The best steampunk books from Next Chapter [March 2023]
The steampunk book genre is a popular science fiction subgenre that combines elements of the Victorian era with advanced technology powered by steam. This genre typically features a world where steam-powered machinery is the primary source of power and communication, and the fashion and culture are influenced by the Victorian era. Steampunk books often include fantastical elements such as airships, clockwork automatons, and advanced weapons.
Steampunk books typically feature adventurous and unconventional characters who rebel against the status quo and embrace the new technology and culture of their time. These characters often find themselves in danger and must rely on their wit and ingenuity to overcome obstacles and solve problems. The steampunk genre often incorporates themes of social justice, industrialization, and the relationship between man and machine.
Some popular examples of steampunk books include "The Difference Engine" by William Gibson and Bruce Sterling, "Leviathan" by Scott Westerfeld, and "The Iron Duke" by Meljean Brook. The steampunk genre has also inspired movies, video games, and fashion trends. Whether you're a fan of science fiction, historical fiction, or fantasy, the steampunk book genre offers a unique and exciting reading experience.
On this page, you’ll find some of our best steampunk books as of March 2023. If you’re into science fiction / fantasy, we highly recommend giving this genre a try :) If you enjoy the stories on this page, please don’t forget to leave the author a review. Don’t agree with our choices? Please leave a comment and let us know your favorite!
Books featured on this page
The Kalis Experiments (Tides Book 1) by R.A. Fisher
Mother Of Wolves (Evalyce - Worldshaper Book 1) by J. Aislynn d’Merricksson
Britannia Unleashed by Richard M. Ankers
Book excerpt
It was a singular individual who stood at the forefront of the Zeppelin’s viewing deck. Arms held tight behind his dark suit, back ramrod straight, he observed the unobservable. Dawn had still not breached the horizon, and the moon had deemed not to show. It was that darkest part of the night, those minutes before sunrise, where only memories of the past linger, as the future has yet to be born.
“Look at him stood there like he owns the place,” the larger of two obese gentlemen spat, as he and another entered the opulent decor of the viewing deck. “Just because a man is dressed in Savile Row does not mean he should frequent it.”
“Is there still a Savile Row?” the other replied.
“That is not the point,” the first scowled.
“Downright disgraceful, I say!” the second spewed, hurrying to cover his lapse. “The man is a poor excuse for a Britannian. He hides away for thousands of miles then deems it appropriate to rise from his chamber without so much as a by-your-leave. I think I shall give him a piece of my mind, Jackson. Yes, that’s just what I’ll do.”
“I think you ought, Charlesworth.”
But before the two men of equally jowled corpulence could commence in their reprimanding a radiant canary of a figure arrived in their wake. “Gentlemen,” said she, inclining a bonneted head that rested in elegance upon a swanlike neck.
“Miss Grace, so good to see you,” Jackson slobbered.
“Oh, at long last, some class on deck,” blustered Charlesworth purposely loud.
“You are too kind, sirs. But might I enquire as to whom was about to incur your wrath?”
“Ah, you heard,” Jackson said sucking in his globular cheeks.
“I believe everybody heard.”
“Everybody?”
“Yes, all the guests have finished breakfasting and will soon join us.”
“Yes, well,” Charlesworth interceded, taking up the baton from his fellow Lord.
“Well,” Grace replied with such a sweet smile as for it to be impossible for either of the two noblemen to take offence.
“It’s him,” said Jackson with a dart of his eyes. He nodded his head at the man stood in silent repose at the window just in case Miss Grace had not seen his antagonist.
“What has he done?” replied Grace leaning in a little. The act let loose a lock of brunette curls that slipped against her porcelain cheek. It did not go unnoticed. Both men licked their lips in a wanton and not undisguised manner. If Grace noticed, her sparkling, emerald eyes gave nothing away.
“It’s not so much what he’s done, as the contempt shown in the not doing.”
“And what is he not doing?” Grace’s conspiratorial whisper.
“Should I have to spell it out to you, my dear?” Charlesworth sneered.
“I fear you must,” Grace spoke with a calm the man’s tone did not merit.
“Respect, dear girl.”
“Yes, respect,” parroted Jackson.
“The Britannian Empire was founded on respect. There is a natural succession to the order of things. We are Lords.”
“Yes, Lords,” agreed Jackson. But a withering glance from Charlesworth silenced his only marginally less rotund twin.
The Kalis Experiments (Tides Book 1) by R.A. Fisher
Book excerpt
Syrina sent Triglav ahead. An hour later, she followed him, thankful the spring cloud cover was thick enough to mask most of the light from the Eye. She stuck to the rooftops, relishing the feeling of the wind and the rain. She circled Lees’s building until she found a storm drain she could shimmy up, but halfway to the top, wild barking erupted across the tar-covered roof.
Dogs were usually reserved for the city watch. Only the High Merchants and a few of the aristocracy could afford the licenses for hounds and the mercenaries that used them. Lees really was at the top of the food chain. It also meant her tattoos wouldn’t be any help.
She got to the roof’s edge at the same time the dog did. It was a gray and black purebred tundra hound, judging by the size of it. Its shoulder stood almost as high as her. She’d only clambered halfway to her feet before it clamped its jaws onto her forearm and thrashed its head with a guttural snarl, tearing into muscle and snapping bone. It would’ve knocked her backward off the roof if it weren’t for its death grip.
