A sort of unsatisfying conclusion to Hobb’s hipster trilogy.
I’m calling it that because I honestly feel like the only people who read Soldier’s Son (and frankly, the only who should) are already devout Hobb fans looking for another hit.
It’s like when you really love a band, and you go through their backlist and find the crappiest albums. You listen to them with such joy, but really, you’re not fooling anyone. You know it’s a laughable comparison to what made you fall in love with the band in the first place.
It’s the same here with this trilogy, and specifically this book.
For the majority of this novel, the protagonist Nevare is an observer. Stuck inside his own body with no way to move, speak, or otherwise interact with the world. That’s right. No agency, just passing commentary on what’s going on. If he felt frustrated, you can only imagine how much more I was.
I won’t lie to you, dear reader. Skimming was involved.
OK, just kidding, I actually did lie to you. Right there, up above. In the first sentence. The ending was satisfying to the extreme. I cried during the last chapter, showing once again why Robin Hobb kind of, sort of, DEFINITELY knows what she’s doing with this whole writing thing.
But, in the end, not worth getting through a whole novel to get there. This book is firmly last out of everything she’s written.