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Fevre Dream: A Novel Mass Market Paperback – April 24, 2012
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A THRILLING REINVENTION OF THE VAMPIRE NOVEL BY THE MASTER OF MODERN FANTASY, GEORGE R. R. MARTIN
Abner Marsh, a struggling riverboat captain, suspects that something’s amiss when he is approached by a wealthy aristocrat with a lucrative offer. The hauntingly pale, steely-eyed Joshua York doesn’t care that the icy winter of 1857 has wiped out all but one of Marsh’s dilapidated fleet; nor does he care that he won’t earn back his investment in a decade. York’s reasons for traversing the powerful Mississippi are to be none of Marsh’s concern—no matter how bizarre, arbitrary, or capricious York’s actions may prove. Not until the maiden voyage of Fevre Dream does Marsh realize that he has joined a mission both more sinister, and perhaps more noble, than his most fantastic nightmare—and humankind’s most impossible dream.
- Print length480 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherRandom House Worlds
- Publication dateApril 24, 2012
- Dimensions4.1 x 1.02 x 6.9 inches
- ISBN-10055357793X
- ISBN-13978-0553577938
From #1 New York Times bestselling author Colleen Hoover comes a novel that explores life after tragedy and the enduring spirit of love. | Learn more
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Editorial Reviews
Review
“An adventure into the heart of darkness that transcends even the most inventive vampire novels . . . Fevre Dream runs red with original, high adventure.”—Los Angeles Herald Examiner
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About the Author
George R. R. Martin is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of many novels, including the acclaimed series A Song of Ice and Fire—A Game of Thrones, A Clash of Kings, A Storm of Swords, A Feast for Crows, and A Dance with Dragons—as well as Tuf Voyaging, Fevre Dream, The Armageddon Rag, Dying of the Light, Windhaven (with Lisa Tuttle), and Dreamsongs Volumes I and II. He is also the creator of The Lands of Ice and Fire, a collection of maps from A Song of Ice and Fire featuring original artwork from illustrator and cartographer Jonathan Roberts, and The World of Ice & Fire (with Elio M. García, Jr., and Linda Antonsson). As a writer-producer, Martin has worked on The Twilight Zone, Beauty and the Beast, and various feature films and pilots that were never made. He lives with the lovely Parris in Santa Fe, New Mexico.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
St. Louis, April 1857 Abner Marsh rapped the head of his hickory walking stick smartly on the hotel desk to get the clerk’s attention. “I’m here to see a man named York,” he said. “Josh York, I believe he calls hisself. You got such a man here?”
The clerk was an elderly man with spectacles. He jumped at the sound of the rap, then turned and spied Marsh and smiled. “Why, it’s Cap’n Marsh,” he said amiably. “Ain’t seen you for half a year, Cap’n. Heard about your misfortune, though. Terrible, just terrible. I been here since ’36 and I never seen no ice jam like that one.”
“Never you mind about that,” Abner Marsh said, annoyed. He had anticipated such comments. The Planters’ House was a popular hostelry among steamboatmen. Marsh himself had dined there regularly before that cruel winter. But since the ice jam he’d been staying away, and not only because of the prices. Much as he liked Planters’ House food, he was not eager for its brand of company: pilots and captains and mates, rivermen all, old friends and old rivals, and all of them knowing his misfortune. Abner Marsh wanted no man’s pity. “You just say where York’s room is,” he told the clerk peremptorily.
The clerk bobbed his head nervously. “Mister York won’t be in his room, Cap’n. You’ll find him in the dining room, taking his meal.”
“Now? At this hour?” Marsh glanced at the ornate hotel clock, then loosed the brass buttons of his coat and pulled out his own gold pocket watch. “Ten past midnight,” he said, incredulous. “You say he’s eatin’?”
“Yes sir, that he is. He chooses his own times, Mister York, and he’s not the sort you say no to, Cap’n.”
Abner Marsh made a rude noise deep in his throat, pocketed his watch, and turned away without a word, setting off across the richly appointed lobby with long, heavy strides. He was a big man, and not a patient one, and he was not accustomed to business meetings at midnight. He carried his walking stick with a flourish, as if he had never had a misfortune, and was still the man he had been.
The dining room was almost as grand and lavish as the main saloon on a big steamer, with cut-glass chandeliers and polished brass fixtures and tables covered with fine white linen and the best china and crystal. During normal hours, the tables would have been full of travelers and steamboatmen, but now the room was empty, most of the lights extinguished. Perhaps there was something to be said for midnight meetings after all, Marsh reflected; at least he would have to suffer no condolences. Near the kitchen door, two Negro waiters were talking softly. Marsh ignored them and walked to the far side of the room, where a well-dressed stranger was dining alone.
