, and the timeline is more implied than laid out. But these are the picayune complaints of a reader brainwashed by long residence in secondary creation.

Recommended for those effaced from the history of their country, persons who inhabit an ecology of machines, and ones who, out of a purer strain of virtue, make no deals.

[Adam · Rating 4 out of 5]

Gilman crafts a superb synthesis of dystopian literature, dark fantasy, satire, western and some would argue steampunk, but I would argue that it uses some the witty anachronism of said genre without any of its clichés. Mixing the horrors of world war one with the creation myth of the wild west ( and Australia’s outback) he comes up with some thoughtful metaphors with the struggle between the Line, the Gun, and the Republic. Each of these is abundantly realized and imagined and don’t act as props for the author to present ideas. The main adventure and backstory provide meaty and pleasing reading while the ideas bounce in your head. It’s hard to compare Gilman to Mieville or Jeff Vandermeer as his writing is so much clearer and well placed, but his imagination and ability to present an upside down portrait of the world very similar.

[Daniel Roy · Rating 2 out of 5]

The Half-Made World is a good representation of the strengths and limitations of the "New Weird" brand of SF inspired by China Mieville. But although the novel's powerful setting starts out full of promises, it runs out of steam completely before the novel is through.

The setting of The Half-Made World starts out exciting and fresh, with its mix of cursed gunslingers carrying demon-haunted guns, and the grim, Nazi-like servant armies of steampunk sentient Engines. There's also the promise of an unmade part of the world, where the laws of physics and biology have not yet settled down into stable patterns. These alone go a long way to explain the appeal of this novel. The writing is crisp, although some parts could have done with a bit of tighter editing. (Worst offender, paraphrased: "he said actorly." This gets my nomination for worst adverb ever.)

Unfortunately, the storytelling doesn't live up to its setting. The weirdness and the madness seem to exist for their own sake, instead of providing a refreshing canvas for characters to develop and grow. The main point of the story is the conflict between the Engines, representing industry and order, and the Gun, terrorist superheroes who seem to crave chaos for chaos' sake.

The problem is that neither of these factions attracts much sympathy. They're both unappealing, and their soldiers fight for the sake of fighting, without much attachment to the cause. Ultimately, the conflict is so large that it swallows up everything else, and leaves us with characters devoid of poignant internal conflicts or personal motivations.

Creedmoor, the servant of the Gun, is appealing as an antihero, but unfortunately, we never get a good grasp on his motivations. Moreover, the Guns make him so incredibly powerful that we never fear for his safety, except when the story contrives to rob him of said powers for a moment. There is Liv, a psychiatrist from a more civilized part of the world, who is mildly interesting, except that she doesn't drive much of the plot forward. The third POV character is Lowry, a soldier of the Line, but frankly, his chapters could have been cut out entirely; all he does is follow Creedmoor, until he gets lost in the final confrontation and we never learn his true fate.

The story meanders and rambles. Character actions don't always make sense. Sometimes they do things without struggling much, and the world just seems to bend to the will of the author to see his characters succeed. One of the supporting characters gets dropped from the story altogether, and only gets remembered by another character two chapters later. At one point, Creedmoor conveniently takes himself out of the story to go on a nonsensical hunt, which accomplishes nothing whatsoever.

Ultimately, the biggest disappointment of the novel is the setting itself. The "unmade" portion of the world beckons for half the novel, but when the protagonists finally reach it, there is none of the madness and wonder we expect. Instead, we find a wilderness of pines, with slightly twisted versions of normal wild animals (often just described as 'deer-looking but not quite'), and a boring village of idealists who are meant to inspire our sympathy; the chapters dedicated to them make the book's pace grind to a halt.

Even worse, the last chapters take away any sense of closure that the book built towards, and instead offer a convenient MacGuffin for the (groan) next installment in the trilogy.

No thanks. One meandering, unfulfilling novel is enough for me.

[Fantasy Literature · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Half-Made World, by Felix Gilman, is a strikingly original book that, though it has its flaws, is a fascinating opening to a new world and characters. I look forward to rejoining when the sequel (and the title “The Half-Made World “pretty much mandates a sequel) arrives.

The Half-Made World is set in an alternate America, but Gilman has gone well past the add-a-few-inventions-that-weren’t-there-and-change-the-Civil-War kind of alternate world-building here. We have an old, established East (which we don’t see much of) and an uncharted, still “uncreated” far West inhabited only by the immortal Hill People, who have either been driven from their eastern lands or enslaved. Between the East and the uncreated world lies the West, where nearly all the action takes place. Two rival groups of ... Read More: http://www.fantasyliterature.com/revi...

