Leigh Bardugo’s first adult novel is a dark, uncomfortable and gripping read. As always, it’s hard to get into the story, but once you’re in it, it’s impossible to put down: blessed with a fascinating protagonist, an intriguing world and a hell of a story.
Hilary Mantel’s retelling of Thomas Cromwell’s life is accurate, enchanting and fascinating – due not only to the fact that it represents the ten years of English history which have probably shaped the country the most, but also because of her incredibly awesome writing style and storytelling.
The most impressively written, unfinished tale of our time: a book so shining with mysterious magic, so full of enchanting fairytales and so beautiful in its prose that it stands out from other modern fantasy like a red blot of colour on a white canvas.
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.