The man must have heard him approach, but he did not look up. He was busy spooning up mock turtle soup from a china bowl. The cut of his long black coat made it clear he was no riverman; an Easterner then, or maybe even a foreigner. He was big, Marsh saw, though not near so big as Marsh; seated, he gave the impression of height, but he had none of Marsh’s girth. At first Marsh thought him an old man, for his hair was white. Then, when he came closer, he saw that it was not white at all, but a very pale blond, and suddenly the stranger took on an almost boyish aspect. York was clean-shaven, not a mustache nor side whiskers on his long, cool face, and his skin was as fair as his hair. He had hands like a woman, Marsh thought as he stood over the table.
He tapped on the table with his stick. The cloth muffled the sound, made it a gentle summons. “You Josh York?” he said.
York looked up, and their eyes met.
Till the rest of his days were done, Abner Marsh remembered that moment, that first look into the eyes of Joshua York. Whatever thoughts he had had, whatever plans he had made, were sucked up in the maelstrom of York’s eyes. Boy and old man and dandy and foreigner, all those were gone in an instant, and there was only York, the man himself, the power of him, the dream, the intensity.
York’s eyes were gray, startlingly dark in such a pale face. His pupils were pinpoints, burning black, and they reached right into Marsh and weighed the soul inside him. The gray around them seemed alive, moving, like fog on the river on a dark night, when the banks vanish and the lights vanish and there is nothing in the world but your boat and the river and the fog. In those mists, Abner Marsh saw things; visions swift-glimpsed and then gone. There was a cool intelligence peering out of those mists. But there was a beast as well, dark and frightening, chained and angry, raging at the fog. Laughter and loneliness and cruel passion; York had all of that in his eyes.
But mostly there was force in those eyes, terrible force, a strength as relentless and merciless as the ice that had crushed Marsh’s dreams. Somewhere in that fog, Marsh could sense the ice moving, slow, so slow, and he could hear the awful splintering of his boats and all his hopes.
Abner Marsh had stared down many a man in his day, and he held his gaze for the longest time, his hand closed so hard around his stick that he feared he would snap it in two. But at last he looked away.
The man at the table pushed away his soup, gestured, and said, “Captain Marsh. I have been expecting you. Please join me.” His voice was mellow, educated, easy.
“Yes,” Marsh said, too softly. He pulled out the chair across from York and eased himself into it. Marsh was a massive man, six foot tall and three hundred pounds heavy. He had a red face and a full black beard that he wore to cover up a flat, pushed-in nose and a faceful of warts, but even the whiskers didn’t help much; they called him the ugliest man on the river, and he knew it. In his heavy blue captain’s coat with its double row of brass buttons, he was a fierce and imposing figure. But York’s eyes had drained him of his bluster. The man was a fanatic, Marsh decided. He had seen eyes like that before, in madmen and hell-raising preachers and once in the face of the man called John Brown, down in bleeding Kansas. Marsh wanted nothing to do with fanatics, with preachers, and abolitionists and temperance people.
But when York spoke, he did not sound like a fanatic. “My name is Joshua Anton York, Captain. J. A. York in business, Joshua to my friends. I hope that we shall be both business associates and friends, in time.” His tone was cordial and reasonable.
“We’ll see about that,” Marsh said, uncertain. The gray eyes across from him seemed aloof and vaguely amused now; whatever he had seen in them was gone. He felt confused.
“I trust you received my letter?”
“I got it right here,” Marsh said, pulling the folded envelope from the pocket of his coat. The offer had seemed an impossible stroke of fortune when it arrived, salvation for everything he feared lost. Now he was not so sure. “You want to go into the steamboat business, do you?” he said, leaning forward.
A waiter appeared. “Will you be dining with Mister York, Cap’n?”
“Please do,” York urged.
“I believe I will,” Marsh said. York might be able to outstare him, but there was no man on the river could outeat him. “I’ll have some of that soup, and a dozen oysters, and a couple of roast chickens with taters and stuff. Crisp ’em up good, mind you. And something to wash it all down with. What are you drinking, York?”
“Burgundy.”
“Fine, fetch me a bottle of the same.”
York looked amused. “You have a formidable appetite, Captain.”
“This is a for-mid-a-bul town,” Marsh said carefully, “and a formid-a-bul river, Mister York. Man’s got to keep his strength up. This ain’t New York, nor London neither.”
“I’m quite aware of that,” York said.
“Well, I hope so, if you’re going into steamboatin’. It’s the for-mid-a-bullest thing of all.”
“Shall we go directly to business, then? You own a packet line. I wish to buy a half-interest. Since you are here, I take it you are interested in my offer.”
“I’m considerable interested,” Marsh agreed, “and considerable puzzled, too. You look like a smart man. I reckon you checked me out before you wrote me this here letter.” He tapped it with his finger. “You ought to know that this last winter just about ruined me.
