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nannahnannah's reviews
744 reviews
Gender Queer: A Memoir by Maia Kobabe
challenging
emotional
informative
medium-paced
2.25
It seems I am definitely in the minority here, but even though I share a massive amount of experiences with the author, I found the memoir—and Maia Kobabe eirself—difficult to relate to. The purpose of memoirs aren't necessarily to be relatable, though, so that I find very easy to forgive. But the back of the book says that it also doubles as a guide, which is a lot more frustrating, because a surprising amount of the information is at best outdated and at worst pretty harmful.
I admit, if I had read this maybe 5 to 8 years ago, I might have a slightly different opinion. There would be things I would find a lot easier to ignore, or there would be things I wouldn't catch. Reading it now when I'm at an age (or at least a time in my life) when I'm looking at things a little more critically, I find that this reads a little too shallowly. Topics would be introduced only for a scene to end or for the author to present them without looking at any of eir past actions critically, either. I'm not saying that this graphic novel isn't important, because it has already saved lives and I'm sure it will save hundreds more, I'm just saying I wish it was a little more polished, perhaps.
For example, the several Harry Potter references seem pretty inappropriate, given the subject matter. The choice of "ships" included also seem alienating in a way I don't think e meant them to be (a.k.a. incestual ships and ones of minors—real-life minors, too—when e was in grad school). One thing that also bothered me while reading was Kobabe's failure to examine eir privilege, or acknowledge the struggle of other trans or non-binary people. Again, the word that comes to mind is "alienating", rather than relatable.
I do have several things that I feel strongly about, though, that I wish Kobabe had thought through more before publishing. Eir sections on eir two pap smears, although the images were very strong and poignant, have the possibility to do more harm than good if this really is intended to be a guide as well as a memoir. First of all, it could make teens and young adults more nervous for the test than they might have been, making it more painful, or it could frighten them away from getting the test at all. Secondly, that much pain—and especially blood on the speculum—usually means that there's something going on. I had the same type of reaction (without dysphoria to that degree), because I have something called vaginismus, involuntary and painful muscle spasms that happened whenever anything is inserted into the vagina. It seems very, very strange that none of the doctors suggested this to em, but if they had, I'm going to hope that ey would have included a note somewhere in the memoir about it. It would be irresponsible otherwise.
One of the other things I also wish that Kobabe had looked at more closely or perhaps researched a bit before publishing this was the inclusion of the term "autoandrophilia", which according to the author, means, "a person assigned female at birth who is sexually aroused at the thought or image of having male genitalia or being a man." This is a term coined by American-Canadian psychologist Ray Blanchard, who, according to the website linked (Transgender Map), rejected 90% of people seeking healthcare, created several obscure diseases to categorize trans people (including autoandrophilia), and has now become "a key figure in the gender critical movement of anti-transgender activists." Including this without comment is what bothered me the most. Some people do like to use these "disease models" to help others—a.k.a. cis people—understand us a little better, but again, a comment could have helped so much.
The memoir isn't terrible by a long shot, but unfortunately it wasn't very enjoyable for me personally. The art was lovely, and there were many times where Kobabe's dysphoria really hit home and felt relatable even when eir's nerd culture references didn't. I am glad this book has helped many people, and I hope it continues to do so.
I admit, if I had read this maybe 5 to 8 years ago, I might have a slightly different opinion. There would be things I would find a lot easier to ignore, or there would be things I wouldn't catch. Reading it now when I'm at an age (or at least a time in my life) when I'm looking at things a little more critically, I find that this reads a little too shallowly. Topics would be introduced only for a scene to end or for the author to present them without looking at any of eir past actions critically, either. I'm not saying that this graphic novel isn't important, because it has already saved lives and I'm sure it will save hundreds more, I'm just saying I wish it was a little more polished, perhaps.
For example, the several Harry Potter references seem pretty inappropriate, given the subject matter. The choice of "ships" included also seem alienating in a way I don't think e meant them to be (a.k.a. incestual ships and ones of minors—real-life minors, too—when e was in grad school). One thing that also bothered me while reading was Kobabe's failure to examine eir privilege, or acknowledge the struggle of other trans or non-binary people. Again, the word that comes to mind is "alienating", rather than relatable.
