Nevernight by Jay Kristoff
Published by Macmillan on August 9th 2016
Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult
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In a land where three suns almost never set, a fledgling killer joins a school of assassins, seeking vengeance against the powers who destroyed her family.
Daughter of an executed traitor, Mia Corvere is barely able to escape her father’s failed rebellion with her life. Alone and friendless, she hides in a city built from the bones of a dead god, hunted by the Senate and her father’s former comrades. But her gift for speaking with the shadows leads her to the door of a retired killer, and a future she never imagined.
Now, a sixteen year old Mia is apprenticed to the deadliest flock of assassins in the entire Republic — the Red Church. Treachery and trials await her with the Church’s halls, and to fail is to die. But if she survives to initiation, Mia will be inducted among the chosen of the Lady of Blessed Murder, and one step closer to the only thing she desires.
“The three suns hanging on a chain about his throat tried to gleam, but the clouds in the crying sky told them no.”
If I were to write a review in the style of this book, it would begin something like this:
I turned these pieces of former tree, the midnight ink recounting a narrative tumefied by metaphoric wanderings. It pained, O readers, it pained! Persevere, I thought. Quitting now would be a mark of failure, like a baby bird that flutters its wings for the very first time, stretching them out with the promise, the hope, of flight, only to return, defeated, to its nest.
I didn’t finish it. Judge away, O readers, judge away, but I could not force myself through. It was a nightmare. I was so freaking bored. And I had to go read the blurb to remind myself what the book was about. Nevernight is so difficult to get through that I got to a point where I was just counting the pages until I could return to Tana French. Ulysses is easier to read than this book.
You know what it reminds me of? Shatter Me . A denser version. I once said that Shatter Me was not a novel; it was a collection of similes and metaphors that do not make sense. That is a fantastic description for this book! A collection of similes and metaphors that do not make sense. Clearly this works for a lot of people, but it was not for me.
The book is heavy. Lots of descriptions, overuse of similes and metaphors (did I mention that they don’t make sense?) until I had no idea what was going on. I read sentences and thought “Huh?!” It hurt trying to figure out what Kristoff was saying.
There were the ones that I understood but were so eyeroll-worthy that I wished I didn’t:
“Mia sighed. Took her temper by the earlobe and pulled it to heel.”
And then there were all the ones that I really just didn’t understand:
The girl felt the words in her chest. In the deepest, darkest place, where the hope children breathe and adults mourn withered and fell away, floating like ashes on the wind.
If her face were a puzzle, most would put it back in the box, unfinished.
Something had followed her from that place. The place above the music where her father died. Something hungry. A blind, grub consciousness, dreaming of shoulders crowned with translucent wings. And she, who would gift them.
No, seriously, what the fuck is happening?
And everything is so overwritten and melodramatic. To borrow the quote Anna used: “She introduced her boot to his partner’s groin, kicking him hard enough to cripple his unborn children.”
???????????????? Just say you kicked him in the balls! ^This does not better writing make.
I can’t do it. I’m going to go bury myself in a place where love blossoms and life finds itself carried away on the wings of wonder. Read a better book, that is.