A Review of R.F Kuang’s The Dragon Republic (Harper Voyager, 2019)

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A Review of R.F Kuang’s The Dragon Republic (Harper Voyager, 2019).
By Stephen Hong Sohn



I read about 1/3 of R.F Kuang’s The Dragon Republic (Harper Voyager, 2019) before I set it down, then promptly forgot about it in the midst of a crazy academic year. I finally had the tail end of summer to read it! I very much enjoyed the action-packed first installment in this series (The Poppy War) and wanted to see how the narrative would continue.

Here is the publicity description: “Three times throughout its history, Nikan has fought for its survival in the bloody Poppy Wars. Though the third battle has just ended, shaman and warrior Rin cannot forget the atrocity she committed to save her people. Now she is on the run from her guilt, the opium addiction that holds her like a vice, and the murderous commands of the fiery Phoenix—the vengeful god who has blessed Rin with her fearsome power. Though she does not want to live, she refuses to die until she avenges the traitorous Empress who betrayed Rin’s homeland to its enemies. Her only hope is to join forces with the powerful Dragon Warlord, who plots to conquer Nikan, unseat the Empress, and create a new republic. But neither the Empress nor the Dragon Warlord are what they seem. The more Rin witnesses, the more she fears her love for Nikan will force her to use the Phoenix’s deadly power once more. Because there is nothing Rin won’t sacrifice to save her country . . . and exact her vengeance.”

I suppose I should provide my requisite spoiler warning here, as I sort of need to unveil plot details concerning the first book and part of the second to set things up. At the conclusion of the first, we see that the Empress Daji throws her assassination squad (called the Cike) under the bus, including its fearless leader Altan. After Altan’s tragic death, the Cike is under turmoil without any stable leadership, and Rin is not quite up to the task required of her. Much of the second novel deals with Rin’s ambivalent relationship not only with the leadership of the Cike (and what remains of it) but also of her own shamanistic power. Kuang throws a wrench into the equation when Daji is able to put Rin’s power under a special seal that is causing her to go mad over time. Eventually, with some help from outliers in the empire, Rin is able to get access to her power back, but must now be bonded with her ally, Kitay.

The novel moves toward is conclusion with a seemingly apocalyptic battle, with Rin and her allies outnumbered by Daji and a powerful wind-based shaman named Feylen. But through some clever tactical maneuvers and last minute aid by the Hesperians, Rin and her allies are able to prevail. Kuang does not let things end here. Just because the Dragon Republic is able to repel Daji and claim some ground does not mean Rin is safe. As the Dragon Republic allies (under the lead of Vaisra) with the Hesperians, who distrust anything related to shamanism, Rin is totally thrown under the bus.

Indeed, one of the most shocking moments—and please recall I did provide my spoiler warning earlier—is when Rin is stabbed by Nezha, her once ally and former comrade-in-arms. This moment of betrayal is particularly hard to swallow because, by this point, readers have discovered that Nezha too is a shaman, though has not told anyone about his powers. While Nezha’s father (Vaisra) works with the Hesperians to maintain control, shamans must now be discarded. The conclusion sees Rin now having to exact revenge and retribution yet again.

Buy the book here!

Review Author: Stephen Hong Sohn
Review Editor: Leslie J. Fernandez

If you have any questions or want us to consider your book for review, please don’t hesitate to contact us via email!
Prof. Stephen Hong Sohn at ssohnucr@gmail.com
Gnei Soraya Zarook, PhD Student in English, at gzaro001@ucr.edu

A Review of R.O. Kwon’s The Incendiaries (Riverheard Hardcover, 2018)

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A Review of R.O. Kwon’s The Incendiaries (Riverheard Hardcover, 2018). 
By Stephen Hong Sohn


I had a false start with this novel sometime last year. It is R.O. Kwon’s absolutely stunningly written debut called The Incendiaries (Riverhead, 2019). I was having trouble getting into the narrative discourse, partly I think because there are three fairly distinct narrative perspectives.

The first is given to a man named Will; he has lost his faith and seems to be seeking a new sense of life’s purpose. This narrative perspective is given in the first person. The second is given to Phoebe Lin. This particular narrative perspective was the weirdest to me. It seems to be related to the fact that Phoebe has joined an organization, which we later realize is more likely a cult, and that Phoebe is in the process of a kind of public confession. Thus, Phoebe’s sections are almost like monologue, except for the fact that there are occasional moments where you realize that the section is really being told in the third person, with a very distant narrator. The final narrative perspective is a more standard third, with brief snippets that give us the background of John Leal, the leader of the cultish organization in which Phoebe gets entangled.

