My attitude going into this novel was basically one of glee mixed with mild apprehension. Pterry (Pratchett) is one of my favorite authors on the entire planet, bar none, but the last collaboration he did was in the eighties, and The Long Earth was't billed as his normal snarky work. Plus, it wasn't a Discworld novel. (Protip: you should really, really read the Discworld novels. Start with The Truth.) On the other hand, the last collaboration he did was Good Omens, which is the closest I've ever seen to a genuinely perfect book. He's also the creative force behind the Science of Discworld books, which are far less tacky then they sound and taught me more about the actual theories and hypotheses behind human evolution and development than all the science classes I've ever had, put together. It's safe to say my expectations were high.
Then I actually read the book and my mind. It was blown.
The basic idea behind the story is that the multiverse is a real thing, and ten or so years into the future, humanity suddenly gains the ability to 'step' from our Earth (Datum Earth) to next-door Earths, up and down the line (East and West are the arbitrary terms used) with the assistance of a machine called the 'stepper'. It gives the world a new dimension - hence the term and the title 'Long Earth'. The rest of the story basically explores the effects the suddenly infinite amount of space has on humanity, with the main plot being told from the view of natural stepper, Joshua Valiente, who doesn't need the machine to step. There are enough subplots and sideplots that my count got muddied up, because they interweave seamlessly. There is no wasted ink - it's safe to say that whenever a character or device or trait is mentioned, it's going to come in handy later on, although usually in a completely different manner than you'd expect.
Part of what makes it so good is that it feels realistic. You read about the Earth-Firsters, the people who want to ban stepping, and you think, yeah, that would happen. You read about the Australian Aborigines gone walkabout, leaving the planet for their new ever-ever, and it's real. Nothing feels contrived; there are no Dickensian Deus ex Machinas appearing to wrap it up. When good things happen, they don't feel forced, and when bad things happen, they feel realistically tragic. The book feels natural, almost more like an artfully written historical account than a novel.
In that respect, the book reminds me of Makers, by Cory Doctorow, albeit with some steampunk influences. Really, it feels like a cross between Makers and the Foglios' Girl Genius series. Because while it is more scientific than sparky, there is still <spoiler> an airship run by and embodying a sentient A.I. </spoiler> and it is awesome.
I have one minor complaint, though. The ending, while suitably dramatic, almost feels a little abrupt. After the shattering discovery, there's just the dramatic phone call and a slam to black. It would make an amazing movie ending, with a huge orchestral score being played over the credits and the authors' names in white on a black screen, but in a novel the effect is lost a little. It feels slightly arbitrary. This might be an effect of the organic feel of the novel. There's more story left, I know it! I want to find out what happens in the aftermath of the shattering discovery! There's a sequel hook there, dammit, and I want to read the sequel now!
... I've taken a deep breath, I'm better now. The book is really, really good. Like, I-might-reread-it-this-afternoon-good, an honor that only my absolute favorite books have gotten. Because it's really really good. Read it.
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