Chain of Thorns The Last Hours (Book 3)
Reviews
This book had me hooked from page one! There was definitely a lot going on. This book was quite the roller coaster of emotions. I am happy with the ending and the last few lines really had me.
old review below!! 3.75 ⭐️ There are so many things I wish cassie had done differently with this book, considering how long we had to wait ?? It doesn’t feel enough. It was definitely a mess and I wish some things never truly happened but the truth is that there was so much unnecessary shit easily swept aside for the sake of angst. Truthfully, we never got answers to anything. It really didn’t give what I expected so I’ll stick to my rating. Review from 2021: I will never know peace until this book is in my hands. I know some of the ships will not end well and only one is literally safe lol. I hope this miscommunication trope of herondaisy will be fixed.
I am finally free - worst experience of my life!!
Everything in this book is entirely obscured by its length. Instead of presenting us with a tight, focused plot and/or a series of character studies, it is a series of fan-service moments between the couples that Clare has decided must happen. About 50% of this novel would have been extra free content on her blog 10 years ago or would have ended up on another collection of short stories written by other authors. It is not literature, it is fan content; this is not be trying to discredit fan content, I just do not think it has any place in a 30h-listening-time novel (which STILL somehow has a bonus story at the end). But I guess this was always a fan service series (I could not believe that people begged for it, I know I did not care and I still do not).
Another 40% of the novel is plot points re-used from other instalments of the "Shadowhunter Chronicles", slightly changes. About 10% feels original to this novel and I feel like I am being generous, having written out the number.
I cannot say that any of the time was used to flesh out the massive cast of characters either; they still feel as flat as the first time Clare mentioned them when people were asking for Shadowhunter trees and Wessa's kids.
An all-around disaster for an author as seasoned as Clare. To be honest, she already felt tired during TDA but I hoped that having continuously upped the ante up to that point, she would be quite limited in what she could do with her two remaining series. For TLH, it really could have been a rather conscise character study (this series rather bites off more than it can chew and then gets lost in romantic drama). For TWP, my original hope was for something rather small-scale that wraps some lose ends. After having read "Chain of Thorns", however, I am very, very afraid of what it will be like, actually - and it makes me sad since I was really looking forward to the Kit Herondale books.
** spoiler alert ** justice for my boy
screaming
I enjoyed this read, but it was entirely too long.
Everything took what felt like ten years to get going, and I didn't like some of the perspectives. There were definitely way too many.
Also, a death (with someone I won't mention) happened, and it felt entirely forced and sad for no reason. I noticed way back that if a character doesn't have a front focus romance, or has a one-sided love, will die. It happens in almost every single one of her books.
But, nonetheless, I loved James, and I stuck around to hear more of Wills quips. Anything for James.
I also read almost all of Cassandra Clare's books one after another, and I don't really recommend it, because while I'm up to date with family trees and inside jokes, I was ready for this one to end so I could move on to other books and series.
i have been in the shadowhunter world for so long and finishing this last book feels like the end of an era (until the next series lol) especially with the tid parents involved in this one
i just love this friend group that this series in particular encompasses. compared to the other series, this one focuses more on the characters and their own growth along with their relationships/friendships with one another.
this isn't a full five stars for me because idk this conclusion book didn't feel resolute for me. i love the epilogue but idk what it is, i just wasn't fully satisfied with how everything was wrapped up. personally the ending felt rushed and underwhelming. maybe bc there are so many characters that the author didn't have time to fully focus and flesh out each one. for example, matthew like i love his character and his development but i wish there was more
maybe bc the beginning was such a rollercoaster with shocking moments and the high of it all, then towards the end, it felt like the high went down. at some point, i just wanted to get it over with and finish the book. like the book didn't have to be this long
honestly good thing i didn't have to wait years for this bc i would've been so disappointed.
Necesito tiempo para ordenar mis pensamientos y esperar a no cambiar la puntuación a tres. Bueno, no cumplió su papel como la final de una trilogía y eso fue creo lo que me hizo sentir confusa en el momento que terminé. No sé si Cassandra tiene planeado hacer cortos para los agujeros argumentales (si fue intencional o no), pero normalmente en las finales suele cerrar muy bien y ESO NO HUBO ACÁ. Me duele mucho darle 3 a una novela donde WILL HERONDALE está pero después de días de haber terminado me di cuenta que no tuvo un gran impacto la final, ay.