York said nothing, but something in his face bid Marsh continue.
“The Fevre River Packet Company, that’s me,” Marsh went on. “Called it that on account of where I was born, up on the Fevre near Galena, not ’cause I only worked that river, since I didn’t. I had six boats, working mostly the upper Mississippi trade, St. Louis to St. Paul, with some trips up the Fevre and the Illinois and the Missouri. I was doing just fine, adding a new boat or two most every year, thinking of moving into the Ohio trade, or maybe even New Orleans. But last July my Mary Clarke blew a boiler and burned, up near to Dubuque, burned right to the water line with a hundred dead. And this winter—this was a terrible winter. I had four of my boats wintering here at St. Louis. The Nicholas Perrot, the Dunleith, the Sweet Fevre, and my Elizabeth A., brand new, only four months in service and a sweet boat too, near 300 feet long with 12 big boilers, fast as any steamboat on the river. I was real proud of my lady Liz. She cost me $200,000, but she was worth every penny of it.” The soup arrived. Marsh tasted a spoonful and scowled. “Too hot,” he said. “Well, anyway, St. Louis is a good place to winter. Don’t freeze too bad down here, nor too long. This winter was different, though. Yes, sir. Ice jam. Damn river froze hard.” Marsh extended a huge red hand across the table, palm up, and slowly closed his fingers into a fist. “Put an egg in there and you get the idea, York. Ice can crush a steamboat easier than I can crush an egg. When it breaks up it’s even worse, big gorges sliding down the river, smashing up wharfs, levees, boats, most everything. Winter’s end, I’d lost my boats, all four of ’em. The ice took ’em away from me.”
“Insurance?” York asked.
Marsh set to his soup, sucking it up noisily. In between spoons, he shook his head. “I’m not a gambling man, Mister York. I never took no stock in insurance. It’s gambling, all it is, ’cept you’re bettin’ against yourself. What money I made, I put into my boats.”
York nodded. “I believe you still own one steamboat.”
“That I do,” Marsh said. He finished his soup and signaled for the next course. “The Eli Reynolds, a little 150-ton stern-wheeler. I been using her on the Illinois, ’cause she don’t draw much, and she wintered in Peoria, missed the worse of the ice. That’s my asset, sir, that’s what I got left. Trouble is, Mister York, the Eli Reynolds ain’t worth much. She only cost me $25,000 new, and that was back in ’50.”
“Seven years,” York said. “Not a very long time.”
Marsh shook his head. “Seven years is a powerful long time for a steamboat,” he said. “Most of ’em don’t last but four or five. River just eats ’em up. The Eli Reynolds was better built than most, but still, she ain’t got that long left.” Marsh started in on his oysters, scooping them up on the half shell and swallowing them whole, washing each one down with a healthy gulp of wine. “So I’m puzzled, Mister York,” he continued after a half-dozen oysters had disappeared. “You want to buy a half-share in my line, which ain’t got but one small, old boat. Your letter named a price. Too high a price. Maybe when I had six boats, then Fevre River Packets was worth that much. But not now.” He gulped down another oyster. “You won’t earn back your investment in ten years, not with the Reynolds. She can’t take enough freight, nor passengers neither.” Marsh wiped his lips on his napkin, and regarded the stranger across the table. The food had restored him, and now he felt like his own self again, in command of the situation. York’s eyes were intense, to be sure, but there was nothing there to fear.
“You need my money, Captain,” York said. “Why are you telling me this? Aren’t you afraid I will find another partner?”
“I don’t work that way,” Marsh said. “Been on the river thirty years, York. Rafted down to New Orleans when I was just a boy, and worked flatboats and keelboats both before steamers. I been a pilot and a mate and a striker, even a mud clerk. Been everything there is to be in this business, but one thing I never been, and that’s a sharper.”
“An honest man,” York said, with just enough of an edge in his voice so Marsh could not be sure if he was being mocked. “I am glad you saw fit to tell me the condition of your company, Captain. I knew it already, to be sure. My offer stands.”
“Why?” Marsh demanded gruffly. “Only a fool throws away money. You don’t look like no fool.”
The food arrived before York could answer. Marsh’s chickens were crisped up beautifully, just the way he liked them. He sawed off a leg and started in hungrily. York was served a thick cut of roasted beef, red and rare, swimming in blood and juice. Marsh watched him attack it, deftly, easily. His knife slid through the meat as if it were butter, never pausing to hack or saw, as Marsh so often did. He handled his fork like a gentleman, shifting hands when he set down his knife. Strength and grace; York had both in those long, pale hands of his, and Marsh admired that. He wondered that he had ever thought them a woman’s hands. They were white but strong, hard like the white of the keys of the grand piano in the main cabin of the Eclipse.
“Well?” Marsh prompted. “You ain’t answered my question.”
