The second book in the Six of Crows duology is the best book that I have read this year. Now, I REALLY want Bardugo to go back and rewrite the Shadow and Bone books. I want to care about those characters the way that I care about these crazy kids. The, ahem, bones are there in the Shadow and Bonebooks but the depth of the characters is not. I understand that Bardugo grew as a writer but the difference between the first trilogy and this duology is startling.
The misfits from Six of Crows are back at it again with a heist (within a heist, within a heist, within a saving the whole world situation) and I loved every minute of it. Everyone is trying to make one last big score armed with quick wit, a little bit of magic, and a whole lot of luck. Honestly, I don’t think that I could summarize the plot if I wanted to. The ins and outs of the “con” in this book are so extremely convoluted that I’m not even sure if it’s feasible. Don’t care. This novel is about the place and the people, both of which are so rich and detailed.
It’s like Ripper Street and Shades of Magic had a baby. A multicultural Dickensian romp through murky canals and atop foggy rooftops. It was a joyous whirlwind of hope, heartbreak, revelation, and reconciliation. Ugh. So many achingly beautiful moments.
This is the last book in Bardugo’s Six of Crows duology. I am having trouble accepting this. I am not finished with these characters: a belittled son who is smarter than he knows, an antsy farm boy with perfect aim but no direction, a fearless acrobat walking a tightrope of hope, two enemy soldiers who find truth in one another, and a vengeful con artist whose biggest mark is himself. These people are gonna linger in my headspace for a while and I am totally fine with that.
