How Many Pages Does 'A Marvellous Light' Have?

I recently stumbled upon 'A Marvellous Light' while browsing fantasy novels, and it quickly became one of my favorites. The author is Freya Marske, an Australian writer known for her lush prose and intricate world-building. Marske's background in poetry shines through in her lyrical descriptions, especially in how she blends Edwardian-era aesthetics with magic. Her debut novel 'A Marvellous Light' stands out for its queer romance woven into a magical mystery, a refreshing take in the fantasy genre. If you enjoy historical fantasy with a dash of romance, this is a must-read. Check out her other works if you're hooked—they share that same enchanting quality.

I grabbed 'A Marvellous Light' from Amazon last month—super quick delivery and the hardcover was pristine. If you prefer digital, Kindle has it for instant download, and the formatting is clean. For collectors, check Book Depository; they often have special editions with sprayed edges or signed copies. Local indie bookstores sometimes stock it too, though you might need to call ahead. I’ve seen it pop up on eBay for decent prices, but watch out for markup. The audiobook version on Audible is fantastic if you’re into narration—the voice actor nails the Edwardian vibe perfectly.

I just finished reading 'A Marvellous Light' and was thrilled to discover it's the first book in 'The Last Binding' trilogy. The story introduces us to Robin Blyth and Edwin Courcey in a magical Edwardian England filled with secret societies and dangerous enchantments. The way Freya Marske writes makes you feel like you're right there in the story, solving magical puzzles alongside the characters. The second book 'A Restless Truth' shifts focus to Robin's sister, while the third 'A Power Unbound' returns to our favorite duo. Each book builds on the same magical system but explores different aspects of this fascinating world. If you love historical fantasy with queer romance and intricate magic systems, this series is perfect for your next binge read.

I just finished binge-reading 'A Marvellous Light', and it's a fantastic blend of historical fantasy and romance. Set in an alternate Edwardian England, it follows a clueless bureaucrat thrown into a hidden world of magic and mystery. The magical system feels fresh—spells are tied to physical objects, and the bureaucracy of magic is hilariously bureaucratic. There's also a slow-burn romance between the two male leads that adds emotional depth. Fans of 'The Watchmaker of Filigree Street' would love this. If you enjoy period pieces with a magical twist and queer relationships, this is your jam. The pacing is brisk, and the world-building is immersive without being overwhelming.

Absolutely, 'A Marvellous Light' weaves romance into its magical mystery beautifully. The chemistry between Edwin and Robin is electric from their first awkward encounter. It’s not just about stolen glances—their bond deepens through shared danger and vulnerability. The slow burn is masterful, with tension simmering beneath witty banter and reluctant teamwork. By the time they admit their feelings, it feels earned, not rushed. The romance complements the plot without overshadowing the magical intrigue. Their relationship adds emotional stakes to the high-stakes magical conflict, making the resolution more satisfying. If you enjoy romance that grows naturally alongside the main plot, this delivers in spades.

George's marvellous medicine in 'George's Marvellous Medicine' is a chaotic, hilarious concoction born from a kid's rebellious imagination and a kitchen raid that would give any adult a heart attack. The recipe isn’t something you’d find in a lab—it’s pure childlike anarchy. George starts with a base of ordinary shampoo, but then he throws in everything but the kitchen sink. Picture this: toothpaste squeezed straight from the tube, a random assortment of spices from the cupboard (including curry powder, because why not?), floor polish, engine oil, and even flea powder meant for the dog. The beauty of it is how Roald Dahl captures that unchecked creativity kids have when no one’s watching. George doesn’t measure; he dumps, stirs, and lets curiosity guide him. The result is a bubbling, fizzing, ominously colored potion that looks like it could either cure the common cold or melt through steel. What makes the scene so iconic is how George’s improvisation mirrors the book’s theme—questioning authority and embracing chaos. His grandmother, the grumpy old woman who dismisses him, becomes the unwitting test subject for this explosive mix. The medicine doesn’t just grow her hair; it sends her shooting through the roof like a human rocket. Dahl’s genius is in showing how ordinary household items, when combined with zero rules, can become something extraordinary. The ‘marvellous’ part isn’t about precision; it’s about the wild, unpredictable magic of experimenting without limits. And let’s be honest, half the fun is imagining the horrified faces of adults if they ever found out what went into that pot.

Reading Roald Dahl's 'George's Marvellous Medicine' as a kid left me equal parts horrified and delighted when Grandma gets her comeuppance. That cranky old woman spends the whole story berating George, demanding her medicine like a tyrant, and generally being a nightmare to live with. So when George concocts his chaotic brew—mixing everything from shampoo to brown paint—the results are explosively satisfying. After gulping down the 'medicine,' Grandma doesn’t just grow a little; she shoots up like a human skyscraper, bursting through the roof of the farmhouse. The image of her towering over the countryside, screeching about her shriveled legs, is pure Dahl madness. But the chaos doesn’t stop there. She eventually shrinks down, not to her original size, but to something impossibly tiny—smaller than a mouse. The last we see of her, she’s stuck in a chicken coop, her once thunderous voice now a squeak. It’s a grotesque, hilarious end for a character who thrived on being monstrous. The beauty of Dahl’s storytelling is how he turns revenge into a carnival of absurdity. Grandma’s fate isn’t just punishment; it’s a metamorphosis. She goes from a human terror to a literal giant, then to a speck—almost as if her cruelty evaporates along with her size. The book never moralizes, though. There’s no 'lesson' about respecting elders; instead, it revels in the anarchy of childhood imagination. George’s experiment isn’t framed as wicked—it’s inventive, a rebellion against boredom and oppression. And Grandma? She becomes folklore. You can picture farmers years later whispering about the day a woman pierced the clouds, or kids poking at the coop wondering if that faint squeak is really her. Dahl leaves her fate open-ended, but the implication is clear: some bullies shrink under their own weight. The fact that George’s parents barely react to her disappearance says everything. She wasn’t just diminished physically; she’d already shrunk in their hearts.

Roald Dahl's 'George's Marvellous Medicine' is a wild ride that teaches kids some surprisingly deep lessons while keeping them laughing. The most obvious takeaway is about the consequences of reckless experimentation - George mixes everything under the kitchen sink into his "medicine" without thinking about the potential dangers. This leads to his grandma growing to enormous sizes and nearly destroying the farm. It's a great way to show children that actions have consequences, especially when you don't fully understand what you're doing. Beyond the surface-level cautionary tale, there's a brilliant underlying message about challenging authority. George's grandma is absolutely horrible to him, constantly belittling and bullying him. The story subtly encourages kids to stand up against unfair treatment, even from adults, though it cleverly shows that rebellion should be thoughtful rather than destructive. The book also celebrates creativity and resourcefulness - George's ability to improvise and think outside the box gets him out of trouble in the end. What makes this book special is how it balances these serious lessons with pure, chaotic fun. The exaggerated consequences teach kids about responsibility without ever feeling preachy. The outrageous transformations and over-the-top reactions keep young readers engaged while still absorbing the underlying messages about careful experimentation, standing up for yourself, and using your imagination wisely.