The City of Brass - My First 5 ⭐️ Read of 2026!

A Setting That Felt Like Opening a Sealed Treasure Chest

This was such a unique read for me mainly because this was set in the middle East. I'm loathe to admit that I haven't read ANY book that was set there! Not one. That wasn't an intentional avoidance, more like a gap I never noticed until this book dropped me straight into 18th-century Cairo and politely refused to let me leave. And now that I've been there? Yeah. I'm mad it took me this long.

This isn't a book that just describes its setting, it transports you into it. You can practically smell the incense, feel the grit of sand sticking to your skin, and hear the hum of a city layered with secrets. Reading it felt like dusting off a forgotten magic lamp, and reminding myself that ancient tribal grudges are, in fact, a thing you should brush up on before entering djinn territory. You don't just read this book. You prepare for it.

Cairo is where we meet Nahri, a twenty-year-old con artist, thief, and occasional healer who survives by being smarter than everybody in the room. She's sharp, sceptical, speaks and understands a million languages. But more importantly, she's also very aware of how dangerous belief can be, especially when people are desperate. So when she's asked to help a supposedly possessed child, she treats it like a performance. A fake spell. A bit of fun.

Except that works.

Turns out the girl really is possessed, and Nahri accidentally summons something far older, far deadlier, and far more terrifying than she bargained for. Enter Dara: djinn, warrior, creature of fire, and walking red flag (in the most appealing way). Chaos follows. Enemies emerge. Cairo becomes unsafe. And just like that, Nahri's carefully controlled life goes up in smoke. Sometimes literally.

From there, the scene moves to Daevabad, the fabled Brass City, capital of the world of djinn. And if Cairo was immersive, Daevabad is overwhelming, in the best way possible. It's beautiful and brutal, magical, humming with tension. This is a city held together by old power, older laws, and the unspoken understanding that peace here is fragile and conditional.

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Politics, Power, and People Who Want You Dead (or Married)

One of the things that really struck me about The City of Brass is just how unapologetically political it is. This isn't background flavor, it's the backbone of this story. Daevabad operates under the rule of the Qahtani family, and while the King maintains order with an iron grip, there is resentment simmering just beneath the surface.

This will be a very divided society, particularly based on blood purity. Djinn of mixed human heritage called the "shafit" are second-class, with restricted rights and very controlled lives. Surprise, surprise, that doesn't sit too well with some people. Revolutionary movements are forming. Trust is scarce. And one wrong move could bring the whole city down.

Enter Prince Ali, the king's second son, and arguably one of the quietest compelling characters within this novel. He is devout, principled, and deeply uncomfortable with the injustices he sees around him. He believes in helping the shafit, even if it puts him at odds with his family. One of the things I liked most was the representation of religion through Ali, not as something to be ridiculed or followed blindly, but as a deliberate, almost revered choice. Nobody thinks him foolish for it. It is merely an element of who he is.

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And then, of course, there is Dara. Oh, Dara. If morally complicated ancient fire god with unresolved trauma is your jam, you’re in luck. He is very angry and very protective, and all of his bitterness from the last thousand years is just emotional baggage he refuses to check. Watching him interact with Nahri was one of the highlights of reading this book.

Nahri herself is at the epicentre of all that’s happening, whether she likes it or not. It soon becomes apparent that she is more than what she seems. Her background is connected to a bloodline that was presumed dead and gone, and it is not long before people are clamouring for her attention and her bloodline.

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Magic, Messy World-Building, and Why I Didn’t Mind Being Lost

So, let's talk about the world-building, because it is… a lot. This book throws names, tribes, histories, and magical systems at you with enthusiasm and very little hand-holding. Djinn, Daeva, tribal wars, ancient betrayals, religious divisions. It’s dense, and I won’t pretend I understood everything. Even after 500 pages, I was still fuzzy on certain distinctions.

But here's the thing: I didn't hate that.

The richness of the world makes it feel lived-in rather than simplified for convenience. Chakraborty clearly knows her history, and it shows. And yes, it can be overwhelming. I had to pause my reading and google stuff a few times. Still, I'd rather have too much world-building than a hollow world dressed up with exotic aesthetics and nothing underneath.

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What really grounds all this complexity is Nahri. She's a fantastic heroine. Capable without being reckless, clever without being flawless, tough but still deeply human. She adapts. She survives. She softens when needed and stands her ground when it matters. In short: she's the kind of character you want to follow into danger.

Add in flaming swords, magic rings, political assassinations, romantic tension of yes, several kinds, and just enough horror to keep the stakes real without descending into redundancies, and you've got a smart, wildly entertaining story.

The City of Brass doesn't tell a story, so much as it builds a world humming with life and conflict and possibility. Immersive, challenging, and occasionally bewildering, it's also deeply rewarding. I closed the book dusty, slightly overwhelmed, and very much ready for more.

And honestly? I wouldn't have minded if it took a thousand and one nights to read-because leaving Daevabad was the hardest part.

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