*Content warning for mention of SA.*
The Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo was not what I expected . . . I didn't know what to expect if I am being honest. Bardugo has been on my TBR list for many years, and Six of Crows has been on my periphery for some time. I knew that she had taken over the Y.A. genre (good for her!), but I was excited to read something that was geared more towards adults. It is strange that I read Ninth House as my first Bardugo novel (should I have read Six of Crows first?), but that was what I was most excited to read. I still have a place in my heart for Y.A. but I suppose the older I get the more tedious they are to read (I can't stand a girl who is obsessed with a boy). Though I wasn't sure what I would receive with the Ninth House, I thought it should (at least) hold up to the hype Goodreads gave.
Spoiler-Free Synopsis:
The Ninth House has a great premise: Ghostbusters circa 2019, the Salem Witch trials without the trials, and Yale. Combine those in a mixing bowl with a sprinkle of exaggerated horror, and you've got the Ninth House. Bardugo's main protagonist is Galaxy "Alex" Stern, raised in L.A. by a granola mom. Cool name, cool mom, all good, right? The catch is that "Alex" sees ghosts and has quite a few unfortunate run-ins with subsequent malevolent spirits called "grays." We later find out that these grays are most afraid of "death words," which are remarks that remind them that they are, indeed, dead. After dropping out of high school, maneuvering the shady underbelly of L.A.'s drug scene, and a triple homicide—Alex is given a second chance at life.
That second chance for Alex is at Lethe House, Yale. Alex is invited to Yale by Dean Elliot Sandow, where she will use her gifts to aid the members of Lethe House: a sorority that oversees other sorority houses that dabble in the magical arts. She is paired with Darlington, an upperclassman (a bit of a metaphysical scholar prodigy), who doubts Alex's usefulness at Lethe. Slowly, the two learn to respect each other's abilities; however, things change once Alex's shady history is revealed to Darlington.
The plot has much more, but I will end the synopsis here for brevity. I also want to make this book appealing if anyone still wants to read it after my comments (lol).
As I said, the premise of this book was interesting, but it could have been more groundbreaking. The Ninth House gave strong Harry Potter vibes; the adult themes gave The Ninth House a bit more substance, but I think Bardugo missed a few opportunities to make an impact with this story.
Avoiding stereotypes but exaggerating horror.
I appreciated that Bardugo didn't rely heavily on "witchy stereotypes," (e.g. scantily dressed women dancing around a fire) which usually turns me off to these types of books. I would have given up on page two if our characters had been walking around with wands hidden in their sweatpants. Fortunately, Bardugo didn't go there. Instead, she spun in more niche subjects such as moon magic and the creative use of goat milk for healing. I also liked how the ghosts weren't merely called "ghosts," but instead were called "grays." It's a small detail, but the term "grays" creates a genre of Lethe-specific vernacular unique to the Ninth House.
Though I appreciate the genre-bending work that the Ninth House is reaching for, I still can't move past a few of my main issues, which lay in the explicitness of Bardugo's prose. There are MANY scenes of sexual violence, which in my opinion, really don't add much to the story. Admittedly, there may be a correlation between sexual violence and frat/sorority culture. Still, I felt that the usage of those plot points was exaggerated for shock value. Also, at points in the story, Bardugo seemed to be layering on the trauma for our characters—specifically Alex. Alex is tormented by ghosts, she is a victim of S.A., and she survives a triple homicide. She is also failing all of her classes. I'm not trying to devalue the expression of trauma in books. Instead, I would like to ask: How much trauma is too much?
There were scenes in the book that left me feeling incredibly uncomfortable. Usually, I don't care if a book makes me uncomfortable—I don't like to shy away from discomfort, as I typically find the most profound moments of growth are in those moments. But I think it may be too much when the discomfort inhibits my ability to fully engage with the writing. Especially during the S.A. scenes, I felt that Bardugo was toeing a thin line, juggling with writers' ethics.
Stagnant plot and need for more clarity.
Beyond the questionable content of Ninth House, the novel's structure was also something I had to wrangle with. I have a hard time with dual-perspective books, to begin with, and when you add in an element of a parallel timeline, I need help. My squirrel brain and goldfish attention span had difficulty keeping track of where I was being taken most of the time. I also thought that Darlington's and Alex's perspectives weren't much different from each other's—-which is fine—-but I felt like Bardugo had a real opportunity to show complexity and conflict with dual perspectives. She could have exaggerated their differences more to show that complexity.
Moreover, I don't think this book benefits from a "slow burn" approach. I don't believe fantasy—whether it be Y.A. or adult—-can ever be a slow-burner. The slow-burn method is paradoxical to the nature of fantasy; however, I'd love to read a book that can prove me wrong. Unfortunately, I don't believe that Bardugo's Ninth House is that book. It is remarkable that even with the number of themes Ninth House tries to communicate, it moves at a snail's pace. Often, it felt like thirty-two chapters was too long—though I am still left wondering: After thirty-two chapters, what am I left with?
Comparatively, the confrontation between Dean Elliot Sandow, Professor Marguerite Belbalm/Daisy Fanning Whitlock, Bertram Boyce North, and Alex could have been better. It was a stereotypical, "All is revealed and the chosen one finds their true inner strength." Considering the build-up there was to Darlington's rescue, I expected a bit more .. pizazz? Alex cornering Sandow in a room and confronting him seemed unrealistic. As was the fact that Belbalm/Whitlock conveniently was attending the same party Sandow was. If it were a Y.A. fantasy novel, I could overlook these details, but when we are in an adult genre . . . I was left wanting more.
On the other hand, as was Sandow's nexus plot, Daisy Fanning Whitlock's stealing souls was a nice touch and unexpected. I also actually like that Darlington was never rescued . . . which apparently means that he committed a murder? That I am interested in.
Lack of character development.
I sensed that Bardugo wanted this to be a plot-driven story, as I felt many characters fell by the wayside. Darlington, for example, felt like an afterthought--as was Mercy and Dawes.
I'm not saying we need complete flushed-out backstories for each character, but Mercy and Dawes did little for me. I don't know their purpose for the story besides being filler characters. Maybe they are just supposed to be filler characters?
Darlington, on the other hand, gave us a bit more than "filler" energy. A glimpse into his past was needed, and I felt that was the closest we ever got to him. I still would have loved more. Though I am always a proponent of a strong femme lead, I am almost more interested in Darlington after reading Ninth House, than I am with Alex. Maybe we'll get more of him in Hell Bent?
I'm not giving up on this series.
I want to give Bardugo some slack as it is part of a more extensive series . . . but I was grasping for complexity at every turn. World-building is essential, but it should be within the fundamentals of character. A world is nothing if there are no characters to interact with it. I had a lot of opinions about this book, but in the end, I'm not ready to give up on the entire series. I'm just not rushing to read Hell Bent, yet.
Kayla's Book Rating: 3/5
Would I recommend? : Maybe?
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