Scott Westerfeld’s Leviathan is wonderful. Clever, fascinating, fast-paced, and fun–and, luckily, the first in a series. A fact which makes coming to the end of the book slightly less distressing, at least we’ll get to see Deyrn, Alex, and their friends again and visit the fascinating world that Westerfeld has created: a world that has flavours of Peter Pan, Alice in Wonderland, and 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, a world where mechanized war machines trample the ground underfoot and whales can fly, an alternate history where WWI is fought with bats as well as bullets.

We begin in Austria, in the bedroom of Prince Aleksandar, a possible heir to the Austro-Hungarian Empire and a “Clanker”–part of a society that emphasizes dependence on machinery as servants of mankind. Alek’s life has been an odd mixture of privilege and disapproval, trained as a prince and yet prevented by law and custom from ever inheriting a kingdom, he is constantly on edge, aware that he should demand the recognition due to him from his heritage and equally aware that he has been declared unworthy to inherit that heritage. He has been left alone, his parents gone on a diplomatic mission, and has a mysterious night-time visit from his fencing master and his tutor, who demand he go with them and flee to Switzerland. Soon, Alek is running through the dark forest, pilot of a war machine capable of crushing whatever lies in its way.

Across a continent, Deryn Sharp is preparing for the test of her life, one that would allow her to crew a massive airship, an airship that, thanks to the advances of Darwin, is manufactured from living creatures–a teeming ecosystem that blends the strengths of a multitude of species, including mankind. Deryn’s life, like Alek’s, is a mix of soaring possibility and practical obstacles, not the least of which is the fact that her chosen career requires that she pretend to be a boy.

These two characters are destined to become favourites of readers the world over. Smart, kind, and funny, both Alex and Deryn are eminently sympathetic and gratifyingly worth the sympathy. Both have opportunity for despair and anger, and yet neither give in to it–preferring instead to be optimistic and loyal to their friends and always looking out for what is best for those around them.

They fit neatly into the fascinating world that Westerfeld has created. The world sounds, feels, and smells real; whether it is Alek’s first experience with a peasant’s market:

Steam carts rumbled down the streets, spitting hot clouds of vapor. They carried piles of coal, caged chickens screeching in chorus, and overloaded stacks of produce. Alek kept slipping on potatoes and onions that had spilled onto the cobblestones. Slabs of raw meat swung from long poles that men carried on their shoulders, and pack mules prodded Alek with their loads of sticks and firewood.

Or Deryn’s way with slang and mild invective:

As they made their way toward the airship, Deryn grumbled under her breath. It was one thing giving up her berth for a renowned boffin on a secret mission, but if some daft beastie named Tazza was going to take her place, the world had gone completely barking spiders.

Westerfeld has imagined a world that feels both fantastic and possible, both magic and mechanic, and always, always, somewhere readers would want to visit. Much of this wonder is transmitted through Deryn and Alek, whose enthusiasm for the world around them is contagious and fascinating. This is certainly the first book in a series, and as such feels more of an introduction that a stand-alone rip-roaring adventure, but it sets the stage perfectly, and its end comes far too soon, leaving the reader impatiently waiting for what may happen next.