Book review of Alex Stern's Ninth House

Ninth House has everything you’d want in a horror story—ghosts, demons, a sketchy town, dark magic, etc. You can practically hear the horror fanatics’ heartbeat pulsing through the pages as they take in all the supernatural tropes of the genre.
As Ninth House is supposed to be Leigh Bardugo’s first adult-horror novel, we can expect some adult themes to take place in this particular story as well. Going into this novel, I didn’t really know what to expect besides the regular spooky shenanigans that come with any scary story. And there are some scary elements, some of which are supernatural and others not. (In other words, this book contains elements of rape, sexual assault, etc.)
In essence, though, this book is all about second chances—who gets a second chance, and who does not. Enter our protagonist, Alex Stern. Just a few months ago, Alex Stern was living on the streets and getting high in California. But when offered a second chance to attend Yale University, Alex takes it. The slight catch? She’s about to join one of Yale’s secret supernatural societies—specifically Lethe—to deal with the frequent occurrences of ghosts and other horrors of New Haven, Connecticut because surprise, surprise, she’s able to see ghosts. (Amongst other things…)
Right off the bat, we get a sense of Alex’s simultaneous disbelief and distrust of the students around her. Alex knows that, unlike the students around her, this opportunity at Yale is the only chance she’ll ever have to make something of herself. Bardugo creates for us a character full of resentment and bitterness, and perhaps such bitterness is justified. Do we, as college students (and therefore privileged ourselves), fully grasp the concept of second chances? Or are we just like the students Alex encounters, the ones who burn through second chances as easily as a match does through paper?
When Alex starts investigating Tara Hutchins’ murder, we find ourselves with increased occurrences of finding out what the value of second chances exactly is. Unlike Alex, Tara Hutchins is not a Yale student—but like Alex, and as she herself reflects, Tara is another girl who was living under desperate conditions and dealing with the cards she was given. As we progress through the story, we gain a deeper sense of Alex’s life paralleling to that of Tara’s, especially in how both girls wind up getting implicated into the chess games of upper-class people. We find out eventually that the dean of Lethe (Dean Sandow) murdered Tara for money, but that’s after we find out that Tara had been making supernatural drugs for the other secret societies of Yale. Of course, as such stories go, those in power cannot let Tara keep living, not with all she knows—and as Alex comes to this realization, she also comes to a realization about the state of her own position in the scheme of the secret societies:
“She [Tara] was nineteen, a drug user, a criminal. She was—”
“An easy mark.” Just like me.
As we can see, Alex is aware of the fragile circumstances of her presence at Yale, and because of that, she fights harder and pulls more tricks to stay afloat. She doesn’t pull back her punches, and she goes into any dangerous situation with fists at the ready. She does not care to be another piece in the chess game of the people around her.
Now, such characterization may imply that Alex might be an individualist—someone who certainly does not care to form attachments or friendships, yes? Such a character trope is familiar to us: the rough-and-tough protagonist who prefers to work alone than with people.
But just because someone is tough doesn’t mean that the same person has a heart. And of course, some readers may be thinking, ‘ah, yes, the tough character who only gets soft around one specific person. We’ve seen this trope before, too. Does the character get soft around her love interest? I bet it’s the love interest.’
And this is another refreshing thing about Bardugo’s latest novel: the rough-and-tough protagonist of the story actually cares for multiple people, even people who she doesn’t know too well. One of the particular relationships that comes to mind is Alex’s small friendship with one of her roommates, Mercy Zhao. While Mercy is completely separate from Alex’s little supernatural world, she still presents herself to Alex as a somewhat comforting, normal companion who, let’s face it, someone as disrupted as Alex would need. And though their friendship may not appear deep—some may call Mercy an acquaintance more than a friend—Alex still demonstrates a fierce protectiveness around her, especially when Mercy gets roofied at a frat party.
Of course, anyone with half a conscience would care for someone who got roofied—but Alex is ruthless. She goes after the boys who hurt her roommate and serves justice in her own way, and the next morning, Alex is the one to coax Mercy into having a meal together.
We get more of this fierce protectiveness from Alex even from her days before Yale, back when she was a drug dealer in California. As a young girl, Alex is still jaded about the realities of the world around her—but like the Alex at Yale, she has a determination to make her life something better than just the life she has as another child on the streets. She conjures up fantasies with her friend Hellie, another member of the small drug-dealing group Alex associates herself with. While Hellie plays along with Alex’s daydreams, we can sense Alex’s real desperation to make her dream true—and her dream includes Hellie. Here, we get a real sense of Alex’s will to not only save herself, but save those she cares about, too. So when Hellie eventually dies of overdose, Alex is a whirlwind of wrath, especially when the other members of the little drug group try to cover up her death. Now, remember, Alex can see ghosts—but here, we find out that she can somehow let ghosts take control of her. When Hellie becomes a ghost, Alex allows her friend to take control, and Alex executes her own justice against the men who tried to throw away Hellie’s body. Again, we have an instance of Alex’s fierce rage, and while we certainly don’t commend extreme acts of violence, something can be said for the way Alex pours everything into those she loves. And when those loves—no matter how small—is taken away, Alex puts all her energy into avenging them. Despite the hard shell that Alex has put around herself, we see her willingly crack the shell open for literally anyone who might show her a little kindness. She is genuine and unapologetic in her feelings for other people, stopping at nothing to make sure they are safe.
And perhaps the degree her intensity could be credited to her understanding of the fragility of certain relationships. We’ve noted before that Alex takes second chances seriously—and she extends that same solemnity in her relationships. Alex knows she might not get a second chance to re-do a relationship, and because of that, she gives any human connection her all.
Because of such characteristics, then, Alex pushes through her time at Yale in the same way we, as readers, push through Ninth House. For a horror story, Ninth House is undoubtedly a slow-burning tale. From Alex’s perspective, we push through the mystery of Tara Hutchins’ murder with relentless energy, but we don’t get to the climax until the story’s second half when everything explodes before our eyes. Bardugo demands us to struggle with Alex as she tries to discover Tara’s killer, and the struggle is a long and tedious one at best. Therefore, the reward at the end of finally solving the case becomes all the sweeter. Despite its label as a dark and twisted story, Ninth House still gives us a classic good-defeats-evil ending, which seems to be sparse in today’s literature. Screw tragedy and gloom for shock value, give us an ending that actually makes us feel victorious.
Perhaps this review of Ninth House is only fitting for Laurel Moon, then. As a college literary magazine, we certainly get a multitude of emotional pieces—some are harder to read than others. While we respect everyone’s creativity, there are times when we don’t just want to sit in darkness. We can appreciate the darkness for what it is, but there must be a light that follows. When accepting pieces for Laurel Moon, we look for that light. We look for the stories and poems that strive for an ending that has at least a glimmer of hope. Of course, not everyone gets to wake up to a beautiful sunrise, but perhaps everyone can at least catch one of the sun’s rays before the rest of the day comes.