I am very torn about reviewing this. I'm not quite sure what to say because this book really didn't do it for me, but I don't want to deter anyone from reading this because I feel like it's a book most people--word lovers especially--will enjoy.

Frances Hardinge loves words, as much as her protagonist Mosca does, and that really shines through her prose. I love the way she writes, so much so that I want to try her other books even though this one didn't really do it for me. As you read, you just get the feeling that each and every sentence or phrase is delicately and thoughtfully crafted.

The story itself was fun, but there were times when I just couldn't stay interested. This tale really was a yarn, so it was entertaining to move from one plot twist to the next, and it kept the pages flying by. I think, for me, where I struggled with it was that there were so many layers to the story, and I kept having to stop and get the story/history/names/ideas sorted out in my head. Again, though, that seems to be just me, as countless others didn't have that problem.

I think the biggest thing for me, though was that I never felt any connection to any of the characters. I felt like I should have liked Mosca. I mean, she had pluck, she had daring, she loved words and books, and she even had a pet goose. In the end, though, I just didn't really like her. There were plenty of interesting characters (with awesome names, might I add), but I just didn't care about any of them. I felt like I could put the book down and not absolutely have to pick it back up.

But don't let my words hold you back from reading this. Like I said, I truly think most people would enjoy this. It just didn't click for me, unfortunately.