I was later listening to a podcast where you get a sense of Kwon’s motivations in terms of the narrative discourse. She makes a really interesting observation that she found it easier to tell the story once she gave the primary narrative perspective to a character that wasn’t a part of much of the direct action. Indeed, Will’s not really the protagonist. Everything centers around and is really about Phoebe and her past. Will’s an incredibly astute and sensitive observer, so his narrative sections really allow the novel to shine brightly. The sections with Phoebe and John tend to be darker, moody, and provide information on each character’s checkered pasts.

Once Phoebe and John really meet in the narrative discourse, it’s pretty much all downhill from that point forward. The basic plot for this spare novel is that Phoebe joins John’s organization, which leads to a series of bombings targeted at abortion clinics. Will is the observer to Phoebe’s descent into John’s machinations. Phoebe and John have a lengthier past history, as John and Phoebe’s family once ran in similar circles.

What Kwon is grappling with most is the question of faith. One of the moments where this problem really becomes apparent is when we find out that the death of Phoebe’s mother was far more protracted than we had at first realized. Indeed, Phoebe and her mother were in a car accident. In the seconds leading up to the collision, Phoebe’s mother had thrown herself in front of Phoebe, which shielded Phoebe from much of the impact. In the aftermath of the crash, her mother is literally dying in front of her, but Phoebe is stuck in the twisted prison of the car and cannot wrest herself or her mother. Whether or not it would have mattered that Phoebe could have gotten her mother out quicker is not the issue: Phoebe’s traumatic experience of this event colors her understanding of the world around her. What matters when this kind of nonsensical torture can be allowed to occur, especially in front of loved ones?

Phoebe’s purposelessness is exactly what John Leal can prey upon. Leal himself is a complicated character who survived time in a North Korean labor camp. Much like Phoebe, the issue of faith has driven him to change his tactics concerning what he considers to be forms of injustice and violence occurring. Perhaps the greatest tragedy in this novel is apparent in the way that such vibrant characters are given over to such extreme actions. You can’t help but want to find a way to help Phoebe. In this kind of readerly response, Kwon has surely succeeded. We’re as helpless as Will is, watching another crash occur—albeit a metaphorical one—unfold before all of our eyes.

Where has Phoebe gone by the novel’s end? We’re not sure but we don’t have much reason to hope in this case, so we’ll relish Kwon’s exquisite prose instead. It’s the salve that makes the narrative’s irresolution that much more bearable. As a note, I later discovered through a podcast that this novel took 10 years to write, partly because of Kwon’s painstaking and meticulous attention to prose. It makes total sense. You’ll see right away that the level of craft and attention to individual words and phrases makes this reading experience its own. The prose sparks off the page, Kwon’s style uniquely hers. Let’s hope she takes way less time for the second publication while retaining her gift for effulgent prose.

Buy the Book Here!

Review Author: Stephen Hong Sohn
Review Editor: Leslie J. Fernandez

If you have any questions or want us to consider your book for review, please don’t hesitate to contact us via email!
Prof. Stephen Hong Sohn at ssohnucr@gmail.com
Gnei Soraya Zarook, PhD Student in English, at gzaro001@ucr.edu

A Review of Maura Milan’s Eclipse the Skies (Albert Whitman & Company, 2019)

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A Review of Maura Milan’s Eclipse the Skies (Albert Whitman & Company, 2019)
By Stephen Hong Sohn



Maura Milan’s Eclipse the Skies (Albert Whitman & Company, 2019) continues the adventures that first began with Ignite the Stars. Let’s let the official page give us some context: “Ia Cōcha never thought she’d be working for the Olympus Commonwealth. But that was before she found out her trusted brother Einn was trying to tear apart the universe. Now, Ia, the Blood Wolf of the Skies, has agreed to help the Royal Star Force on one condition: when she finds him, she gets to kill Einn herself. Brinn Tarver has just come to terms with her Tawny identity when the public lashes out against her people, crushing her family. At her breaking point, she starts to question everything she believes in—including Ia. After the death of his mentor, Knives Adams is doing his best to live up to a role he didn’t ask for as Aphelion’s new headmaster. Still, with each new step deeper into war, he feels torn between his duties and the pull of Ia’s radical—sometimes criminal—ideas. As they fight to keep darkness from eclipsing the skies, their unpredictable choices launch this breathtaking sequel to explosive new heights.”

