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chiaroscuro 's review for:
The Lotus Palace
by Jeannie Lin
The idea of a Chinese historical romance is so exciting to me, but I was hardly going to enjoy the book based on that pretext alone. Gladly I can report that THIS WAS SO GOOD and doesn't fall into any clichés, hard or soft, about life in a pleasure district. Jeannie Lin examines, fairly and astutely, exactly what it means to be a woman whose life is enfolded in the concept of the courtesan: the necessity of illusion; the strange mix of autonomy and instability; the small space in society which you are allowed to frequent, that sometimes feels like a prison. Obviously my bourgeois senses are ticked off by courtesan-ship and if you have those yours may be too, but this is far from a book that says "being a courtesan is a horrifying consignment that is a stain on the whole moral character of a society that allows it, and marriage is the wonderful equalising saviour of these women". It is far too subtle for that. But there is some truth in the tail end of that statement. For almost all women who live in the Pingkang Li (I would exempt the pleasure house madames) marriage is truly a freedom — perhaps the strongest freedom they can find — because it grants them a respectable position, meaning they are accepted in more spaces, and if their husband is the enlightened sort who loves them, then they are not bidden by anyone. And isn't that really the point of historical romance? To line up marriage (the concretion of true love) with liberation?
Anyway, onto the romance. It's so good!!! It's the classic trope of coming from different worlds: Bai Huang is easygoing, aristocratic, stable, in command. He can afford to be romantic because life, in his imagination, is easy. Yue-ying is toughened, unexpectant, principled, and only as free as a woman of her station can be. She is not given to ridiculous flights of fancy, because she cannot afford to be. The really wonderful thing, then, is that Bai Huang can afford to be, and his love for her really does make her life better — not just because love is such a wonderful thing and tra-la-la — but in the practical ways that matter, like having a stable future to hope towards and a home that is hers.
But the quality of the romance is exquisite too. It's such an organic thing, you know? He sees her and talks to her and wants her from the beginning, but the capacity in which he wants her only deepens the more he knows her. There's none of this "our love is too hard so we must part" — instead, he plots to make it work on the level he wants. And some people aren't at peace with the ending because it's too unrealistically happy. Me? I don't care. If historical accuracy is sacrificed (and really, if you're here for historical accuracy you're in the wrong genre), it should be on the pyre of a happy ending to a romance between two people who deserve it. Plus, in the thousands of years of Chinese culture there's been countless stories of immortal lovers, so the idea of two socially unmatched people being together forever is not so much unheard of as a fantasy found only in fiction. And that is what this is…
Admittedly the mystery is not the most clear-cut thing in the world, but if I'm to choose between satisfying mystery and satisfying romance we all know I'd go for the latter. Also there were some really tantalising hints dropped about the couple in the next book, which I am EXCITED by!!
I've forgotten to mention the Yue-ying/Mingyu sisterly relationship! I don't have any sisters, or know closely of any, so honestly the concept of sisterhood remains a mystery to me. However I would almost venture to say this is the beating heart of the novel, and the romance is the beautiful stuff which happens on top. Yue-ying and Mingyu's relationship is the one which undergoes the most change throughout the novel. Fundamentally they always love each other, but the way in which they behave around each other is different: at the start, there is a pronounced and mutually respected distance; by the end, there is an honesty and closeness that comes naturally from equality in a relationship. By contrast, Bai Huang and Yue-ying are practically always honest with one another, and the real change in their relationship comes with realising and accepting what they mean to each other.
Read this book I swear to God you won't regret it. Literally what more do you want? The romance is uplifting and sort of inevitable in the very best way; the mystery is quite intriguing and has a really nice ethical kick to it; the setting is brilliantly sketched; the whole thing has that serene, elegant, steady, practical tone that in my mind (i.e. the mind of someone who originates from the damn place) is really quite Imperial Chinese.
And also — maybe because this is set in China where standards of masculinity aren't so exhaustingly unemotional — Bai Huang lets himself feel. In so many romances the hero doesn't want to feel, doesn't think himself capable of love, is only in it for the sex at first, finally gets frustrated and lets his feelings loose in a rush of emotion because he will literally explode if he holds them in a moment longer. Bai Huang doesn't give a shit about keeping his emotions close to his chest/repressed so deeply not even he knows they're there. I've said that every word in this book cuts deep, but nowhere is this so true than in Bai Huang's thoughts about Yue-ying.
Saddle up for the next book where Yue-ying's sister, a poetically beautiful and glamorous courtesan finds love with the one man who isn't charmed by her (but the twist is… he's beyond charmed. He's in love). I foresee a lot of Jeannie Lin books in my future.
