I stalled about 60 pages in for three years, after the *very* fast-paced opening. (Always nice to get the murder over with in the second paragraph!) It's a very dramatic opening, given that Ben has almost never spoken of Ayasha, his late first wife, in all of the previous ten books - and especially not in front of his intense and memorably spiky mother.
[Two and a half pages of text]
"I will not believe it," he went on quietly. "I know the man--"
"Nonsense, Benjamin, of course you don't."
"--and he would not do such a thing. He saved the life of my wife."
"Don't be silly, Rose has never even met--"
"Not Rose," said January. "Ayasha."
[End of prologue!]
[Cut to a set of events ten years earlier in 1827 Paris . . . ]
It was really nice to see a younger, happier Ben, more at ease. And really nice to finally meet Ayasha in more than the occasional couple paragraph flashback (and of course the cats Hadji and Habibi)! Essentially the book is two long novellas, one nested inside the other - 100 pages of 1827 France, inserted after the prologue, followed by 150 pages of 1837 New Orleans, with a decade-older, more angsty Ben who's come home to his broken, prejudiced city after being shattered by Ayasha's death of cholera. After a few novels' worth of events, he eventually let himself love and marry Rose, who's also definitely had her own hard emotional journey to make. Now they have enough money to weather the post-bank-crash depression and take care of their tiny baby, John. At which point Hüseyin Pasha, who saved Ayasha's life a decade ago in Paris and has apparently blown into New Orleans at some point in his ongoing exile from the Ottoman empire, is suddenly accused of murdering his two concubines and throwing them out a window -- and Ben finds himself one of the only people outside Hüseyin Pasha's household who is trying to save his life.
I found the New Orleans-based novella's plot more complex and interesting than the plot of the Paris novella, but the personalities of the characters in the Paris novella to a good extent balance this out. The point I paused at for a few years was an interview with an annoyingly smug and narrow-minded nun, but we also get to see Marguerite Scie (from book 5, Die Upon A Kiss) again, and I liked Chatoine and the gossipy political French artists and musicians and street children, and of course Ayasha. I have a fond place in my heart for the musical versions (both French and English) of Les Misérables, as well as the book itself, and dropping one of my most beloved Hambly characters into the middle of the Les Misérables milieu just gives me a happy feeling all over. While Antryg Windrose is the most awesome trickster/mage/Doctor Who-alike in the multiverses, after following the January series cast for eleven books I feel like a number of these vivid, witty, and idiosyncratic characters are the people I have tea with in my dreams. I need to read about Ben, Rose, Hannibal, Olympe, and Abishag Shaw every collection of X months or I start missing the feeling of being in the same room with them and, as some other Hambly character put it, watching them be themselves.
I'm giving this book only 4 stars for the slight imbalance in the plot arc for events, and for getting extremely complex at the end before Ben solves everything and then tells the reader a few things the narration hasn't mentioned. But the emotional plot arc is just fine, and I cried for the whole last two pages.
It's nice to see characters change after marriage too. Ben and Rose are still the same people and still committed and in love, but they can still grow and learn things. I've never been married myself, but it seems improbable that it would have the effect of freezing people as they are. Even the anti-marriage jokes that bitter divorced people tell don't claim that effect. (More like the opposite.)