A Globusz Books discovery
Stefan Bachmann · English
Ever feel like you don’t quite fit anywhere? Imagine being half of two worlds—both of which want nothing to do with you. That’s Bartholomew Kettle’s life in The Peculiar, a dark Victorian fantasy where being different isn’t just lonely—it’s dangerous. It’s like being a misfit in a world that’s already stacked against you, only with faeries and kidnappings thrown in.
Globusz original summary
Stefan Bachmann’s The Peculiar throws you headfirst into a Victorian England that’s not quite the one you learned about in school. Instead, this world is a grim mashup of gothic shadows, steampunk gizmos, and faery folklore—except these faeries aren’t the sparkly, friendly type. At the heart of this mess is Bartholomew Kettle, a changeling boy caught between two worlds he doesn’t belong to. Half-human, half-faery, he and his sister Hettie live in the faery slums of Bath, constantly trying to stay invisible because being noticed means a one-way ticket to the gallows.
Bartholomew’s life is all about survival and keeping his sister safe, sticking to their mother’s blunt advice: "Don’t get yourself noticed and you won’t get yourself hanged." But when he witnesses a mysterious woman in a plum-colored dress snatching a changeling boy, the fragile safety net unravels. Suddenly, Bartholomew is pulled into a murky conspiracy involving the disappearance of changeling children. What follows is a tense, atmospheric journey that’s part mystery, part fantasy, and part grim social commentary.
The characters are as layered as the foggy streets they haunt. Bartholomew is not your typical heroic kid; he’s sharp, cautious, and burdened by the weight of protecting Hettie, whose faery traits make her a target. Hettie herself is more than just a damsel in distress—her uniqueness challenges the narrow definitions of identity in their world. Then there’s Arthur Jelliby, a government official who’s surprisingly more friend than foe, adding a dose of reluctant alliance to the mix. The Lady in Plum and Mr. Lickerish hover like shadows—enigmatic and menacing forces whose true motives keep you guessing.
The novel’s core conflict isn’t just about saving kidnapped kids; it’s about what it means to belong when you’re seen as an outcast by everyone. Bachmann doesn’t sugarcoat the prejudice and fear that fuel the divisions between humans and faeries. Instead, he uses the changelings’ plight to explore how societies ostracize those who don’t fit neat categories. Family loyalty is tested, courage is forced out of necessity, and the lines between good and evil blur in ways that keep you squinting.
Stylistically, The Peculiar is a slow simmer rather than a quick boil. Bachmann’s prose is dense, rich with gothic detail and steampunk flair, painting a world that feels both tangible and otherworldly. The pacing lets you linger in the eerie atmosphere, though some readers might find the descriptive passages a bit much if they’re itching for nonstop action. There’s a sharp wit beneath the gloom, though—small moments of levity that prevent the story from drowning in its own darkness.
Reading The Peculiar is like wandering through a foggy, haunted city where every alley hides a secret. For those who appreciate intricate world-building and morally complex characters, it’s a rewarding dive into a fantasy that doesn’t pretend life is anything but messy and unfair. But if you want a straightforward fairy tale with clear heroes and villains, this might feel like trudging through mud.
Ultimately, The Peculiar asks you to think about identity and acceptance in a world that’s quick to judge and slow to understand. It’s a story about fighting for your place when the odds are stacked, about the courage it takes to be different, and about the messy, complicated ties that bind families together even when the world wants to tear them apart.
Beyond the summary
The Peculiar isn’t your typical fantasy romp. It’s a slow-burn dive into what it means to be caught between worlds that don’t want you, told through a lens that’s as grim as it is imaginative. If you’re up for a story that asks tough questions about identity and belonging—without sugarcoating the messiness—this one’s worth the trek through fog and shadow. Just don’t expect easy answers or a neat wrap-up.