Joshua York paused for a moment. Finally he said, “You have been honest with me, Captain Marsh. I will not repay your honesty with lies, as I had intended. But I will not burden you with the truth, either. There are things I cannot tell you, things you would not care to know. Let me put my terms to you, under these conditions, and see if we can come to an agreement. If not, we shall part amiably.”
Marsh hacked the breast off his second chicken. “Go on,” he said. “I ain’t leaving.”
York put down his knife and fork and made a steeple of his fingers.
“For my own reasons, I want to be master of a steamboat. I want to travel the length of this great river, in comfort and privacy, not as passenger but as captain. I have a dream, a purpose. I seek friends and allies, and I have enemies, many enemies. The details are none of your concern. If you press me about them, I will tell you lies. Do not press me.” His eyes grew hard a moment, then softened as he smiled. “Your only interest need be my desire to own and command a steamboat, Captain. As you can tell, I am no riverman. I know nothing of steamboats, or the Mississippi, beyond what I have read in a few books and learned during the weeks I have spent in St. Louis. Obviously, I need an associate, someone who is familiar with the river and river people, someone who can manage the day-to-day operations of my boat, and leave me free to pursue my own purposes.
“This associate must have other qualities as well. He must be discreet, as I do not wish to have my behavior—which I admit to be sometimes peculiar—become the talk of the levee. He must be trustworthy, since I will give all management over into his hands. He must have courage. I do not want a weakling, or a superstitious man, or one who is overly religious. Are you a religious man, Captain?”
“No,” said Marsh. “Never cared for bible-thumpers, nor them for me.”
York smiled. “Pragmatic. I want a pragmatic man. I want a man who will concentrate on his own part of the business, and not ask too many questions of me. I value my privacy, and if sometimes my actions seem strange or arbitrary or capricious, I do not want them challenged. Do you understand my requirements?”
Marsh tugged thoughtfully on his beard. “And if I do?”
“We will become partners,” York said. “Let your lawyers and your clerks run your line. You will travel with me on the river. I will serve as captain. You can call yourself pilot, mate, co-captain, whatever you choose. The actual running of the boat I will leave to you. My orders will be infrequent, but when I do command, you will see to it that I am obeyed without question. I have friends who will travel with us, cabin passage, at no cost. I may see fit to give them positions on the boat, with such duties as I may deem fitting. You will not question these decisions. I may acquire other friends along the river, and bring them aboard as well. You will welcome them. If you can abide by such terms, Captain Marsh, we shall grow rich together and travel your river in ease and luxury.”
Abner Marsh laughed. “Well, maybe. But it ain’t my river, Mister York, and if you think we’re going to travel in luxury on the old Eli Reynolds, you’re going to be awful sore when you come on board. She’s a rackety old tub with some pretty poor accommodations, and most times she’s full of foreigners taking deck passage to one unlikely place or the other. I ain’t been on her in two years—old Cap’n Yoerger runs her for me now—but last time I rode her, she smelled pretty bad. You want luxury, you ought to see about buying into the Eclipse or the John Simonds.”
Joshua York sipped at his wine, and smiled. “I did not have the Eli Reynolds in mind, Captain Marsh.”
“She’s the only boat I got.”
York set down his wine. “Come,” he said, “let us settle up here. We can proceed up to my room, and discuss matters further.”
Marsh made a weak protest—the Planters’ House offered an excellent dessert menu, and he hated to pass it up. York insisted, however.
York’s room was a large, well-appointed suite, the best the hotel had to offer, and usually reserved for rich planters up from New Orleans. “Sit,” York said commandingly, gesturing Marsh to a large, comfortable chair in the sitting room. Marsh sat, while his host went into an inner chamber and returned a moment later, bearing a small iron-bound chest. He set it on a table and began to work the lock. “Come here,” he said, but Marsh had already risen to stand behind him. York threw back the lid.
“Gold,” Marsh said softly. He reached out and touched the coins, running them through his fingers, savoring the feel of the soft yellow metal, the gleam and the clatter of it. One coin he brought to his mouth and tasted. “Real enough,” he said, spitting. He chunked the coin back in the chest.
“Ten thousand dollars in twenty-dollar gold coins,” York said. “I have two other chests just like it, and letters of credit from banks in London, Philadelphia, and Rome for sums considerably larger. Accept my offer, Captain Marsh, and you shall have a second boat, one far grander than your Eli Reynolds. Or perhaps I should say that we shall have a second boat.” He smiled.
Abner Marsh had meant to turn down York’s offer. He needed the money bad enough, but he was a suspicious man with no use for mysteries, and York asked him to take too much on faith. The offer had sounded too good; Marsh was certain that danger lay hidden somewhere, and he would be the worse for it if he accepted. But now, staring at the color of York’s wealth, he felt his resolve weakening. “A new boat, you say?” he said weakly.
