Ninth House

LEIGH. BARDUGO. STRIKES. AGAIN. 

So, one of the behemoths of YA fiction has released her first adult novel by the title of Ninth House, a tale of secret societies, some mystery, some thrilling chases, and of course, some magic (would it really be a Bardugo classic otherwise?).

I, for one, was pumped in order to delve into one of her magical worlds again. However, this is not the Grisha universe, and while that fact makes me supremely sad, I was a little excited to see Bardugo stretch her wings and soar without the restraints of YA in the way. 

Did she soar? 

Ehhhhhhh maybe for a bit before she crashed and burned. Kind of like when you’re a child and you jump off the roof to fly like a bird. And you do. Before you hit the driveway and break your arm. Or in this case, I suppose it would be the opposite. 

Obscure, yet relatable childhood memories aside, I’ll explain why I think Bardugo is better off to YA and what part of Ninth House I really liked and the parts I thought were better off being sucked into a blackhole like dear Darlington was. 

So, this is a big book. And like many big books that weren’t written by J.K. Rowling, there are parts of it that are just...long. Tedious. Useless. Pedantic. Drawn out-see what I’m doing here? 

J.K. Rowling could write a thousand pages about Hogwarts or the magical world and let’s be real, I’d eat that up like I was starving. But other authors and other worlds? Not so much.

You need to draw me in first, suck me in, make me care, and then I'll read your one thousand page report on what your character’s favorite snacks are and their deepest childhood fears and enjoy it. 

This is the first time we’ve been introduced to Ninth House, the first time we’ve been introduced to this familiar-yet-not-familiar world of Yale, but also of magic and deception and sorcery. Leigh Bardugo adopts her usual method of drop kicking you into her world and kind of expects you to sink or swim depending on the mentality. I sunk. For a long time. 

I felt this way too with Six of Crows, but for not as long as Ninth House and frankly, I was much more enchanted with the Grisha universe than I was with Yale’s messed up student body. For a good chunk of the beginning, it was flat out boring. 

Truly, just boring. Alex was sort of engaging and her past was kind of intriguing, but it was a droll affair to drudge through the pages upon pages talking about the prognostication, about societies with names that I couldn’t keep straight (was it Manuscript? Skull and Bones? Key and Scroll?) Who knows.

Frankly, it was unimportant and unessential to the story. It just took me awhile to figure that out. I needed a detailed chart about each organization and their members and their role, but then I realized by the end of the book that it didn’t really matter anyway so I stopped caring. 

So, there’s a lot of jargon in the book that is just not needed (as well as super pretentious) as well as a large chunk of the beginning that could really be condensed into about three chapters and still get the same ideas and emotions across.

Those were definitely the two biggest, soul-sucking problems, problems, that in my opinion, would have been eradicated if this were a YA novel instead of adult fiction, as being YA makes most authors more succinct and specific by nature. Bardugo really needed a dose of this for Ninth House. 

However, once you get past the 1/3rd to the halfway mark, things start to get really really interesting in typical Bardugo fashion. The drama kicks up, the relationships get interesting, the past starts being unraveled, the near-death-experiences are kicked up a million notches. The end was super bombastic and really enjoyable. 

The meat of this book tells the story of Galaxy Stern (Alex) and her journey as Lethe’s new Dante (essentially the watchdog over Yale’s secret societies who dabble in dangerous magic) as well as her journey of trying to solve a dead ghost’s murder mystery, the new case of a dead girl in the area and how it connects to the ghost’s story, the disappearance of her Virgil, Darlington, and of course, coming to grips with the horrors of her own past and her own ability to see Grays (ghosts) and the positives and negatives it entails. 

Now, all that sounds super riveting and it is, but once again it doesn’t really start until about halfway through. But once the story picks up, Bardugo does what she does best: tell complicated, intermixing stories that leave you breathless and enthralled. 

The ending was one shocking revelation after another punctuated by vicious blood-spilling action and it left me full of wonder and short of breath in typical Bardugo style that I’ve come to love and expect. 

My overall thoughts essentially are summarized to this: if you can get past the humdrum unnecessary beginning, the ending is a wonderful cacophony of details, motivations, mystery, and cliff-hangers that will not quite make you forget all the wasted pages at the start, but enough to get you to pick up the next installment to see what happens next. Will my baby Darlington be okay? I have to know.  

Recommendation: The beginning was boring. Skim it, read it as quickly as possible, like ripping off a bandaid in order to get to the delicious meat of the meal, the tantalizing story that comes together as well as putting together parts of a sundae. But food analogies aside, the book is worth reading if you can get to the middle, and then the plot and the characters will sweep you away from there. 

Score: 7/10