hc.newton
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
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What’s She Who Became the Sun About?
This is an epic saga about a China-that-Could-Have-Been back in the 1340s. We follow (well, several people, but let’s focus on a couple of primaries) a young girl who assumes her dead brother’s identity and becomes a monk. This brother had been predicted to rise to greatness (as he was practically starving due to drought and famine, this was quite the fortune to receive). Zhu eventually becomes involved with the rebellion against Mongol rule, and begins to find her way to a new life—one of greatness and power.
On the other hand, we follow General Ouyang, one of the main leaders of the forces set to put down the rebellion. Ouyang is the one member of his family who survived the Khan’s wrath—as a eunuch. He is trusted by some in power, while many others consider him defective and untrustworthy, despite his victories and viciousness.
When these two meet on opposing sides of the conflict—both their lives are set in new directions, and the fate of a nation may be, too.
A Question of Genre
At a couple of points along the line—the last time was about the 2/3 point, I put in my notes, “Where’s the Fantasy?” (I wrote that larger than usual that last time). The elements are just not there—at least not as much as you’d expect in something shelved in that part of a store. In talking with a friend about it, I started calling it the La Croix of Fantasy novels.
It’s there, if you can really focus on it and hope. I have been assured that the Fantasy elements are stronger in the second part of the duology—but not much.
If this had been sold as General Fiction, or Alternate History or something—no one would’ve objected. And I wouldn’t have been distracted by wondering when magic or a dragon or something would come up.
As a fictionalized 14th-century China with a couple of tweaks—this is a great world, and the setting (place and time) is great.
What does this book tell us about humanity?
I’m not entirely sure that this book has much to say about people in general. It has something to say about particular characters—and that can be applied to some, but not all.
Zhu starts off wanting to survive—with the thought that she could claim her brother’s fortune. It’s debatable, but I do think she has some sort of genuine Buddhist convictions—if only because that’s what she’s supposed to believe. Before ordination, she’s given some permission to not be that devout. And her convictions turn to herself—there may be some vague faith about things in general, but ultimately she’s convinced of her own abilities (and if she has to pay for that in lifetimes to come, she’s ready to accept it).
At one point, Zhu—in the midst of trying to encourage someone else—gives sort of her personal mission statement.
“But you know what’s worse than suffering? Not suffering, because you’re not even alive to feel it… Learn to want something for yourself, Ma Xiuying. Not what someone says you should want. Not what you think you should want. Don’t go through life thinking only of duty. When all we have are these brief spans between our nonexistences, why not make the most of the life you’re living now? The price is worth it.”
Without getting into the rightness or wrongness of her choices throughout the book (and she has plenty of both). I’ve come to think of Zhu as a Walter White character. She starts off as clever and resourceful, looking to do the “right thing.” But at a certain point, she realizes how clever and resourceful she is—and what kind of success can come from that, and her pride (warranted or not)—pride that can (should?) be seen as arrogance—starts to fuel her.
On the other hand, we have Ouyang. He is trapped by Fate. Or his idea of it—expectations of honor, family obligation, and therefore Destiny. He comes close to rebelling—or at least pushing against it—but is it close enough? He exercises agency and free will throughout—but it almost seems like he doesn’t think he can. Early on, he seems more lawless, more independent (for lack of a better word)—but by the end, he seems more constrained. Sort of the flipside.
In the book club meeting, the question was asked, “Does greatness necessitate cruelty in this world?” I’ve been chewing on that a lot. I don’t think so—I think there are a couple of examples of greatness (those perceived to be great, anyway) without cruelty. But by and large, the answer in this particular world is a resounding, “yes.” Or at least just about everyone thinks it’s the case. No one looking for greatness, or who happens to be in a position of greatness here can make it without cruelty. It is the epitome of a dog-eat-dog world, and as Norm Peterson would say, everyone is wearing Milkbone underwear.
Why did I pick this up? Why did I keep reading?
I picked this up because it was the month’s pick for the Fantasy Book Club. And for quite a while, that was what kept me going. There were moments that made me think, “Oh, now we’re getting somewhere,” but that didn’t last for long. But curiosity and investment in a couple of secondary characters set in.
Also, I had to answer the question, “Where is the Fantasy?”
So, what did I think about She Who Became the Sun?
I’m really not sure. There was so much that worked here—but I’m not sure how satisfied I was with it in the end.
Parker-Chen can write some glorious lines—they can do more with one sentence of description than many authors can do in paragraphs. And getting to read them do more of that (if I get around to the sequel or wait until a new work) would be a treat.
For a book about war, it’s a relatively bloodless novel. Battles that take out thousands—conquer cities can take less than a page. If you want combat, you’re going to need some one-on-one situations—and there aren’t many. Battle, warfare, is the context of these events—it’s not the focus. Which is a pretty cool thing to see.
As much as I found the characters to be rich and complex (and I spared us all my bloviating about more of them—including the two or three that I like a lot more than those I talked about)—I’m not sure they’re enough to get excited about, alone. But this is a novel about more than the characters and the plot. There’s a lot going on about the nature of fate/destiny, gender, sexuality, morality, ancestry/ethnicity…
Is this a good read? Yes. Could it be better? Oh, yes. But a lot of that has to do with my expectations (magic, creatures, etc.). I just wanted a little more out of the book. If you go into this with the right expectations, you’ll probably get a lot more out of it and appreciate it more than I did. It’s worth the effort.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
---
What’s She Who Became the Sun About?