[Gray Robinson · Rating 3 out of 5]

Quite a nice delta-8 version of The Dark Tower, with magic guns and Western Seas and unmade-time to boot. Everything took far too long to develop, and the climax was a bit disappointing, but a fun read, especially if you are a DT fan. Too much unexplained, too much set up for a second book I’m not sure I will read. Who am I kidding, the Urge comes for us all…

Would have given 3.5 if possible.

[Bonnie · Rating 2 out of 5]

A book that chugged along slowly for pages, only to lose steam completely and slide to a stop.

In a world still being formed, there is the Gun and the Line.

The Gun is chaos – a collection of demons who reside in a dark lodge (allusion to Twin Peaks?) when they aren’t possessing physical guns. Each gun demon is assigned to an Agent, an outlaw who gains superpowers but must listen to his demon or face physical consequences. The Gun and its Agents are sexy and dangerous and wild.

The Line is order – a collection of other supernatural forces (angels? more demons?) who possess Engines that power the railway lines. The Line’s Agents are replaceable bureaucrats. The Line is as bad as the Gun – the Gun may show up and spread chaos and violence before disappearing, but when the Line rolls into town, it destroys everything in the name of “progress” and settles down to persistent control.

At one time there was a Republic who dreamed of a society without the random violence of the Gun and without the choking control of the Line. The Red Republic was safe for decades because of the brilliance of a General who had aligned himself with the magical native people of the West. The General knew of a weapon that could destroy both the Gun and the Line – but he lost his mind to a devastating Line weapon before he could use it. Now the Line and the Gun are after the mentally ill General, and Liv, the doctor who is trying to treat him, is caught in the crossfire.

It should be a rollicking western, and there is certainly enough blood and violence for that. But at a bloated 450+ pages, it felt like an endless slog through the machinations of the Line and the Gun.

The Gun’s Agent, John Creedmoor, is a charismatic lady killer who is chafing at the Gun’s leash. He spends much of the book conflicted – he wants to be independent and stop doing the Gun’s dirty work, but he also loves the power that comes with being an Agent. We are told about this ad nauseum. The Line’s agent is Sub Invigilator (Third) Lowry, an ambitious bureaucrat who wants to advance, but fears being killed for failure (everyone is replaceable for the Line). He pursues the General and John Creedmoor, in a long, halting investigation that could have been easily cut down. John Creedmor and Sub Invigilator Lowry could have had a delicious cat-and-mouse a la Jean Valjean and Inspector Javert. This did not happen.

An explanation of what the Gun and Line really were and where they came from could have been helpful. This did not happen. Any idea of what the weapon is would have been helpful. This did not happen. In the end, little took place. And the story did not get very far. This may be a series, but not one I care enough to follow.

The Half-Made World is dangerous, unpleasant, and constricted, and I did not care to venture there. There is little hope that it will get better. Given the tone of the story, I would not be surprised if the weapon doesn’t work or gets compromised, and the status quo continues, with the normal people getting destroyed by the Gun, the Line, or both. Too slow, too uninformative, too pessimistic.

[Maree · Rating 3 out of 5]

The Half-Made World is a steampunk scifi/fantasy set in an alternate American West where if you go far enough into the west, you'll find the world has not yet settled and is still changing. We follow the paths of Liv, a psychologist who goes to the House of Dolores intending to cure the mentally insane, but instead is kidnapped along with one of her patients, the General, by Creedmore, an Agent of the Gun, whose weapon houses a spirit that is his Master and who he mostly must obey. They are hounded by Lowry and soldier of the Line, an industrial enemy of the Gun who has been waging war against them for nearly forever. The General is thought to have information that can lead to a great weapon that will end the war, and both sides want that weapon for themselves.

From the above summary, you may think that Creedmore is the good guy, so let me bury that notion immediately. Agents of the Gun are thieves and murderers who become dependent upon the extra strength and healing powers their masters allow them and must obey or be placed in considerable pain. While he does tend to not kill everyone the Gun orders him to shoot (hence why Liv survives the trip) he doesn't do it out of kindness but because it annoys his masters. All that said, Creedmore was definitely my favorite character, one of those villains who gets the job done, but carries a huge amount of shame (as well as pride) for all he's done. He's an interesting contradiction, and has a sharp sense of what needs to be done. I also appreciated how he continually goads his masters, especially when he's the only one out there who can carry out their mission and he knows it.

