Here we go, folks!
Two is for discipline, heedless of trial;
Three for the gleam of a jewel or a smile;
Four for fidelity, facing ahead;
Five for tradition and debts to the dead;
Six for the truth over solace in lies;
Seven for beauty that blossoms and dies;
Eight for salvation no matter the cost;
Nine for the Tomb, and all that was lost.
Welcome to 2023, and our start of the group read of Tamsyn Muir’s Locked Tomb series, starting with Gideon the Ninth. Tonight I want to offer some background that, well, it may not help your confusion levels the first time through the novels, but it’ll make your confusion a bit easier to bear. I’m sure you’re confused. It’s okay. You’re right where you’re supposed to be.
Gideon the Ninth works its magic, not only by being wildly original, but also by slicing and dicing a number of genres and conventions. You won’t miss them as they go by, but if you know what to look for, you’ll spot them easily. First up,
- School Competition: as in Harry Potter and the Goblin of Fire. Canaan House is not a school, but Harrow suspects that the different houses will be pitted against each other in a competition. Which is what happens.
- The Country House Murder Mystery: specifically Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None. Tell me I’m wrong. I’m not wrong.
- Pride and Prejudice in Space: just saying. The enemies to besties theme is ancient. It wears many faces.
- The Lab of Monsters: Frankenstein ain’t got nothing on Canaan House. Monsters abound.
- The Legacy of Trauma: don’t overlook the way that trauma is passed from one generation to another, and the many ways it manifests.
Something for everyone in these books. There’s comedy. Very dark comedy. Swordfights. Over-the-top Gothic horror. Cruelty. Jokes. Physics and theology. True love. Friendship. It all starts in Gideon.
In many ways, I think Tamsyn Muir draws us in with the murder mystery that comprises the plot of Gideon the Ninth. In true murder mystery fashion, although there are a number of red herrings (nope, you’ll get no help there!) everything is meaningful; every detail is important. You will miss bunches of them, but that’s the beauty of re-reading. These books really reward it.
In subsequent books, the horizon will widen as we’re drawn deeper into this world and more centrally into the overarching mystery and existential struggle.
These notes are for your reference as you read. I probably won’t repeat any of it, because there will always be more.
The Magic
Two kinds of energy power Muir’s world: thalergy, which is the energy that living things — everything from bacteria to trees to fauna — emit, and thanergy, which is the energy that is released when that living thing dies. Ten thousand years ago, during an apocalyptic extinction event, the Emperor harnessed the power of thanergy. Both words are derived from Greek: thalergy from thallein, “to flourish,” and thanergy from thanatos, “death.”
The necromancers (also called adepts) from the Nine Houses draw on reserves of thanergy, death energy, while performing spells (also called theorems). Because space is pretty much a vacuum, necromancers are bereft of power in space; they find space travel debilitating, and so have to take measures to assure their health and efficacy during space travel.
There are three kinds of specialties in necromancy: flesh (icky but necessary), spirit (ghosts and revenants) and bone (Harrow greatly prefers bone magic).
The Houses
In Act 1, we start in the Ninth House, where black is always in fashion. The Ninth House is located at the bottom of a shaft drilled into a small dark planet. Everything is cold. We know from the epigram that there’s a tomb on the Ninth, and that it’s important. The Ninth House guards the Tomb. We don’t know what’s in the Tomb. We also know that the House has seen better days; in fact, as you read, notice how many people you see, and how many you don’t. There are lots of skeletons. The Ninth House is all about bone magic.
First House: the Emperor, the man who became God, and the God who became man [— did I not mention there’ll be theology? Specifically Catholic theology and a great many callbacks and echoes. Tell me when you read about Drearburgh you didn’t envision a really dank cathedral.] and his saints, the lyctors. “Lyctor” derives from līchama, Old English for “body,” as in “lich gate,” the place where a coffin rests between a church and the graveyard while the mourners gather for the burial. Lyctors are, like the Emperor himself, immortal and unbelievably powerful.
Second House: “for discipline, heedless of trial.” The Second House is the military arm of the empire and runs the Cohort, which trains the Emperor’s soldiers. Discipline is big in the Second House. Their colors are white and scarlet. They do spirit magic, having perfected the art of using thanergy in battle.
