Regulator of Ether

I wanted to like this more than I did. The premise—memories turned into power by the Regulator—is intriguing, but the excerpt reads a bit familiar: a gifted artisan protagonist, a bright sibling lured away by the Syndicate, an industrial city with dirigible slips. It’s all well-written, but I kept waiting for a twist that didn’t arrive in these pages. Mira’s craftsmanship is vividly described, and there are nice lines (her hands having the memory of springs), but the emotional beats feel telegraphed. Tom’s enlistment works as an inciting incident, sure, but the excerpt leans heavily on atmosphere at the expense of momentum. I’m also skeptical about convenience: the mechanical Lark and family cipher are name-dropped as if they’ll neatly solve the puzzle. The idea of a synchronized harmonization is creepy and could be powerful, but I’d need more surprises and moral complication in later chapters to keep me engaged. For now, enjoyable but predictable.

A brisk, well-constructed beginning. The author leans on concrete sensory detail to build a believable steampunk city and a credible protagonist in Mira. The motif of measuring time by ticks is threaded nicely through the prose, and the reveal of the Regulator’s role — siphoning citizens’ memories — raises solid thematic questions about identity and exploitation. Structurally, the excerpt does what it should: establishes character, world, and inciting incident (Tom’s indenture). The mechanical Lark and the family cipher are set up as likely pivot points for the infiltration plot, which suggests clever puzzle-like plotting to come. If I have a small critique, it’s that certain phrases (e.g., ‘smell like a promise and like a threat’) verge on lyrical cliché; the voice will need to stay grounded to maintain the gritty feel. Overall, however, this is a promising hook for readers who like intelligence with their gears.

This is the kind of steampunk I didn’t know I wanted until it landed on my lap — clockwork intimacy plus dystopian creep. Mira measuring the world by ticks? Chef’s kiss. The prose is full of tactile little wonders (brass filings, thin rat-tat of gear teeth) and then — bam — you get the twist: the Regulator smells like coal and threat and eats people’s memories. Dark. I’m rooting for the mechanical Lark already. Honestly, give me any gadget with a bird motif and an old family cipher and I’m sold. The brother moment where Tom says he’s signed with the Syndicate felt like a gut-punch; it’s small but it flips everything. There’s a nice balance of melancholy and grit, and the world feels lived-in, not just ‘steampunky’ for the aesthetic of it. Can the book keep this blend of heart and invention? I hope so — I’ll be first in line to read the rest 🙂

Smart, evocative start. Regulator of Ether sets up its central conceit early — memory as fuel — and then uses a narrow, expert viewpoint (Mira the clocksmith) to explore the implications. I appreciated how the prose grounds the speculative element in mechanical specifics: escapements, balance wheels, lathe temper. Those details legitimize the steampunk setting so the reader can accept the more fantastical bits (memory-distilling Regulators, synchronized harmonization) without rolling their eyes. The narrative economy is strong: Tom’s enlistment is told in a single charged exchange that both characterizes him and provides the hinge for the plot. The excerpt also hints at the larger architecture (Syndicate, workships, dirigible slips) while staying intimate. The mechanical Lark and family cipher are tantalizing devices — they promise both ingenuity and emotional resonance. My only reservation is that the central metaphor (time, memory, machinery) risks becoming on-the-nose if not handled with subtlety in later chapters. But for now, the author’s control over tone and detail makes this a promising steampunk thriller with heart.

Stylish but a bit by-the-numbers. If you’ve read a handful of steampunk or dystopian tales you’ll recognize the beats: gifted mechanic, optimistic younger brother, sinister machine using people as resources. The prose gets points for atmosphere (the coal-smoke scent line was nice), but I found myself skimming when the author leaned into familiar metaphors about time and memory. Also — mechanical Lark? Family cipher? Cute, but feels like standard adventure shorthand: shiny gadget equals easy infiltration. I’ll give it this: the world has promise. But the excerpt doesn’t convince me the plot will dodge clichés or that the antagonists will be more than wallpaper. I might pick up the next chapter if it’s on sale.

What a gorgeous opening page. The author’s control over sensory detail is remarkable — you can almost taste the oil on Mira’s hands, feel the tick of the mantel escapement that kept her mother’s afternoons in order. That line about her hands having the memory of springs made me ache in a familiar way; it’s a small sentence that tells you everything about her competence and her grief. I also loved how everyday domesticity and industrial menace sit side-by-side. Mira’s compact workshop, hung like a throat between factory row and canal, is a brilliant image that suggests both claustrophobia and connectivity. And then there’s Tom’s ‘ticket to the sky’ — a flash of youthful hope that reads as both sweet and inevitably precarious, given the Regulator’s true purpose. The stakes feel personal (a brother seized for calibration) and systemic (a machine harmonizing an entire city’s memories). The mechanical Lark and family cipher sound like inventive, character-driven tools for infiltration, not just MacGuffins. This excerpt gave me that rare mix: lyrical prose, smart worldbuilding, and real emotional stakes. If the rest of the novel follows through on the promise of its images and the ethical questions around memory and power, it will be something special — sad, clever, and quietly furious.

I fell into this opening like you fall into a warm workshop — and I loved it. The way the author describes Mira’s fingers and the smell of brass filings immediately sold me on her world. That image of the convex window catching morning light and the little details (the pocket-chronometer, the governor wheel that whistles) are lovely, tactile worldbuilding. The scene where Tom bursts in with his “ticket to the sky” is heartbreaking in hindsight — you feel both his aching hope and Mira’s focused, skilled stillness. What hooked me most was the premise: a Regulator that distills memories into power is such a haunting idea. I’m already invested in Mira’s infiltration plan with the mechanical Lark and that family cipher — the stakes felt intimate because they’re tied to a brother and family history, not just abstract rebellion. The tone mixes steam and sorrow in just the right proportions. Can’t wait to see how the synchronized harmonization plays out and whether the Lark will be more than a handy gadget. If the rest of the book keeps up this craft-skill detail, it’ll be a real treat for steampunk fans and lovers of character-driven dystopia.

Lovely, compact opening. I admired how the story measures a life in ticks and machinery — it’s rare to find such convincing craftsmanship in small scenes. Mira’s workshop is practically a character: the smells, the filigree light, the precise motion of her hands. Tom’s excitement about the rigging is a nice counterpoint; you can hear the city in the doorframe. The central hook (memories siphoned to power) is chilling and original. I’m keen to see how the Lark functions and how the family cipher ties into the Calder history. Short, assured, and atmospheric — a strong start.