One who struggles with the dynamics between his Saints Undying, loves to cook, tries to be a father-figure to Harrow, all while yeeting us back to the present with one-liners like, “to prevent the Nine Houses becoming none House, with left grief.” I did say there would be memes. I’m fascinated by a character who is both incredibly fallible and very nearly all powerful. The King Undying––or John, on the space station––is evidently from our own bygone era. In fact, Muir does a highly entertaining job of humanizing God, but also raising many questions about how he came to be God. The idea of putting Harrow on an isolated space station with God the King Undying and His Saints, each with their own millennia of trauma and intricate social dynamics? Absolute ecstasy for readers who thrive on interpersonal relationships between characters. She scours Harrow’s childhood trauma for internal conflicts and believably terrible decisions. Muir fully taps into Harrowhark Nongesimus’s character potential. This is where her work shines––beautiful and grotesque imagery, witty dialogue, the essence of fully humanized characters. Of Harrow’s deep, sensual love for a corpse.
Tamsyn Muir is the Necrolord Prime of details and characters. There is enjoyment to be wrought from Harrow the Ninth, but it’s up to the reader to weigh the pros and cons before deciding to commit. Muir had my jaw dropping, she had me laughing, but I was also incredibly frustrated because the novel was asking too much of me as a reader (which is saying something, because I read the entire A Song of Ice and Fire saga in two months). I’m disappointed to report that much of the problems present in Gideon the Ninth were only exacerbated in Harrow the Ninth. Going into a space saga sequel, I expect the author to have learned from the pitfalls of the debut. I can forgive a debut novel for iffy pacing and overly dense backstory. Unfortunately, while I loved certain aspects of the novel (aesthetic included), it was a letdown compared to its predecessor, Gideon the Ninth. Muir has committed to her aesthetic and it is an aesthetic that I can sink into like a velvet-lined coffin. Her prose––for better or for worse––feels like an ornate candelabra, heavy in my grip. Tamsyn Muir has undoubtedly spun one of the most unique science fiction horror sagas to ever exist. Witness a murder plot that starts and ends with a thin broth. Be swallowed by a semi-corporeal river of Eldritch terrors. Get ready to experience ten thousand years of sexual tension among saints on a deep space station. Harrow the Ninth is a necromantic space opera featuring only the most mouth-watering of clavicles. She had cost too much to die.” – Harrow the Ninth, Tamsyn Muir “But Harrowhark––Harrow, who was two hundred dead children Harrow, who loved something that had not been alive for ten thousand years––Harrowhark Nonagesimus had always so badly wanted to live.
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