Aurelia Finch and the Lattice of Brasshaven

I came for the steampunk, stayed for the characters. Aurelia is not just competent; she’s compassionate in ways that complicate her engineering mindset. That scene where she is so careful with the tiny balance spring—there’s tenderness in the way she treats metal, as if fixing machines can be an act of love. Hara Lin’s voice is pitch-perfect: snarky, steady, quietly protective. The descriptions of the Lattice—pipes and wind-engines regulating the city’s air—are brilliantly imagined, and the corporate sabotage ties into real-world questions about infrastructure and power. If I have a complaint, it’s that the book occasionally leans heavily on exposition to explain Brasshaven’s systems, but the writing is so vivid that it never bored me. This is an excellent addition to contemporary steampunk.

I wanted to love it but came away mixed. The strengths are obvious: gorgeous sensory writing (the metal sweetness of old brass is a line I kept underlining), a likable lead, and a cool premise—the Lattice as both a city’s lifeblood and a target for sabotage. However, pacing is uneven. The middle drags with too many workshop scenes that, while charming, slow the investigation’s momentum. Also, a couple of deductions felt a bit too convenient: I wasn’t fully convinced by how easily Aurelia and her allies find certain key evidence. The corporate plot, while satisfying, tipped into predictability by the time the final act rolled around. That said, the book has heart and a lovely sense of place. Fans of slow-burn mysteries and character-driven worldbuilding will still find a lot to enjoy.

This is a frustratingly pretty book. The prose is often lyrical—the morning light through the skylight, the clocks ticking in three rhythms—yet the narrative sometimes stumbles into cliché. The "innocent father accused, plucky daughter clears his name" storyline is a trope, and while Aurelia herself is a well-drawn mechanic, the plot beats occasionally fall into expected patterns: meet quirky ally, discover corporate plot, face moral quandary, dramatic reveal. I expected more complexity in the conspiracy; motivations for the sabotage felt thin, and a couple of characters who might have offered real ambiguity were sidelined. The clockwork fox is fun, but it felt like an accessory used to deflect from weak interpersonal conflicts. Still, if you read for atmosphere and the joy of tinkering scenes, there’s a lot to like here. For me, it read like a competent story that didn’t quite surprise me.

Analytical take: the book succeeds by centering craft. The author repeatedly returns to small mechanical tasks (repairing springs, tuning aetherometers) and uses them as a lens for character and theme. Aurelia’s methodical repair work mirrors her approach to the mystery—patient, detail-oriented, unwilling to accept surface answers. Structurally, the sabotage-reveal arc is conventional but well-executed. The Lattice functions both as a literal plot device and a metaphor for interconnected systems: family reputation, corporate power, and the city’s fragile ecology. Hara Lin’s quips add necessary levity, while the clockwork fox provides a compact, nonhuman perspective that highlights the story’s engineering ethos. A few pacing lulls occur in the midsection where exposition takes time to catch up to action, but the climax restores momentum and ties thematic strands together. Solid worldbuilding and thoughtful thematic work make this worth recommending to readers who like smart adventure.

A restrained, affectionate review: this is well-crafted steampunk with patience for detail. The opener—Aurelia’s workshop, the smell of solder and burnt oil—sets tone beautifully without overdoing it. Small touches like the freckled knuckle against a tiny rasp and the aetherometer’s thin hum make the world tactile. Plotwise, the mystery of the sabotaged Lattice is paced steadily. I appreciated that the author didn’t rush straight to cliffhanger-y set pieces; instead, they let Aurelia’s mechanical competence lead to discoveries. Hara Lin’s presence provides authentic local color and lightness. The corporate conspiracy feels plausible within Brasshaven’s vertical stratification. If you prefer fast, explosive YA adventure, this may feel slightly measured. But if you like your worldbuilding methodical and your protagonists earned through skill rather than lucky coincidences, give it a go.

Short and punchy: I loved the atmosphere. Brasshaven is described with such tactile detail that it feels like a character—clanking, steaming, and perpetually on the verge of a misstep. The opening scene with the pocket altimeter made me appreciate how well the author writes craft sequences: technical but readable. There were moments I guessed the big plot points (corporate conspiracy, someone close betrays them), but the journey and the relationships were enjoyable enough that predictions didn’t spoil the ride. The clockwork fox is a smart touch—practical and charming. Would recommend to anyone who likes mechanical fantasy with personality.

I devoured this in one evening. Aurelia Finch is the kind of protagonist you want to follow into every greasy alley of Brasshaven—stubborn, brilliant, and heartbreakingly human. The scene where she sets the tiny balance spring into the pocket altimeter had me holding my breath; the description of her fingertips blackened with grease and the clocks ticking in three rhythms was sensory and intimate in a way that made the steampunk setting feel lived-in, not just painted on. I loved Hara Lin’s banter at the doorway—"You will burn that hairpin if you don't watch it, Auri"—it felt like real friendship and grounded the stakes. The Lattice as a literal network of air currents was a clever piece of worldbuilding, and the reveal about corporate sabotage felt earned because the narrative showed the city’s machinery before pulling the threads. The clockwork fox is adorable and functional (not just a cute sidekick), and the band of allies has good chemistry. My only tiny nitpick: I wanted more on the political history of Brasshaven, but honestly that’s because I wanted to stay there longer. Strong characters, crisp prose, and a plot that balances mystery with action—highly recommended for steampunk fans and anyone who likes clever, character-driven adventure.

Full-on fangirl energy here 😍. Aurelia Finch is my new heroine obsession. That passage where she’s coaxing the bent spring back into life—soobsessed!—it’s literally a love letter to makers. I could smell the burnt oil and feel the vibration from the aetherometer humming in my teeth. The prose does work that shows-not-tells thing so well. Also: the clockwork fox is the best side-character I didn’t know I needed. It’s clever, mischievous, and endearing without ever stealing Aurelia’s thunder. The alliances she forms—mechanics, seamwrights, ragtag airship pilots—felt genuine and gave the story heart. The corporate villainy was satisfyingly dastardly but not cartoonish. Only caveat: I wanted a few more scenes of Brasshaven’s upper tiers to really appreciate the class divide, but the vertical city is already so vivid. I’ll be rereading this for the imagery alone. 10/10 would ride a tram through the fog with Aurelia.

Emotional and glowing. I cried—not a lot, but a few times—because this book understands family in a quiet way. The idea of Aurelia trying to clear her father’s name against a backdrop of copper and steam feels poignantly old-fashioned and modern at once. The moment she watches the Lattice from her window and imagines those pipes like a web of lifelines gave me chills. The interactions between Aurelia and Hara are the soul of the book; the line about coaxing collars into pink rags made me laugh out loud. The corporate plot is villainous without being melodramatic, and the author resists turning allies into mere caricatures. The stakes feel personal, which makes the restoration of the city’s balance all the more satisfying. If you want an adventurous story with heart, this is it.