The novel has a number of interesting factions and allusions throughout. The Line, with their technological superiority, and the Engines, who are their essential Gods, are spreading rapidly and taking over, winning the war. But when they head west and communication breaks down, it becomes obvious of how much they are interchangeable drones. Even at the end, when Lowry is killed, we don't know which man of the Line he is, the one Creedmore kills in the town or one of the two Liv kills later. They are all the same with their masks on. The Gun are the cowboys of the old west with questionable moral codes, ruling by fear and violence. The First Folk are the wild and strange but knowledgeable inhabitants who originally shared with the General the secret to the weapon, which isn't likely actually a weapon, rather just something that will bring peace somehow.

The ending was very inconclusive, and I wasn't sure if that was because it was supposed to be left open to interpretation (oh those annoyingly deep writers) or because there is supposed to be a sequel. I think it's just the one, but since it's a new book, there isn't much info out there yet. Not sure I'd read it if there was, it was rather long with some interesting action and thoughts, with very little payoff.

[Alexander Theofanidis · Rating 5 out of 5]

Δεν είναι γουέστερν, δεν είναι steam-punk, δεν είναι post-apocalyptic (ακριβώς το αντίθετο: pro-genesic!), δεν είναι αμιγής μαγικός ρεαλισμός. Είναι κάτι πραγματικά πρωτόγνωρο, φρέσκο και πρωτότυπο.

Ο κόσμος… δεν έχει φτιαχτεί ακόμα.

Τουλάχιστον όχι ολόκληρος, αλλά παρ’ όλ’ αυτά, αντίρροπες δυνάμεις τον διεκδικούν: The Gun και The Line. Στην πραγματικότητα, οι «The Line» δείχνουν να κερδίζουν αναπόφευκτα, καθώς επεκτείνονται καλύπτοντας με γκρίζο μέχρι πρότεινος κενές περιοχές του κόσμου ή όσες αποσπούν από τους αντιπάλους τους (The Gun), φέρνοντας μαζί τους για χάρη των τρομερών μηχανών (Angelus, Gloriana και Dryden) πρόοδο, εκβιομηχάνιση, ηλεκτρισμό, γραφειοκρατία… υποδούλωση, μαζοποίηση. Οι σαφώς πιο ρομαντικοί (αλλά και πιο σατανικοί) The Gun, είναι μοναχικοί άντρες όπως ο John Creedmoor (αλλά και οι Dandy Fanshaw, Abban the Lion, Rattlesnake Renner ) με το όπλο του (δαίμονας Maggfrid) που δεν αστοχούν και δεν ξεμένουν από σφαίρες ποτέ, κουρελιάρηδες γοητευτικοί παράνομοι, συχνά ρατσιστές αλλά πάντα διακριτοί μέσα σε πλήθος.

Μη βιαστείτε να πάρετε θέση… και οι δύο αντιπροσωπεύουν κάτι κατώτερο από ιδανικό… αλλά υπάρχει και ένας τρίτος πόλος, ξεχασμένος από καιρό, η ανάμνηση της Δημοκρατίας και ένα μυστικό και μια ελπίδα πώς ο πόλεμος θα σταματήσει (ο Στρατηγός). Πόσο από το βάρος της επιβίωσης του κόσμου θα πέσει στους ώμους του Creedmore, της Lowry (από την πλευρά των The Line) και της «Liv the Doctor»;
Ποιος είναι ο στρατηγός; Τι έχει μέσα στο κεφάλι του; Ποιος τον προστατεύει και πώς ένα μυστικό κλειδωμένο στο χαλασμένο μυαλό του θα σώσει τον κόσμο;

Ένα μοναδικό βιβλίο για τους λάτρεις του είδους (πλάκα κάνω, είναι one of a kind), πανέξυπνο, με εξαιρετικό wolrd building, υπέροχα εξωφρενικούς χαρακτήρες, το οποίο, ευτυχώς, απέκτησε και συνέχεια (The Rise Of The Ransom City).

Αν ελπίζετε να το βρείτε σε ελληνικές εκδόσεις, θα απογοητευτείτε. Ο "μικρός" για τον "Έλληνα Εκδότη" Gilman των μόλις 5 βιβλίων (ανεξάρτητα από το αν είναι διαμάντια) δεν έχει θέση στο ράφι του.

