I finally got around to reading this one! I was in a gothic fantasy mood, and it seemed like the right time to tackling this book; I knew I wanted to go in with enough energy and enthusiasm to really dive into the world Bardugo creates. We find ourselves at Yale, but amid secret societies, surreal magic, and dark intentions abound. It didn't quite fulfill all of my expectations, and I feel that some of the hype was overblown, but Ninth House was still an enjoyable read.
The plot and the ‘murder mystery’ that is central to it are the more interesting aspects of the book. There are two major running narratives—one that surrounds our protagonist through her secret society activities, and the other that relates to an important character. The structure of the novel is such that we get alternating timelines; at first, this was a bit jarring. By the end, I grew used to it, and we eventually ‘catch up’ with the flash-forward established in the prologue—but this meant that much of the book kind of… dragged on. We spent much of the book just getting there, which made the events of the prologue seem more distant. There is creating a sense of intrigue and anticipation by having a nonlinear narrative, but when most of it dawdles in the past, it gets old fast.
The pacing was quite strange too; the book picks up after we catch up to the prologue, but a lot of the ‘past’ narrative events range from scenes where Alex is grabbing lunch with her roommates to intense occult scenes with Grays, and there is often a switch between the two. I didn’t always see the point of the narrative showing us Alex’s ‘university’ life; yes, it is a consequential part of the story, but these scenes didn’t convince me of the characters’ motivations or development.
To return to the narrative, the twist elements in the story were… a little frustrating. It isn’t that they were predictable; I didn’t predict them so much as go, ‘Well yeah, that’s a reasonable consequence of what we learn happened previously.’ (Well, to my credit, I did pinpoint the most likely candidates for the Big Bad(s), and I was spot on.) The issue is that we just don’t know a lot of what happens until Bardugo decides to remove the wool from our eyes. So, they are not really twists in the traditional sense as they are Bardugo pulling a fast one on the reader… several times. A clever narrative can contain foreshadowing and red herrings and be selective in what it chooses to reveal while still managing to swing an enjoyable plot twist; Ninth House just decides the reader needs to know truly little, so that they can be ‘shocked’ when the plot is revealed to them. Do you see the difference?
Moving on to the characters, the story is revealed through the eyes of two characters: Alex Stern and Daniel Arlington; both are given weird names/nicknames for some reason. There are in-story reasons for both, but it still felt slightly forced. Alex is a hardened young hooligan who, because of her ability to see ghosts, is given a spot in one of Yale’s watchdog secret societies. Darlington, as he is known, is her mentor who lives and breathes for these societies and the town of New Haven. I found the latter a more compelling character, perhaps because his heart tended to be in the right place, and his backstory is well accounted. On the other hand, Alex is written as an unlikeable character, though the narrative does attempt to make her sympathetic to the reader; she is a criminal, brash, and yes, she has suffered and will continue to suffer, but my sympathy is bogged down by the fact that Alex continues to be morally repugnant. Also, many of the characters in the book do not get detailed development or characterization beyond a superficial level, which is perhaps a consequence of this being the first book in a series.
The side characters—for instance, Pamela Dawes and Detective Turner—are both welcome additions to the cast, as they add some complexity to the interactions they have with our protagonists. Alex’s character dynamic is intended to be fleshed out by her backstory, but because we get it piecemeal and largely towards the end of the book, I found myself caring less than the author likely intended. Moreover, her story heavily focuses on trauma and its aftermaths; a laudable theme for any author to tackle, but I feel that Bardugo does a lot of ‘telling’ rather than ‘showing’, with the effect of Alex’s trauma becoming merely a plot device and a bit theatrical. We never really see Alex grapple with the aftermath of the various traumas, aside from repetitive cliches about how hard her life is and how jaded she has become. The narrative also gives Alex a generous helping of plot armor, which didn’t really help my estimation of her.
