Read this book with your brain turned off: a review of The Raven Scholar
On paper, The Raven Scholar should have been the perfect blend of original and familiar, executing old tropes in interesting ways to create an experience that isn't going to be so far out of the average fantasy reader's comfort zone, all while still offering a somewhat fresh take on the genre. There's intrigue, mystery, and tournaments. There's an exciting plot, intricate lore, and high stakes. There's humor, romance, and some experimentation with style and perspective. It has lofty ambitions without taking itself too seriously, which sounds great in concept, but I think my issues with the book lie in the fact that it fails to balance its ambitious nature with the fact that it's also a bit of a popcorn read.
Had I turned off my brain, I'd probably have had a great time with this one. I unfortunately abhor reading with my brain turned off. I suspect your enjoyment will depend on how willing you are to suspend disbelief regarding certain worldbuilding and plot decisions. For example, if you can accept that an emperor is chosen based on a series of astonishingly stupid and irrelevant trials, you'll probably have fun here. (On the one hand, I like the idea of examining the arbitrariness of power. On the other hand, if not a single one of the extremely clever characters that riddle this story is going to comment on how illogical it is to choose an emperor this way, then it's not really an examination of the arbitrariness of power. It's just a plot device.) Essentially the book is rife with plot and worldbuilding holes. Some might be resolved satisfactorily in future installments, and the rest of them require you not to ask too many questions.
The same applies to the reasoning behind character behaviors. Don't ask too many questions. The logic isn't exactly airtight. Vabras, who basically plays the role of the loyal bodyguard, may seem like he has strong characterization at first, but once we learn more about him and his motives, things become utterly baffling. A good character is mangled just to suit certain plot needs. The story prioritizes shocking readers with a twist that can't work without also twisting Vabras into a character far less interesting than what he was initially constructed to be.
There's also Cain, the love interest. For the most part, he's a solid addition to the cast, but the plot makes less than perfect choices for him just to be shocking. I don't think it ruins his character like with Vabras, but it is very coincidental that both Cain and Neema, our protagonist, have similar relationships to certain magical entities. (I won't spoil more.) If that coincidence doesn't get a good explanation in later books, then I'm interpreting it as lazy writing.
Speaking of Neema, she is my biggest source of frustration. Her sloppy investigating skills had me grinding my teeth hard enough for me to single-handedly lower my orthodontist's retirement age. This woman is supposed to be smart and detail oriented, but whenever the plot needs her to overlook something obvious, her brain conveniently turns into a pile of dead worms. She's constantly distracted by angst, hormones, petty drama, and self pity. For someone in her thirties, she handles a murder investigation in a rather juvenile manner. In some scenes (usually the ones in which she's interrogating someone who has zero clues to offer up), she's smart enough to ask probing questions, follow up on various claims, corroborate alibis, chase down small leads, and relentlessly press for answers if something seems just a little suspicious. In other scenes (usually the ones in which she's interrogating someone who would have clues to offer if Neema could only be bothered to pick up on them), she naively takes people at face value, doesn't use all the tools at her disposal, and forgets to rule out every possible conclusion. The inconsistency here is exasperating.
Neema's motivations also shift constantly throughout the book's uneven pace, but these changes aren't reflective of meaningful character development. They are only reflective of a change with her external conditions. She remains passive throughout, buffeted by circumstances, hardly driving her own story, despite the fact that she has a strong enough personality to take control of the narrative. One moment, she is told her objective is to solve a mystery. The next, she has to help her friend become emperor. Later, when circumstances change, she decides she wants to become empress herself. I never had a clear goal to root for. A plot-driven book should not be so directionless, but here we are. Part of the problem is also that the novel suffers from bloat; there are too many side quests standing between us and the real endgame. The plot and worldbuilding just end up getting convoluted and disorienting. I could follow everything intellectually, but emotionally, I felt untethered.
One thing that could have been cut is some of the extra perspectives. The book uses an omniscient narrator, known as the Raven, to jump between perspectives. It's a little experimental, and it ends up being more intrusive than it is clever, an ambitious choice that doesn't land. I always respect an author who's willing to just try stuff, and I have seen other books that have effectively done something similar (The Book Thief by Markus Zusak, Ithaca by Claire North, Moon Brow by Shahriar Mandanipour, and Tress of the Emerald Sea by Brandon Sanderson), where the narrator is a godlike character who is not the protagonist but who is still active in the story. When it works, the narrator has a highly stylized voice, and their unique tone establishes early on that readers should expect to see some commentary from this character.
In The Raven Scholar, however, the Raven feels present without being integrated. The Raven doesn't really show up when it wants to. It shows up when the plot needs it to. It never feels like it's truly in control. The Raven also perhaps knows everything about what the other characters are thinking, so it dives completely into their perspectives, losing its own voice at times, though it never justifies why it wants to. The result is that the story changes tone in a more traditional way: it always feels like you are in the head of the most important character in the scene. This more traditional format fails to establish expectations for something nontraditional. I wanted to feel like things could only be narrated by the Raven, but instead, I got irregular disruptions from someone who had not fully earned their right to interject. It feels forced, and it doesn't help that each time the Raven's voice interferes, there are jarring tense changes, which arguably have a purpose, but it still made my brain snag unnecessarily on something irrelevant.
Ultimately the narration device seems to exist solely to allow the book to jump outside Neema's perspective. It ends up feeling like a weakness with Neema, not a strength of the book. Many of the extra perspectives are there to help foreshadow the big reveal. In my opinion, if events outside Neema's perspective are the only way to foreshadow how things resolve, it is a sign she should have done more to get access to the necessary information. It would have made for a more satisfying mystery subplot. It would have given her actual agency. It would have caused her to look less agonizingly incompetent. And it would have removed the necessity for all the forced and bloated scenes that feature the Raven flying from one perspective to the next.
Another example of bloat is the romance. It's a second-chance romance, which means too much of the relationship happens before the book begins, and I never found the chemistry believable. I actually like Cain as a love interest, but I didn't care about watching him and Neema overcome obstacles in their relationship. It feels shoehorned, distracting from stronger elements in the story. They should have just been together the whole time. (I would have also been okay with a slower burn, where they're only childhood friends in this book, and a romance doesn't bloom until later.)
The irony is that despite the weak romance, I do think The Raven Scholar is borrowing heavily from romantasy. Parts of it are super similar to Fourth Wing, and I would recommend it to fans of those types of books. (I don't always think the New Adult label is that useful, but there are some books that can be described in no better way, and both Fourth Wing and The Raven Scholar fit that category.) I would also suggest The Raven Scholar to people looking for a doorstopper that simultaneously manages to be a popcorn read.