Reader, I read it. A quiet read we had, the book and I were alone present. And it was awesome and cheesy, impressive and haunting, but a little too religious in the end for me. Still, Jane Eyre is an absolute masterpiece and Charlotte Bronte was a brilliant writer who died far too young. So fuck you, tuberculosis. And many thanks to Charlotte for this wonderful lovestory, and for creating Jane, that strong, independent woman who wasn’t plain at all.
Even better than Six of Crows, full of so very elaborate schemes and backstabbing…and an ending that leaves no wishes open – heartbreaking, but still great.
This is the book that revived my reading addiction. Shame on you, Leigh Bardugo, because I was on the way to, you know, socialize with people. Get a real life and stuff. But no, you had to write this book and I was stupid enough to buy it…and then everything else you’ve ever written.
This book has waffle-lover Nina Zenik, badass Zoya Nazyalensky and a lot of Nikolai Lantsov. Couldn’t ask for more…at least that’s what I thought before reading it the very first time. It turns out that there are more familiar characters from the trilogy in this one, and at least one appearance heavily affected my verdict about this book.
I didn’t like this one at all. Of course, the first hint to it being not good was on the back of it – any book claiming to be like „The Lord of the Rings“ is obviously so bad that it has to decorate itself with the most famous work of fantasy to receive attention.