Funny. Fierce. Fearless.

I’d heard of Gideon the Ninth for a few years before I bought it. First published in 2019 by Tor, the pitch I heard was something akin to “spooky science fiction mystery with a fascinating magic system.” But while that sounded interesting, it certainly wasn’t enough for me to read it, much less buy it. However, while shopping with my wife at a romance-first bookstore in Austin, TX, I asked the helpful clerk for their recommendation, as I wanted more “tasy” than “roman” from the story.

And WOW – did Tamsyn Muir deliver with this absolute romp of a story. Celebrated author Charles Stross provided this blurb on the front cover of the edition I purchased: “Lesbian necromancers explore a haunted gothic castle in space!” If I had read that description back in 2019, I would have made an immediate purchase. Not only is it an accurate depiction of the events, but it also provides plenty of room for nuance, exposition, and investigation. Like the perfect onion ready for all your culinary needs, this story has layers upon layers to peel away and examine.

Gideon is an orphaned malcontent soldier living on the ninth-most planet of a civilization run by the undead. The ruler of the Ninth House, Harrowhark, is a privileged princess, only child, and prodigy of skeletal magic. Together, they leave their outcast planet to attend a competition to determine who will become the next Lyctor for the Emperor. Each magician has a bodyguard called a cavalier, and each magician specializes in a certain form of necromantic magic. Only the best duo from each planet can compete, and they do so by fulfilling an increasingly difficult series of tasks that pushes their talents and bonds to their limits.

The first 50 pages almost didn’t sell me. None of this felt new or intriguing. We’re talking about an interplanetary Magic Olympics to dictate the fate of the universe. I’ve watched versions of this trope in Star Trek, read about it in the Shades of Magic and The Hunger Games series, and so much more across several forms of media. Talented people battle the odds to save the world – and themselves. Yawn.

But few characters in 21^st century fantasy leap off the page like Gideon Nav. She’s a wisecracking jester of a character who’s horny, desperate, and unwilling to take anything seriously. All she wants is to fulfill her duty to Harrowhawk as quickly as possible so that she can leave the Ninth House and seek her fortunes anywhere else. She doesn’t wear her heart on her sleeve, but she will tell you exactly what she thinks of you, and she holds very few people or situations in high regard. And she loves her two-handed broadsword.

In Muir’s capable hands, this story quickly leaps into overdrive once Harrowhawk and Gideon land at the gothic castle. High-end political intrigue dominates the action, much of which is alien to Gideon, as the Ninth House is regarded as a dilletante outcast that ignores their relationships to the rest of the Houses. That is coupled with whizz-bang action sequences filled with precise details, intricate descriptions, and colorful language. Gideon’s sarcastic commentary – filled with easter egg pop culture references used in universe as curious anachronisms – tie everything together with literal laugh-out-loud delivery. You also root for her character development as she flows from resignation to bemusement to commitment to intense dedication over the course of the book.

What an absolute triumph of a novel. The best part might be that it does stand alone without the next two installments of the Locked Tomb Trilogy. But I will definitely read them in 2027.