That small moment of camaraderie in the face of two decrepit fossils fighting over the limits of duty informed my perception of the Ninth protagonists more than anything else in those first eighty-six pages of Gideon. What did it for me at the onset was the following: “Harrowhark’s eyes found hers, and that disdainful mask slipped in its blankness her lips thinned. And it’s not that the thrashing and back-and-forth don’t convince you there’re plenty of issues to explore in a healthy space such as a therapist’s couch, or….I don’t know, a long-abandoned gothic castle at the heart of empire? It’s that you recognize the fuel behind that “absolute fucking hate” the two girls swear on left and right is only half of the (abusive) story. That something isn’t the vague, zeitgeisty knowledge I had about the novel before ever picking it up (thanks, blogosphere!) nor was it an errant turn left down the Internet’s archives of scalding lesbian necromancer fan-art (which I would know nothing of *he said, beefing up his Pinterest privacy settings*). Something about the absolute animosity between Gideon Nav and Harrowhark Nonagesimus lets you know…these two crazy kids love each other to death.
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