“Yes,” York replied, “and that is over and above the price I would pay you for a half-interest in your packet line.”
“How much . . .” Marsh began. His lips were dry. He licked them nervously. “How much are you willin’ to spend to build this new boat, Mister York?”
“How much is required?” York asked quietly.
Marsh took up a handful of gold coins, then let them rattle through his fingers back into the chest. The gleam of them, he thought, but all he said was, “You oughtn’t carry this much about with you, York. There’s scoundrels would kill you for one of them coins.”
“I can protect myself, Captain,” York said. Marsh saw the look in his eyes and felt cold. He pitied the robber who tried to take Joshua York’s gold.
“Will you take a walk with me? On the levee?”
“You haven’t given me my answer, Captain.”
“You’ll get your answer. Come first. Got something I want you to see.”
“Very well,” York said. He closed the lid of the chest, and the soft yellow gleam faded from the room, which suddenly seemed close and dim.
The night air was cool and moist. Their boots sent up echoes as they walked the dark, deserted streets, York with a limber grace and Marsh with heavy authority. York wore a loose pilot’s coat cut like a cape, and a tall old beaver hat that cast long shadows in the light of the half-moon. Marsh glared at the dark alleys between the bleak brick warehouses, and tried to present an aspect of solid, scowling strength sufficient to scare off ruffians.
The levee was crowded with steamboats, at least forty of them tied up to landing posts and wharfboats. Even at this hour all was not quiet. Huge stacks of freight threw black shadows in the moonlight, and they passed roustabouts lounging against crates and bales of hay, passing a bottle from hand to hand or smoking their cob pipes. Lights still burned in the cabin windows of a dozen or more boats. The Missouri packet Wyandotte was lit and building steam. They spied a man standing high up on the texas deck of one big side-wheel packet, looking down at them curiously. Abner Marsh led York past him, past the procession of darkened, silent steamers, their tall chimneys etched against the stars like a row of blackened trees with strange flowers on their tops.
Finally he stopped before a great ornate side-wheeler, freight piled high on her main deck, her stage raised against unwanted intruders as she nuzzled against her weathered old wharfboat. Even in the dimness of the half-moon the splendor of her was clear. No steamer on the levee was quite so big and proud.
“Yes?” Joshua York said quietly, respectfully. That might have decided it right there, Marsh thought later—the respect in his voice.
“That’s the Eclipse,” Marsh said. “See, her name is on the wheelhouse, there.” He jabbed with his stick. “Can you read it?”
“Quite well. I have excellent night vision. This is a special boat, then?”
“Hell yes, she’s special. She’s the Eclipse. Every goddamned man and boy on this river knows her. Old now—she was built back in ’52, five years ago. But she’s still grand. Cost $375,000, so they say, and worth all of it. There ain’t never been a bigger, fancier, more formid-a-bul boat than this one right here. I’ve studied her, taken passage on her. I know.” Marsh pointed. “She measures 365 feet by 40, and her grand saloon is 330 feet long, and you never seen nothin’ like it. Got a gold statue of Henry Clay at one end, and Andy Jackson at the other, the two of ’em glaring at each other the whole damn way. More crystal and silver and colored glass than the Planters’ House ever dreamed of, oil paintings, food like you ain’t never tasted, and mirrors—such mirrors. And all that’s nothin’ to her speed.
“Down below on the main deck she carries 15 boilers. Got an 11-foot stroke, I tell you, and there ain’t a boat on any river can run with her when Cap’n Sturgeon gets up her steam. She’s done eighteen miles an hour upstream, easy. Back in ’53, she set the record from New Orleans to Louisville. I know her time by heart. Four days, nine hours, thirty minutes, and she beat the goddamned A. L. Shotwell by fifty minutes, fast as the Shotwell is.” Marsh rounded to face York. “I hoped my Lady Liz would take the Eclipse some day, beat her time or race her head to head, but she never could of done it, I know that now. I was just foolin’ myself. I didn’t have the money it takes to build a boat that can take the Eclipse.
“You give me that money, Mister York, and you’ve got yourself a partner. There’s your answer, sir. You want half of Fevre River Packets, and a partner who runs things quiet and don’t ask you no questions ‘bout your business? Fine. Then you give me the money to build a steamboat like that.”
Joshua York stared at the big side-wheeler, serene and silent in the darkness, floating easily on the water, ready for all challengers. He turned to Abner Marsh with a smile on his lips and a dim flame in his dark eyes. “Done,” was all he said. And he extended his hand.
Marsh broke into a crooked, snaggle-toothed grin, wrapped York’s slim white hand within his own meaty paw, and squeezed. “Done, then,” he said loudly, and he brought all his massive strength to bear, squeezing and crushing, as he always did in business, to test the will and the courage of the men he dealt with. He squeezed until he saw the pain in their eyes.
