Hail the New Age by Mike Chinn

Book Review

Ben Unsworth

Given the popularity of the murder mystery genre, it is always nice to see a new spin on it; one of the latest of these comes in the form of Mike Chinn’s ‘Hail the New Age’. Set in a world where the fantastical and technological have been clashing in civil war, the Ramini Republic has emerged, most of the magical Chrysomancers have been weakened, and distrust prevails. But the herald of the new technological dawn is the Novandik, a train whose inaugural coast-to-coast journey is beset by spanners in the works, of which a wizard determined to end the Novandik’s journey and many a backstabbing, metaphorical or otherwise, are just the start.

The Ramini Republic manifests like a serrated version of a Studio Ghibli universe, vibrant and with the steampunk-ish mix of societies coming across smoothly and without delay. However, whereas Studio Ghibli leans more into the world of dragons, capes, and breathtaking vistas, Chinn’s universe is a drastic step in the other direction. The protagonist, Wilonek Scili, a not-wizard but with wizard training and an addiction to a drug called “chavet”, finds himself being beaten up at every turn as he tries to stop the Novandik from being sabotaged. Less the Hercule Poirot figure, his role as detective feels more like an involuntary manoeuvre since the whole affair is styled less like Agatha Christie’s MURDER ON THE ORIENT EXPRESS and more like Eugenio Martin’s HORROR EXPRESS – you can picture Telly Savalas playing many of the grumpy, affronted characters in a film adaptation. 

Although Chinn’s prose is attuned more to action than description, the fantasy realm bleeds off the page in a no-holds-barred sort of way, and for readers who naturally go towards the crime or horror sections of the bookstore, it’s a nice segue into a fantasy universe. And yet, for all its vibrancy, there’s a deathly sense of chill running through everything; the characters opposite Scili all possess the kind of internecine causticity you’d expect from a disgruntled werewolf, and lieutenant commander. Batrix aboard the Novandik embodies that. Although Batrix functions as quite a nice metaphor for non-binary or gender-fluid people, being a heteromorph who flicks between genders on a semi-regular basis, they’re also impossibly distrusting, and you can’t help except imagine their many speeches prefaced by a scowl and an angry hiss.

As a murder mystery, though, it does keep you on your toes, and the action sequences, some of which do involve fantastical beasts, never detract from that, even though they’re the overriding aspect. Not to say some of the surprises you can’t see coming, but there are also enough there which feel fresh and distinctive to keep you turning the pages. Ultimately, it leaves each genre time to stand on its own and make its mark; however, as a mix of the two, its smorgasbord of gritty fantasia achieves something greater, both breathtaking and savage, with to-the-point prose. For what seems like a very unassuming novel, the almost romantic sense of bitterness is very much at the fore, and as you turn the pages – because, don’t worry, you will feel compelled to do so – its crisp sense of humanity, or perhaps inhumanity, knows how to beat you down. Reading this is a fabulous way to spend a few hours.