This novel reads like a movie. Early in the book, this is because of the vivid descriptions - both of characters and of place. Later in the book, it is because it takes on the increased and adrenaline-laced pace of an action-packed thriller. The last chapters rely on readers suspending disbelief in ways that likely work in film, but (for me) didn't here.

There are some beautiful and insightful descriptions here. Early on, describing Loo being teased mercilessly: ". . . feeling the cause must be some personal defect, some missing part of herself that the others recognized, a rotting, empty hole that whistled when she walked, no matter how quiet she tried to be." But other times, such as when explicitly stating the theme of the novel and explaining how it is reflected in many characters, Tinti doesn't seem to trust readers to pay attention, to get it, to think.

I can't quite reconcile the title of the novel with the novel itself. Presumably, the title is a nod at the expression of cats having nine lives and the twelve bullets Samuel has taken are his twelve lives. This doesn't quite slide into focus as while some of the shots are extremely serious and threaten Samuel's life, others are relatively minor injuries and shouldn't really count as a life. A minor, but lingering, distraction from the book itself.