Rating: 84% | B | ★★★★ Warnings: + Violence Synopsis (from Goodreads): The wolves are circling and a young king will face his greatest challenge in the explosive finale of the instant #1 New York Times-bestselling King of Scars Duology. The Demon King. As Fjerda's massive army prepares to invade, Nikolai Lantsov will summon every bit of his ingenuity and charm—and even the monster within—to win this fight. But a dark threat looms that cannot be defeated by a young king's gift for the impossible. The Stormwitch. Zoya Nazyalensky has lost too much to war. She saw her mentor die and her worst enemy resurrected, and she refuses to bury another friend. Now duty demands she embrace her powers to become the weapon her country needs. No matter the cost. The Queen of Mourning. Deep undercover, Nina Zenik risks discovery and death as she wages war on Fjerda from inside its capital. But her desire for revenge may cost her country its chance at freedom and Nina the chance to heal her grieving heart. King. General. Spy. Together they must find a way to forge a future in the darkness. Or watch a nation fall. Spoiler-Free Section: lelivreenrose started with a review for King of Scars, the first book in the Nikolai duology. It's only fitting that I also review the second and final book in the series. Two words to describe Rule of Wolves: too much. It's unusual for books in the same series to vary by more than a few points. (The Traitor's Circle series, which I reviewed last May, for instance, had a modest jump of 9 points between its first and last installment.) As a diehard Leigh Bardugo fan, I was loath to judge Rule of Wolves so harshly, but it had to be done. Rule of Wolves suffers from excess. Its excess of storylines. Its excess of characters, especially villains. Its excess of plots and points of view. Reading it gave me the impression that Bardugo was cramming enough storylines for another novel and a half into a single novel. That being said, almost none of the storylines added between the last novel and this one were developed enough to stand on their own. I'm still mystified by what Bardugo wanted to accomplish with this book. A collection of shallow but sentimental stories? A superficial expansion of the Grishaverse? To tie up Nikolai, Zoya, and Nina's stories without making it too "boring"? In effect, while Rule of Wolves certainly feels bloated, I would still prefer this bloated book to multiple flat novels with all of the storylines spread out. It's a paradox that makes my head hurt even now, hours after finishing the book. The book's simplistic storylines—especially ones introduced in this book and then neatly wrapped up by major acts of deus ex machina—served little purpose aside from adding exasperating suspense. But there were positive qualities as well. Nikolai and Zoya undergo satisfying transformations. Nina's chapters, while still not tempting enough for me, always pulled me in eventually. And I enjoyed the cameos from Bardugo's others books, especially at the end—arguably the story's strongest point plot-wise. This is a weak addition to the Grishaverse. But still, in my opinion, worth reading. (Click "Read More" for spoilers.) (Bonus game: count just how many rhetorical questions I ask below in a desperate effort to understand this novel.)
Plot (24/30) Beginning (8/10) Bardugo's beginnings are always the weakest part of her novels; or, at least, such is the case for her Six of Crows duology and King of Scars. While as a writer I can understand the allure of the everyman point of view, I can't say I enjoy reading it. And while Makhi is certainly not an "everyman," her point of view is still not what I want as a reader returning to the series after a two-year-long hiatus. However, I appreciate the sudden dive back into Nina's world in the second chapter. The Fjerdan plotline had been the most forgettable one for me from the previous book. The reveal of the Wellmother as a fellow Ravkan spy simultaneously added excitement to the plot and tied Nina more concretely back to the events in Ravka, a connection whose absence in the previous novel greatly weakened the latter. Bardugo's ability to balance the power politics of each region—Kerch, Ravka, Shu Han, Novyi Zem, and Fjerda—is also extremely admirable. Zoya's meeting with Hiram Schenck is much-needed, especially with the book's ending clarifying that the next Grishaverse installation will be in Ketterdam. But, of course, the crowning event of the first third of the novel is the Tavgharad's attempted assassination of Princess Ehri. While certainly shocking, this scene also falls flat in that Bardugo never fully develops Ehri's character at any point during the duology. The attempt on Ehri's life is not meaningful for the reader except in a dully political way. Middle (8/10) Ah, the Darkling. As someone who flipped through the Grisha Trilogy rather than conscienciously reading all three installments, the gravity of his resurrection never fully struck me while reading. However, I imagine I reacted to his presence quite similarly to other fans—with indifference. Was