I do have several things that I feel strongly about, though, that I wish Kobabe had thought through more before publishing. Eir sections on eir two pap smears, although the images were very strong and poignant, have the possibility to do more harm than good if this really is intended to be a guide as well as a memoir. First of all, it could make teens and young adults more nervous for the test than they might have been, making it more painful, or it could frighten them away from getting the test at all. Secondly, that much pain—and especially blood on the speculum—usually means that there's something going on. I had the same type of reaction (without dysphoria to that degree), because I have something called vaginismus, involuntary and painful muscle spasms that happened whenever anything is inserted into the vagina. It seems very, very strange that none of the doctors suggested this to em, but if they had, I'm going to hope that ey would have included a note somewhere in the memoir about it. It would be irresponsible otherwise.
One of the other things I also wish that Kobabe had looked at more closely or perhaps researched a bit before publishing this was the inclusion of the term "autoandrophilia", which according to the author, means, "a person assigned female at birth who is sexually aroused at the thought or image of having male genitalia or being a man." This is a term coined by American-Canadian psychologist Ray Blanchard, who, according to the website linked (Transgender Map), rejected 90% of people seeking healthcare, created several obscure diseases to categorize trans people (including autoandrophilia), and has now become "a key figure in the gender critical movement of anti-transgender activists." Including this without comment is what bothered me the most. Some people do like to use these "disease models" to help others—a.k.a. cis people—understand us a little better, but again, a comment could have helped so much.
The memoir isn't terrible by a long shot, but unfortunately it wasn't very enjoyable for me personally. The art was lovely, and there were many times where Kobabe's dysphoria really hit home and felt relatable even when eir's nerd culture references didn't. I am glad this book has helped many people, and I hope it continues to do so.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Dysphoria
Minor: Incest
also: misgendering & a panel depicting sex between a young man and someone much older
New Native Kitchen: Celebrating Modern Recipes of the American Indian by James O. Fraioli, Quentin Bacon, Freddie Bitsoie
inspiring
slow-paced
4.0
Wildblood by Lauren Blackwood
adventurous
dark
emotional
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
3.75
Firstly, I need to express my adoration for this book's cover. The design and the artwork are stunning. This has to be one of my all-time favorite covers. I also loved Lauren Blackwood's first book, Within These Wicked Walls, so I was extremely eager to get my hands on this one.
Representation:
- about half the characters are Jamaican
- the love interest is a Black American
- a secondary character is biracial, Jamaican and Chinese
At the age of six, Victoria was kidnapped from her home in the jungle of Jamaica by a tourist company who uses people like her, Wildbloods who can shape their blood into objects, to protect tourists as they travel through the jungle road to cross the island. Now eighteen years old, Victoria is the most powerful of all the Wildbloods in the company, and she is determined to earn a promotion to save enough money to buy her brother's freedom. But she has just been assigned to a new client who is hell-bent on traveling off the safe road and into the heart of the jungle itself, which abounds with dangerous monsters and spirits—and although she quickly falls for the new client, she knows entering the jungle is too risky. They might not make it back alive, and the longer she stays in the jungle, the more she questions who she is and what she really wants.
The plot at first sounds fairly straightforward and uninteresting: Victoria is helping rich foreign businessmen find gold in the jungle. It's uninteresting, though, because that's not the real plot. It's actually about a young woman held in conditions comparable to slavery who fights to get her and her loved ones free, and to figure out where she belongs.
I have to talk about what I liked first: besides that cover, the entire design of the book is exquisite. I am in love with the bug pattern on the inside pages, and I'm especially in love with the engraving of Victoria's hand holding her thurible. Whoever designed this book is fantastic.
Blackwood's descriptions of the sentient jungle are similarly gorgeous and lush, seeming just as detailed and filled with life as the design of the book itself. Although I think the author shines when it comes to dialogue and witty back-and-forth, in this novel, I think her descriptions of the jungle become the star.
What primarily hindered my enjoyment of this book had to be the romance between Victoria and Thorn. I think it's understandable why Victoria latched onto him like she did, but their dynamic from the middle section to the end became nothing but fluff and "beloveds", which got to be too much for me. And I understand that's a me problem, especially since the author straight-up says that she writes romance-heavy fantasy in her bio.
