I was really excited about this book; 'was' being the operational word in this sentence. Although Marr is clearly not the new Hemingway, or Harris for that matter, I followed the Wicked Lovely series in appreciation of the lush world she had created. So, I was looking forward to reading her first foray into adult lit to see what she could cook up on the adult side of the fence. Let me just say, I tried to like this book. I really did. I had earmarked it for a weekend when I knew I would be doing a lot of travelling and yet the boredom of spending 12 hours on a train did not entice me to continue reading it. My boredom was more interesting. In fact, I had a hard time making it to past the first couple of pages. There was no hook and I felt like I was watching a poorly-acted play. All of the characters are stiff, wooden things and I felt not an ounce of love or interest for one of them. Ok, maybe Byron showed some prospects but even then, not enough for me to keep going. RIP Graveminder.