At the end of the last novel,—and I am providing my requisite spoiler warning here—Ia found out that her brother was the Big Bad, a bigger bad, anyway, than the Olympus Commonwealth. Einn’s mission is to create a kind of interdimensional portal that will bring together two different universes. The problem is that the other dimension is one in which beings of immense power reside; such beings may have more malevolent tendencies, but Einn doesn’t really care: he just wants to produce chaos. Einn’s modus operandi is perhaps one of the elements that I didn’t find as compelling; his monstrosity is one that generally left one-dimensional. There’s a moment when Milan begins to suggest there’s something for more complex in terms of the psychosocial dimensions of Einn’s quest but it’s never fully engaged. Milan had a real opportunity to make Einn’s objectives that much more chilling.

Milan does provide us with some great character development. Brinn’s trajectory, in particular, was pleasantly surprising. I couldn’t at first believe the rather drastic change that was occurring with this character, but Milan is far more patient about this development. In some sense, the change in Brinn’s approach to the Commonwealth is one that also pushes the plot forward because without Brinny’s talents, Einn cannot build that inter-dimensional gateway. Milan makes effective use of extensive battle sequences, and the action never lets up. The conclusion is a little bit darker than I’d expected, but it’s a fitting end given the stakes in this particular world.

Buy the book here!

Review Author: Stephen Hong Sohn
Review Editor: Leslie J. Fernandez

If you have any questions or want us to consider your book for review, please don’t hesitate to contact us via email!
Prof. Stephen Hong Sohn at ssohnucr@gmail.com
Gnei Soraya Zarook, PhD Student in English, at gzaro001@ucr.edu

A Review of Logathasan Tharmathurai’s The Sadness of Geography: My Life as a Tamil Exile (2019)

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A Review of Logathasan Tharmathurai’s The Sadness of Geography: My Life as a Tamil Exile (Dundurn, 2019)
By Stephen Hong Sohn

So I’ve been lately more interested in reading some texts that concern Sri Lanka, so naturally I was excited to read Logathasan Tharmathurai’s The Sadness of Geography: My Life as a Tamil Exile (Dundurn, 2019).

Let’s let the official page at Dundurn set this book up for us: “The harrowing journey of a teenage refugee who never gave up on his dream of seeing his family again. Born to a wealthy family in northern Sri Lanka, Logathasan Tharmathurai and his family lost everything during the long and brutal Sri Lankan Civil War. In January 1985, at the age of eighteen, he left his home in a desperate bid to build a new life for himself and his family abroad after a deeply traumatic encounter with a group of Sinhalese soldiers. As his terrifying and often astonishing journey unfolds, he finds himself in a refugee camp, being smuggled across international borders, living with drug dealers, and imprisoned. The Sadness of Geography is a moving story of innocence lost, the persecution of an entire people, and the universal quest for a better life.”

The early parts of the memoir set up Tharmathurai’s life when things are fairly stable. The wealth of his family—due in part of the success of his father’s business—allows him considerable privilege, but this status soon disintegrates in light of political instability. The dangerous conditions of the country envelope his family. His father descends into drinking; the family’s unity fractures, and the future naturally looks uncertain. Soon, Tharmathurai sees no other option but to radicalize and considers working with revolutionary groups. But, this approach seems less and less viable, so Tharmathurai then considers leaving the country entirely, hoping he can settle somewhere else and send money back home. His first stop is Germany. While he languishes in refugee detention, he receives word from his brother Lathy, who is in France, that Lathy intends to smuggle him into the country. Tharmathurai thus crosses the border into France, but his life there is a struggle. Without official documentation, he cannot attain any sustainable work or income, and he soon realizes that he’s become a burden to his brother. A last-ditch attempt to get to Canada enables him to get the foothold he has needed. This final transnational journey proves to be fruitful, and he is able not only to find refuge and employment, but also secure the passage of his remaining family back to Canada.