There was also some strange issues regarding consent, too, like when the admittedly awesome River Mumma brought a character back to life for the sole purpose of being her mate, but knowing what we know about the jungle, I think we're meant to understand this as these spirits not having the same morality as humans do. This Mumma certainly isn't a particularly benevolent spirit.
I'm also confused as to why the Wildbloods' magic isn't just called "magic" instead of "science", which always seemed a bit out of place and took me out of the story when I read it. It never seemed very scientific, even after it was explained (and I don't think I truly ever understood the magic/magic system entirely, if I'm being honest).
Despite this, it was still a fun and interesting ride through the jungle, with some extremely intriguing and well-written characters. There are heavy issues talked about here that make it fitting for the older side of YA, and unlike a lot of other young adult books it refreshingly walks through the gray instead of taking a black or white side of complicated issues, like how we feel about our exes and past abusers. It felt very real and genuine to me. Especially that ending, which made me feel so much better about the book in general. It was just the Right ending for this story. I look forward to Blackwood's next novel!
Representation:
- about half the characters are Jamaican
- the love interest is a Black American
- a secondary character is biracial, Jamaican and Chinese
At the age of six, Victoria was kidnapped from her home in the jungle of Jamaica by a tourist company who uses people like her, Wildbloods who can shape their blood into objects, to protect tourists as they travel through the jungle road to cross the island. Now eighteen years old, Victoria is the most powerful of all the Wildbloods in the company, and she is determined to earn a promotion to save enough money to buy her brother's freedom. But she has just been assigned to a new client who is hell-bent on traveling off the safe road and into the heart of the jungle itself, which abounds with dangerous monsters and spirits—and although she quickly falls for the new client, she knows entering the jungle is too risky. They might not make it back alive, and the longer she stays in the jungle, the more she questions who she is and what she really wants.
The plot at first sounds fairly straightforward and uninteresting: Victoria is helping rich foreign businessmen find gold in the jungle. It's uninteresting, though, because that's not the real plot. It's actually about a young woman held in conditions comparable to slavery who fights to get her and her loved ones free, and to figure out where she belongs.
I have to talk about what I liked first: besides that cover, the entire design of the book is exquisite. I am in love with the bug pattern on the inside pages, and I'm especially in love with the engraving of Victoria's hand holding her thurible. Whoever designed this book is fantastic.
Blackwood's descriptions of the sentient jungle are similarly gorgeous and lush, seeming just as detailed and filled with life as the design of the book itself. Although I think the author shines when it comes to dialogue and witty back-and-forth, in this novel, I think her descriptions of the jungle become the star.
What primarily hindered my enjoyment of this book had to be the romance between Victoria and Thorn. I think it's understandable why Victoria latched onto him like she did, but their dynamic from the middle section to the end became nothing but fluff and "beloveds", which got to be too much for me. And I understand that's a me problem, especially since the author straight-up says that she writes romance-heavy fantasy in her bio.
There was also some strange issues regarding consent, too, like when the admittedly awesome River Mumma brought a character back to life for the sole purpose of being her mate, but knowing what we know about the jungle, I think we're meant to understand this as these spirits not having the same morality as humans do. This Mumma certainly isn't a particularly benevolent spirit.
I'm also confused as to why the Wildbloods' magic isn't just called "magic" instead of "science", which always seemed a bit out of place and took me out of the story when I read it. It never seemed very scientific, even after it was explained (and I don't think I truly ever understood the magic/magic system entirely, if I'm being honest).
Despite this, it was still a fun and interesting ride through the jungle, with some extremely intriguing and well-written characters. There are heavy issues talked about here that make it fitting for the older side of YA, and unlike a lot of other young adult books it refreshingly walks through the gray instead of taking a black or white side of complicated issues, like how we feel about our exes and past abusers. It felt very real and genuine to me. Especially that ending, which made me feel so much better about the book in general. It was just the Right ending for this story. I look forward to Blackwood's next novel!
Content Warnings
Graphic: Rape, Sexual assault, and Slavery
also: lynching (mentioned); there are a couple of scenes where consent is iffy
Overground Railroad: The Green Book and the Roots of Black Travel in America by Candacy Taylor
informative
slow-paced
4.0
Content Warnings
Graphic: Racial slurs, Racism, and Violence
Recitatif by Toni Morrison
challenging
emotional
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
Freshwater by Akwaeke Emezi
challenging
emotional
informative
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.25
Freshwater is a fictionalized account of parts of Akwaeke Emezi's life. It brings up how there are perhaps other ways of looking at mental illnesses (well, what we in the Western world would consider mental illnesses). In this case, Emezi's character is inhabited by a god.
