A Grave Matter: My Thoughts on Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir
The minute I stumbled across Gideon the Ninth, I felt an electrifying pull towards it. A book featuring lesbian necromancers in space? Count me in! Tamsyn Muir’s unique blend of humor, horror, and heart drew me in from the first page, and I was eager to uncover its secrets. The intriguing tagline—“We do bones, motherfucker”—set the tone for an adventure defined by wit and a delightfully grim aesthetic that left me both chuckling and contemplating life and death.
At its core, Gideon the Ninth follows the fiercely independent Gideon Nav, who yearns to break free from her unwelcoming upbringing among nuns and skeletons. Enter Harrowhark Nonagesimus, her childhood rival and a powerful necromancer who entangles Gideon in a life-or-death competition to serve the Emperor. The stakes couldn’t be higher: if Harrowhark fails, her House could perish. Muir expertly weaves together themes of loyalty, ambition, and the complexities of queer relationships, especially as they unfold in the high-pressure arena of necromantic competition.
While the brilliance of Gideon the Ninth is undeniably compelling, it doesn’t come without its flaws. The pacing can often feel uneven, especially in the early chapters, where I found myself waiting for the action to pick up. As a friend of mine noted during our read, a lot of “aesthetic” unfolds before the narrative truly takes flight, which can feel like a slog. Once the plot gains momentum, however, it transforms into an enthralling, twisty murder mystery, culminating in an exciting finale. Yet, I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed at times by the sheer number of characters. Many felt like mere plot devices rather than fully fleshed individuals, leaving me flipping back to the character descriptions in search of clarity.
One of the book’s most significant strengths lies in its humor. Gideon’s irreverent charm is infectious, and her quick-witted banter adds levity to otherwise chilling moments. I loved when she quipped, “Maybe rigor … mortis,” showcasing her penchant for puns amidst grave circumstances. It’s this mix of humor and horror that makes the book stand out, particularly as we traverse the hauntingly beautiful setting: a decayed palace brimming with echoes of the past and spirits awaiting their reckoning.
As for the complex relationship between Gideon and Harrowhark, it’s anything but straightforward. Muir cleverly explores the tensions and messy dynamics that can emerge in queer relationships—something that is often scrutinized in ways that can feel harsh. While I appreciated the rawness of their connection, I found the emotional beats didn’t fully convince me, particularly as they transitioned from adversaries to potential allies. That said, it’s refreshing to see characters grappling with their feelings in ways that are less than ideal, much like real life.
Overall, while Gideon the Ninth dazzles with its clever premise and rich humor, it falters at points with pacing and character depth. However, I believe it offers something worthwhile for readers who enjoy genre-bending stories filled with sharp dialogue and complex relationships. If you enjoy fantasy that mixes dark themes with humor and a touch of romance, Muir’s offering may just cast a spell on you—warts and all.
For those who find joy in stories of necromantic escapades, intricate world-building, and inventive characters who wrestle with love and rivalry, Gideon the Ninth is undeniably worth the read. Just prepare yourself to navigate its shadowy, twisty paths, and you may emerge, like me, eager for the next installment of the series!
Discover more about Gideon the Ninth (The Locked Tomb, #1) on GoodReads >>