But York’s eyes stayed clear, and his own hand clenched hard around Marsh’s with a strength that was surprising. Tighter and tighter it squeezed, and the muscles beneath that pale flesh coiled and corded like springs of iron, and Marsh swallowed hard and tried not to cry out.
York released his hand. “Come,” he said, clapping Marsh solidly across the shoulders and staggering him a bit. “We have plans to make.”
Product details
- Publisher : Random House Worlds; Reprint edition (April 24, 2012)
- Language : English
- Mass Market Paperback : 480 pages
- ISBN-10 : 055357793X
- ISBN-13 : 978-0553577938
- Item Weight : 2.31 pounds
- Dimensions : 4.1 x 1.02 x 6.9 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #36,248 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #49 in Vampire Horror
- #943 in Fantasy Action & Adventure
- #1,191 in Paranormal Fantasy Books
- Customer Reviews:
About the author

George R.R. Martin is the globally bestselling author of many fine novels, including A Game of Thrones, A Clash of Kings, A Storm of Swords, A Feast for Crows, and A Dance with Dragons, which together make up the series A Song of Ice and Fire, on which HBO based the world’s most-watched television series, Game of Thrones. Other works set in or about Westeros include The World of Ice and Fire, and A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms. His science fiction novella Nightflyers has also been adapted as a television series; and he is the creator of the shared-world Wild Cards universe, working with the finest writers in the genre. He lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico.
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Customers praise this thrilling vampire tale for its well-crafted narrative with twists and turns, and appreciate its beautifully atmospheric world. The book features wonderful, mysterious characters with voice changes throughout, and customers find the writing and pacing highly engaging. While some customers find it fast-paced, others mention it starts a little slow.
AI-generated from the text of customer reviews
Customers enjoy the story quality of the book, describing it as a thrilling vampire tale with twists and turns, and one customer notes how it blends history with fiction.
"...His characters come to life and give this rather simple story the impact and reach to achieve a full 5-stars on my sometimes-too-generous rating..." Read more
"...I am quite happy I did. I liked the fact that he handles the vampire society differently than the more typical...." Read more
"...about the book, just read and get taken on one of the greatest stories ever written!" Read more
"...The setting and atmosphere is well done. The place feel real, full of history and edgy. The time frame also felt deep and real...." Read more
Customers find the book highly readable, describing it as thoroughly enjoyable, interesting, and a must-read, with one customer noting it's a perfect vampire beach read.
"...FEVRE DREAM is definitely an enjoyable book for casual reading. Martin is a master of his art...." Read more
"...Glorious in her newness and Abner's perfect paddle boat. Bigger, more beautiful and faster than anything on the water...." Read more
"...This was a hard decision between 2 and 3 stars. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't good, either...." Read more
"...As such, it is a masterpiece. Vivid, it really takes you there. As a vampire novel, it is a fresh and interesting take on a vampire lore...." Read more
Customers appreciate the character development in the book, noting the wonderful and mysterious personalities, with one customer highlighting how they can feel the internal and external struggles of each character.
"...His characters come to life and give this rather simple story the impact and reach to achieve a full 5-stars on my sometimes-too-generous rating..." Read more
"...they are nonetheless fabulous characters that will never fall into oblivion...." Read more
"...The Good: The characters were all well drawn which is to be expected from Martin...." Read more
"In typical George R. R. Martin style, his characters are well written, diverse, and three-dimensional. They have depth and personality...." Read more
Customers praise the writing quality of the book, finding it amazing and enjoyable to read, with one customer noting the impressive phonetics and another highlighting the strong character development of the riverboat folk.
"...Bathed in blood though it was. Well written and fast paced, Martin has done a great job...." Read more
"...The wordsmithing, of course, is one of Martin's great strengths...." Read more
"...I generously give this 2 stars because it's an easy read, and, unlike a certain famous mega-novel by Martin, it has a beginning, a middle and an end...." Read more
"...There are long flashbacks and again they are clumsy. The writing is good but could have been more polished and greater attention, in my opinion..." Read more
Customers praise the book's pacing, describing it as well-crafted and highly believable.
"...Bathed in blood though it was. Well written and fast paced, Martin has done a great job...." Read more
"...So, with that being said, this is solid. I'm sure it's not quite as action packed and "epic" as Ice and Fire, but it is quite a good vampire book...." Read more
"...It’s such a well-crafted, clever book. It made me appreciate Martin, the writer, a lot more...." Read more
"...The plot is solid; the pacing, while at times slow, is still strong as well. The wordsmithing, of course, is one of Martin's great strengths...." Read more
Customers find the book insightful and engrossing, with one customer noting its thorough research and another appreciating its unique approach to storytelling.
