Written by R. F. Kuang in 2018
Synopsis: In this grimdark historical fantasy based on conflicts between China and Japan, war orphan Rin sacrifices everything to earn her way into her nation’s most prestigious military school, her only shot at a better life. At Sinegard Academy, however, Rin is only ostracized further, forcing her to turn to an insane teacher and his esoteric practices if she hopes to stay enrolled and serve in the impending war.
Review: I don’t mind mentioning in the synopsis that Rin gets accepted into Sinegard, because a protagonist’s success in this particular near-impossible challenge has become a trope. The skeleton of the first half of the book is all predictable, despite Rin’s challenges being presented as having an unknown outcome for her and the other characters. However, the flesh around these known plot beats is still well-written. And by the second half, the plot and its characters have grown out of their shells into something breathtakingly unique.
Rin, for example, doesn’t initially possess any talents beyond dedication, a quality shown to harm her as much as it helps. Starting with burning herself with wax to stay awake all night studying, Rin aggressively scrubs off the underdog hero that young readers (including me) dream we would be, to reveal a distinct person with serious flaws and choices I never expected.
It’s difficult to describe the rest of the book without spoiling anything, and both the plot and the fantasy element are made stronger for how they are steadily introduced—knowing them in advance would ruin the fun. Save to say, Kuang’s debut novel proves that, for a savvy author, there’s still new ground to tread in this wrung-out genre, and I’m excited to read the rest of the trilogy.
Strengths:
Opium addiction is an interesting, respectfully treated background element throughout the novel.
Two enemies end up fighting back-to-back against a truer enemy. Their relationship made me want this dynamic in every speculative fiction story from here on out.
Weaknesses:
The mentor character is the most recent victim to a writing choice that’s bothered me a lot recently. The author starts out with absurd or surreal humor, then tries to use that character/element for a serious plot purpose. I always end up feeling a bit cheated and needing to forget earlier descriptions in order to stay engaged with later ones.
Rating: 19/20 prisoners of the Chuluu Korikh
Ideal Setting: Read this after a conversation about spirituality.
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