The latter portions of the memoir—and I provide a spoiler warning here—reveal the continuing fissures between Tharmathurai and his father, who tragically dies before any familial reconciliation can be reached. The political heft in this memoir clearly is rooted in the way that Tharmathurai details the oppressive conditions under which Tamils had to live in Sri Lanka. It is not surprising to see Tharmathurai attempt risky migrations in order to find a better life. Even in the space of detention and refugee liminality, Tharmathurai’s memoir makes it ever clear that the potentiality for something more is what drives him to go on these perilous paths, ones that promise far more than what might have been possible in the proverbial homeland.

If I can offer one small critique, it is that I did want more information about his time in Canada. There is a compression to the memoir that occurs in the final chapters, and given his surely astonishing trajectory as an immigrant, I wanted to know more about this path toward financial stability and family reunification.

For more, and to buy the book, go here!

Review Author: Stephen Hong Sohn
Review Editor: Leslie J. Fernandez

If you have any questions or want us to consider your book for review, please don’t hesitate to contact us via email!
Prof. Stephen Hong Sohn at ssohnucr@gmail.com
Gnei Soraya Zarook, PhD Student in English, at gzaro001@ucr.edu

A Review of Rin Chupeco’s The Never Tilting World (HarperTeen, 2019).

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A Review of Rin Chupeco’s The Never Tilting World (HarperTeen, 2019).
By Stephen Hong Sohn



Readers of AALF will know that I am a fan of Rin Chupeco. I’ve taught one of her novels and just finished her other series. Now she’s moved over to HarperTeen with this latest, The Never Tilting World (HarperTeen, 2019).

We’ll let the official description provide us with the backdrop: “Generations of twin goddesses have long ruled Aeon—until one sister’s betrayal split their world in two. A Great Abyss now divides two realms: one cloaked in eternal night, the other scorched beneath an ever-burning sun. While one sister rules the frozen fortress of Aranth, her twin rules the sand-locked Golden City—each with a daughter by their side. Now those young goddesses must set out on separate, equally dangerous journeys in hopes of healing their broken world. No matter the sacrifice it demands. Told from four interweaving perspectives, this sweeping epic fantasy packs elemental magic, star-crossed romance, and incredible landscapes into a spectacular adventure with the fierce sisterhood of Frozen and the breakneck action of Mad Max: Fury Road.”

Now, the four interweaving perspectives are all first-person narrators: the twins are Haidee and Odessa; the other two are their respective romantic counterparts, Arjun and Lan. The world building aspect is totally intriguing, especially as readers basically hopscotch from one side of the world to the other. The monsters and mythical beings on each side are obviously different based upon the divergent climates. Krakens appear on one side while sand worms appear on the other. It’s constantly freezing on one size while it’s frightfully hot on the other. Chupeco also gives us enough information to realize that Haidee and Odessa don’t really know the other is alive; as each journeys toward the Breach that separates the worlds, there is a sense that they must figure out why the worlds remain so unbalanced and in threat of dissolution.

Inevitably, because there is a bifurcation, readers will probably find one side more compelling than the other. Chupeco also wisely shifts the tonalities from one world to the next. There is more of a gothic, horror element that pervades the ice-water world, while there is more of a thriller-romance that follows the sun-desert world. I found myself more compelled by the ice-water world only because there is a kind of survivor-like conceit going on there. What occurs in that side of the narrative is that Odessa is starting to receive gifts from underworld demons. These seven gifts will ultimately all result in Odessa losing some part of herself: what readers (and everyone who is journeying with her) begin to understand is Odessa is losing her humanity.

If I had one minor negative response to this narrative, then it comes in the form of readerly sequencing. I had just finished Kendare Blake’s series concerning the queens on Fennbirn. For those familiar with that series, the basic premise is that three daughters are born every generation, who basically must duel each other to the death. A similar conceit is being considered here, at least insofar as two sisters are basically supposed to duel each other until one dies, which provides a sort of balance to the worlds. When this sacrificial line isn’t followed, the world goes unbalanced. Such also seemed to be the case in Blake’s series. Despite the overlaps, the multiplied narrative discourse and the bifurcation of worlds makes Chupeco’s novel have some of its own unique elements. Fans of the paranormal romance will thus have something new to chew on in her latest offering.

Buy the Book Here!

Review Author: Stephen Hong Sohn
Review Editor: Leslie J. Fernandez

If you have any questions or want us to consider your book for review, please don’t hesitate to contact us via email!
Prof. Stephen Hong Sohn at ssohnucr@gmail.com
Gnei Soraya Zarook, PhD Student in English, at gzaro001@ucr.edu