Blood spattered her neck, and pain screamed up her arm. This already wasn’t going very well. Someone shouted, and she heard the buzz of a crossbow bolt whiz by her ear. Someone had already seen her. What a disaster. People didn’t see Kalis. Kalis didn’t even exist. Stories would spread.
There was only one thing she could do now. She rammed the flat of her left palm into the dog’s nose. It yelped and let go, but dropped back on its haunches for another lunge. Meanwhile, the shouts coming from the other side of the roof turned to screams of agony, and a commotion went up somewhere in front of her.
Before the dog could finish taking her arm off, Syrina twisted to her feet and swung her right foot out, kicking the thing in the side of the head as it charged, which sent it flying off the roof. It yelped, and after a pause, started to bark. She was glad she hadn’t hurt it. She liked dogs.
Syrina turned her attention toward the screams that came from the opposite side of the building. The man who’d shot at her was staggering around in agony, the crossbow forgotten near his feet. Triglav’s had latched his talons onto his face, the owl’s short beak buried deep in the socket where his left eye had been. Blood gushed down his face and off his chin, pattering on the roof, like rain. Triglav’s wings were silent even as he flapped them wildly, trying to hang on as the man flailed against his back.
There were red splatters all over Triglav’s white feathers, but how much blood was his and how much had come from the watchman, Syrina couldn’t tell. She sprinted over and struck the man on a nerve center at the base of his neck. He dropped and the screaming cut out, but the dog was still barking in the street. By now, anyone on the block knew something was going down at Lees’s place. So much for subtlety.
She stretched out her arm and Triglav drifted over to land on it. She checked for cuts and found none, then felt along his back where the man had beat against him. Ormo hadn’t provided a book on owl anatomy, so she couldn’t be sure, but it didn’t seem like he’d broken anything.
“Good boy.” Syrina felt like she should say something.
Triglav gave her a curious look and flapped off to circle the building. As an afterthought, she bent down and stabbed the dead man in the chest with his own knife. Might as well do what she could to make it look like a burglary, never mind the claw marks and the missing eye.
All the warehouses in the District had roof hatches. It didn’t snow often this close to the coast, but the roofs still needed to be cleared off a dozen or so times every winter. This one was locked, but there was a key in the guard’s pocket he wouldn’t need anymore.
Lees had upped his security since the visit from Silas Narn. It was a good thing he’d underestimated who was going to break into his building. Still, the dog had put her off. Her right arm hung useless, drenched in blood below the elbow. She tore a wide strip of cloth from the dead man’s shirt to bind it and grimaced at the white and red band. She’d need to set the bone later. By morning, the tattoos would do their job and sew everything back together again, even if it would be sore for the next week. Tonight though, she had a big bloody bullseye tied to her flopping, useless arm. So much for subtlety, part two.
Mother Of Wolves (Evalyce - Worldshaper Book 1) by J. Aislynn d’Merricksson
Book excerpt
Stymphalian, 10000, Above the Aeryth Ocean, Year of the Golden Hart, 2013 CE
Kalla yawned, shifting position in the gunner’s seat. She glanced out the window, smiling at the sight of Amaterasu’s graceful swooping around the ship. The wyvern had had no trouble keeping pace with the strike-ghter, even over long distances.
As they approached the outermost boundaries of Argoth’s skyspace, they were greeted by the agship Kujata, strike-fighters swarming around her like bees around a hive. Static crackled on the radio.
“This is the Imperial Flagship Kujata. Identify yourselves.”
Aleister gave her a wry look.
“So much for blending in,” he said, reaching for the radio. “This is the Stymphalian, requesting permission to enter Argosian skyspace. We have business on the mainland. The wyvern is with us!” The last was added hastily when he noticed several of the ghters were making a beeline for Amaterasu. His message must have been relayed, as they broke o and went back to circling the flagship.
“Argoth’s boundaries are closed. No one is allowed through.” The voice sounded apologetic. Kalla gestured for the radio and Aleister turned it over.
“This is Kalla kyl’Solidor, of House Solidor. I have urgent need to reach Argoth. If needed, send an escort with us, but we must reach the 25 Seeking Gasta mainland.” There was a long pause before the radio came to life again, and when it did it was no less than the Kujata’s Admiral himself.
“Lady kyl’Solidor, this is Admiral Ventaal Karlgra sson. We must acquire permission of the Phoenix before we allow you to pass. Please bring your ship into the Kujata.”
“Thank you, Admiral. We shall do so.” Kalla put the radio back as Aleister guided the ship into one of the Kujata’s numerous docking bays, passing easily through the airshield that kept the workers safe when the bay doors were open. Strike fighters of many different classes filled the bay in neat, orderly rows. The bay flagmen guided them to an empty spot and Aleister snugged the Stymphalian into place as neatly as one of the military pilots might have. The flagmen gave nods of approval.
There we have it: three new steampunk books from Next Chapter in 03/2023. We hope you enjoy the stories here - and if you do, please leave a comment below, or a review in your favorite store / Goodreads. We’d love to hear from you!
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