It’s hard to find a way to describe this book. Fundamentally, I think it’s more a vibes read because the plot itself is a little lackluster and doesn’t quite tie up in a satisfying bow, especially for being framed around a locked room mystery.

I love Arkady Martine’s prose—it’s lush and sometimes lyrical; for someone with aphantasia, I love how much weight sound gets in the description of this book especially when it comes to Rose House’s speaking (the vocal tags surrounding its dialogue were always of interest, the way its laughter is described was fascinating)—but it doesn’t entirely lend itself to simple and straight details, to a mystery being solved in an uncomplicated way.

Only, I don’t think that’s really what the book’s about, nor do I think it’s what makes this book compelling. Instead, what makes Rose/House is, well, Rose House. There’s a distinct eeriness that colors its interactions with our human cast from the start.

It begins in just vocals, in the way it thinks at computer speeds, but talks with human cadence, in the way it pauses to mask its inhumanity, but betrays itself by way of content.

(“I’m a piece of architecture, Detective. How should I know how humans are like to die?”)

And it only gets more strange as the story progresses.

As the characters enter Rose House we learn more about the mystery, but really, this becomes an unravelling of architecture and AI, of revealing Rose House for what it is.

And what it isn’t.

(“It was playing with her. […] It knew, and it was deliberately pretending it didn’t. There was nothing in the nature of an artificial intelligence that forbade it to lie. Nothing at all, save the few failsafes that produced duty-of-care calls. It would have to recognize lying, though, internalize the concept and the methodology of falsehoods, and then choose to engage in it as an—aesthetic practice. No wonder Rose House had figured out how.”)

In the end, again, this is a vibes read, one that hit at the right time, place and mood for me. I can easily see why people dislike or are disappointed by this, it’s not a very grounded book nor is it a satisfying locked room mystery, but I found myself gravitating to the character work rather than the plot. The thought of Rose House—the AI, not the architecture—is going to linger, and that, I think is as intended, which makes this successful to me.

After all, do we not live in a world where we must think about AI more and more? About what it is? About what it isn’t?

Well, here we are. This is a review that’s been a long time coming, insofar as this book was originally recommended to me five years ago as being up my alley because of the sense of humor as well as the sapphic romance of it all. On both those counts, it delivered somewhat, the first more so than the second. Gideon’s sense of humor worked for me—it’s irreverent, it’s sharp, it’s snarky—and I never got bored of that. I also enjoyed the subplots that were sapphic romance edged, both via Gideon/Dulcinea and Gideon/Harrow. The latter pairing’s relationship at the beginning, their initial fight in particular, captivated me, and for a while sustained my interest.

However, what I wish someone—anyone—had told me before I went in is really simple: this is a vibes book. Yes, it’s about Gideon and Harrow, yes it’s a locked room mystery, and yes it’s about the quest to become a Lyctor, but expecting to close this book with a thorough understanding of the world is a mistake, one that I walked into by virtue of the book length.

Unfortunately, because of my lack of understanding, I found myself really frustrated about 60% of the way into the book because I felt like I should understand the universe better and I absolutely thought I should have a better grasp on the cast. But at that point, I was listening via audiobook, which I unfortunately cannot recommend, not because the audiobook is bad—it’s great, the sass level via audio is fantastic—but because there’s no way to go back and refer to the cast list unless one goes out of their way to obtain it elsewhere. This is made a much bigger problem by Muir’s insistence on having MULTIPLE ways to refer to every character. Gideon alone is referenced as “Gideon, Nav, Ninth, The Ninth Cavalier, Griddle (a nickname I still don’t understand the source of, which kind of galls me, not going to lie)” plus others/variants I’m sure I’m forgetting and a variety of abusive terms from Harrow for a good portion of the book.

Ultimately, I read the last 40% or so in one sitting via a physical copy, mostly because I just wanted to get it over with. It makes me sad that my experience above (and my brain doing the thing it does where I inevitably struggle with very/over hyped things if I’m not enjoying them to my max ability/to the level I think I should be) made finishing feel almost like a chore or a slog, BUT I actually do think this last chunk did redeem itself somewhat.

