My Childhood Book: Mortal Engines

In October 2001 a good friend recommended to me a book in which ‘cities eat each other’. Being 10 years old and then addicted to Robot Wars every Friday night on BBC2, and with the fifth Harry Potter book nowhere in sight, I eagerly borrowed this novel, expecting it to be a bit of a laugh with Sir Killalot-esque engines pounding seven colours of pain into each other. Imagine my surprise when way past my bedtime two nights later I was up under my covers, the lamp surreptitiously on as I finished off Mortal Engines.

The premise of the novels is simple. The world has been ruined by the ‘Sixty Minute War’ – a nuclear winter of such sort – and to survive cities became mobile in a form of ‘Municipal Darwinism’. The bigger cities eat the smaller cities, absorbing the people and the valuable materials contained within, and so become bigger and stronger. As premises go for a novel, this is fantastic. The opening lines rank among some of the best in all children’s literature: “It was a dark blustery afternoon in spring, and the city of London was chasing a small mining town across the dried-out bed of the North Sea”.

The plot focuses on Tom, a relatively unimportant historian. Cast off from the city of London with a girl, Hester Shaw, whom minutes before he was fighting against, he embarks through the apocalyptic landscape, finding out that the City of London and its leaders were not all that they seemed, and that foes might be friends. Stalking them is Shrike, a quasi-terminator like being who was once human, but now is a machine designed to hunt down and kill prey. Travelling across fantastic landscapes, they have to return to London, as the city has developed a weapon that can be fatal to all.

The thing that amazed me about Mortal Engines was the variety of the fantastic landscapes. Reeve clearly put a lot of effort into the various places and characters. Though the characters are somewhat exaggerated and caricatures straight out of Dickens, they have a humanity that shines through, whether it’s the pirate Peavey who insists in proper manners, or Katherine, who gradually learns of her father’s darkest secrets. The plot rattles along at a fair old pace, but I remember putting the book down at times to simply wonder at the immense ideas Reeve created in a throwaway line. Ideas burst out of the page at every opportunity and rereading the book I was fascinated to find many ideas and hidden references I had missed ten years before.

Mortal Engines spawned three excellent sequels, some prequels and is now being made into a film by none other than Peter Jackson. While I was growing up the release of each new book for me was a landmark event. For sheer inventive wit, three-dimensional characters who don’t act like they’re in a horror movie and powerful bitter-sweet endings, there are few better reading options than this. In an age where children’s literature is increasingly obscured by the monumental successes, whether you think they’re good or not, of Harry Potter and Twilight, it is refreshing to find such originality still in place. If you have a little brother – or perhaps if you’re just tired of university reading – there are few better alternatives.

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