[Kirsten · Rating 5 out of 5]

The world is unfinished. Everything is very solid and normal in the East, but the farther West one travels, the more unfamiliar and changeable the world becomes. Powerful forces will stop at nothing to gain control: on the side of chaos are the Agents of the Gun, individuals whose masters are demon-haunted firearms. On the other side is The Line, a society controlled by sentient machines known as Engines. The Line moves inexorably into the West, and the Gun does what it can to impede its progress. Caught in the middle are the remnants of the Republic, a short-lived movement to bring a kind of representative democracy to the West. The Republic is scattered, and its most famous general has gone insane, and now lives in the House Dolorous, a hospital watched over by a powerful spirit. John Creedmore, an Agent of the Gun, has been tasked with recovering the general, who is rumored to hold the keys to a weapon that could destroy both the Gun and the Line. Lowry, a Linesman, has also been given the same task. And meanwhile, a young psychologist named Liv is traveling to House Dolorous in the hopes her talents may be of some use in healing those who have been scarred by the Line's mind bombs.

I ended up loving this like crazy. It's truly bizarre, and the reader is often left to his/her own devices to figure things out, but the world Gilman has created is fascinatingly weird, alien, and creepy. You could easily class this book as Steampunk, but it's very different from the steampunk novels that have become popular recently: this is not Brown Goth.

[Allisyn · Rating 3 out of 5]

The Half-Made World is one of those books that I enjoy immensely while reading but once I've finished, I realize that there are enough questions left and flaws that I'm disappointed.

The Half-Made World gives snapshots of extensive world building but when all is said and done, I don't feel that I understand the world at all. I still don't understand the motives of the Gun and the Line and I don't even have a vague idea about what the Gun does beside oppose the Line. I can tell that Gilman knows the world inside and out but he doesn't make the connection to sharing that knowledge with the reader.

Another thing that I struggled with was the characters themselves. I had a hard time relating and connecting with the characters. I often found them fascinating but there weren't any likable characters.

I did really enjoy the adventure that the characters found themselves undertaking. I loved the mix of technology and magic and how the world itself becomes a character. I thought that the pacing of the novel was excellent and it certainly kept me turning the pages.

While The Half-Made World didn't live up to my excitement, it still was an enjoyable read. It definitely feels like the set-up for another book, which I will read in the hope that it will add more detail to the world building.

[Alison · Rating 2 out of 5]

I feel like I should have a better defense of a two star review, but it's hard to muster more than a shrug for this book. A story about a war should make me want to pick a side. Or present a character or two I could root for.

The positives: the writing is solid - in particular, the descriptions of the Half Made portions of the world are cool, since the laws of physics and nature haven't been completely sorted out. The prologue was quite gripping (almost deceptively so - I feel like I was tricked out of a better book!). And I appreciate an author wanting to avoid too many exposition chapters, and not spend too much time explaining the background of the cause. But I think this veered too far in the other direction. It's hard to care about the Republic, the Gun, the Line, or the First Folk, because you barely understand their motivations and powers.

But, obviously, lots of people like this book (so many five star reviews!), so I'm in the minority. If you're looking to read a Fantasy Western, by all means, give it a shot.

[Sean · Rating 4 out of 5]

Two men race one another, each trying to be the first to capture an old crazed man. The masters of these men believe there may be a secret in the mad man's shattered mind.

Setting:
The world is quite literally half-made. People are slowly pushing west, claiming more land, guided mostly by The Line. The Line is a mass organization of men, and I do mean men as in males not humans, working for The Engines. These engines are some manner of gigantic train-like things, that were created by The Line but have, by some means, gained sentience. A rather literal instance of deus ex machina, or god from the machine, in the common tongue. They demand further expansion, thus The Line pushes further and further west.

As The Line pushes west, they are endlessly harried by the agents of The Gun. The Gun is a collective of demons loosely bound to firearms which house them in our world, hence the name. Each demon latches on to an agent, who they get to do their bidding, either willingly or by threat of some punishment called the goad. The agents of The Gun are given power by their otherworldly commanders; granted strength, speed, healing, and just in general becoming a slightly more awesome version of Rambo.

Between these warring factions, there are two more groups; the unaffiliated people who mostly want to just live their lives without being caught in the crossfire, sometimes quite literally, and The Folk. These individuals are human-esq but not exactly human. They look plenty human, if desperately in needed of a shave and some clothes to cover their always naked bodies, but they speak no known language and, more non-humanly, death doesn't seem to stick; they just get back up after a while, not any worse for the wear.