I have no words to describe how PERFECT this book was. My brain is literally just in a constant cycle of screaming crying and throwing up.
But do know that I will be sending my therapist bill to Miss Cassandra for severe emotional damage.
I cannot help it: these books are a safe, cosy place to me
Highlights
Remembering that Matthew had said that a particular green shirt brought out the color in Thomas's hazel eyes, Thomas put it on, brushed his hair, and left the house-only to return a moment later, due to having forgotten his scarf, his shoes, and his stele.
You are the moon in the sky, and I am the star that circles around you.
But see the angry Victor hath recalled
His ministers of vengeance and pursuit
Back to the gates of Heaven: The sulfurous hail
Shot after us in stom, overblown hath laid
The fiery Surge, that from the precipice
Of Heaven received us falling, and the thunder,
Winged with red lightning and impetuous rage.
—John Milton, Paradise Lost
Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers:
for what fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness?
and what communion hath light with darkness?
—2 Corinthians 6:14
A fortress foiled, which reason did defend,
A siren song, a fever of the mind,
A maze wherein affection finds no end,
A raging cloud that runs before the wind,
A substance like the shadow of the sun,
A goal of grief for which the wisest run.
—Sir Walter Raleigh, "A Farewell to False Love"
"I have often thought of you," said Estella.
"Have you?"
“Of late, very often. There was a long hard time when I kept far from me the remembrance of what I had thrown away when I was quite ignorant of its worth. But, since my duty has not been incompatible with the admission of that remembrance, I have given it a place in my heart.”
"You have always held your place in my heart, I answered.
Out of the night that covers me
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
—William Ernest Henley "Invictus"
At the corner of Wood Street,
when daylight appears,
Hangs a Thrush that sings loud, it
has sung for three years:
Poor Susan has passed by the spot, and has heard
In the silence of morning the song of the Bird.
Tis a note of enchantment; what ails her? She sees
A mountain ascending, a vision of trees;
Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide,
And a river flows on through the vale of Cheapside.
—William Wordsworth,"The Reverie of Poor Susan"
I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert.. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed."
—Percy Bysshe Shelley, "Ozymandias"
At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here and there,
Troop home to churchyards: damned spirits all,
That in crossways and floods have burial,
Already to their wormy beds are gone;
For fear lest day should look their shames upon,
They willfully themselves exile from light
And must for aye consort with black-brow'd night.
—William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream
And only the tides of London flow,
Restless and ceaseless, to and fro;
Only the traffic's rush and roar
Seems a breaking wave on a far-off shore.
—Cicely Fox, "Anchors"
Horror covers all the sky,
Clouds of darkness blot the moon,
Prepare! for mortal thou must die,
Prepare to yield thy soul up soon.
—Percy Bysshe Shelley, "Ghasta or, the Avenging Demon!!"
How hopeless under ground
Falls the remorseful day.
—A. E. Housman, "How Clear, How Lovely Bright"
Dark, waste, and wild, under the frown of Night
Starless exposed, and ever-threatening storms
Of Chaos blustering round, inclement sky;
Save on that side which from the wall of Heaven,
Though distant far, some small reflection gains
Of glimmering air less vexed with tempest loud.
—John Milton, Paradise Lost
The fire falls asunder, all is changed,
I am no more a child, and what I see
Is not a fairy tale, but life, my life.
—Amy Lowell, "A Fairy Tale"
Thus many a melody passed to and fro between the two nightingales, drunk with their passion. Those who heard them listened in delight, and so similar were the two voices that they sounded like a single chant. Born of pain and longing, their song had the power to break the unhappiness of the world.
— Nizami Ganjavi, Layla and Majnun
Artificer of fraud; and was the first
That practiced falsehood under saintly show,
Deep malice to conceal, couched with revenge.
—John Milton, Paradise Lost
Do you remember when we went
Under a dragon moon,
And 'mid volcanic tints of night
Walked where they fought the unknown fight
And saw black trees on the battle-height,
Black thorn on Ethandune?
— G.K. Chesterton, Ballad of the White Horse
She felt a pressure in her throat: Why had no one ever told her how close happiness was to tears?