Adam Roberts‘ new novel starts with an intriguing premise: what if the people discovered by Lemuel Gulliver in Gulliver’s Travels had been exploited by the human race. What effect would they have had on the course of history? So we are introduced to a Europe in which, 144 years after Gulliver encountered them, the labour of Lilliputians and Blefuscudians has been enslaved and exploited by the British to dominate world trade and achieve new technological marvels of miniaturization, while peaceful giants from Brobdingnag labour in the fields. The Napoleonic wars have not happened, and Britain’s matchless superiority is reflected in her military successes over the hated French, aided by elite cavalry regiments formed by Houyhnhnms (the sapient horses encountered by Gulliver in his final voyage). There are references to flying cities too, so the full panalopy of lifeforms from Swift’s stories is represented to a greater or lesser extent.

Perhaps influenced by other recent successful mash-ups between history and fantasy, such as Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell (the Napoleonic wars with wizards) and Naomi Novik’s Temeraire series (the Napoleonic wars with dragons), my expectations of Swiftly were very much for something along those lines; however what I got was a very different novel. The central protagonist is Abraham Bates (referred to as Mister Bates so much it can only be intended as a double-entendre), who is a campaigner against the slavery of the Lilliputians (advocating instead the use of black African slaves!). It quickly becomes apparent that when the French declare an end to slavery and change the way the war is being fought that his loyalties will be divided. Bates is not exactly hero material – he is clearly suffering from depression or perhaps bipolar disorder, not to mention being sexually repressed – so the fact that he ends up working for the victorious invading French army against his own countrymen isn’t exactly a boost to his state of mind or often-fragile ego.

Leaving Bates to stew in his own juice, we are then introduced to Eleanor Burton, a young lady of the upper classes whose father is dead and whose mother has to take less than gentile measures to keep a roof over their heads. In a section of the book that is more Jane Austen than Johnathan Swift, we follow her reluctant betrothal and marriage to a wealthy nouveau riche industrialist. His money has come from exploiting Blefuscudians’ labours, but by the time the French invasion reaches London Eleanor is on her own.

Of course, fate contrives to bring Abraham and Eleanor together: he is assigned a mission to accompany the Dean of York (apparently an early adopter of cocaine) back to his home city, in company of a French secret weapon. Their journey there is eventful and unpleasant in many ways, and their time in Scarborough as ‘guests’ of the French reveals their strange relationship: Bates is, or has become, a coprophiliac, while Eleanor seems to revel in her sexual power, tormenting Bates by agreeing to marry the Dean. For me this was the slowest section of the novel, and perhaps a satire of Victorian manners and sexual morality was not quite was I was hoping for from Swiftly.

The final third of the book veers in to a wild adventure with scifi elements that would have made H.G. Wells proud – in which we learn that the differences of scale apparent between Lilliputians and men (1:12) and giants and men (12:1) are carried on further up the chain of being. Amidst considerable carnage and biological warfare, Bates plays his part in saving his fellow countrymen, redeeming himself somewhat from his earlier treacheries.

It’s manifestly the case that Swiftly is not the book I was expecting it to be. It aspires to be deeper in many ways than most genre fiction, and for the most part achieves that depth. Like Swift, Roberts explores his themes through the adventures of his characters – morality, self-worth, the chain of being and humanity’s place in it. It’s the sign of thinking writer, and it makes for an intriguing and clever book. It’s probably a sign of my own immaturity, however, that I would have liked to learn a lot more about a 19th century world where little people and giants are a fact of life, where they have working computers and floating cities and miniature flying machines; and to learn about less about Abraham Bates’ inner life. As such, I can’t shake the feeling that this was a bit of a missed opportunity.

One other thing Swiftly has achieved – it’s made me want to read Gulliver’s Travels. Roberts clearly has a lot of fantastic ideas, and I will definitely be seeking out some more of his work as well.

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