Wound is a "clockpunk alternate history," which means a Utopian Werner fantasy set in the 13th century with "hand cranked" technology that is equivalent to, or superior to, our own. Everything looks medieval, though there are some villainous types who wear flatbill hats.
France is essentially a direct democracy and a monarchy that Lucas calls a "royal cooperative," a strange and inexplicable state that is ruled by elected (yet hereditary) royals who are essentially celebrities. People are rational, wealth is not hoarded, and education is free. There is an internet, ubiquitous and free, single payer health care, and loads of dudes who produce the power to fuel this world by turning cranks. Food is plentiful and inexpensive. Jobs are not necessary.
Everybody knows about telomeres. On one memorable occasion, Lucas calls them "sweet, naturally aged telomeres" that young women gorge their wombs with.
Lucas devotes most of the book to simple, declarative exposition, a kind of direct and dull world building. No characters appear, little history is given, nothing happens, but we learn a lot about the meal plans of unnamed clockpunk Martian astronauts, and the exact dimensions of castles.
Wound is unmistakably the work of Lucas Werner. We learn very early that in this idealized world women begin dating at 16, and men at 35, which is also the average age of marriage. Sex with males under 35 has been forbidden by law for years, considered a kind of telomeres depleting incest. Lucas spares no effort to stress that older men pair off with younger women.
There are weekly public dances that allow older men and young women to mingle and meet. The dances are specifically meant to introduce women who are at least 16 to men who are no less than 35. Accordingly, only women 16-25, and men 35+ may attend. He calls them "mating dances to find a spouse and have children one day." There are 2 women for every men, to ensure mating success for the guys.
Dance goers purchase inexpensive food with foodcards, boogie to rock and roll played on harpsichords that resembles White Zombie (not an awful rap cognate that bad guys listen to), and have a great time for 6 hours. Women past 25 may not marry or have kids. They may not dance! At these dances, no women "hook up with douche baggy clones." Men often dance with two girls at a time, and may use a "two sided die" to select their dance partners. After the dance, it is customary for new couples to go out to dinner on Saturday. Men always pay for the first date, and women for the second.
These autistically detailed weekly mating dances call to mind Lucas's great interest in "sock hop dances" where soda is served. He worked on a board game about them once.
We learn that the Queen Beatrice is 19 and King Reginald is 39, which according to Lucas is "average," and they met at a Friday dance. The Queen is also a student at a local community college. And a senator. And an aspiring RN. King Reginald, a great scientist, even called the King of Science, has a high school degree.
The King is immediately recognizable as an author insert, a particularly dull Mary Sue. The world is immediately recognizable as one that Lucas would like to live in.
Anyway, because old men fuck young women and optimize the human race, there was no Jesus, and everyone likes science, everything is very advanced for the 13th century.
Lucas thinks it's important to stress that women are often billionaires, and tend to be shy and susceptible to the charms of extroverted men.
The plot, such as it is, emerges slowly and haltingly from the mass of boring exposition: France is sending a spaceship to Mars. Why this matters is not clear. But would you care learn that every action of the astronauts is essentially streamed to earth? Astronauts Esteban, aged 28, and Meredith, 70 something, are guaranteed not to fuck due to their age difference. And would it interest you to learn that there are some flatbill wearing jerks, called Scapegoats, who gossip and leave negative restaurant reviews?
No?