Folk come from the unmade lands West of civilization. However, do not assume “unmade” merely means these lands lack towns, roads, or railways. They do lack those things, but it's the other things they lack that are far more important. The unmade lands lack reason and order; things happen which can't, but they do anyway because the lands have not been made to heel to man's logic. Things we think of as laws of reality don't apply here. Time doesn't pass the same. The life that exists there doesn't follow any sensible evolution (or creation if you prefer).

Characters:
Liv: Liv is a psychiatrist or therapist or something roughly akin to such professions. She is also one of her own patients, having something, which in my admittedly minimal knowledge of such things, I would say it's a bit like PTSD, brought on by the violent death of her mother when she was young. At the start of the novel Liv is heading out west to House Dolores, a hospital / mental asylum, in hopes of using her knowledge to the aid of the unfortunate there, and hopefully also being able to study cases of the various forms of mental illness. One of her patients is, of course, the mad man that everyone is after.

Creedmoor: In his own words John Creedmoor describes himself as “half-heartedly a monster.” This is a rather appt discretion of the individual. For many years now the man has been an agent of The Gun, traveling, at times unwillingly, with his demon master Marmion. Creedmoor seems to enjoy violence in some manner. If I were to guess at it, I think he likes it mostly because it’s easy. When you’re in a gunfight, you shoot the other man or you die, no difficult choices need to be made, and you don’t have time for pesky things like morality to burden you down. In the moments between the gunfights, Creedmoor wonders if he really wants to be serving his demonic master. He questions the things he has done and the things he’s currently doing.

Lowry: Lowry is a man of The Line and is best described as adequate. All men of the line are adequate. None of them are exceptional because with exceptionality come pride and pride is not valued among men of The Line, quite the opposite in fact. Any Linesman considered to be too prideful, is punished for his arrogance. Even this point aside, Lowry is still best described as adequate. He’s a very average man without any significant particularities. If he does hold one trait worthy of mention, it would be his loyalty. Perhaps it stems from respect and reverence for his metal gods, or perhaps fear, but he is dead set on doing as they command and nothing will stop him.

Plot:
The third person view bounces back and forth between our three protagonists mentioned above. Liv, along with her somewhat mentally impaired friend, is heading out to the House Dolores to help people and to study ailments of the mind. She wants no part of what she's going to be caught up in. At almost the same moment, both The Gun and The Line receive information that an old crazed man at that very house is actually an old general from a now fallen former faction and may know the location of an old and powerful weapon. The weapon may just be strong enough to finally end the centuries long fight between the two factions. Both Creedmoor and Lowry are dispatched, each tasked with retrieving the insane old man so that his broken mind might be searched for whatever it could still hold. Both are well aware of their adversary and both of them, of course, are determined to get there and secure the general first.

My Thoughts:
On the whole I thought the book was quite solid.

One of my favorite things throughout the novel was watching the growth and revealing of Creedmoor’s character. As I said earlier Creedmoor is, in some part, a villain. However, he is also very much not a villain. He is often conflicted about what his demonic master demands he do, but he has little choice of his own. It was fun watching him and his master argue back and forth, particularly when he noticed he was needed and the threats of his master were all but moot.

Without a doubt the other strongest aspect of the novel is the world. Gilman has done, mostly, a very good job setting up the world. It's a strange mix of Western, steampunk, and a little fantasy, but he manages to make it all work together and none of it feels out of place. My only complaint with the world building is that there wasn't a bit more of it. There were a few things I was very curious about that were either not addressed, or were only barely addressed.

The biggest among these things is why The Gun and The Line are even fighting to begin with. There is about one line in the text in which it says The Gun was woken up by the westward pushing of The Line and based off that I guessed that The Gun presumably liked things better before The Line showed up. Thus they hate The Line and fight them; similar to how a bear might respond if you were to give it a swift kick after finding it hibernating. Aside from this guess though, there seems no apparent reason for the war, furthermore because The Gun is losing, rather badly in fact. They have been all along and they know it. They simply cannot contend with the sheer size of the legion that continues pushing west, making the whole thing seem like a futile war The Gun wages exclusively due to spite.

What is also somewhat poorly justified is the existence of the engines. Again some single line of text covers this, saying only that humans built something of such grand scale that it miraculously spawned its own consciousness and desire for continued expansion. Even allowing for this somewhat absurd reasoning, this still doesn't make sense. If my toaster suddenly began telling me to light things on fire, I wouldn't do it and I sure as heck would not continue building more toasters. Yet The Line follow the engines’ orders like a cult, doing, without question or hesitation, as they are commanded by their metal gods.