"...It is an unusual idea and one of the reasons I liked this book! Such a different outlook...." Read more
"...Overall, good story and unique approach, but loses steam towards the end." Read more
"...development of the characters is very important and very valuable in these complex scenarios. Not your usual vampire novel...." Read more
"...(surprise, different topic, different time period, different planet etc)...." Read more
Customers appreciate the atmosphere of the book, describing it as a beautifully atmospheric world with a perfect setting.
"...It didn't. The setting and atmosphere is well done. The place feel real, full of history and edgy. The time frame also felt deep and real...." Read more
"One of the main assets of this book is its setting: never heard of a vampire story set on a steamer along the Mississipi...." Read more
"...The setting is perfect, the Mississippi River during the steamboat era... New Orleans. The descriptions are less clinical, and much more 'sensory'...." Read more
"...The setting was wonderful also. He was able to make it very creepy while vividly describing the lower mississippi...." Read more
Customers have mixed opinions about the pace of the book, with some finding it fast and quick to read, while others note that it started out slow and seemed overly rushed.
"...n't like is the vampire Joshua that was all too human and not quick enough to take action, he took too many chances when it his time to act and did..." Read more
"...Bigger, more beautiful and faster than anything on the water. This was his bribe to partner with Joshua...." Read more
"...Seemed a little rushed in the final fourth, but in the interest of this remaining a stand alone novel, I feel like it was handled well...." Read more
"...In short, this is an excellent read. At points, it may seem slow, it may seem to be meandering back and forth lazily, just like the Mississippi..." Read more
Reviews with images
UNFORGETTABLE
Top reviews from the United States
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- Reviewed in the United States on April 3, 2014Like so many others, I was first attracted to Martin's novels because of A Song of Ice and Fire, and after finishing that series, decided to look into some of his other works. FEVRE DREAM is the first I've tried, and I am completely impressed. Martin's style always evokes strong emotion and his ability to bring unique and powerful characters to life is unparalleled. FEVRE DREAM would have to be called a "vampire book", though the style and plot stray from the more common gothic romances of the genre. This stand-alone novel reads more like a historical fiction, being set in the mid-1800's along the Mississippi river and mostly focusing on the booming steam boat river trade.
Abner Marsh and Joshua York are the characters that carry this story, a pair of unlikely partners on a history-defining journey. Marsh and York's excellent adventure along the Old Muddy and centers around each's most intimate desire. In the case of Abner Marsh, he dreams of captaining the grandest and fastest steam boat to ply the Mississippi trade. Fame and fortune are his driving forces, though by mid-book he's shifted his focus to the more practical aim of surviving the vampire politics he finds himself enmeshed in. Joshua York, on the other hand, considers himself a sort of Vampire King that will lead his dwindling species into a more peaceful and open future. He is an ideologue who's task (and instinctual drive for killing and feeding on humans) may be too much to conquer. Especially when the more entrenched powers within vampire society would rather things not change so drastically.
FEVRE DREAM is definitely an enjoyable book for casual reading. Martin is a master of his art. He keeps the story moving at a comfortable pace with plenty of emotional stimulation all along. His characters come to life and give this rather simple story the impact and reach to achieve a full 5-stars on my sometimes-too-generous rating scale. Highly recommended.
- Reviewed in the United States on March 18, 2013I wanted to try some of George R.R . Martin's earlier works because I had just finished the last "Game of Thrones" book and was curious to see what his earlier books were like. I was a bit leary of reading "Fevre Dreams" as it a Vampire Novel . I did enjoy many of the early ones that became movies and that the reading world got so caught up in but I had had enough. I thought I might as well go one more time to this particular well. I am quite happy I did. I liked the fact that he handles the vampire society differently than the more typical. Yes, their is a lot of "bad" vampires in it.. you know, the "black Hats" but also there is a vampire who is trying very hard to make the world of the vampire easier to get along with for the typical human. He feels that human and vampire are different branches of the same tree. He has spent a great deal of his life on creating a drink that will keep the race of vampires from getting the "Blood Fever" ever again. He wants them ,as a race, to live on the earth with their own people. Developing a self supporting colony and avoiding the fight between the humans and his "people". It is an unusual idea and one of the reasons I liked this book! Such a different outlook. Your two main characters are multifaceted and interesting in their details. Joshua York is our white hatted vampire and his wonderfully written, "diamond in the rough", partner is a human by the name of Abner Marsh. The villain in the "black hat" read black heart here... Is Damon Julian. Oh and I almost forgot another written large "character" who is very much front and center, the side paddle boat "Fevre Dream". Glorious in her newness and Abner's perfect paddle boat. Bigger, more beautiful and faster than anything on the water. This was his bribe to partner with Joshua. These two people, human and not so human developed a true partnership in every sense of the word lasting for years on and off the river. Bathed in blood though it was. Well written and fast paced, Martin has done a great job. The end is pushing it a bit but the epilogue is pretty cool. So I was glad I put aside my predjuice of vampires for a moment or so.
