Originally posted on Just Geeking by.

The Wolves of London is one of those novels that ended up being absolutely nothing like what I expected. It crosses the borders of multiple genres and the best way I can think to describe it is similar to one of the darkest Doctor Who episodes. This isn’t that surprising considering Mark Morris has written several Doctor Who novels himself. The Wolves of London is not my usual type of novel, it’s a bit too much mystery/thriller than I like my books, however, it has a plot that catches the attention and doesn’t let go. Once I got started I had to keep reading to find out what happened next, to unravel the mysteries that just kept building on top of each other. Then time travel got into the mix and I was hooked.

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This book has some original ideas, very graphic images of horror, sympathetic characters that are grounded in a London that I recognize, a complex if rather slow-moving plot and a great narrator - yet I gave up on it three-quarters of the way through.

My ability to listen was extinguished by the heavily over-written text.

Morris' style owes a lot to early twentieth century gothic horror writers like M. R. James. Unfortunately, while this ornate, densely written style is sustainable for a short story, it become burdensome in a novel.

Morris seems to feel the need to embellish every sentence, no matter how functional or mundane. Some of his language is truly wonderful, evoking places and drawing people clearly, but it became too much for me. I felt I was hacking my way through an undergrowth of superfluous imagery to try and find the narrative.

Eventually, I lost the will to keep moving forward. Even though I will never know how the story resolved itself, my overwhelming feeling when I switched off the audiobook was not disappointment at my ignorance but relief at not having to digest any more of this over-rich diet.

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Alex Locke is a reformed ex-con, he's working on staying out of that world until he receives an offer he can't refuse and he agrees to steal an artefact, and everything goes horribly wrong, he's caught up with complicated and messy supernatural goings on and he has to try to wind his way through, stay alive, rescue his daughter and possibly save the world.

Entertaining but lacked something for me. ( )

2.5 stars





I’m not sure why, exactly, but throughout I found this book to be the definition of “OK”. possibly even “meh”



The author just seems to be trying a bit too hard, by throwing too much in and hoping something sticks. The writing style could hardly be called terse; descriptions are far from purple, but definitely fulsome, and the author has an annoying habit of beginning to draw with subtle shades and then suddenly making his point with almost cartoonishly obviousness - as though starting to build a good metaphor before ruining with a blatant comparison, just in case you missed the point.



The plot suffers similarly from too much happening - our protagonist, Alex, initially becomes embroiled in the nefarious goings on through his own rash actions (albeit for the best of motives), setting up a classically tragic scenario where all that happens can be traced back to that misstep, but then the events come so thick and fast it is all a rush. There are moments to breathe, but Morris doesn’t seem to manage any change of tone so the whole thing feels helter skelter. I couldn’t help thinking of the Man Who Was Thursday, but there the increasingly madcap ludicrousness was deliberate and, obviously, Chesterton a far better writer. And it quickly becomes apparent that even his initial involvement may have manipulated.



Even though the book ended on a cliffhanger, I think I’ll have to be running short on reading material to bother with the second installment.
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Poor Alex, who otherwise has a pretty normal life really, has daughter trouble: one has an unfortunate boyfriend, and the other gets kidnapped. Thus, book.

It's a short (ebook 212 pages, apparently) and fast read. Alex finds himself in over his head and outside his comfort zone, both at once, and to some extent, the reader is too. Morris doesn't find it necessary to explain what is going on - the reader has to figure it out, much like Alex, so the reader spends a certain amount of time thinking WTF? People who like things simple and orderly should therefore not read this book.

There is time travel, mad scientists (well, one), mad people who are not scientists (well, one) and at least one set of mysterious and powerful bad guys.

If I had to categorise this book, it would probably be some sort of cross between steampunk, horror and science fiction. Category purists need not apply. (Actually, anyone who knows much about the immune system need not apply either, unless they're willing to shut their knowledge in a locked box for the duration of the book, but, hey, it's fun - who cares?)

This is slightly less whimsical than Ben Aaronovitch's Rivers of London series, and slightly less dark than Paul Cornell's Shadow Police books. However, readers of both might well enjoy this. ( )