This is an epic saga about a China-that-Could-Have-Been back in the 1340s. We follow (well, several people, but let’s focus on a couple of primaries) a young girl who assumes her dead brother’s identity and becomes a monk. This brother had been predicted to rise to greatness (as he was practically starving due to drought and famine, this was quite the fortune to receive). Zhu eventually becomes involved with the rebellion against Mongol rule, and begins to find her way to a new life—one of greatness and power.
On the other hand, we follow General Ouyang, one of the main leaders of the forces set to put down the rebellion. Ouyang is the one member of his family who survived the Khan’s wrath—as a eunuch. He is trusted by some in power, while many others consider him defective and untrustworthy, despite his victories and viciousness.
When these two meet on opposing sides of the conflict—both their lives are set in new directions, and the fate of a nation may be, too.
A Question of Genre
At a couple of points along the line—the last time was about the 2/3 point, I put in my notes, “Where’s the Fantasy?” (I wrote that larger than usual that last time). The elements are just not there—at least not as much as you’d expect in something shelved in that part of a store. In talking with a friend about it, I started calling it the La Croix of Fantasy novels.
It’s there, if you can really focus on it and hope. I have been assured that the Fantasy elements are stronger in the second part of the duology—but not much.
If this had been sold as General Fiction, or Alternate History or something—no one would’ve objected. And I wouldn’t have been distracted by wondering when magic or a dragon or something would come up.
As a fictionalized 14th-century China with a couple of tweaks—this is a great world, and the setting (place and time) is great.
What does this book tell us about humanity?
I’m not entirely sure that this book has much to say about people in general. It has something to say about particular characters—and that can be applied to some, but not all.
Zhu starts off wanting to survive—with the thought that she could claim her brother’s fortune. It’s debatable, but I do think she has some sort of genuine Buddhist convictions—if only because that’s what she’s supposed to believe. Before ordination, she’s given some permission to not be that devout. And her convictions turn to herself—there may be some vague faith about things in general, but ultimately she’s convinced of her own abilities (and if she has to pay for that in lifetimes to come, she’s ready to accept it).
At one point, Zhu—in the midst of trying to encourage someone else—gives sort of her personal mission statement.
“But you know what’s worse than suffering? Not suffering, because you’re not even alive to feel it… Learn to want something for yourself, Ma Xiuying. Not what someone says you should want. Not what you think you should want. Don’t go through life thinking only of duty. When all we have are these brief spans between our nonexistences, why not make the most of the life you’re living now? The price is worth it.”
Without getting into the rightness or wrongness of her choices throughout the book (and she has plenty of both). I’ve come to think of Zhu as a Walter White character. She starts off as clever and resourceful, looking to do the “right thing.” But at a certain point, she realizes how clever and resourceful she is—and what kind of success can come from that, and her pride (warranted or not)—pride that can (should?) be seen as arrogance—starts to fuel her.
On the other hand, we have Ouyang. He is trapped by Fate. Or his idea of it—expectations of honor, family obligation, and therefore Destiny. He comes close to rebelling—or at least pushing against it—but is it close enough? He exercises agency and free will throughout—but it almost seems like he doesn’t think he can. Early on, he seems more lawless, more independent (for lack of a better word)—but by the end, he seems more constrained. Sort of the flipside.
In the book club meeting, the question was asked, “Does greatness necessitate cruelty in this world?” I’ve been chewing on that a lot. I don’t think so—I think there are a couple of examples of greatness (those perceived to be great, anyway) without cruelty. But by and large, the answer in this particular world is a resounding, “yes.” Or at least just about everyone thinks it’s the case. No one looking for greatness, or who happens to be in a position of greatness here can make it without cruelty. It is the epitome of a dog-eat-dog world, and as Norm Peterson would say, everyone is wearing Milkbone underwear.
Why did I pick this up? Why did I keep reading?
I picked this up because it was the month’s pick for the Fantasy Book Club. And for quite a while, that was what kept me going. There were moments that made me think, “Oh, now we’re getting somewhere,” but that didn’t last for long. But curiosity and investment in a couple of secondary characters set in.
Also, I had to answer the question, “Where is the Fantasy?”
So, what did I think about She Who Became the Sun?
I’m really not sure. There was so much that worked here—but I’m not sure how satisfied I was with it in the end.
Parker-Chen can write some glorious lines—they can do more with one sentence of description than many authors can do in paragraphs. And getting to read them do more of that (if I get around to the sequel or wait until a new work) would be a treat.
For a book about war, it’s a relatively bloodless novel. Battles that take out thousands—conquer cities can take less than a page. If you want combat, you’re going to need some one-on-one situations—and there aren’t many. Battle, warfare, is the context of these events—it’s not the focus. Which is a pretty cool thing to see.
As much as I found the characters to be rich and complex (and I spared us all my bloviating about more of them—including the two or three that I like a lot more than those I talked about)—I’m not sure they’re enough to get excited about, alone. But this is a novel about more than the characters and the plot. There’s a lot going on about the nature of fate/destiny, gender, sexuality, morality, ancestry/ethnicity…
Is this a good read? Yes. Could it be better? Oh, yes. But a lot of that has to do with my expectations (magic, creatures, etc.). I just wanted a little more out of the book. If you go into this with the right expectations, you’ll probably get a lot more out of it and appreciate it more than I did. It’s worth the effort.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.