So. Gideon the Ninth. That was a wild, wild ride -- wild doesn’t even begin to cover it. This is going to be a long reflection, so buckle up and stay hydrated.
My biggest reaction is one that I’ve mentioned several times through reading this, which is just -- this book does not behave the way I expect. That’s not a value statement one way or the other, just a fascination. Oh, there are dozens of genres and ages and thousands of authorial styles, but there’s still a pattern to it all. A familiar rhythm to the way a story is told (in this time and place and language, at least -- certainly other cultures have different rhythms) -- a certain way of setting up ideas, a certain narrative voice, a certain rise and fall of the action and drama and mystery.
This book does not know that rhythm and it does not care. Everyone else is ballroom dancing and this book is breakdancing. To classical music. But somehow it works. And it’s so different as to be breathtaking. It takes a little getting used to, I wasn’t sure at first if I liked it, and I’m sure some people would find it too jarring -- but as I got used to it, it just felt fun. To have every one of my preconceived notions about what a story is and what a character should be and how a thing with a certain connotation is interpreted -- every single one of those expectations was cheerfully fed through a shredder and then sprinkled out a window like confetti. I never quite knew what was going to happen. And as I adjusted to that unpredictability, my expectations shifted a bit as well; my guesses became what felt completely wild and ridiculous, and some of them were, but some of them weren’t. But I never had the slightest idea which was which! Oh, some things at the end were more predictable, some of the final payoffs could be guessed as we got close, but that’s not a bad thing either -- that just means it was set up well and the conclusions satisfied. I couldn’t see anything coming at the beginning, but at the end, it all felt like it made sense (albeit in a somewhat nonsensical way).
I enjoyed how this book challenged my preconceived notions of death magic and necromancy as dark and illicit. And I enjoyed how as I got more used to that, it twisted again, in that some kinds of necromancy are still Not Acceptable. I enjoyed how it challenged my understanding of past and future, modern and ancient. They know what guns are but choose to fight with swords. They have space travel, but there’s no mention of computers or internet. It’s not entirely clear whether this universe is our universe in the far future or another galaxy or universe altogether.
Sometimes that uncertainty and unexpectedness is fun, but it also can be frustrating. There are a lot of gaps and questions left unanswered. I’m sure many of them will be answered in the next book(s), now that we’re not trapped on one planet, but... I guess I’ve seen too many books that didn’t make it to sequels to feel entirely comfortable with a first book leaving that much open. It’s not clear what the Cohort is fighting and expanding into. It’s not clear what the Emperor and the Lyctors are fighting. It’s not clear what the Emperor is and what his relationship with his followers is. It’s not clear what’s hiding in the Locked Tomb, and why, and why the Ninth has been allowed to continue if it wasn’t supposed to, and why the other Houses seem to treat them with so much reverence. It’s not clear if all the Houses are in the same star system, if they’re planets or moons or something else or a mix, if they’re trying to colonize or explore or defend or what. On a smaller level, it’s not clear who killed Protesilaus the second time. It’s not clear what’s up with Gideon surviving everything, and why they didn’t kill her when she didn’t die. It’s not clear why Harrow wanted Gideon to be her cavalier. It’s not clear why the Ninth leaders killed themselves, and it’s not clear why Harrow brought them back. It’s not clear why the Ninth House stopped having kids after the murder spree. It’s obviously good for the first book to have some world left to explore, some questions left to answer, but when that list gets too long and unwieldy... it just makes me uneasy.
It is definitely fun to have a book that focuses on queer characters without it being about queerness or making a big deal out of Hey Look This Person Is Queer Hell Yes Representation. Both of those have their place and are valuable, and I don’t want to diminish that -- queerness is an important story to tell, and representation is great. And it’s not that Gideon isn’t Flamingly Loudly Queer, she totally is, but it feels... different. It doesn’t feel like a statement or anything, it’s just... Gideon. She’s buff, she’s rebellious, she’s into women, she likes swords, the list goes on. None of these is any more or less remarkable than any other.
I also enjoy that this book is absolutely unapologetically queer to the point where it doesn’t even bear remarking on in universe. Like, it’s not just that queerness is accepted -- it’s that being queer isn’t, well, queer. There’s nothing to remark on, it’s just a person being attracted to a person. There’s no wondering oh is she even into women though it’s just she pretty I like and that’s that. The question isn’t “is she attracted to my gender” it’s just “is she attracted to ME.” It feels like being into women is like... being into redheads, or guitarists, or history geeks, or whatever. It’s refreshing.
I feel like I should have more to say than this, but also this is already like a thousand words long. I’ve written some that were longer, but this is definitely up there. And I think I’ve hit the main points. So I will leave you there with one more thank you so much for tagging along and for all your love on this journey -- it’s been awesome to watch things grow this past month or two. We passed 100 followers, we passed a year of this blog, I got so many asks and comments and posts that folks seemed to really connect with or enjoy or just side-eye the shit out of. It’s been a blast.
I can’t wait to continue with Harrow the Ninth.