- Reviewed in the United States on April 18, 2025Don't look up anything about the book, just read and get taken on one of the greatest stories ever written!
- Reviewed in the United States on October 30, 2022This is the first George R. R. Martin books I've read. I've not even seen any of his tv series. This was a hard decision between 2 and 3 stars. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't good, either.
I was always struck by Anne Rice's "Interview with the Vampire", (not so much her others) and was hoping this would pull me in as well. It didn't.
The setting and atmosphere is well done. The place feel real, full of history and edgy. The time frame also felt deep and real. It was some very hard, and sometimes very ugly, times and areas to life in.
But the characters felt... stiff and flat. There are two POV's in this book, and neither are vampires, but men who come at the whole vampire situation from different angles. One completely unlikeable and the other... with morals and a strong will, but just not a character I could get into very well. He also had his faults, and his blindnesses.
The horror scenes were horrific, with nothing later to balance them out. Everything kept getting darker and deeper, and felt like it was all swirling the drain, with no point. I guess the ending wasn't supposed to be upbeat, but it didn't actually address much, and felt like even the author was unclear about what it meant.
Great on the settings and atmospher, but none of the characters drew me in. By the end, I didn't really care about any of them.
Top reviews from other countries
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Georges P.Reviewed in France on December 17, 20245.0 out of 5 stars George RR Martin à ses débuts : Déja un fabuleux conteur
Ce livre est publié pour la première fois en 1982, plusieurs années avant la saga de Game of Thrones et l'on y retrouve déjà le style de G. Martin. On plonge dans l'ambiance des années 1850/1860 des états bordant le Mississipi.
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F. MenhoferReviewed in Germany on August 6, 20145.0 out of 5 stars Schlechte Buchqualität, guter Inhalt
Ich bin als Fan der Book of Ice and Fire Buchserie von Gerorge R.R. Martins Erzähl-Stil vollauf begeistert. Er hat es geschafft mit dieser Vampirgeschichte Cliches und Rassismus des 19 Jahrhunderts in Amerika auf ganz besondere Art zu thematisieren. Das Bild einer romantischen Dampfschifffahrt auf dem Ohio River bzw Mississippi mit all ihrer Schönheit und Melancholie wird schnell von der harten Realität des Lebens in dieser Zeit verdrängt und mit Martins Interpretation von Vampiren vermischt. Heraus kommt eine spannende, wenn auch im Einzelnen etwas vorhersehbare Fantasy Geschichte.
Was die Qualität des Taschenbuchs angeht, bin ich sehr enttäuscht. Ich habe das Buch im Freien Gelesen und bei Seite 150 etwa, fiel mir mehr als die Hälfte der Seiten wegen schlechter Verklebung entgegen. Die herausgefallenen Seiten hängen zusammen, daher lässt es sich noch lesen. Ich hoffe das bleibt ein Einzelfall.
V W RepakaReviewed in India on September 7, 20183.0 out of 5 stars an insipid dream
Great expectations led to greater disappointment. Unlike the game of Throne series, George R R Martin didn't impress with this tale of two warring species. Somehow the protagonist's lofty idealism seemed contrived and his nemesis not sinister enough. The narrative lacks the fluidity of his earlier work and the characters apart from the Captain, seem to be mere shadows rather than real flesh and blood.
DwarfReviewed in Australia on August 29, 20201.0 out of 5 stars Disappointing
I made the mistake here of leaning on the GOT storytelling pedigree. This book comes nowhere near as captivating.
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スイート・サイエンスReviewed in Japan on July 30, 20064.0 out of 5 stars この作者に外れなし!
氷と炎の歌シリーズ(これも傑作)を読んで衝撃を受け、Tuf Voyaging(「タフの方舟」)を読んで感動し、本書を読んだのだが、期待に違わぬ面白さであった。
吸血鬼は古典的かつ個人的にはそれほど好きな題材ではないので、読むかどうか実はためらっていたのだが、この作者は全く新しい設定と切り口でこの題材を料理している。まず設定がユニークだ。舞台は1800年台のアメリカのミシシッピ川を運行する蒸気船フィーバードリーム号で、主人公は船主のアブナーと吸血鬼のジョシュア・ヨークだ。
このユニークな設定で、昼の種族である人間と夜の種族である吸血鬼の歴史と、吸血鬼の歴史を変えようとするジョシュアとアブナーの友情が描かれる。2人に絡む悪役も千年以上生きている吸血鬼の王のジュリアンや彼に協力する人間のビリーと役者が揃っており、ホラーとスリルとアクションが満載だ。
読み出したら止まらないことは請け合いの、お勧めの一品です。







