A book consisting in various books. A book that starts in a way and ends up being something very different and stunning. Adventure, climate change, racism, migration, and so many social issues are discussed in a huge book, quite different in a way of previous McDonald´s books, but still with his touch in many ways.

Hopeland is a fierce storm of a book, a story on an epic scale - covering thousands of miles and centuries of time, and also satisfying chunky in the hand. Yet it still has plenty of space for the personal and the small. No, it is the personal and the small - used to tell a big story.

We begin in 2011 as riots engulf London. Amon Brightborne - aka Tweed Boy - a young Irish musician from a wealthy, old established family, is booked for a select gig but unable to find the address. Instead he find Raisa Peri Antares Hopeland - or perhaps she finds him. Raisa is engaged on a sort of parkour selection challenge against the shadowy Finn, the winner to receive a sought-after role in the extended Hopeland clan. Each is to cross London, one from the north, one from the south, not deviating more than 50 metres from an invisible line, the aim being to reach a certain rooftop first. And Raisa is losing - until she enlists Amon to help.

And there, at one level, you have it - like a system of three stars in motion, Raisa, Amon and Finn will weave complex, unpredictable paths through two decades and more, and their perturbations will ring down the centuries. That's the book. At another level of course we have only just begun. We will learn about the Hopelands - a chaotic, sprawling "family" ('Don't fall in love with my family!') which anybody can join, across time, space and cultures and which has its own centres, or 'hearths' everywhere, its own ways of doing things, even its own religion. We will also learn about the Brightbornes, a formidably eccentric clan whose house can't be found unless somebody shows you. Some magic there, surely, but it's matters of fact magic.

When Brightbornes encounter Hopelands, what might happen?

The setting in which that encounter takes place is a world that's increasingly restive as weather, populations and trends are increasingly disrupted by climate change. The book takes us to Iceland, to Greenland, to the Pacific kingdom of Ava'u and to points in between as humanity struggles to move into its future. I might use the term "sprawling" for this book except that might imply something less disciplined and focussed than Hopeland actually is. Better perhaps to say that McDonald is happy to set things off in one direction, then jump several years and three continents to pick up the story elsewhere, trusting the reader to make the leap with him - which I always did, not least because of the gorgeous writing and command of emotion and pace that Hopeland displays.

I'm not going to quote bits to illustrate that, I don't know where I'd even begin, you just have to read this and experience the rhythms, the lists (THE LISTS! They are nothing short of poetry!) the almost sneaky way the text comes back to the same point from different directions, the range of reference (McDonald calmly suggests that the word "Padowan" used in Star Wars lore for an apprentice may actually have been lifted from the Hopelands...) The book is like a feast and simply gives so much (my favourite section perhaps being the one where a whisky soaked and self pitying Amon, exiled in Ava'u like a figure out of Jospeh Conrad, or perhaps Graham Greene, becomes involved in political chicanery, a subplot that many writers would base a whole book around).

What else? Corporate and geopolitical shenanigans, the squabbles of gods and an element of possible fantasy or magic that is very much part of the texture of the story but kept as subsidiary theme. Again, any other author I can think of would make 'electromancers' fighting duels with Tesla coils across the rooftops, and declaring themselves the protectors of London, the centre of the story. Or else the cursed family with its own haunting spirit. Or... Instead, here those things are real and important but very far from being at the centre of things, rather they deepen and add weight to what is a glorious, complex and engaging story, one that creates an entrancing world of its own and one that it is simply a joy to visit.

And McDonald dares not to give answers to some of the mysteries here. It's just the way things are, alongside all the other marvels of Hopeland - the water driven musical engine playing its thousand year melody, for example. In short, Hopeland is a book that simply draws one in, a wonderful book full of so much. I strongly recommend it.

In narrating the story, Esther Wane wonderfully articulates the voices of a dizzying range of characters, form Amon's slightly gruff Irish English to Raisa's sassy Londonish to the Ava'uans to Greenlanders and Icelanders. The audio is magnificent.

It's the first book I read by this author and didn't know what to expect or, better, I expected a urban fantasy.
WRONG. It was a sort of shock, a dreamlike reading experience that left me breathless. This happened when reading the first chapters.
It was as intense and shocking like The City We Became and I thought I was in for a treat.
It was a treat, a different type of treat even if it's a bit too obscure at time. The language is lyrical and complex, the storytelling hypnotic.
I liked the characters but didn't love them even if I rooted for them as I followed their life.
A weird and exciting reading experience.
Recommended.
Many thanks to the publisher for this arc, all opinions are mine

Part secret history urban fantasy, part near future SF, all written in wonderful prose, how this book starts is not where it ends. It’s a picaresque novel of climate change, taking us from the South Pacific to Greenland, via a riot torn London and a sprawling Irish family estate that isn’t always there. Deep and complex, but powered by likeable and well drawn characters, it’s quite the journey, and one you will not regret taking. Has to be in the conversation when awards time comes round.

Coming off the back of Ian’s Luna Trilogy – a sort of Game of Thrones on the Moon – I was really looking forward to another complex and intelligent science fiction novel.

Hopeland is certainly that – a big story of a secret community, with an emphasis on relationships not bound by geographic boundaries or time.

As I expected, the prose is lyrical and dense, at times mimicking James Joyce in its near-stream of consciousness, referencing pop culture and complex ideas often in the same sentence. It is also wide-ranging, going from London to Polynesia and Iceland, amongst other places. It is definitely a book you need to focus on.

There are also some wonderfully invented ideas too – whether it be electromages or Euston, Ian describes things in considerable detail and with great enthusiasm. It is a well-thought-out novel. My immediate thoughts were that it reminded me of Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere in its visual descriptions and Michael Moorcock’s Dancers at the End of Time or even the character of Jerry Cornelius in its joyous enthusiasm.
For all that I can see Hopeland as perhaps being Ian’s best work – and I am sure that there will be other readers who love it – I liked it, rather than loved it. Frankly, there were times where it became a slog, where I just wanted the plot to get on with it.

Midway through I found myself intimidated by the book’s length, the dense prose, the randomness of the plot, the number of characters. I found many of the characters stubbornly unmemorable, and worse, there were times when I didn’t care what happened to them, or the situations they were in.

And for all of its detail and flair, its complexity and its widescreen vision. at the end, having read it, I doubt I will ever go back to it, even when I can see it being nominated for - and winning – future awards.

In short, I had high hopes for Hopeland, but in the end I felt strangely deflated.

But I do look forward to his next one!

I am not really sure how I feel about this book in all honesty. The premise sounded amazing and like something that would be right up my street, and in many ways it was. The writing was good and the storyline was compelling. I just found myself not gelling with any of the characters and I was confused a lot. However I did really enjoy it.

Absolute madness. Did I enjoy not knowing what was going on a lot of the time? Yup. Would I read again? Probably not. Do I have any regrets? Nope. I can't really put words to this one, much like how I felt about Gideon the Ninth, you just have to plow in and find out for yourself. It's a 3.5, purely personal, I feel like I've dulled my senses in recent weeks with a lot of easy reads and YA. If you're looking for sophisticated surrealist adult literature, this is probably a pick for you. Enjoy!