Tamsyn Muir’s Gideon the Ninth is a genre-defying masterpiece—a brilliant, bone-chilling blend of gothic horror, sci-fi, and razor-sharp humor. It’s a story soaked in blood, bone, and banter, and at its heart beats the most complicated, glorious relationship I’ve read in years.
Gideon Nav, a foul-mouthed, sword-swinging orphan with a heart of gold (buried under layers of sarcasm), is forced into a reluctant partnership with Harrowhark Nonagesimus, the Ninth House’s brilliant, ruthless, and deeply damaged necromancer. Together, they must navigate a deadly, locked-room trial of power, magic, and secrets—where survival is the only reward.
The magic of this book lies not only in Muir’s incredible worldbuilding—skeletal horrors, decrepit palaces, and necromancy so visceral it drips from the page—but in the seething, electrifying dynamic between Gideon and Harrow. Their relationship is a breathtaking mix of loathing, loyalty, and something achingly close to love. They trade barbs with the precision of dueling swords, but underneath the insults is a bond neither of them can admit or escape. Gideon’s irreverent humor and Harrow’s icy brilliance collide, sparking moments of vulnerability that crack through the walls they’ve both spent a lifetime building. Watching their slow, reluctant steps toward trust (and the agony of their mutual denial) will leave you both grinning and gutted.
By the time Muir rips your heart out with the final, devastating pages, you’ll realize that Gideon the Ninth isn’t just a story about necromancy and mystery—it’s a love story, too. A love story about sacrifice, survival, and the bone-deep connections that refuse to die.
If you crave books with complex heroines, wit as sharp as a sword’s edge, and relationships so messy they feel real, Gideon the Ninth will leave you haunted, heartbroken, and begging for more. A true triumph of bones, banter, and brilliance.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