When it comes to the meat of the novel, the business of secret societies, the occult, and the much raved-about ‘dark and gritty’ aspect of the novel, I also found it lacking. To this reader, the nine societies were incredibly confusing, and I constantly had to remind myself what their domains were. Apparently, at least some are based on real societies at Yale—go figure. That doesn’t change the fact that Bardugo’s utilization of them is opaque from the get-go; this is common enough in speculative fiction, especially with an in media res narrative, but I also found myself wondering what the point of having all of these different societies was—rather than populate the narrative in an enlivening manner, they made it feel crowded.
The occult and magical elements were also stereotypical. We don’t get much in the way of explanation of magical abilities or events; just that they happen, and we need to take the narrative’s word for it. I would have liked to see some more worldbuilding here, as well as an illustration of the deeper costs of the magic—for instance, we see climate manipulation, prophesy, and offensive magic used to harm people alike, but these are told to us and occasionally shown, but not with much depth. Alex’s abilities to see ghosts marks her as ‘different’ and unique, but we don’t get much explanation for that either—or some of the things that are revealed towards the end only make matters a bit more confusing. This book felt like a standard college story with a few magical powers thrown in, so I suppose it works as ‘urban fantasy’, but the fantasy itself was run-of-the-mill.
Finally, a few words on the ‘dark’ and ‘gothic’ aspects of this dark academia/gothic fantasy book. I remember first hearing about how this book was one of the grittier options in dark academia books, and that it didn’t pull its punches. Several times I came across scenes that I could clearly tell were written by Bardugo purely to shock or discomfort the audience. I went into the book hoping that it would inspire the uneasiness or fear you may get from gothic or horror books; but often the scenes in this book just made me feel… bemused.
The prognostication scene we get at the very beginning, for instance, was almost comical; being versed in the classics, I felt as if she took this particular element common in ancient cultures out of a certain context, in which it was very normalized, and randomly transported it to another context entirely—see how that can be comical? Of course, it is a horrific action, but the stakes never felt like that. Other graphic scenes in the novel were just that—graphic but didn’t necessarily feel ‘scary’ or ‘dark’. Rather, the effect was as if Bardugo were trying to come up with the vilest things she could think of to stun the audience. Well, it was hardly the worst I’ve seen or read, so it missed the mark for me. Certain scenes felt gratuitous, which went counter to the message Bardugo tried to preach—not trying to spoil, but if you’ve seen some of the other reviews, you’ll likely know what I’m referring to. The violent scenes were standard by the measure of the crime thriller genre, and nothing really made me surprised or shell-shocked so much as doubtful about how realistic some scenes were.
Bardugo’s writing style also seems to have devolved, somehow. I really enjoyed her work in the Six of Crows duology, but here, she starts writing with unfinished sentences, dangling modifiers, and overall, in a fashion that is currently trendy in YA books, and which annoys me immensely. She also tends to drag on when doing descriptions; honestly, some scenes have several pages just describing the layout of a room. As someone who doesn’t visualize books, I feel that the book could have been much more concise, and packed a stronger punch, if Bardugo reined herself in on descriptions. This, coupled with some other tendencies I’ve noticed among the characters and the plot, made this book feel very YA. If that is the case, then it could perhaps merit the description of ‘dark and gritty’, but as I mentioned above, it doesn’t quite reach the benchmark in the realm of adult fantasy. Her attempt at discussing mature and serious themes also felt more like YA, with it being superficial and preachy, in a black or white manner; I wish she would have given these subjects the nuanced and complex treatment they ought to have received.
I know I’ve spent a good deal of my paragraphs complaining about various things in this book, but it truly wasn’t something I hated. There were good parts—when the story finally gets going in the present timeline, the pacing becomes more appropriate for the story. The denouement was slightly stilted, but it did provide some much-needed answers. Certain side characters were endearing enough, or at least made me curious to see how they end up in the second book. The plot itself kept me intrigued for at last part of the book, so I will give credit where it is due. The setting of Yale and the secret societies did fall flat, and I’m not sure it really merits the designation of dark academia, but I can see why this book gripped the book community so intensely when it came out. Some parts of the book worked for me, and some parts didn’t, but largely, I was missing that glimmer of enchanting setting and gripping complexity that I expected from Bardugo’s other works. Well, at the very least, I will try the Alex Stern series again with its sequel, so don’t accuse me of being too unfair.
