The characters are fun, sure, but they’re also walking, talking gimmicks. Nine is your classic “scrappy orphan with a heart of gold” (we’ve seen this before), Flabberghast is a wizard who exists to be weird, Eric is a troll in an apron (because quirky), and Dr. Spoon is, well…a spoon. They’re amusing, but they don’t have much depth beyond their one-note personalities. Do they have compelling emotional arcs? Not really. Do they at least make the story entertaining? Yes, but in the same way a circus act does—fun to watch, but not particularly meaningful.

The house is chaotic in a fun way, but it feels like a grab bag of magical randomness rather than a well-crafted world. Want a talking spoon? Done. A house that reshapes itself at will? You got it. A wizard who can’t drink tea because reasons? Sure, why not. Outside of the house, though, the world feels a little empty—Nine’s dreary, Dickensian existence is basically just a grayscale filter slapped on the setting to make the house seem more colorful by comparison. Immersive? Kinda. Well-developed? Not so much.

The prose is competent, but it tries way too hard to be quirky. Every page is laced with forced whimsy, as if the book is constantly nudging me in the ribs and saying, “See? Isn’t this wacky?” Yes, it’s light and breezy, but that comes at the cost of emotional weight. The humor also interrupts the pacing sometimes, making it hard to take any moment of genuine tension seriously. It’s enjoyable in a Saturday morning cartoon kind of way, but if you’re looking for a book that trusts you to absorb its world without smothering you in silliness, this ain't it.

The plot is just kind of there. It’s functional, predictable, and moves along at a decent clip, but there’s not a lot of actual tension. The whole “break the curse” setup is fine, but the way it plays out is where the cracks show. Problems arise, they’re solved almost immediately, and then we move on. The stakes never feel particularly high because there’s always a convenient way out. The story isn’t bad—it’s just safe, sticking closely to the "middle-grade fantasy adventure" playbook with little deviation.

Did I want to keep reading? Mostly, yes. The humor and fast pacing kept things moving, but let’s be real: I wasn’t exactly on the edge of my seat. There were no shocking twists, no Oh my god, I have to know what happens next moments—just a steady stream of mild amusement. I was engaged enough to finish, but I didn’t feel a burning need to see how it all ended. It’s like binge-watching a mid-tier Netflix show—entertaining while you’re in it, but not something you’ll rave about afterward.

Ah, the wonderful world of magic with no rules! The curse does whatever the plot needs it to do, the relationships develop at lightning speed with zero buildup, and the magic system is…well, there isn’t one. Things just happen because the book says they do. Nine’s interactions with the house’s residents feel rushed—I barely had time to process one dynamic before she was already bonding with someone else. And let’s not even get into the random nature of the house’s magic, which doesn’t follow any internal logic and basically just exists for comic effect.

Look, despite all my complaints, I still had fun. The book is silly, lighthearted, and easy to read. It’s not going to blow your mind, but if you’re in the mood for something playfully chaotic, it delivers. Would I recommend it? Sure, but only to people who love whimsical nonsense for the sake of whimsical nonsense. If you prefer tightly woven plots, deep character arcs, or world-building that follows any logical structure, this will drive you insane.

The House at the Edge of Magic is a fun, chaotic, low-stakes fantasy adventure that thrives on quirkiness but lacks depth. The writing is solid, the characters are entertaining, and the world is brimming with weird, magical hijinks. But. The plot is predictable, the emotional beats feel rushed, and the humor sometimes overshadows the story. Will you have fun? Probably. Will you remember much of it a month from now? Probably not.