Christopher Buehlman

A practicing warlock hoarding a massive collection of stolen Russian magic is not prepared to face a vengeful witch who wants to retrieve it in this new novel of terror and sorcery from the author of Those Across the River. 50,000 first printing.

The Necromancer's House

“You think you got away with something, don’t you? But your time has run out. We know where you are. And we are coming.” Andrew Ranulf Blankenship is a stylish nonconformist with wry wit, a classic Mustang, and a massive library. He’s also a recovering alcoholic and a practicing warlock. His house is a maze of sorcerous booby traps and escape tunnels, as yours might be if you were sitting on a treasury of Russian magic stolen from the Soviet Union thirty years ago. Andrew has long known that magic is a brutal game requiring blood sacrifice and a willingness to confront death, but years of peace and comfort have left him more concerned with maintaining false youth than with seeing to his own defense. Now a monster straight from the pages of Russian folklore is coming for him, and frost and death are coming with her.

Sarah Escorsa

🥝 The Kiwi Made Us Do It Buddy Read with Mr Kiwi Man Himself, My Nefarious Daughter, My Dearest of Wives, Not-So-Slowpoke-Anymore and The Shameless DNFer 🥝

Actual rating: 4.84576987523 stars. And a half.

So. This book has a 3.7 average star rating.



You really are a hilarious-then-again-maybe-not bunch, Tiny Decapods Mine. Will you ever stop reading books terribly wrong, I wonder? Hahahahahaha again. I think not. A good thing I read this along with some Wondrous People of Impeccable Book Taste (WPoIBT™) and that our joined efforts helped raise the book’s average rating from 3.67 to 3.7 stars. Go us and stuff.

So. As you might have grasped from my rating-that-doesn’t-suck-too-much, I liked this book a little. I would even go so far as to say this is a Slightly Very Good Book (SVGB™). I kid you not. Anyway, I guess the logical thing for me to do now would be to try and explain what the story is about. Yes, it would be most logical indeed. Except that: 

1) I suck at recapping plots. Nah, just kidding. I obviously excel at recapping plots (as in all things) but it just so happens that I’m feeling as lazy as a lethargic barnacle suffering from African trypanosomiasis today.
2) The book is crazy as fish, so I wouldn’t know where to begin.
3) Lee the Kiwi™ tried to explain just one chapter to someone the other day, and hasn’t been heard of since. Also, he was last seen wearing this very trendy (and most becoming) piece of garment:



Which makes me think his explanation didn’t go quite as smoothly as planned and stuff. I can’t say I’m overwhelmingly surprised, to be honest. I mean, the part of the story he was trying to recount involves suspiciously generous Jehovah’s witnesses, a mirror, self-planting, evil potatoes (view spoiler)[
  bloody shrimping hell, why didn’t Glen Cook think of this when he wrote The Silver Spike?! That would have made for a much more exciting ending, if you ask me
 (hide spoiler)], my girlfriend Baba Yaga and her awesome house on gallinaceous legs, a dog-turned-wicker man automaton called Salvador Dalí (view spoiler)[
  private message to Jésus: please be so kind as to note the adequately placed accent. Thank you very much and stuff
 (hide spoiler)], super handy zip-on zip-off animal skins, a super hot rusalka who unfortunately smells like fish, and formerly vegetalized, zombified doppelgangers (don’t ask). So I’m sure you understand why Lee the Kiwi™’s acquaintance reacted like this:



…and then proceeded to very kindly gift him with the above mentioned very trendy (and most becoming) piece of garment. Ergo, recap this story for you I shall not. A fashion victim I might be, but suicidal I am not.

So. What do you need to know about this Slightly Very Good Book™, really? This:

① I don’t get spooked easily (which seems fairly obvious since I’m usually the one doing the spooking) but this book creeped the living fish out of me. It was a most delicious, refreshing experience, really. I thank thee kindly for that, Mr Buelhman.

② I rated this book nearly almost 5 stars even though it is written in the Present Tense of Doom (PToD™). This, for those Clueless Barnacles who don’t know, is usually one of the fastest ways for authors to have their stories end up in my DNF Graveyard™. But. Mr B. here did the impossible and managed to join the ranks of Wondrous Mr Kadrey (my #1 boyfriend’s beloved daddy) in Who the Bloody Shrimp Cares What Tense This Is Written In Territory (WtBSCWTTIWiT™). Quite a feat indeed this is.

③ Buehlman’s prose is different, original and Super Extra Creative (SEC™). There are super extra short chapters, then long chapters, then moderately short chapters, then not-so-short moderately short chapters…and it makes the book Extremely Very Addictive (EVA™) and nearly impossible to put down. Then there are the repeated POV changes. Within the same paragraph. 



Sounds pretty deadly, huh? Well believe it or not, it isn’t. It’s done so masterfully you barely even notice it. Quite another feat indeed this is. Ha.

④ Russian and Slavic folklore/mythology = YUM². QED and stuff.

⑤ Communicating with the dead via VHS. Now that’s just plain genius, if you ask me. (I just dug my VCR out of storage in the hope of having a little chat with one my spiritual guides, so if anyone happens to have VHS footage of either Machiavelli or Lady Macbeth, please contact me via PM. Thank you.)

⑥ Ever-so-slightly modified vacuum cleaners with chimpanzee’s arms. Need I say more? Didn’t think so.

⑦ Fantastically fantastic ending. Nicely done, Mr B. Very nicely done. Oh, and by the way, pregnant skunks FTW!



➽ And the moral of this This Book Is Obviously A Must Read For All Historical Romance Fans Crappy Non Review (TBIOAMRFAHRFCNR™) is: potatoes have now been officially banned from my underwater abode. Also, I think there’s a slight chance that Christopher Buehlman’s books might possibly maybe have just gotten themselves a new nefarious stalker. Perhaps.

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[Pre-review nonsense]

This book is sorta kinda like high octane Harry Dresden. On acid. Lots of acid.

This books is Slightly Very Good (SVG™), too. And possibly one of the most deliciously creeptastic stories I have ever read in the entirety of my entire life.



Yes, absolutely. Only that there are no friendly skeletons in this story. Only spooky as fish mythological Russians. Who might or might not have somewhat evil intentions. There's the best dog-non-dog ever in this book, too. And Super Extra Cool Magic (SECM™). And all sorts of beautifully weird stuff I could tell you about right now but won't because I'm cruel like that so you'll just have to wait until I write my full crappy non-review to find out more about it and stuff and now you can resume breathing if you are so inclined you're welcome.

Return I shall. Posthaste. Hopefully.

The Necromancer's House

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