Ada is a Nigerian and Tamil woman whose sense of self fractures after a traumatic incident in college. She is also an ọgbanje, a minor god—or perhaps a collective god—Nigerian trickster spirits who had been more or less stuffed into Ada's human body when she was born. For years, Ada will fight with two distinct selves that form from the ọgbanje for control over her body and, if you're familiar with Western DID, the "front" of herself.
I won't lie, this book was painful to read for a host of reasons. It was frustrating, it was difficult, and at many times I wanted to put it down. Much of that has to do with my own difficulties with some of the things Ada was going through, and some of that had to do with me being completely uninterested in the repetition of the sex life of one of Ada's selves. There was so much sex. And a focus on men in general. But because this follows the author's life so closely, it's hard for me to fault that. When your trauma is so deeply rooted to men, it can make sense.
I also struggled a little bit with the prose. Don't get me wrong, overall Emezi's writing is gorgeous. But when every line is a little bit overwritten, the book becomes wearisome—some lines were beautiful, but at the same time I found myself wondering if they even meant something other than that. There were also a few problems I had with parts that were too coincidental, like when Ada needed to get into her boyfriend's room, so the book brought up random karate lessons that had never been mentioned before (and were never mentioned since), and Ada was able to kick the door down. Again, I'm aware this probably happened in the author's life, but as a story, it felt a little off.
However, the way that Emezi describes Ada's gender and dysphoria was incredibly relatable. That's just how I felt growing up and being called a boy: "the misfit of it fit." Even if it wasn't relatable to me in particular, it's so accessibly written.
I also want to make a note that the suicide parts are super intense. I did not feel that well mentally when or after I read them. If there weren't only a few pages left, I might not have finished it. Please be careful while reading this, but know that my reaction has no bearing on the work itself.
I feel bad rating this under four stars, but even though I consider this a very important work, it just wasn't a book I particularly enjoyed very much. And some extremely important works aren't enjoyable and aren't supposed to be. In this case, it's definitely a me problem and not the book's problem. It's beautifully written and so very honest, and I appreciate it so much for that, but near the end I just couldn't wait for it to be over. And yet I am very glad that I read it.
Ada is a Nigerian and Tamil woman whose sense of self fractures after a traumatic incident in college. She is also an ọgbanje, a minor god—or perhaps a collective god—Nigerian trickster spirits who had been more or less stuffed into Ada's human body when she was born. For years, Ada will fight with two distinct selves that form from the ọgbanje for control over her body and, if you're familiar with Western DID, the "front" of herself.
I won't lie, this book was painful to read for a host of reasons. It was frustrating, it was difficult, and at many times I wanted to put it down. Much of that has to do with my own difficulties with some of the things Ada was going through, and some of that had to do with me being completely uninterested in the repetition of the sex life of one of Ada's selves. There was so much sex. And a focus on men in general. But because this follows the author's life so closely, it's hard for me to fault that. When your trauma is so deeply rooted to men, it can make sense.
I also struggled a little bit with the prose. Don't get me wrong, overall Emezi's writing is gorgeous. But when every line is a little bit overwritten, the book becomes wearisome—some lines were beautiful, but at the same time I found myself wondering if they even meant something other than that. There were also a few problems I had with parts that were too coincidental, like when Ada needed to get into her boyfriend's room, so the book brought up random karate lessons that had never been mentioned before (and were never mentioned since), and Ada was able to kick the door down. Again, I'm aware this probably happened in the author's life, but as a story, it felt a little off.
However, the way that Emezi describes Ada's gender and dysphoria was incredibly relatable. That's just how I felt growing up and being called a boy: "the misfit of it fit." Even if it wasn't relatable to me in particular, it's so accessibly written.
I also want to make a note that the suicide parts are super intense. I did not feel that well mentally when or after I read them. If there weren't only a few pages left, I might not have finished it. Please be careful while reading this, but know that my reaction has no bearing on the work itself.
