Some books you devour; some books devour you. Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir is one of the latter. Muir’s prose is not just hungry, it is ravenous and won’t let you out of its jaws until it’s sucked every bit of marrow from your bones. This book will leave you recovering in an infusion suite because your entire emotional range has been depleted. It’s a rollercoaster, a death trap—and, above all, wickedly fun to read.
Gideon the Ninth was (rightfully) one of 2019’s most hyped releases, but its now-infamous tagline “lesbian necromancers in space” falls short of capturing Muir’s genius. Although Muir does not fail to deliver on lesbian necromancers in space, she also offers profound studies of character relationships, a plethora of Catholic and Greco-Roman allusions to mine, and references to Mean Girls.
Our introduction to a rich and dizzying world, in which nine planets have been resurrected after an apocalypse and become the Nine Houses each with a specialized brand of necromancy, is through the eyes—and snark—of Gideon Nav. Gideon is an indentured servant on her thirty-third escape attempt from the greasy, skeleton-inhabited Ninth house and its seventeen-year-old Reverend Daughter and bone-witch extraordinaire, Harrowhark Nonagesimus. Gideon is desperate to join the Cohort in order to fight a galactic war on behalf of God (yes, God is a character). But the Cohort (and God) hardly features, as her latest attempt, like all her previous ones, is foiled by Harrow, who will do anything to keep Gideon with her.
This fraught relationship between the two daughters of the Ninth is the heart of the book, one that cuts—like knife through sinew—straight across the slew of gore-spattered description, the kaleidoscopic worldbuilding, the lengthy dramatis personae pages (which should not be skimmed and then ignored; refer to them without shame), and Gideon’s irreverent quips. Harrow and Gideon, who have spent their entire childhoods clawing at each other’s faces, are forced to cooperate when Harrow gets an invitation from God to travel to Canaan House—located on the abandoned First—and attempt to become one of his all-powerful immortal bodyguards known as Lyctors. No necromancer is complete without a cavalier: a fighter who is utterly devoted to them, a master of the rapier, and ready to absolutely wreck anyone who messes with their necromancer. Unfortunately, the depleted Ninth only has one option. Gideon might not be devoted to Harrow, she might only be a master of her beloved two-hander, but she is certainly ready to wreck anyone she wants to. And, don’t worry, Muir will let you see her do it.
But Muir does not just settle for one complex and compelling relationship; each of the eight necromancer and cavalier pairs at Canaan house has its allure, even if, in some cases, it is only hinted at through scraps of dialogue. Camilla Hect and Palamedes Sextus of the bookish Sixth are unwaveringly devoted to each other. Colum Asht has been chosen as the Eighth house cavalier for his uncle Silas Octakiseron, due to his genetic compatibility, so that Silas can use him as a battery. The twins Coronabeth and Ianthe Tridentarius from the Third House are both flesh magicians. Corona is the brighter twin and Ianthe sulks in her shadow. But they, like binary stars in orbit, are enmeshed in each other’s gravity. Their cavalier, Naberius Tern, is often collateral damage to their codependency. All of these relationships are stretched in new, compelling directions when something menacing emerges amid their attempts at achieving Lyctorhood.
You may have noticed, at this point, that all the characters’ last names correspond to the number of their house. Rest assured, every name is significant and yields even more insight upon a re-read. In fact, re-reading is almost an obligation considering Muir’s mastery at foreshadowing; I promise, even though some information might seem irrelevant, not a single word is wasted. And if the point of a detail isn’t obvious, it’s probably because it’s foreshadowing for Gideon’s darker, moodier sequel: Harrow the Ninth.
Gideon the Ninth is, like the necromantic constructs within its pages, a mind-boggling amalgam of disparate elements that you would think could hardly stick to each other, let alone attempt to form a coherent whole. But Muir deftly combines elements of horror, pulp, murder mystery, and sci-fi/fantasy to create a strikingly original narrative that still manages, in all its strangeness, to tug at the heart.
Gideon the Ninth’s sequel Harrow the Ninth came out August 2020; the final installment of the trilogy, Alecto the Ninth, is scheduled for release in 2022.