Aetherwork: The Wells of Brasshaven

Genuinely fun ride 🚀. This hits the sweet spot of YA steampunk: inventive gadgets, a plucky protagonist, and a mystery that matters. Scenes that stuck with me: Eira tinkering at dawn with springs the size of soup bowls, Pip’s wounded jaw snapping at the latch, and the Wells pulsing that soft blue heartbeat. The market calls — “Tin clamps! Genuine rivet!” — made me grin every time. Pacing skews brisk, which suits younger readers but doesn't skimp on the emotional beats when the city's trust is at risk. I hope the sequel leans into more airship chases — there’s clearly room for bigger sky-set pieces. For now, solid, clever, and heartfelt.

Look, I love clockwork foxes as much as the next steampunk nerd, but this one left me annoyed. The prose gets lofty—"morning came like a hand through steam"—and then sandbags the plot with clichés. Mechanical animals, stubborn captains, aging professors: fine, but they feel recycled rather than fresh. The Wells themselves are a cool visual, but the mechanism behind the aether siphoning is never explained in a satisfying way. Are we supposed to accept magic gears? The moral panic about city lights also resolves a little too neatly. I enjoyed the quirky vendor lines and the little set pieces (Pip biting an intruder is a fun image), but overall it skates on charm without giving the world or the mystery the depth they deserve. Maybe for younger readers this will click better; for seasoned steampunk fans, it might feel thin.

I fell in love with Brasshaven on the very first page. That opening line — "morning came to Brasshaven it arrived like a hand through steam" — is pure atmosphere and immediately put me in the city. Eira is a wonderful protagonist: practical, scarred (that lathe bite detail felt so real), and stubborn in the best way. I adored the little domestic touches too — the lemon-ash soap, aeropoached eggs vendor, and the clockwork fox Pip with its single wound. The Wells are described with such tactile, pulsing imagery that I could almost feel the blue heartbeat through the page. The stakes feel earned: siphoning aether from the city's Wells is a brilliant conceit, and the mixture of invention, friendship (Eira and Pip! the key she made for Mara), and civic responsibility gives the story heart. The captain and aging professor provide great counterpoints to Eira's energy, and the clockwork companions are charming without being twee. This is steampunk that cares about community — and about how people learn to keep their lights bright. Highly recommend for teens and adults who love thoughtful adventure.

Solid concept, uneven execution. The setting is the best part: platforms drifting on thermic currents, a market full of aeropoached eggs, and those Wells that pulse with a blue heartbeat — all great imagery. Eira herself is likable and tactile; the lathe scar and her habit of humming her father's tune are nice touches. However, the middle act drags. The investigation into the Wells' theft feels repetitive, with several scenes that seem to retread the same ground rather than escalate tension. Also, some supporting characters are underused. The aging professor is introduced as if he has a reservoir of secrets, but we only get hints. The captain’s stubbornness needs a clearer origin to make their clashes meaningful. Language occasionally tilts purple and slows the momentum. If the book is pared down and the investigation tightened, the premise could really sing. As is, it's a promising but flawed effort.

Beautifully engineered worldbuilding and a solid hook. Aetherwork: The Wells of Brasshaven opens with sensory prose that sets tone and place immediately — you can actually hear the Foundry hammers and smell the kettle smoke. Eira is well-drawn through action rather than exposition: the way she slides down from her shelf, ties a rag around a glass cylinder, polishes a telescope lens — these are character beats that show who she is. Plot-wise the theft of aether from the Wells is compelling because it affects the entire city; the political stakes (reforging civic trust) elevate the conflict beyond a personal vendetta. The trio dynamic — mechanic, stubborn captain, aging professor — recalls classic adventure teams but each gets moments to shine (I especially liked the scene where Pip snarls its alarm at an intruder). If you enjoy mechanics-based problem solving, inventive contraptions, and civic mysteries set against airships and drifting platforms, this delivers. Tight, thoughtful YA steampunk.

Aetherwork is the kind of book that sets a scene and then trusts you enough to inhabit it. The author's descriptions are tactile — steam that feels like a hand, the pulse of the Wells, and the claustrophobic comfort of a workbench filled with varied springs. Eira's relationship with her tools and with Pip, the clockwork fox, is especially well-portrayed; small moments (her humming her father's tune while tuning a pocket rectifier, the brass key she made for Mara Kest) reveal a lived-in history. Narratively, the aether-siphoning scheme makes for a satisfying mystery: it ties into civic life, affects ordinary vendors and airship crews, and thus raises meaningful stakes. Secondary characters — the stubborn captain and the aging professor — are drawn as useful foils who complicate rather than just help Eira, which keeps the interpersonal drama interesting. If you like smart, character-driven steampunk that balances invention with heart, this is recommended.

I wanted to like this more than I did. The worldbuilding is terrific — Brasshaven feels lived-in, and the imagery (the Wells pulsing blue, the market vendors) is evocative — but the core plot about siphoning aether quickly slides into predictability. From the moment the Wells are introduced as a ticking heartbeat, it’s not hard to guess where the story is going: a corrupt siphon, exposed by a plucky mechanic, leading to a rousing civic fix. That arc is satisfying in a comfort-food way, but it leans heavily on familiar YA tropes. Pacing is uneven. The opening chapters sparkle, but the middle slows under repeated expository scenes where characters explain what we already suspect. Some characters (the aging professor in particular) are sketched with interesting traits but not fully utilized; I kept waiting for a reveal that never really landed. Still, if you want excellent atmosphere and a few clever gadget scenes, it’s worth a read — just don’t expect too many surprises.

Short and sweet: I loved the prose. The similes are on point (airships yawing like sleeping whales is a standout), and the small domestic details — the brass key for Mara Kest, the clockwork fox FENN & PIPE sign — give the setting weight. Eira's hands-on approach to life feels authentic, and I appreciated that the story treats the idea of siphoning aether as both a mystery and a civic crisis. The only thing I wanted more of was the captain’s backstory sooner, but that's a small quibble. Great read for a rainy afternoon.