Third House: “the gleam of a jewel or a smile.” Wealth and power. Specialty: flesh and spirit magic, with specific interest in what happens to the soul when the body dies. House color: violet?
Fourth House: “fidelity, facing ahead.” The Fourth House supplies many of its people to the Cohort. Specialty: ? Main characteristic: courage. House color: blue
Fifth House: “tradition and debts to the dead.” The heir of the Fifth House is a famous historian and speaker to the dead. The Fifth House is deep in spirit magic, and once specialized in the mysteries that lie across the River, or on the other side of death. The House is powerful, powerful enough to be raising the heirs of the Fourth House. House color: sensible brown.
Sixth House: “truth over solace in lies.” The Sixth House keeps the Empire’s records in its massive library. The heir of the House is called the Master Warden — he leads the House. House color: gray. As in, the scholars see the world in shades of gray. The Sixth is big on scholarship. Specialty: tracing thalergenic and thanergenic signatures. Expect academic jokes.
Seventh House: “beauty that blossoms and dies.” The Seventh House pursues the perfection of “the beguiling corpse,” marrying death to beauty in a way that’s somehow even more emo than the Ninth House with all it’s tomb nuns and face paint. Specialty: flesh magic. House color: seafoam green.
Eighth House: “salvation no matter the cost.” The Eighth House keeps the orthodox religion of the Emperor. Specialty: the condition of the soul. ‘Nuff said for now. House color: white.
Characters and Place Names
Because we’re starting in the Ninth House and barely get to Canaan House before the Act ends, I’ll reproduce the names and Tamsyn Muir’s notes about naming conventions and pronunciations. This comes from the supplemental materials at the end of the e-book version of Gideon. I found it helpful, and I hope you do, too. When appropriate, I will omit some of the spoilery stuff but will add it back in at the right time.
You’ll notice that the characters’ last names accord to their House. Except for Gideon Nav, whose surname is an indication of her inferior status.
Harrowhark Nonagesimus: HA-row-hark. To rhyme with “arrow,” not as in “hay.”
Noh-nah-GUESS-i-mus. “I” as in “bitter”; “mus” for the Latin, closest to “moose.”
Note: Harrow is named very specifically for the harrowing of Hell. “Hark” is one of those terrible, portentous words that always precedes an awful time, in the old sense of “awe,” Hark! A herald angel. Hark! From the tombs, a doleful sound.
Gideon Nav: NAV. Short “a” as in “navigator,” not as in “nave.”
Note: There are a lot of reasons as to why Gideon is called Gideon. The warlike prophet of God who really messed up the Midianites is part of it. Gideon is a prophetic name: someone named their own demise in her. [Biblically, and in military history, Gideon is associated with the victory of a small force over a larger, better equipped enemy.]
Ortus Nigenad: ORT-us. To rhyme with tortoise. NIGH-ga-nad. As with Harrow, hard “g.”
Note: Although Ortus is obviously referential to his father Mortus, Ortus by itself is the Latin for “rising.” Is this hilarious or sad?
Pelleamena Novenarius: Pelly-AM-enna. Rather than ah-MAY-nah. Noh-ven-ARE-ee-us.
Note: In myth, Peleus famously was the father of Achilles.
Priamhark Noniusvianus: PRY-am-hark. NOH-nee-us-vee-AHN-us. You should have the trick of the “us” sound by now. If you don’t, it’s fine, nobody cares, it’s a random name in a novel about bonermancy.
Note: Priam in the Iliad was famously a dad in a city about to go splat.
Aiglamene: Eye-GLAM-en-ay.
Note: “Aigla” was meant to refer to the French “aigle,” the eagle.
Crux: To rhyme with “sucks,” not “crooks.”
Note: “Crux” as in “Cross,” which is funny multiple ways.
Aisamorta: EYE-sa-mor-tah.
Note: “Aisa” is a Greek word for fate or destiny. [Morta: you got that one , right?]
Lachrimorta: LACK-ri-mor-tah.
Note: “Lachri” from tears.
Glaurica: GLAU-ri-kah.
