Insufferable read for a self-thought long-sufferer.
I greatly appreciate the author's attention to detail - as others have said, it's clear that he's well-educated in ancient history and devoted painstaking (emphasis on the pain) effort into making his fictional work as grounded in historical accuracy as possible. From incorporating traditional Sumerian/Mesopotamian/Babylonian gods and legends to interweaving his own takes on period-appropriate cultural aspects, I highly compliment the work that went into each page.
But there are so many pages of so much repetition. "The Epic of Gilgamesh" is one of my favorite translated ancient pieces of literature, and I appreciate it for its context. I was thrilled to discover a fantasy novel set during one of my favorite historical eras--the dawn of technology and early mankind in the Fertile Crescent--and was expecting (based on others' recommendations) a thrilling tale of man vs. gods. Think Percy Jackson for grown-ups.
This is not that. If I'd gone in with the expectations of Gilgamesh instead of Sumerian wizards with spells on clay tablets, maybe I wouldn't have been disappointed? But it's Tor. And I'm not accustomed to Tor releasing what feels like a required read from my history professor. It's enjoyable in a historical context, but not at all in the spirit of casual--nay, even avid--fantasy reading.
My other bone to pick would be the treatment of the female characters. The protagonist is male, and every woman in the story exists to serve him and his male counterparts. From his mother, to sister, to slaves, to a random harlot walking down the street (with "rolling buttocks"--her sole defining feature), they exist to serve him bread/onions/beer or to lie there and open their legs. There's some serious fetishizing of the taking of a woman's virginity, and some hilarious depictions of the female orgasm--no, it doesn't come that easily. I could have overlooked most of that if there wasn't the scene of our hero raping the maidservant from a neighboring land (because a god told him to, of course) and then his mighty sexual prowess somehow pleases her (you know, despite the rape). I found it repugnant and offensive. Sexual violence can have its historical context, but if we're going to be literary voyeurs, let us be, bare minimum, respectful of the suffering and realistic in regards to its impact. Why the novel's minimal humor tended to revolve around the "taking" of women (jokes between brothers, who share the slave woman, by the way) is beyond me. It felt a bit like reading the author's perspective on women and their sexuality. And I didn't care for that insight.
All in all, the more I consider it, the less enjoyable I found the work. Two stars for the labor and research that went into the worldbuilding; I genuinely liked the inclusion of minor gods and lesser demons, and the depictions of the city gods' forms. It sparked the imagination. It made me go digging in my storage boxes for my textbook on ancient Mesopotamian culture/legends/poetry.
Which, I'm surprised and disappointed to say, is a far superior read.