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A review by columnclub
The Witness for the Dead by Katherine Addison
reflective
slow-paced
2.0
I was honestly so gutted by how much I didn't connect with this. After how much I loved The Goblin Emperor, my expectations were pretty high, but much of what I loved in that book didn't work for me in this new context. Overall I thought it was sorely missing a sense of pace and energy, and unfortunately the reading experience was frustrating at times.
I forgave the way the plot meandered in The Goblin Emperor, since the focus was largely on Maia and his character development. Here, though, there are multiple murders to be solved, and Celehar is too static and closed off to really be the anchor for a narrative that doesn't emphasise action or plot. (Understandably, I guess, though his backstory isn't expanded on here as much as it could have been.) There's an emphasis on decency that was so refreshing and charming in The Goblin Emperor, but here, with a character that's reactive rather than active and morose rather than hopeful, it feels somehow dreary. At its most frustrating, the novel has him drinking tea and thinking about how there's nothing else to be done at present.
I don't think either the reflective style or the meandering structure are at all suited to the mystery genre, and unfortunately, there wasn't enough else here to compensate for that. It genuinely pains me to say it, but I don't think I'll pick up the next one.
I forgave the way the plot meandered in The Goblin Emperor, since the focus was largely on Maia and his character development. Here, though, there are multiple murders to be solved, and Celehar is too static and closed off to really be the anchor for a narrative that doesn't emphasise action or plot. (Understandably, I guess, though his backstory isn't expanded on here as much as it could have been.) There's an emphasis on decency that was so refreshing and charming in The Goblin Emperor, but here, with a character that's reactive rather than active and morose rather than hopeful, it feels somehow dreary. At its most frustrating, the novel has him drinking tea and thinking about how there's nothing else to be done at present.
I don't think either the reflective style or the meandering structure are at all suited to the mystery genre, and unfortunately, there wasn't enough else here to compensate for that. It genuinely pains me to say it, but I don't think I'll pick up the next one.