[Note: “Glaur” from Latin for “glory.” Also worthy of note: Glaurica married into the Ninth House from the Eighth House, so you need not equate glory with the Ninth.]
Drearburgh: DREAR-burr.
Note: The most Gormenghastian name in the book. “Burh” as in the old variant for “burgh,” “Drear” as in “dreary”!
Canaan House: KAY-nan.
[Canaan: the land between the Mediterranean and the River Jordan, the land promised by God to the people of Israel. In the Book of Joshua, God commands Israel to destroy Canaan and its people. So “Canaan” is both a promise and war crime.]
The Memes
In this beginning section, I can only find one. Now you may hate the memes. If so, ignore them. I find them delightful. Muir said (in some interview I read about a year ago and can’t find now) that one of the things she loves about Thackery is the specific cultural references in his work, the ones that fell out of favor quickly. Although she’s cagey about her reasons for this, I think it’s because those references give academics things to search for and in general deepen our historic appreciation of the work. Joyce does the same thing; hell, even Jane Austen worried that her writing would be hopelessly out of date by 1830, and see how that worked out. Moreover, Muir refuses to draw distinctions between referencing Dante, the Bible, or Classical mythology, and referencing the internet. To which I must say, respect.
With that preface, every week I’ll list the internet memes I’ve been able to collect, having spelunked many a Reddit thread, to bring you the nuggets:
“While we were developing common sense, she studied the blade.” (p. 53)
About Act 1
Most of Act 1 takes place in the Ninth House. It sets the table for the action to come, but nothing can prepare you for the mix of humor and horror that Muir brews. She sets the stakes high from Chapter 1, as we meet Gideon making her hundredth or so escape attempt. These first chapters are hard to read in that the relationship between Gideon and Harrow, how to put it? oh yes, could. not. be. worse. Persevere. It gets easier.
In the last chapters you’ll meet Teacher and fifteen other characters all at once. It’s overwhelming. Muir asks a lot of her readers, and the books are complex, but there’s enough of a main plot to carry you through until you catch on.
Now what have I forgotten? Oh, the reading schedule! One act per week, so we’ll discuss all of Act 1 next week, and I’ll give you the prep stuff for Act 2. And so on, through the five acts. Then a recap where we can go wild on theories and spoilers, and then on to Harrow.
If this is your first read, I both sympathize and envy you.
Yes, and one more thing: the queerness. If you read reviews, you won’t be able to escape the fact that Gideon the Ninth is gay! gay! gay! So gay. This does not mean what you would assume it means if you haven’t read much queer literature. It’s really not “Lesbians in Space” (okay, it is — but not explicitly so).
One of the elements that many queer readers have expressed is a mighty relief is that, in this world, sexuality isn’t specifically sexual. (Across three books there is one romantic scene and one scene that’s not about sex but could be read sexually, if you squint hard enough. I’ll point it out when we get there.) The culture doesn’t make a big deal out of anyone’s private bits; it’s accepting and non-judgmental. That said, the central relationship is intense, and it’s obviously gay (many clueless reviewers mistook it for a sibling relationship, which reveals a lot more about them than it does about the characters).
This is a series that takes the saying “love is love” seriously. As far as reproduction goes, most marriages are for love or position regardless of the gendering, and children are produced almost exclusively in “vats,” which I take to mean that human gestation is a thing of the past (although the Sixth House sometimes goes old school “for research purposes”). By separating sex from reproduction, the romantic world is opened up and gender politics are disempowered.
All of which is the long way around to say that queerness is part of the framework, but it’s no more or less prevalent or important than heterosexuality. It’s present enough to bring gay readers, especially younger gay readers who are struggling with their fit in the world, a comfortable acceptance, a refuge if you will, in a world that is free of the prejudices and weird moralizing that so plagues us. There are different kinds of weird moralizing, classism, and critiques on both capitalism and imperialism, but we’ll get there soon enough.
Therefore, welcome! And onward! Act 1 — 86 dense pages. And if you’re put off by any of it, please stick with us for a while. It’ll grow on you. Like crypt mold. Or ichor. Let me know in the comments what I’ve missed or what else you want to discuss or do here. In full disclosure: a lot will happen. It might seem like these readings are short but they’re packed.
I can’t think of a better way to start the year.
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