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*Do I need to remind you to be civil? No, I don’t. Good kids.

“You High Lords really do love your melodrama, don’t you?��

(As if I hadn't got enough ammo already.)

For honesty's sake, the last two thirds of the book I could only bring myself to skim through (and I'm quite proud of myself for managing even that). The first third had accurately enlightened me as to what I was to expect, and my (abysmally low) expectations were met point by point.

We girls of the SmutClub weren't able to do a proper buddy read as we did last year with ACoMaF due to real life kicking our asses. However, I'm sure you don't want to miss Sarah's and Reyes's reviews, and Emer's call for honesty and good sense when it comes to the target market of this series (and of the Throne of Glass series too, at this point) perfectly highlights a problem I haven't been able to wrap my mind around since it first arose.


•First of all, I'd like to take a moment to answer a question that no one asked but that I think it fair to take into account nonetheless, said question being, "If you evidently don't like Maas's books, why do you keep reading them?"
Very good point indeed.
I used to consider her books a guilty pleasure until, well, yesterday. The word "pleasure" in that expression, though, baffled me very much even before. More correctly, reading her was an experience akin to getting your first period at school and noticing too late (mortally embarrassing), while ranting about it later was an honest if inclement exercise in snark, just as reading other people's reviews with previous knowledge of the book was pure amusement, be them positive or negative, and this latter reason is probably what always convinced me to suffer a little for the greater fun. Sometimes I also enjoyed some parts, so mine wasn't all sadism, after all. But A Court of Wings and Ruin? (I still have no clue about what this absurd title is supposed to mean.) This one was sheer torture. A bore. Like having a pitchfork repeatedly shoved in the eyeballs.
(I should refer you to my review of A Court of Mist and Fury, which already contains many, if not all, of the issues I had with this final installment too, because since I've read that book with way more attention than I did ACoWaR, you'd probably find that one more specific and generally accurate.)

��The writing gets worse. It's a miracle -or whatever its opposite would be called. Saying that it's melodramatic doesn't begin to describe it anymore; admitting that its basic rule is emotional manipulation would be such an understatement, my fingers itch. Everything is amplified, everything is exaggerated, everything makes twice the noise that it should make proportionally to its dimensions. Which is to say, everything becomes grotesque. Ridiculousness abounds, especially when matters of the heart (you have no idea how much I struggled not to use some other word that would have been more fit to the case at hand there) are concerned. I'll make just two quick examples both taken from chapter 14. The examples may contain mild spoilers.

“Where are my sisters?�� The thought clanged through me, jarring as a pealing bell.
Rhys paused, hand slipping from my hair as his smile faded. “At the House of Wind.�� He straightened, swallowing—as if it somehow checked him. “I can—take you to them.�� Every word seemed to be an effort.
But he would, I realized. He’d shove down his need for me and take me to them, if that was what I wanted. My choice. It had always been my choice with him.��

To spell it out, what Feyre's voice is implying here is that one point in the never-ending list of reasons why Rhysand is worth worshipping is that he is able to keep it in his pants ten minutes longer so that she can go say hello to her sisters, whom she hasn't seen in more than a month and who, last she saw them, had just undergone a devastating trauma. It is evident that Maas is still shoving in our faces that we must absolutely love Rhysand... a pity she is still picking all the wrong reasons, because what I think when I read a scene like this is "Someone please lock him away" (and I'm being kind).

Example number two (trigger warning: this one's rather disgusting. I for sure gagged once or twice.), this one to show what I mean by "overwritten" and "grotesque" and "ew":

“You have a choice,�� he murmured against my cheekbone. “Either I lick every inch of you clean …�� His hand grazed the tip of my breast, circling lazily. As if we had days and days to do this. “Or you can get into the bath that should be ready by now.��
I pulled away, lifting a brow. “Are you suggesting that I smell?��
Rhys smirked, and I could have sworn my core pounded in answer. “Never. But …�� His eyes darkened, the desire and amusement fading as he took in my clothes. “There is blood on you. Yours, and others��. I thought I’d be a good mate and offer you a bath before I ravish you wholly.��
I huffed a laugh and brushed back his hair, savoring the silken, sable strands between my fingers. “So considerate. Though I can’t believe you kicked everyone out of the house so you could take me to bed.��
“One of the many benefits to being High Lord.��
“What a terrible abuse of power.��
That half smile danced on his mouth. “Well?��
“As much as I’d like to see you attempt to lick off a week’s worth of dirt, sweat, and blood…�� His eyes gleamed with the challenge, and I laughed again. “Normal bath, please.��

You see what I mean? Maas tries so hard to write steamy, sexy moments that she stopped noticing that the way she writes them became (a long time ago I dare say) utterly ridiculous. What sane person in their right mind would ever say "I’d like to see you attempt to lick off a week’s worth of dirt, sweat, and blood off me?"

Many, many, many, if not all, of the problems this book has are linked to the writing, silly, childish, bloated, cheesy. It sours everything.

•Not totally disconnected from this, there is also the insistence with which Feyre's bliss with her Court of Friends and Family is continually trotted out, especially if there's the opportunity to describe it through someone else's point of view, as it happens with Lucien's in the first part of the book. There is a reason if one of the axioms of storytelling is that talking about happiness is difficult: it's uninteresting, poor of nuances, syrupy: people don't want to hear about happiness. “Happy families are all alike,�� after all.

•One of the main points of Feyre's character arc should be her discovery of independence and of her inner strength, of the fact that she doesn't necessarily need anyone, especially a man, to guide and direct her every step. A shame the impression we get from the whole series is the very opposite: Feyre's character growth (not automatically meant as an upward trajectory) seems to be irreversibly connected to the "male" who is (even virtually) at her side. In this book, she and Rhysand are pretty much a single entity. Can I feel a tinge of outrage at this, please? We women are very able to be complete on our own, thank you very much. The whole "mating system" (I can't even, it's too ridiculous) has me not exactly convinced in this regard too. Various characters throughout the book keep having this attitude, especially towards Feyre, that implies a vision of women as mere objects of sexual interest, pawns in a purely male game of lust and authority, and they are never challenged because their brain is full of crap, but simply because they insult Feyre–and not even Feyre as herself, but Feyre as Rhysand's mate, like during the meeting of the High Lords in chapter 46, when someone calls Feyre "human filth" and Rhysand's reply is physical violence plus a laconic

“Don’t ever,�� Rhys said, hands sliding into his pockets, “speak to my mate like that again.��

Again, everything, even on the level of language, revolves around a man and the girl's relationship to said man. I fail to see the women's empowerment in this.

•I've never seen such a cheesy ending. It felt like I had just swallowed a monumental bucket of melted sugar and I couldn't even breathe because the very air got stuck to the sticky back of my throat. Basically it made me finally understand that Maas's main interest was to make sure none of her precious babies got so much as a scratch.

�� I was trying to find a way to be tactful and diplomatic about this, but there is none. The first book was nice and very entertaining, the second was still entertaining but way less nice, the third is ignoble. Bottom line: this series is crap. Don't read it (and if you know me and my reviews, you know I never once recommended not to read a book, nor do I think I shall ever do it again, because the fact that I don't like something doesn't mean that nobody would or should. Besides, I don't really believe in second-hand opinions. So the fact that I think this book will actively damage your brains and that I'm warning you off it should really speak volumes in itself). There are far more worthy books out there waiting for you.