Anyway, onto the romance. It's so good!!! It's the classic trope of coming from different worlds: Bai Huang is easygoing, aristocratic, stable, in command. He can afford to be romantic because life, in his imagination, is easy. Yue-ying is toughened, unexpectant, principled, and only as free as a woman of her station can be. She is not given to ridiculous flights of fancy, because she cannot afford to be. The really wonderful thing, then, is that Bai Huang can afford to be, and his love for her really does make her life better — not just because love is such a wonderful thing and tra-la-la — but in the practical ways that matter, like having a stable future to hope towards and a home that is hers.
But the quality of the romance is exquisite too. It's such an organic thing, you know? He sees her and talks to her and wants her from the beginning, but the capacity in which he wants her only deepens the more he knows her. There's none of this "our love is too hard so we must part" — instead, he plots to make it work on the level he wants. And some people aren't at peace with the ending because it's too unrealistically happy. Me? I don't care. If historical accuracy is sacrificed (and really, if you're here for historical accuracy you're in the wrong genre), it should be on the pyre of a happy ending to a romance between two people who deserve it. Plus, in the thousands of years of Chinese culture there's been countless stories of immortal lovers, so the idea of two socially unmatched people being together forever is not so much unheard of as a fantasy found only in fiction. And that is what this is…
Admittedly the mystery is not the most clear-cut thing in the world, but if I'm to choose between satisfying mystery and satisfying romance we all know I'd go for the latter. Also there were some really tantalising hints dropped about the couple in the next book, which I am EXCITED by!!
I've forgotten to mention the Yue-ying/Mingyu sisterly relationship! I don't have any sisters, or know closely of any, so honestly the concept of sisterhood remains a mystery to me. However I would almost venture to say this is the beating heart of the novel, and the romance is the beautiful stuff which happens on top. Yue-ying and Mingyu's relationship is the one which undergoes the most change throughout the novel. Fundamentally they always love each other, but the way in which they behave around each other is different: at the start, there is a pronounced and mutually respected distance; by the end, there is an honesty and closeness that comes naturally from equality in a relationship. By contrast, Bai Huang and Yue-ying are practically always honest with one another, and the real change in their relationship comes with realising and accepting what they mean to each other.
Read this book I swear to God you won't regret it. Literally what more do you want? The romance is uplifting and sort of inevitable in the very best way; the mystery is quite intriguing and has a really nice ethical kick to it; the setting is brilliantly sketched; the whole thing has that serene, elegant, steady, practical tone that in my mind (i.e. the mind of someone who originates from the damn place) is really quite Imperial Chinese.
And also — maybe because this is set in China where standards of masculinity aren't so exhaustingly unemotional — Bai Huang lets himself feel. In so many romances the hero doesn't want to feel, doesn't think himself capable of love, is only in it for the sex at first, finally gets frustrated and lets his feelings loose in a rush of emotion because he will literally explode if he holds them in a moment longer. Bai Huang doesn't give a shit about keeping his emotions close to his chest/repressed so deeply not even he knows they're there. I've said that every word in this book cuts deep, but nowhere is this so true than in Bai Huang's thoughts about Yue-ying.
That brief moment when their lips had touched in the wine cellar continued to torment him. His heart had been pounding, every muscle in his body tense with anticipation before she had soundly put him in his place with a slap across the face. He had thought he was finally getting close to Yue-ying, when he was never further away.Perhaps I am being forgetful, but honest to God I don't think I've ever read a hero in a romance that is so… open with how he feels. 'Torment' is such a dramatic way to put it but the matter-of-fact tone saves it, and the description of his physical affectation is undeniably genuine, intense, and simultaneously emotional. And because he is so openly emotional and desirous (physical desire, in their relationship, being irrevocably linked to emotion) everything he does is to do with loving her. The playful flirting is an attempt to get her to laugh because he genuinely wants her to be happy; the hairpin gift is not a trick of contract but a thought of her played out in material form. Bai Huang never wants to possess Yue-ying like all those exhausting, tasteless entrepreneurs who only understand ownership and profit. He enjoys her company, thinks she's unique, wants to make her life better, wants to be involved in her happiness. It is really quite uniquely pure.
Saddle up for the next book where Yue-ying's sister, a poetically beautiful and glamorous courtesan finds love with the one man who isn't charmed by her (but the twist is… he's beyond charmed. He's in love). I foresee a lot of Jeannie Lin books in my future.