I would have liked it if there had been further explanation of the structure of The Line as well, particularly where all of the women are. Only once in the entire book (maybe twice, in not sure on the second) is a single woman mentioned to be, in any capacity, working for The Line. Even if women aren’t working for The Line, the sheer size of the force would mean that surely they have to be somewhere. The men of The Line are apparently normal humans, made in the way normal humans are made. Lowry mentions having a mother at one point and seems to understand the concept of mating plenty well enough. Yet, the number of women which must exist, on a biological level if for no other reason, to allow this number of men to exist, don’t actually seem to be anywhere. I honestly would have found the whole thing to make more sense if the engines were simply spawning the men through some mad crossing science and mysticality. It would both explain the total lack of any females to support the absurd number of men that exist, and would explain their utter devotion; it is bred into them, they are more thralls than men. But this is not the case. They are apparently normal men whose mothers exist... somewhere we never see I suppose and who are simply trained in obedience from a young age.

Another thing which does not make sense is why Lowry, and pretty much only Lowry, is chosen for the task of tracking down the general. Lowry is, more or less, a nobody, just another man of The Line demonstrating few, if any, particularly useful traits. He's not high ranking, he's not a good leader, and he's a bit of a coward. Given all of this, it seems odd that The Line would choose him as their one hope and give him only a relatively paltry sum of resources for this highly critical mission. I suppose this was perhaps necessary for anything even resembling a fair fight, but it does seem a bit odd when you take a step back.

I have some mixed feelings about the end of the book. I'm not sure I really cared for the ending but I'm also not sure how else it could have ended that I'd have liked more. Around the middle of the novel, one of the characters makes a decision which heavily impacts how things can progress from that point on. As a result of this choice, we get to see some pretty cool things that wouldn't have been able to happen otherwise, but the ending is also somewhat constrained in its options. The ending wasn't bad, just not really all that satisfying to me.

All in all, I enjoyed the novel quite a bit and despite my squabbling I would recommend it if a mix of Western, fantasy, and steampunk sounds up your alley.

[Para (wanderer)]

DNF 43%

It's not you, book, it's me.

By all means, this feels like it should have been interesting, but it just...isn't. I may return one day, but currently, I just can't get myself to push through.

I'd describe it as a western with a steampunk and slight New Weird flavour. From what I gathered, the world in the West is unformed and divided between two warring factions, between lawful evil and chaotic evil. One is the Line who represent order, technology, a highly bureaucratic society, travel with Engines, and fight with machines that can shatter a man's mind. The other is the Gun, who are highly individualistic, composed largely of lawbreakers, and fight with, well, guns. Both the Engines and the individual Guns seemed as sort of a collective identity pulling strings of humans. In the middle there used to be the Republic of the Red Valley, but now only the House Dolorous, a neutral hospital caring for those injured in war, and the mysterious, immortal Hillfolk (often enslaved and killed just because - obvious analogue much?) remain unaligned.

We follow a neurotic doctor of psychiatry on her way to the hospital, a Linesman and an Agent of the Gun - both of whom are interested in a man whose mind was shattered in the war.

And it's all well and good but the concept is more interesting in theory than it was in practice. I was intrigued, yet struggling because there was no emotional connection whatsoever. Even the worldbuilding reveals, which is usually what makes me get through such books prompted a "huh, that's...nice I guess?" instead of interest. The general structure reminded me a little of Unwrapped Sky except that the power-hungry lawful evil bureaucrat was boring instead of creepy. I was stalling more and more and giving less and less of a shit about what happens.

So I quit.

Enjoyment: 2/5
Execution: 3/5

More reviews on my blog, To Other Worlds.

[Travis Knight · Rating 5 out of 5]

Felix Gilman's novel, The Half-Made World, is one of those few books you need to see to believe. It is a once-a-decade masterpiece that should be—and I hope will be—held up as a testament to what underrated and niche genres can do when treated with thoughtful and unreserved creativity. But the question must be posed: what genre is The Half-Made World? The book declares itself as among the "New Weird," but if you've never heard of that, you're not alone. Gilman's novel has clear steampunkqualities, as well as the makings of a fantasy-western, alternative history, horror, science fiction, and a half-dozen other genres. "New Weird," therefore, seems quite apt. It indulges, teases, and rises above all of those genres, though, and settles in a precarious perch between powerful and delicate.

