The ninth and final volume of Kieli has been sitting on my shelf collecting dust for roughly two months after it arrived in my mail box. Why? Because I was afraid to read it. And with hindsight, my misgivings were justified. It's been a while since I felt this empty upon finishing an anime, manga, or, as it is the case here, light novel series. And I have a feeling that its bittersweet ending may still continue to haunt me for a while.

On a nameless planet some time into the future, it seems as if humans have repeated a mistake similar to what one would assume led them to further space colonization in the first place: As a result of war, they wreaked havoc on their new home world and used up most of its resources. Much know-how has been lost since, but wartime technology continues to exist in the form of the Undying – bodies of soldiers who already died in battle turned into killing machines. The blurb promises an "uncommon romance" between such an undying soldier and a "lonely girl". It doesn't do a very good job of luring the reader in. Isn't "uncommon" romance the vast bulk of romance in fiction? At first, the story may seem like it fits that uninteresting description. We learn that fourteen year-old Kieli is not so popular with the other girls at her boarding school, orphaned, and sees dead people.

Similarly, Harvey's silent manner doesn't mask the usage of the prevalent character tropes all that well. It's easy to sense what lies underneath: A somewhat nice guy haunted by a tragic past to only be revealed in small doses that prevents him from properly facing his emotions, likely able to find redemption through his encounter with Kieli. When it comes to originality, the main character trio's saving grace is the Corporal – an antique radio possessed by the grumpy spirit of a soldier Harvey once killed. He likes music, rock music banned by the Church only broadcast by guerrilla stations being his favorite kind. The narrative, too, isn't without its shortcomings. Most volumes, or, as it is the case with books five, six, eight, and nine – The Sunlit Garden Where It Began and The Dead Sleep Eternally in the Wilderness Pt. I and II respectively – two volumes, could theoretically be read as self-contained stories. These departures from the overarching plot don't always work in favor of it. Some of the episodic content feels dragged-out, making for an awkward overall pacing.

That said, not only does one come to care for Kieli and Harvey in time, but there are also a lot of things which the series does do well from the start. It's surprisingly mature, for one. And by mature I don't mean violent and gory, though it does have its fair share of that. Someone gouging their eye out to prevent an infection of the optic nerve from spreading to the brain or the idea of a misshapen lump of flesh with parts of the people it killed sticking out at weird angles shouldn't bother you too much if you plan on reading this. The Undying being able to recover from the most ridiculous of injuries – pretty much required bonus powers if you're immortal, unless you want to spend all of eternity maimed beyond recognition – sets the stage for all sorts of body horror. Harvey, too, is a physical wreck during most of the series. (Not that it would stop the illustrations from portraying him as a bishounen.) What really makes the series mature, however, is how death and the general impermanence of all things are handled. Kieli has more to offer than just the shojou-esque romance - that romance develops at a very unhurried pace anyway. Genre-wise, the novels are rather surprise bags full of adventure, mystery, sci-fi, supernatural, and action elements.

The one thing Kieli does outstanding is creating an atmosphere which envelopes the reader. Its post-apocalyptic setting has a very futuristic retro feeling to it. Any piece of technology that has endured the war is battered up and seemingly held together by the sheer willpower of its owners, the corporal's host "body" (the radio) or the guerrilla stations he loves so much being the best examples. There are old-fashioned steam locomotives complete with lots of train symbolism as well as cool new concepts such as "boats" traveling the giant sand ocean most of the planet's surface consists of. The theme of transience is everywhere, and the overall mood could be described as a gentle feeling of sadness mixed with a strange sense of nostalgia. I'd most warmly recommend this to anyone who likes steampunk, macabre things, or ghost stories, rail enthusiasts, and yes, also fans of romance – provided that you bring patience. A lot of patience