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Thank you to NetGalley and Avon and Harper Voyager for allowing me to read this ARC!
Content Warning: death (including animals and children), murder, violence, torture, emotional abuse.
Hellevir was only ten years old the first time she visited Death. Able to raise the dead, Hellevir goes between the land of the living and Death's domain, where she haggles with the shrouded figure who acts as its Guardian -- and who she speculates may be some kind of God, or Death himself. But raising lives comes with a hefty price, and Hellevir loses bits and pieces of herself each time she must bring someone back. When Princess Sullivain, the heir to the throne, is assassinated, the Queen seeks out Hellevir, demanding that she raise her granddaughter, and once Hellevir has done as she's asked, she promises not to tell her court of Hellevir's gift. But the Princess has made no such promise, and she decides that Hellevir will serve at her side, her protector from any further attempts on her life. As Hellevir grows closer to the Princess, despite her intentions, she learns that there is a deeply tangled web around the court, and that she may be at its center.
How exciting, to see a sapphic fantasy debut that is not young adult! Although I understand the importance of YA stories that portray diversity and queerness, it seems the curse of WLW-centered books is never being allowed to burgeon into adult fiction. It's a problem that irks me to no end, and so I was very highly anticipating The Gilded Crown, particularly with its Nordic inspired setting and its interesting premise revolving around a necromancer.
My first impression upon reading the first few chapters was positive, but unfortunately, as I delved deeper into the story, some of the shine wore off for me. While it's beautifully and brilliantly written, with some turns of phrase that left me downright envious I hadn't come up with them, the characters and plot suffer in comparison. Hellevir, for example, is strangely blank, without much personality. She deals with constant backlash and overcomes obstacle after obstacle, but she never seems to grow much of a backbone, at least not until the very last few chapters of the novel. I suppose that's growth, which I can't condemn, but aside from being forgiving and naive, there's really not much else to her.
Sullivain, on the other hand, is perhaps a bit better. She has hidden depths, at least, much of which centers around not being a very good person. Many other reviewers have a problem with Sullivain, and specifically her romance with Hellevir, but I didn't -- I'm tired of sapphic and women characters always having to be good and boring. People were upset with some of the things she does to Hellevir, but what about Cardan in The Cruel Prince, who readers absolutely adore? He does far worse things to his romantic interest, but strangely enough, no one seems to bat an eye at it. How odd, that a man might be forgiven for things ten times worse than what a woman might do, but she'll be the one who is criticized.
I'm not saying Sullivan and Hellevir's relationship is healthy; it's not. But aren't LGBTQ+ people allowed complexity, depth, and sometimes toxicity in their relationships? I grow weary of always reading "positive" representation, which only means that queer characters are never allowed to do anything wrong, lest they be seen as a negative reflection on the community. So, for the most part, I greatly enjoyed the dance between Hellevir and Sullivain, and being able to feel angry and hurt when they do things that wound one another.
The plotline is strangely boring, despite its rather original and fun concept. The riddles that Hellevir must solve for Death are so conveniently resolved that I felt they were pointless to begin with, and most of the characters and relationships feel like little more than window dressing (and the same can be said for the world-building, which doesn't feel fleshed out). The pacing, though, is what does the most damage to the narrative: nothing feels as if it really happens until around the 70% mark, and it's somewhat agonizing to get to that point, since everything in between is boring and struck me almost as being filler.
The third star is because the ending is pretty great, and suddenly, I found myself wanting to read more. I'll probably pick up the next book in this series (because it will be one), but I'll have some reservations when I do. If the pacing errors and characterization issues aren't fixed, I'm afraid it'll turn many people off. All in all, I think there's so much potential here, but it's hard to give it a higher rating than I did, because the majority of it is just so boring.
My first impression upon reading the first few chapters was positive, but unfortunately, as I delved deeper into the story, some of the shine wore off for me. While it's beautifully and brilliantly written, with some turns of phrase that left me downright envious I hadn't come up with them, the characters and plot suffer in comparison. Hellevir, for example, is strangely blank, without much personality. She deals with constant backlash and overcomes obstacle after obstacle, but she never seems to grow much of a backbone, at least not until the very last few chapters of the novel. I suppose that's growth, which I can't condemn, but aside from being forgiving and naive, there's really not much else to her.
Sullivain, on the other hand, is perhaps a bit better. She has hidden depths, at least, much of which centers around not being a very good person. Many other reviewers have a problem with Sullivain, and specifically her romance with Hellevir, but I didn't -- I'm tired of sapphic and women characters always having to be good and boring. People were upset with some of the things she does to Hellevir, but what about Cardan in The Cruel Prince, who readers absolutely adore? He does far worse things to his romantic interest, but strangely enough, no one seems to bat an eye at it. How odd, that a man might be forgiven for things ten times worse than what a woman might do, but she'll be the one who is criticized.
I'm not saying Sullivan and Hellevir's relationship is healthy; it's not. But aren't LGBTQ+ people allowed complexity, depth, and sometimes toxicity in their relationships? I grow weary of always reading "positive" representation, which only means that queer characters are never allowed to do anything wrong, lest they be seen as a negative reflection on the community. So, for the most part, I greatly enjoyed the dance between Hellevir and Sullivain, and being able to feel angry and hurt when they do things that wound one another.
The plotline is strangely boring, despite its rather original and fun concept. The riddles that Hellevir must solve for Death are so conveniently resolved that I felt they were pointless to begin with, and most of the characters and relationships feel like little more than window dressing (and the same can be said for the world-building, which doesn't feel fleshed out). The pacing, though, is what does the most damage to the narrative: nothing feels as if it really happens until around the 70% mark, and it's somewhat agonizing to get to that point, since everything in between is boring and struck me almost as being filler.
The third star is because the ending is pretty great, and suddenly, I found myself wanting to read more. I'll probably pick up the next book in this series (because it will be one), but I'll have some reservations when I do. If the pacing errors and characterization issues aren't fixed, I'm afraid it'll turn many people off. All in all, I think there's so much potential here, but it's hard to give it a higher rating than I did, because the majority of it is just so boring.
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