But woven through every chapter, paragraph and sentence, are the glittering threads of something far more extraordinary. “The Watchmaker of Filigree Street” is magical realism. Rowling and Patrick Rothfuss at school in place of dusty Dickens and tiresome T.S. In the not too distant future, children will study J.K. Personally, I find SF/Fantasy to be, most definitely, a genre worthy of more respect across the realm of literature. Although many an avid SF fan will insist that fiction is stealing the good stuff under its umbrella, while rejecting SF as an intelligent and complex genre in its own right. Magical realism is not science fiction or fantasy. That is, in my opinion, the noble and elusive hope of magical realism. Something that illuminates the story in a way that straightforward realism cannot. What does it mean? Superficially, it means a story that is grounded in what is known and human and understood, but with something extra thrown in, something mystical, something unexplained – magic.
Natasha Pulley’s story floats effortlessly on this veil of literary mystery, this effervescent, illusive (perhaps empty) phrase, magical realism. How modern it is to indulge in a bit of magic.
That’s probably all he ever would have been. Mori the Watchmaker can see all the possibilities. Strands of narrative like the strands of a spider’s web, floating in the imperceptible breeze. Possibilities that hang luminous and tempting in your foremind.
That’s the possibility that Natasha Pulley gives us. “The Watchmaker of Filigree Street” is one of those books whose resolution you desperately chase, but whose end you sincerely wish would never come. The Watchmaker of Filigree Street by Natasha Pulley
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