Gilman's cast is an excellent example of the balancing act. Populated almost entirely by villains, madmen and anti-heroes, The Half-Made World plays the line between sympathy and disgust expertly, hooking readers into even the most inhuman and twisted minds, but never staying with one long enough that the disgust overcomes the intrigue. Among those most twisted is John Creedmore, who is the vehicle for the book's wild race into the un-made lands. Creedmore is a classic anti-hero, envisioned in a dusty, crusty old cowboy-ish rogue. He carries a six-shooter named Marmion, one of the widely-feared, demonic Guns that gives Creedmore superhuman powers. Marmion and Creedmore fill the book with funny, sarcastic dialogue that recalls the best buddy-cop movies, even while Creedmore commits atrocities demanded by Marmion's kind, and they do it with flare, blatantly making fun of—and celebrating—the best tropes of westerns as a genre.

Where the Creedmore and the Gun are a clear glorification and mythologizing of the cowboy pantheon of American history, the other major force in the novel, the Line, is a similar celebration of the industrial revolution. Like the Guns, the Line is a demonic force that subjugates humans and imposes harsh, inhuman laws and regulations that serve no purpose than to forward the progress of the line. Linesman, somewhat reminiscent of Nazis in dress and manner, have become gray, shriveled, squat men that live and breathe only to serve their horrible masters, the Engines, which take the form of, you guessed it, locomotive engines

The Line is the primary source of the book's steampunkery. They use industrial-flavored clockwork weapons and machinery, including ornithopters, bombs, spying devices, motor guns, trucks, and a huge more. Their technology seems to be at about the level of our own, circa 1900, but with clearly fantastical advances. The war for the west between Gun and Line forms the foundation o f the book's conflict, which is set in a strange rendering of North America that caricatures the American obsession with manifest destiny, the worship of invention and industry, the conflict with the stalwart Native Americans (envisioned in the bizarre, mute and mystical First Folk) into an incredible and richly imagine world—the half made world.

Gilman’s realization of steampunk is at once eloquent and reserved. Gone are top hats with decorative gears and Da Vinci-style fliers made of paper and coal engines, missing are the zeppelins, the towering, twisted cities of iron and steel and bronze; he never overdoes the Line’s technology, nor the limits of Creedmore and Marmion’s superhuman roguish adventures.


Both sides want to lay claim to General Enver, the long-lost and febrile father of the crumble Red Republic. The mad general, who talks only in nonsense fairy tales, holds the secret to unearthing a supreme power that could turn the war between Gun and Line in the favor of the secrets' holder. Both sides have dispatched agents to secret the general away from the House Dolorous, a hospital at the edge of the made-world... but the Guns are as unprepared as the Engines of the Line when Creedmore pit he's out into the paradoxical, impossible lands past the edge of the Made World.

Forced along for the ride is the widowed Liv Alverhuysen, a psychiatrist from the old and ordered East. She, along with her simpleton friend Maggfrid, have made their way west in order to investigate the authenticity of the House Dolorous' miraculous healing spirit. When Creedmore kidnaps the general, Liv, trying to be a good doctor, gets in his way, and gets dragged away into the culminating conflict of a centuries long war. I'd not here that, although I've given the book high praise, Gilman has a bit of a problem with his characters; typically, in fantasy, the protagonist is the character who doesn't understand what's going on because they come from a small village and haven't had much experience with adult hood. The character is an empty vessel that learns things along with the reader; think Frodo, or Luke Skywalker. Gilman, however, doesn't have a real empty-vessel character. The closest that we come is Liv, who hails from back east, and doesn't know much about the wild wars of the west... but the problem here is that she, knows a lot about her own society, and so does Creedmore, so that information—that is, any kind of explanation or detail about the old east—is totally precluded from the novel. The reader is left without any real sense of the other side of the world, which is, much like Tolkien’s shire, kept safe and secret from the war between Line and Gun, but is still very interesting.


But that qualm aside, what follows the kidnapping at the House Dolorous is more than you can imagine, and weirder than you'd expect. You'll be pulled in and wide-eyed, and I'm sure readers will struggle with whom—if anyone—to sympathize with. Gilman's cast asks for no love from the reader, but before long you'll want to throw your lot in with one side—Gun or Line—and either way, you'll be selling your soul.