For one, I did find it much easier to get through. In part, this was because I’d had a few conversations about my frustration with people who had finished and was basically told, “being confused is part of the ride, just enjoy the vibes” which made it easier. Another good portion of that ease, was because I had the cast list in front of me and kept flipping back to it every time a character was mentioned to be sure I knew EXACTLY who they were/which house they were from and whether they were the adept or the cavalier, so I will give credit where it was due; having the cast list is helpful. That said, given that this is a several hundred page book and the cast hits its largest point relatively early on before gradually starting to shrink, I don’t really think this is good worldbuilding or good story writing. Again, see my gripe about way too many names for the same character.

For two, I appreciated the fact that there were answers. Not enough to truly satisfy me, like it galls me that I listened to/read several hundred pages worth of words and still have very little understanding of the nine houses or how to distinguish them, but the locked room mystery of it all was somewhat solved, which, you know, was gratifying, so it could be worse, I guess.

Ultimately, before I understood that this is a vibes book, I was going to give this two stars; I was NOT having a good time. But accepting that this is not a book where you’re meant to walk out feeling immersed in the world and satisfied with your understanding helped me let go of that and make my peace with this book. I had an okay time. I would have had a better one if I’d known this was something other than I expected it to be going in.

I’d like to think that maybe things will become clearer in Harrow the Ninth, but I’m skeptical that the ‘handwave, it’s vibes’ aspect of this will be any different (please someone tell me if I’m wrong, I’d love to know if I should walk in expecting another vibes read!). Either way I will probably pick up the next installment in the series, though I’m certainly not rushing to do so RIGHT NOW (though I also don’t think I’ll have to wait another five years to finally be in the mood to engage with this world again). I also might consider rereading this again when it’s a little less fresh with the understanding I now have and see if that improves the experience. Either way, I’m happy to take this off my TBR.

I loathed this. Here, have an internet-friendly numbered list all about why:

#1. The FMC is supposedly more than just the one-dimensional object of insta-lust who can manipulate men with a single look, but ultimately her success in this book hinges on her being, well... that. True love = being allowed to be a person? Is that what I'm supposed to take from this?

#2. The MMC is an asshole who thinks he is more enlightened than he is. Yes, that's kind of the point, but unfortunately, the resolutions provided to mitigate this behavior are all wrong. (See more below).

#3. The sex/kink content in this book is not well done, in my opinion. I was glad early on to see that there was a conversation about safe words and that they both seemed at least knowledgeable enough to have that conversation. That is where my approval ends. Why is there never a conversation about hard limits? Why is the MMC allowed to use degrading language while having sex with the FMC and then leave her alone to parse that and wonder if she liked it/work through her feelings/wonder if how he treats her in these moments = how he feels about her? Why is there never any aftercare? It’s not like there isn’t more than one sex scene in this book, and again, we've established that they're both knowledgeable enough to discuss safe words casually, so hello???? Where is the care and conversation?

#4. The domestic violence subplot was NOT well handled. For one, it comes way too late into the story, a fact that could be easily mitigated by the MMC opening up and discussing this stuff earlier, but NO, we can’t have emotional vulnerability from the MMC until he's been fixed! For two, it’s resolved and tied up in a pretty little bow in a jarringly fast fashion, while the idea of therapy afterward is a barely passing thought. 0/10.

#5. Every character who isn’t the FMC, the MMC exists as pure plot convenience. I don’t believe that these people are people so much as they are just plot devices. Villains, victims for the MMC to save so that the MMC looks good, convenient plot devices, overcome-able obstacles. Obviously, characters have to have purposes, but I don’t believe that any of these people ARE people so much as one-dimensional inclusions to drive the plot forward.

#6. This isn’t so much a critique of the book as it is the marketing. Putting this in a “Queer All Year” quest or marketing it as “diverse” when the main relationships on page are all M/F is a choice, and frankly, I don’t think it’s a good one. Labelling people as bisexual or queer is all well and good, but when you don’t bother to represent those relationships on the page, in ANY meaningful relationship throughout the book, even outside the main pairing, it’s a little pointless.

Anyway, I don't think M/F straight-up romance like this is for me.