Harrow the Ninth was insanely confusing, and I am both annoyed and impressed at the same time. Review copy provided by the publisher-Tor.com-in exchange for an honest review. I have a Booktube channel now! Subscribe here: (is it bad that I laughed at my own bone joke wait don't answer this question) This review can also be found at A Take From Two Cities. ** I received an ARC from the publisher (thank you!) in exchange for an honest review. Yeah, I need book three, like, yesterday. I was not following all of this, because necromantic theory is a lot of hot bullshit even when I'm not busy having Complex Emotions. Because here we are again where I have been devastated with how this second book has concluded and I. It was weird, it was whacky, it was wonderful. Some parts were so outrageous I couldn't believe it. The D stands for dead.'īut speaking of that, I laughed, oh how I laughed.

And then what I thought I had pieced back together just before this concluded? Obliterated. Because what little I thought I had eventually grasped by the end of book one, was just, poof, gone, by the start of this. ' Ultimate power - and posters of my face.'Īll I can say is : don't go in expecting to understand anything. I absolutely did not become the eighth saint to serve the King Undying so could play hero for me.' No one else could put me through this nonsense and have me asking for more. I was confounded, confused, and having a crazy good time anyway. Truly, I had no idea what was happening because while I understood the words I was reading, and there were familiar characters and faces, even some familiar-ish events. Also because this book is over five hundred pages of who even fucking knows. In a scarily similar recreation of my reading experience with GIDEON THE NINTH, this book took me forever to get through because of slumps, work, life, the world, etc. ' You're certain that tried to kill Harrow?' Like, what, even is that? Huh? Seriously? How dare. ' What the fuck is going on?' <– what a mood I would rather have my own digestive acid dripped into my eyes.'Īnd by that I mean no one confuses me so utterly, for so long, in such devastating ways, only to give me exactly what I want, and then completely messes with my mind, all over again, by the final pages of the book. I would rather be flayed alive and wrapped in salt. ' I would rather have my tendons peeled from my body, one by one, and flossed to shreds over my broken bones.

' I could protect you, if you'd only ask me to.'

Ich bin Harrow by Tamsyn Muir