there ever a need to bring back the Darkling? Again and again and again? The burden of the utterly baffling nature of the Darkling's subplot on the overarching plot is only exacerbated by the Shu Han subplot. Having Mayu as the point-of-view character is frustrating, especially when her role is largely limited to observing rather than acting. What ultimately saves this section of the novel is two things: the Crows and David's death. The Crows, through pure nostalgia on the part of Six of Crows readers and through their unending cleverness. David's death, through the horror it inspires in the reader. David's death is wholly unnecessary and has little impact on the rest of the novel. Perhaps if Genya had been a point-of-view character his death would have been more meaningful, but she is not. Instead, Nikolai and Zoya have one conversation about David before his name all but fades from the story. David's death pains readers. And it perversely saves the story from loitering, if through brute emotion. She glimpsed a few words in David's scrawl: Ideas for compliments—hair (color, texture), smile (causes and effects), talents (tailoring, tonics, sense of style—inquire on "style"), teeth? size of feet? "His journal," Zoya said. Where David had written down all his little reminders for how to make Genya happy. End (8/10) The ending is . . . a mess. Simply and truthfully put. It is here that the multiple points of view well and truly collapse. Jumping back and forth between Zoya and Nina flying through the air, Nikolai flying on the field, Aleksander crouching in the field with the Starless, Mayu and the Khergud, and Nina and Hanne with the Fjerdans is exhausting. The little windows into different moments in the battle, while enjoyable, quickly become cumbersome. And Aleksander's fate is another head-scratching plot point. Would the all-powerful Darkling truly give himself up like that? It is an act of magnanimity, an act of unabashed deux ex machina, no matter how Bardugo frames it. Yet there are some genuine moments in the end. Hanne's transition and his happy ending with Nina. Zoya's embrace of her Suli heritage. Nikolai's meeting with his father. Nikolai and Zoya's confessions of love to each other. And, of course: "Get a message to the Crow Club," she said. "Tell Kaz Brekker the queen of Ravka has a job for him." Characters (26/30) Development (14/15) and Lure (12/15) While a little bumpy at times, I'm thrilled that Zoya finally receives the development she deserves. She has come a long way from the spiteful, selfish Squaller she was in the Grisha Trilogy. Her development, while in conjunction with Nikolai's, is never burdened or undermined for Nikolai's benefit. She remains her own character, with her own strength. Bardugo excels at small peeks into her characters' previous lives; her brief description of Zoya's father and uncles is heartwrenching. Nikolai also learns to live with the demon within him. I'm disappointed with his decision to give up his crown, but I had long predicted it by the end of the novel. However, the book suffers from underdeveloped characters in Shu Han. Mayu and Ehri remain two-dimensional despite the wealth of chapters dedicated to them. Ehri ends the story a still-inscrutable character and Mayu a character who seems over-defined by her past. The characters' lure functions in tandem with their development in this novel. Much of the positive lure comes from previous novels in the Grishaverse, while the three-point deduction comes from the two-dimensionality of the newer characters. Writing (15/20) Descriptions (10/10) and Flow (5/10) This is the portion of the rubric that hurts the most. While Bardugo's writing remains flawless and her dialogue infallibly clever, her chapter divisions greatly damage the flow of the story. Each character's storyline is so idiosyncratic that each chapter brings a new location and a new problem. The jumps between Ravka, Fjerda, and Shu Han are especially jarring and brutal. Overall, the cohesion—or, rather, the lack thereof—of the story left much to be desired and undermined the quality of the story. Closure/Set-Up (17/20) Logic (7/10) I like a happy ending as much as the next person, but the logic leading up to the eventual happily ever after is . . . perplexing, to say the least. For one, almost all of the issues disappear in the end. The meddling Ravkan nobility acquiesce and easily accept Zoya as queen—despite her being Grisha, despite her being Suli, despite her being a plethora of things that had, in the past, been clearly defined as major hurdles. The Fjerdan problem also disintegrates by the end, with Jarl Brum exiled to the far reaches of the country. And in Shu Han . . . well, what really was the major problem in Shu Han in the first place? Set-Up (10/10) Alas, while Rule of Wolves lacks its predecessors' finesse, it makes up for it in its set-up for the next Grishaverse novel. The last bit of dialogue is a tantalizing morsel, and fits nicely with the brief scenes with Kaz, Jesper, and Wylan in Kerch.
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