The Half-Made World has something for everyone, even if you don't expect it. Its wild, fantastic reimagining of the American west and the demonic struggle for and against manifest destiny is well worth your time, and if you don’t fall in love with Gilman’s half-made world, you’ll certainly never look at a history book the same way.The Half-Made World

[Jennifer · Rating 3 out of 5]

What stood out in The Half-Made World for me was the characters. Liv was an amazingly deep character. At face value, she's a psychologist interested in studying the minds of the mentally ill, which is interesting in itself. What makes her all the more fascinating is her backstory - everything that lead up to her treating patients. Creedmoor's non-static personality, the way he volleys back and forth trying to find himself all his life makes him interesting as well. His constant struggle against his master shows he's more than just a bad guy living a bad guys life. Lowry, as part of The Line, has a very different background than these other two main characters. His rigid upbringing and overall personality make him difficult to like, but even he seems to struggle with what is expected of him. By far, the most enigmatic character is the General, who's mind has been lost, but still holds the key to victory.

The world itself was a little confusing. I found it hard to grasp exactly how the world was half-made. It seems like the unpopulated west at first glance. As things went on, it becomes clear that part of the world is shifting, changing, trying to decide what it is going to become. This is kind of a foreign concept that I couldn't really picture. Added to that, hillfolk - faerie type people, that have the ability to come back from the dead. This addition seemed out of place, but when taking into account The Line with it's immortal engines and The Gun with it's possessed weapons, the idea of magical hillfolk don't seem too far flung.

The overall plot was interesting, but the focus on the seemingly never ending war was lost on me. War, in any form, even with fantasy aspects, is in no way my thing. The first half of the book, with Liv's departure from civilization, Creedmoor's rejoining the fold of The Gun and Lowry's rise in position with The Line, was gripping. Once the chase was on, with everyone trying to get the information locked in the general's mind, I started loosing interest. Liv, Creedmoor and the General stumbling around the undeveloped portion of the world for a huge amount of time was both confusing and dull. There was a noticeable lack of resolution at the end of the book that made me wonder what the point of the novel really was.

The Half-Made World is a long, very involved book and completely unlike anything I've ever read before. It started out fantastic, but lost me about halfway through. This book may be better for those who either have an interest in the war background of the story or those who can better imagine the half-made portion of the world than I could.

[Sonia · Rating 5 out of 5]

It took me a bit to get into this. I loved the opening chapter & the description of the General slowly losing his mind to the Line's noisebombs, and how wonderfully it presents the book and its world to the reader. Even so, the first fifth of the book, with the introductions and beginnings of the POV characters, was merely a pleasant read rather than a captivating one. Once the plot arrived at the House Dolorous, though, I was absolutely hooked and I couldn't stop reading (it took me about ten days to get through the beginning, reading in small pockets of time, but after Creedmoor and Liv arrived at the House I pretty much devoured the rest of the book in a weekend).

I'm in love with this world. It's a very fantastic setting while still sticking to the core essence of the western genre, and the struggle of Line and Gun with the Hillfolk caught in the middle (of course) was incredibly well done. I was also screaming in delight when it was shown how the Red Valley utopia had turned dystopic at the edge of the world. But I love the characters most of all. Liv really grew on me, her development was amazing to watch. I also enjoyed Lowry a lot, his anxiety at being chosen by the Engines and the way the Line is shown through his eyes. But Creedmoor was my favorite by far - he hit all my buttons (demonic possession! lost causes! everything, fuck) and I was very very glad he survived because I want to read about him betraying himself forever and ever.

I can't wait to start Rise of Ransom City :)

[Gwen · Rating 4 out of 5]

I don't understand why I enjoyed this book so much. I really did, and I don't know why. It's a steampunk fantasy western, three words which should have sent me screaming for the hills, and yet it was well written and inventive and interesting enough that I stuck with it. It's not perfect; I wish the Linesmen had been a little more humanised, outside of Lowry's moments of personal pride, I wish the Folk hadn't teetered on the edge of a Magical Native stereotype and I wish Maggrid had been less of a Hodor. But I really did enjoy this book, and its half-made world, where the unexplored frontiers are literally terra incognitas, still in the throes of being tethered to a single form (impliedly trapped as such by humanity and the demons that seek to enslave it). I loved poisonous relationship with technological demons given a literal form, the violent and unpredictable Guns which force their wielders to kill (is it the shooter to blame, or the weapon they wield?), and the vast, incomprehensible, near-omniscient Engines of the Line, merciless production lines that plough through the landscape with no care for what lay there before and what little of it will remain afterwards. All I wish for is for a true sequel; or, at least, a less cruel cliffhanger.