Before you commit
Ever feel like you don’t quite fit anywhere? Imagine being half of two worlds—both of which want nothing to do with you. That’s Bartholomew Kettle’s life in The Peculiar, a dark Victorian fantasy where being different isn’t just lonely—it’s dangerous. It’s like being a misfit in a world that’s already stacked against you, only with faeries and kidnappings thrown in.
Explores how characters struggle to define themselves amid societal rejection and prejudice.
Shows how fear of the unknown breeds cruelty and division between humans and faeries.
Highlights the complexities and sacrifices involved in protecting loved ones in a hostile world.
Challenges simple notions of good and evil through complex characters and uncertain motives.
Uses gothic and steampunk elements to create a mood that influences the story’s tone and tension.
Bartholomew and Hettie’s status as changelings puts them in a limbo where neither humans nor faeries fully accept them. The novel explores how identity isn’t just about who you are inside but also how society labels and confines you. It’s a reminder that belonging often means navigating hostile spaces and challenging rigid categories.
The story doesn’t shy away from showing how fear of the ‘other’ fuels cruelty and injustice. Both humans and faeries harbor suspicion and hatred toward changelings, creating a toxic environment where survival depends on invisibility and silence. This theme resonates beyond fantasy, reflecting real-world social divisions.
At its core, The Peculiar is about the lengths one will go to protect family. Bartholomew’s fierce determination to save Hettie and others highlights how family bonds can be both a source of strength and vulnerability in a hostile world.
The novel resists simple moral binaries. Characters like the Lady in Plum and Mr. Lickerish are shrouded in ambiguity, forcing readers to question motives and alliances. This complexity mirrors real life, where people and situations rarely fit neatly into ‘good’ or ‘bad’ boxes.
The gothic and steampunk-infused setting isn’t just a backdrop—it shapes the mood and drives the story. Bachmann’s detailed descriptions create a world that’s oppressive, mysterious, and alive, pulling readers deep into the shadows of Victorian Bath.
As you read, pay attention to how characters are boxed in by others’ perceptions. Reflect on how this mirrors real-life experiences of exclusion and the struggle to define yourself beyond imposed labels.
The Peculiar doesn’t hand you clear heroes or villains. Try to sit with the ambiguity and question your instinct to categorize people quickly—both in fiction and reality.
Notice how Bachmann’s detailed descriptions build tension and atmosphere. Think about how setting can become almost a character itself, influencing how you feel about the story.
Observe how family loyalty motivates characters’ actions and how it complicates their choices. Consider your own experiences with family and the messy, complicated ties that bind.
The novel’s dark themes and slow pacing might not be for everyone, but leaning into discomfort can deepen your appreciation for stories that tackle difficult issues with nuance.
The Peculiar isn’t your typical fantasy romp. It’s a slow-burn dive into what it means to be caught between worlds that don’t want you, told through a lens that’s as grim as it is imaginative. If you’re up for a story that asks tough questions about identity and belonging—without sugarcoating the messiness—this one’s worth the trek through fog and shadow. Just don’t expect easy answers or a neat wrap-up.
Where to go next
These recommendations serve different purposes: stay with the author, follow the closest idea, find an easier entry, go deeper, or deliberately change perspective.
Strong overlap in themes, life-impact signals, mood, or the questions the books raise.
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This summary can only sketch the outlines of The Peculiar’s dense, atmospheric world and its complex characters. The full novel immerses you in the foggy streets of Victorian Bath, where every detail—from the clank of steampunk contraptions to the whispered fears of changeling children—adds depth and texture. Bachmann’s prose, witty yet somber, invites you to linger in the shadows and unravel mysteries alongside Bartholomew.
Beyond the plot, the book rewards readers willing to wrestle with ambiguous morality and uncomfortable social truths. The full story’s pacing and layered storytelling create a mood that’s hard to capture in a summary. It’s a book that sticks with you, not because it hands you answers, but because it makes you question the world’s easy divisions and the cost of being ‘peculiar.’