I feel bad rating this under four stars, but even though I consider this a very important work, it just wasn't a book I particularly enjoyed very much. And some extremely important works aren't enjoyable and aren't supposed to be. In this case, it's definitely a me problem and not the book's problem. It's beautifully written and so very honest, and I appreciate it so much for that, but near the end I just couldn't wait for it to be over. And yet I am very glad that I read it.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Misogyny, Rape, Self harm, Sexism, and Suicide attempt
Moderate: Eating disorder
When the Tiger Came Down the Mountain by Nghi Vo
adventurous
reflective
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
The Empress of Salt and Fortune was one of my favorite reads last year, and it's also probably one of my favorite books of all time. There was no way I was not getting my hands on its sequel this year! But while I was still mesmerized by this lush world and these fantastic characters, I felt something was missing from this second installment that I had loved so much from the first.
Representation:
- the main character is non binary and from a place similar to imperial China
- the other main character, and most secondary characters, are from a place that seems to be inspired by Mongolia (I'm guessing?)
- this character has about one line, but I'm just so ecstatic that there is a woman with a mustache who is not presented as being ugly or freakish or anything else like that
When the Tiger Came down the Mountain is a standalone sequel wherein our cleric Chih; their new acquaintance, a member of the mammoth corps named Si-yu; and Si-yu's small mammoth, Piluk, are trapped high in the mountains by three hungry tigers. Reinforcements will be coming, but until then, Chih must buy themself and their new company time—by telling the story of a tiger who fell in love with a human.
Okay, so I mentioned that I was slightly disappointed in this one compared to the first novella, but even writing out the synopsis for this review made me realize how much I do love this story. I think the emphasis has to be on slightly. There was something about the writing of the first installment that I think fell a little bit short here, and it could have been something to do with deadlines or something, but who knows. It could also just be me.
Because I also never wanted to stop reading. There's just something so addictive about Nghi Vo's writing, her characters, and her world building. Damn, that world building. Immediately, I'm drawn into this world and this setting. It all feels rich and engulfing and real. The cover certainly helps with that—it's one of the most beautiful covers I've ever seen.
Once again the nature of stories themselves and storytelling are the focus here, even if what's discussed is not particularly new. The novella makes some commentary on how stories change depending on who's telling it, and especially depending on the culture and the cultural values of the teller, which is definitely true, and this is a very clever way to present that discussion: one character telling a story, and the other one "correcting" their mistakes—and neither version might be true at all.
And for a novella this definitely works! Even if I wish it were longer, just so I could have more of Vo's writing and those characters, especially that eldest tiger sister. I cannot WAIT to see what else is in store for this series.
Representation:
- the main character is non binary and from a place similar to imperial China
- the other main character, and most secondary characters, are from a place that seems to be inspired by Mongolia (I'm guessing?)
- this character has about one line, but I'm just so ecstatic that there is a woman with a mustache who is not presented as being ugly or freakish or anything else like that
When the Tiger Came down the Mountain is a standalone sequel wherein our cleric Chih; their new acquaintance, a member of the mammoth corps named Si-yu; and Si-yu's small mammoth, Piluk, are trapped high in the mountains by three hungry tigers. Reinforcements will be coming, but until then, Chih must buy themself and their new company time—by telling the story of a tiger who fell in love with a human.
Okay, so I mentioned that I was slightly disappointed in this one compared to the first novella, but even writing out the synopsis for this review made me realize how much I do love this story. I think the emphasis has to be on slightly. There was something about the writing of the first installment that I think fell a little bit short here, and it could have been something to do with deadlines or something, but who knows. It could also just be me.
Because I also never wanted to stop reading. There's just something so addictive about Nghi Vo's writing, her characters, and her world building. Damn, that world building. Immediately, I'm drawn into this world and this setting. It all feels rich and engulfing and real. The cover certainly helps with that—it's one of the most beautiful covers I've ever seen.
Once again the nature of stories themselves and storytelling are the focus here, even if what's discussed is not particularly new. The novella makes some commentary on how stories change depending on who's telling it, and especially depending on the culture and the cultural values of the teller, which is definitely true, and this is a very clever way to present that discussion: one character telling a story, and the other one "correcting" their mistakes—and neither version might be true at all.
And for a novella this definitely works! Even if I wish it were longer, just so I could have more of Vo's writing and those characters, especially that eldest tiger sister. I cannot WAIT to see what else is in store for this series.
