The Undertick

Technically astute and atmospheric — that’s the immediate takeaway. The author uses acoustic imagery as a kind of forensic tool: the gear’s reluctance suggesting a swept street, a bird’s song revealing children at play. It’s a clever narrative strategy that makes Eli’s trade more than window dressing; it’s her method of detection. The watch’s irregular cadence is a compact, eerie clue that promises layered reveals: mechanical faults, trapped memories, or something more supernatural. If you’re into mysteries with slow-burn reveals and tactile detail — ledgers, lantern-lit rooms, a clock tower that 'watches' — this will likely satisfy. My one small worry is pacing beyond the excerpt: the prose luxuriates in atmosphere, and I hope the plot propulsion matches the lovely language.

As someone who loves procedural detail, The Undertick hooked me from the first line. The author’s ear for sound — escapements, the bell across the square, the kettle’s hum — does the heavy lifting of worldbuilding here. The pocket chronometer that has a second voice is a brilliant device: it’s both literal evidence and metaphor for the town’s hidden cadences. I appreciated the hint of mystery — the missing student, the ledgers, the lantern-lit rooms — and how Eli’s skill set (listening to gears, reading a town by ear) maps neatly onto the investigative arc. If the rest of the book keeps this balance of craft and atmosphere, it’ll be a standout in urban mystery. Tight plotting from here would make it unforgettable.

Short and to the point: this excerpt nails mood. The description of the irregular cadence — 'a second voice in the mechanism' — was spine-tingling. Eli’s relationship to her craft, the domestic street noises, and the watch choosing to be both obedient and broken all add up to something quietly uncanny. Looking forward to more of the investigation and the ledgers mentioned in the blurb.

Concise, evocative, and quietly clever. The voice is the highlight for me — that comparison of keeping time to keeping soil felt exactly right. Small sensory details (boiled leather, the honey bar of light) ground the more uncanny image of a watch that wants to be two things at once. I like that Eli isn’t a flashy detective; she listens. The undertick turned the ordinary into the eerie in one line. Short but very promising.

What a gorgeously lived-in opening. The Undertick reads like a slow, absorbing listen: you’re not rushed through clues, you are taught how to hear them. Eli’s workshop above a bookbinder and under the old clock tower is exactly the kind of setting that will become a character in its own right. The author’s metaphors — the chronometer that might hold a season in its tick, Mira ducking into doorway like a bird into rain — are small but vivid, and they build an uncanny, maritime feeling that’s both cozy and unsettling. The undertick as 'a second voice' and the line 'a watch could not be two things at once; it was either obedient or broken. This one was choosing to be both' made me sit up and imagine the watch whispering secrets at night. I also liked the hint of ledger research and lantern-lit rooms — it promises an investigation that will be as much about piecing together quiet human histories as it is about solving a crime. This is a lovely, character-driven mystery with a sensory heart. I’m invested in Eli and the town already. 🙂

Pretty prose but too atmospheric for my taste. There’s a lot of listening and smelling and feeling, which is nice, but I wanted more of the missing student’s urgency in the excerpt. The plot hook — a watch that hides speaking echoes — sounds cool on the blurb, yet here it’s teased rather than exploited. If this is aiming for slow-burn literary mystery, fine, but if you want a tighter, clue-driven whodunit, this may feel indulgent. Not convinced the 'undertick' will sustain a full-length mystery without clearer stakes.

Enjoyed this a lot! The little domestic bits (Mira’s warm buns, kettle humming, the lane accepting noise 'like an old neighbor') give the mystery real texture. Eli as a quiet, listening heroine is a bit of a trope but done well — I’m on board with someone who can coax secrets out of brass and oil. The undertick felt like a shiver down my spine: whispering watches? Yes please. The tagline 'the bell keeps more than time' is on point. I’m grinning at the idea of ledgers and lanterns — give me cozy clues and melancholy clock towers any day. Can’t wait to see how the missing student thread pays off. 😉

I wanted to like this more than I did. The atmosphere is well-done — the town by ear, Mira’s buns, the bell watching like a slow eye — but the mystery beats here feel familiar. A young artisan discovers a secret watch and suddenly she’s the town’s sleuth? The missing student feels like a trope used to kick off the plot rather than a developed crisis. The prose sometimes leans into purple patches where a clearer clue would help; and the idea of a mechanism that 'speaks' needs firmer rules, or it risks becoming a vague magic trick. There's promise, but I hope the rest tightens up the plotting and consequences.

I finished this excerpt with the sort of satisfied ache you only get from a really well-made comfort mystery. Eli is a character I want to follow around town: the way she treats clocks like gardens, the kettle humming downstairs and Mira handing up warm buns — those domestic touches make the stakes feel intimate. The undertick itself is deliciously eerie, that second cadence under the main tick that becomes “footsteps beyond a wall.” I love that the bell literally keeps more than time; it’s a neat, haunting premise. The prose is precise and listenable, and I can already feel the lantern-lit rooms and ledgers unfolding. Can’t wait to see Eli pull secrets from metal and bring them to daylight.

There’s a patient intelligence to this writing that I really appreciated. The town is constructed through sound — bells, escapements, carts — and that makes the setting feel like a listening character. Eli’s knack for reading a town 'by ear' is a clever twist on detective skills; she’s not a swooping genius so much as someone who notices slow, small things. I loved the tactile detail of winding the chronometer and feeling 'the familiar give of brass as if a secret had acknowledged her touch.' The undertick as a whispering, insistent second cadence creates an eerie promise, and the image of footsteps beyond a wall gave me chills. The story excerpt does a great job setting mood and stakes: missing student, ledgers, lantern-lit rooms, and a pocket watch that may hold more than time. It’s atmospheric without being precious, and the female-led perspective is handled with warmth and subtlety. I’m invested in Eli’s quiet investigation and eager to see how the town’s sounds map onto motive and memory.