Disappointing End to a Good Trilogy

I don't really know what happened, but I absolutely loved the first two Ravenor books, but this one, despite containing some decent writing and interesting ideas, fell colossally flat for me. It just didn't have any of the original and vital spark that the other two had.

This lack of vitality would have been enough, but, unlike the last two as far as I was aware, this also exposes some of Abnett's prejudice and distaste, whether conscious or otherwise, for those outside the cishet, able, and neurotypical (*normal*), through comments and allusions made by the supposedly passive omniscient narrator. There is also the playing down of what a character describes as 'mind rape' in a scene that gives her know understanding or weight. It's not the worst of it (shout out to the wild misogyny and disgusting bioessentialism in Fulgrim), but it's uncomfortable and unacceptable. In a book I was already feeling pretty meh about, it just killed it for me.

I am the biggest Toby Longworth fangirl, but this wasn't his greatest performance and there were a few sketchy accents that were clearly attempted without malice, but were a mistake.

Kinda heartbreaking end to an otherwise fun trilogy. ( )

El inquisidor Ravenor continúa la caza del archihereje Zygmunt Molotch, una persecución que ha acabado convirtiéndose en una obsesión personal. Desobedeciendo órdenes directas de la Inquisición, Ravenor, y su equipo se rebelan y van detrás de su presa de forma implacable. A través del tiempo y el espacio, se enfrentan a enemigos de poder y astucia ilimitados. ¿Cuánto tendrán que sacrificar Ravenor y su equipo para salir vencedores?

The third, and hopefully not the final installment, in the inquisitor Ravenor series by the splendid author Dan Abnett. Abnett is truly, in my humble opinion, one of the most under-rated writers I have come across. I think that because he writes sf for Games Workshop's Black Library imprint people label or think of his work as just so much claptrap. You would be (and are) doing yourself a great disservice by passing over this fine writer. Abnett's Gaunt novels are great but his meat-and-potatoes are palpable here. ( )