One Jump at a Time by Nathan Chen
informative
inspiring
lighthearted
medium-paced
3.0
I was fortunate enough to be watching skating live (on TV) when Nathan Chen was dubbed the Quad King, and since then he's been one of my favorite figure skaters. So, naturally, I had to read this book. It's also in the negatives now — or at least it was when I started writing this, so there's no better time for a book like this.
As much as I admire Nathan Chen, though, and think he is one of the most down-to-earth Olympians out there, like many other reviewers I think that storytelling isn't among his strengths. The book by itself is pretty flat, the text is rather dry, and he takes you along his journey as if he were reading a bulleted list.
That's not to say I didn't get anything out of it. The insights into how intense and involved an athletes career is — and how it's a journey of many people, not just the person competing — were very interesting. I also very much enjoyed whenever he spoke of his mother; that's when I felt the most emotion from him.
It's not a book for someone who isn't interested in the nitty-gritty details of how the points system works in skating, or how each jump breaks down into little parts, etc. You are kind of walked through each of his thought processes in every skating season.
But for a fan of the sport and a fan of this athlete in particular, it was a nice book to read once.
As much as I admire Nathan Chen, though, and think he is one of the most down-to-earth Olympians out there, like many other reviewers I think that storytelling isn't among his strengths. The book by itself is pretty flat, the text is rather dry, and he takes you along his journey as if he were reading a bulleted list.
That's not to say I didn't get anything out of it. The insights into how intense and involved an athletes career is — and how it's a journey of many people, not just the person competing — were very interesting. I also very much enjoyed whenever he spoke of his mother; that's when I felt the most emotion from him.
It's not a book for someone who isn't interested in the nitty-gritty details of how the points system works in skating, or how each jump breaks down into little parts, etc. You are kind of walked through each of his thought processes in every skating season.
But for a fan of the sport and a fan of this athlete in particular, it was a nice book to read once.
The Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie
challenging
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
She Who Became the Sun by Shelley Parker-Chan
adventurous
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
This book has taken me months to figure out how to review. I'm so torn about so many aspects! I love it, but there's so much that I take issue with at the same time. The few things I know with complete certainty is that 1. that cover is absolutely stunning, 2. the title is also excellent, 3. and I kind of wish that Shelley Parker-Chan was my best friend/writing buddy.
Representation:
- half of the POV characters are Chinese; the other half are Mongolian
- the MC and her love interest are sapphic; the MC seems to be asexual or stone butch
- the love interest is a nomad
In 1345 China, Mongol rule has left the peasants of the Central Plains starving and at the mercy of bandits. Of the Zhu family's nine children, only two are still alive. The brother is bestowed a great fate from the local fortuneteller, and the sister is told she is nothing. But when the bandits come, it is the brother who falls into nothingness—and the sister, desperate to survive, seizes his name and his fate. In her search for the greatness her brother was promised, she will become a monk, a general, a wife, an archenemy, and—revealed at the very end—an actual figure in China's history. She will do anything to seize her brother's greatness.
What struck me initially about the book was the prose. I love how mature and yet how readable the style is and how it bursts with character. It's not just written to be played in my head like a movie (and no, those writing styles are not worse in any way, I just have a soft spot for books that don't necessarily mean for the readers to insert themselves inside them). I also love how—and other people may disagree with me—the characters think more like people would in the actual 1300s rather than trying to tone down some of the things we know now to be pretty offensive or unfair. Like the protagonist, Zhu, obsessing over her gender, but also often limiting her gender to her body—i.e it's her female body that carries her "nothing fate"—even though the author themselves is non-binary and probably doesn't do this in real life (I'm assuming).
In a book for younger readers, I would probably think differently, but I'm glad Parker-Chan trusts their adult audience to be able to discern the difference between a character from a different time period and their own views. I've read so many books were the author either doesn't trust their audience enough or isn't brave enough (or their agent/publisher wasn't brave enough) to write characters who don't have current-era views. It can be exhausting to read morally correct characters in every single story. Or at least where the main character is the moral center of a story.
