This is the most ridiculous book I have ever read. It is full of people with diarrheoa, grown men moping about and spouting emo soliloquies about their tragic wealthy pasts, and a truly bizarre number of wolf and sheep (and centaur?!) metaphors. Our protagonist is a whiny frat boy pirate with serious internal kink shaming. Our principal love interest is a man with absolutely no redeeming features beyond a love of Plato and a dry wit, who is guilty of hideous crimes, prone to awful violence, and is excused time and time again on the very tenuous justification that he's just, like, damaged. Bit iffy, that.

AND YET I read over 540 pages in the space of 4 days and was absolutely engrossed in this uneven, weird book, sometimes out of an amused desire to see just how much odder it could get and sometimes out of a simple need to see what would happen next, and I'm somewhat confused to discover that I would quite happily wade through the 1,500 or so pages left in the series. I think that says more about me than the book, though.