Bloodtide (Puffin Teenage Books)

Set in a frighteningly realistic ravaged London in the near future, Burgess uses the Icelandic Volsunga saga as inspiration for his plot. Two warring families of ganglords appear united by the marriage of Signy Volson to Conor--head of the opposing family. However, Conor's treachery results not in the long-expected truce but the decimation of the Volson family. Only Signy and her hideously disfigured brother Siggy survive the culling, kept apart by circumstance but united in their hate for Conor. They are intent on revenge--no matter how long it takes--or at what cost.

Burgess has delivered a book of two halves.

The first is a taut, psychological challenge between brother and sister. As Conor consolidates his hold over the capital, Siggy slowly regains his energy, his identity and will to live. Signy, crippled and imprisoned, with only a shape-changing cat for company, spends her teenage youth playing mindgames with the new King of London, preparing for the moment when she might strike a blow for the oppressed population and the memory of her family. It's gripping, gutsy, bloody and purposeful. The shifting viewpoints offer real insight into these two battered minds and all those they infect with their plight.

The second half of the novel is long and ambitious. The vast timescale means that some events are skipped over very quickly and the payoff takes a long time to arrive.

Bloodtide is a long book, nearly 400 pages, and it is doubtful whether or not it is a children's book at all--the characters, settings, colourful language and plots are adult in almost every way. But the book is undeniably addictive, and difficult to give up once it pulls you in. It's a worthy addition to Burgess' short catalogue of fine novels. (Age 12 and over) --John McLay

Bloodtide is utterly terrifyingly addictively readable and not a little shocking. I take my hat off repeatedly but also am somewhat mazed by the idea that any writer (even one as unflinching as Burgess clearly is) should think of the bloody and despoiling Icelandic sagas and find in them the inspiration for a children's book. Well - Burgess did and more power to him - as it springboards him into the most breathtaking showpiece. Bloodtide pecks vulture-like at almost every element of human emotion and gnaws wolf-hound style at the moral dimensions thrown onto the book's exceptionally violent battle ground. As you'd expect of a post-apocalyptic saga blood lust, ambition, greed, lies lay much of humanity to waste. A certain frisson is added by a bit of matricide here, some incest there, cloning, genetic engineering, oh you name it - but also some ill-fated trust and love.

Burgess plays with his characters - some mutant by dint of scientific tinkering, others mutated by simple human inhumanity - in an appropriately god-like fashion. And he plays his readers expertly too.

In short: I was gripped, sickened and exhilerated by bloodtide and think Burgess to be one of the most impressive writers I've encountered this year. I am positively jealous of his skill.