As the book progresses, though, the prose descends into telling and summarizing either things I wish it could show or just summarizing way too much. Add to that and exhausting amount of repetition of Zhu's desire for GREATNESS and how nothing else matters and how she will do anything to achieve this because this is her fate and she will be GREAT. It's hard to completely be on board with her goal, too, because unlike at the beginning when she took her brother's fate in order to survive, I just can't understand completely why she wants to be so great. I don't need to empathize with a main character's goal, but I do need to understand why the character would want it. This problem and the way she and her archenemy Ouyang, the eunuch general fighting for the Mongols, seem to be able to read five different emotions in a single eye twitch became pretty tiring.
Which is too bad, because I really do love how these (actually) morally gray characters think and interact to create this epic historical drama like the ones I like to watch—and the ones that the author actually admitted to inspiring this work, which makes sense.
I also do love the way Zhu and Ouyang's storylines parallel each other, especially when it comes to the way they feel about their gender. I think gender (and dysphoria) was particularly handled masterfully in this book, to be honest. It was my favorite thing about the whole story.
I think overall the book needed more editing. Maybe it was rushed or maybe the author was too fond of what she'd written, but it never does actually stick in one style and then places feels too clumsy. For everything that I love, there is something else that I have the urge to critique. But I do believe that Parker-Chan could become an incredible writer, because what they do well they do so damn well. I'm definitely going to read whatever they write next.
Representation:
- half of the POV characters are Chinese; the other half are Mongolian
- the MC and her love interest are sapphic; the MC seems to be asexual or stone butch
- the love interest is a nomad
In 1345 China, Mongol rule has left the peasants of the Central Plains starving and at the mercy of bandits. Of the Zhu family's nine children, only two are still alive. The brother is bestowed a great fate from the local fortuneteller, and the sister is told she is nothing. But when the bandits come, it is the brother who falls into nothingness—and the sister, desperate to survive, seizes his name and his fate. In her search for the greatness her brother was promised, she will become a monk, a general, a wife, an archenemy, and—revealed at the very end—an actual figure in China's history. She will do anything to seize her brother's greatness.
What struck me initially about the book was the prose. I love how mature and yet how readable the style is and how it bursts with character. It's not just written to be played in my head like a movie (and no, those writing styles are not worse in any way, I just have a soft spot for books that don't necessarily mean for the readers to insert themselves inside them). I also love how—and other people may disagree with me—the characters think more like people would in the actual 1300s rather than trying to tone down some of the things we know now to be pretty offensive or unfair. Like the protagonist, Zhu, obsessing over her gender, but also often limiting her gender to her body—i.e it's her female body that carries her "nothing fate"—even though the author themselves is non-binary and probably doesn't do this in real life (I'm assuming).
In a book for younger readers, I would probably think differently, but I'm glad Parker-Chan trusts their adult audience to be able to discern the difference between a character from a different time period and their own views. I've read so many books were the author either doesn't trust their audience enough or isn't brave enough (or their agent/publisher wasn't brave enough) to write characters who don't have current-era views. It can be exhausting to read morally correct characters in every single story. Or at least where the main character is the moral center of a story.
As the book progresses, though, the prose descends into telling and summarizing either things I wish it could show or just summarizing way too much. Add to that and exhausting amount of repetition of Zhu's desire for GREATNESS and how nothing else matters and how she will do anything to achieve this because this is her fate and she will be GREAT. It's hard to completely be on board with her goal, too, because unlike at the beginning when she took her brother's fate in order to survive, I just can't understand completely why she wants to be so great. I don't need to empathize with a main character's goal, but I do need to understand why the character would want it. This problem and the way she and her archenemy Ouyang, the eunuch general fighting for the Mongols, seem to be able to read five different emotions in a single eye twitch became pretty tiring.
Which is too bad, because I really do love how these (actually) morally gray characters think and interact to create this epic historical drama like the ones I like to watch—and the ones that the author actually admitted to inspiring this work, which makes sense.
I also do love the way Zhu and Ouyang's storylines parallel each other, especially when it comes to the way they feel about their gender. I think gender (and dysphoria) was particularly handled masterfully in this book, to be honest. It was my favorite thing about the whole story.
I think overall the book needed more editing. Maybe it was rushed or maybe the author was too fond of what she'd written, but it never does actually stick in one style and then places feels too clumsy. For everything that I love, there is something else that I have the urge to critique. But I do believe that Parker-Chan could become an incredible writer, because what they do well they do so damn well. I'm definitely going to read whatever they write next.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Ableism
also: in-book cissexism