historical fantasy

The God of Endings by Jacqueline Holland

/ Denise / Leave a comment

The God of Endings is a book that’s sticking with me long after its end. It’s been a while since I’ve had a story hang around like this; not overtly demanding I notice it and pay attention, not creating a sense of unfinished business or dissatisfaction with how things went, but rather quietly mulling over the questions it raises. I’ll get to those questions shortly.

But first: The God of Endings is the story of Collette LeSange. In 1984, the young-looking artist runs a prestigious arts preschool at a large manor in New York. But her youthful appearance hides her secret: she is immortal. As such, she must still interact with the world while also avoiding a life that will inevitably lead to suspicious questions about why she never seems to age. Likewise, bitter experience has taught her to fear the endings of anyone with whom she becomes close. Though she cannot speak definitely to the existence of a god or gods, Czernobog (the Serbian titular god of endings) lurks in the background of her never-ending life. And whenever she seems to have found a way to create a home, a family, a community, he comes roaring in to remind her that while she cannot end, everything else can – and will. 

Thus her school for preschoolers: children who rush in bursting with life and joy and then just as quickly rush out, presumably to continue to grow, age, and die, but who for Collette will always remain young and alive. She can love from a distance, revel in the moment, but it will never last long enough for parents to notice anything odd about the teacher (at least, nothing that can’t be explained away as “artistic eccentricities”) and never long enough to gain Czernobog’s attention. Or so she hoped. But then a young gifted child arrives at her school and her carefully tended fences begin to crumble. 

Author Jacqueline Holland takes us through the beauty and the horror of life, deftly juxtaposing Collette’s life in 1984 with stories of her past. The irony of the headstone carver’s daughter who took comfort in the idea of death finding herself denied that ending is a wonderful setup.

Though the word is never used, Collette is a vampire. (Hence the delightful choice of last name in her latest iteration.) Her grandfather, whom she had never met, comes to take her after her family dies in a plague and, without discussing it, turns her into an immortal being like himself. In a brief discussion after her rebirth, he tells her:

‘This world, my dear child, all of it, right to the very end if there is to be an end, is a gift. But it’s a gift few are strong enough to receive. I made a judgment that you might be among those strong few, that you might be better served on this side of things than the other. I thought you might find some use for the world, and it for you.’
He looked up at the moon, patted my shoulder almost absently, and said, ‘But if not, my sincerest apologies for the miscalculation.’

And it was this exchange, right at the beginning, that spoke to something with which I’ve been struggling for over sixteen years now: how selfish is it to bring children into this world? I have two children and the intensity of that question waxes and wanes, but is most definitely now in a waxing stage as I look at the world around us. What have I brought them into? On what precipice of an ending do we now stand? They didn’t ask for this – who am I to inflict it upon them? And yet, this world, these lives, truly can be a gift as well. Collette’s struggle to decide whether her grandfather did indeed miscalculate will stay with me for quite some time.

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The Poppy War by R.F. Kuang

/ Denise / Leave a comment
Book covers of The Poppy War, The Dragon Republic, and The Burning God with a phoenix wing across the top of the Dragon Republic.

“What if Mao had been a young girl” – and had access to magic and gods? Such is the premise on which R.F. Kuang bases her fantasy trilogy, starting with The Poppy War.  It’s a fascinating basis for a story.

The story follows Fang Runin, who goes by Rin, a young orphaned girl raised by abusive, opium-dealing foster parents. Rin lives in one of the poorer provinces of the Nikara Empire, which closely resembles 19th/20th century China. As the book begins, 14-year-old Rin faces the horrifying prospect of a forced marriage. Her only hope of escape is gaining entrance into the empire’s elite military school – the only school that does not require tuition payments. But to enroll, she must pass the rigorous entrance exam, better than the elites and hopefuls from around the empire, most of whom have been preparing for this exam all their lives.

On top of that, she must face the racism and classism of those around her, endure the rigors of her education, and attempt to master a long-forgotten power that brings her into contact with the rage-filled Phoenix god. 

And then the war begins.

Rin is a complicated character.  We want to cheer her on and see her succeed.  She’s sympathetic, smart, and determined as hell. She’s also desperate for power, to overcome the powerlessness of her youth. The more suffering and horror she sees her fellow citizens endure, the more determined she is to gain that power and use it, no matter the cost. 

As the story continues, particularly in the subsequent books, it became harder and harder to like Rin. Her actions and feelings were understandable, but she also makes you want to reach through the pages and shake her or shout for her to stop and really think about what she’s doing. Plenty of other characters try. But Rin is marching along her own path.

Kuang does an excellent of bringing Chinese historical themes and events to The Poppy War.  There are ties to the opium wars, the Chinese/Japanese relations, and of course the rise of Mao Zedong.  Kuang’s parents immigrated to the United States from China and never spoke of life there.  Kuang eventually spent a year living in China and heard stories from her grandparents of their experiences. 

***CONTENT WARNING FOR THE BOOK AND THE REST OF THIS REVIEW***

Be aware that there are numerous scenes of self-harm, drug use, torture, rape, war crimes, and more.  For the rest of this review, I’m going to refer to the atrocities committed by Japan against China at Nanjing during the 1930s and how that relates to the book, though without going into detail. There’s mention of suicide as well, so feel free to stop here if needed. 

Of course, using early 20th century Chinese history means there are some very, very dark chapters.  About halfway through The Poppy War, war breaks out. There is a very accurate depiction of the horrific atrocities committed by the Japanese army against the Chinese during the Nanjing Massacre (also known as the Rape of Nanking) in 1937, during the Pacific War/Second Sino-Japanese War/World War II.  If you’re not familiar with it, Iris Chang’s book The Rape of Nanking is a foundational account of the seemingly endless atrocities – mass murder, mass rape, torture. It’s an important book, but Chang does not hold back.  (She later died by suicide at the age of 36.  One article focuses on her work and its effects on her in a discussion about historians traumatized by their studies. https://newrepublic.com/article/161127/can-historians-traumatized-history.)

I’ve read bits and pieces of Chang’s book, I’ve seen some of the pictures from the time period, I’ve watched movies about the massacre.  When I was teaching, I made sure to include it in my lectures about World War II.  And to this day, I cannot read or think about it without starting to feel physically ill.  Which brings us to the question – should such things be included in a fantasy novel that also has a pantheon of gods to which humans can connect with meditation and opium?

As hard as it was for me to read that section, I think it’s important to include.  First, it is not done gratuitously or as torture-porn.  It fits with what we’ve learned so far in the book and it helps us understand (if not condone) where Rin goes from there.  Kuang cites her sources at the end of the book and gives her own scholarly and personal background.  She handles the whole thing well.  Second, I strongly believe that fiction is an important vehicle for learning about reality.  The inclusion of real-world historical events or current events, and especially those which do not get much or any coverage in school, can really open doors to learn more or at a minimum develop a sense of empathy and compassion for people.  The fact that Kuang includes a list of non-fiction reading about the Nanjing Massacre is very helpful in that regard. 

While Rin herself is only a witness to the aftermath of the atrocities, other characters endured the actual event. We learn more about it from them, and importantly, how it affects their lives going forward. Kuang also has us grapple with the question – in the face of such evilness, is any response going too far? Is justice even possible or only revenge? Should there be limits on that vengeance?

In the end, The Poppy War trilogyis a difficult but rewarding series of books. The magic/religion aspects are well done and still feel like this could be part of our own world (likely enhanced by all the close historical parallels).  But just like real history, nothing is ever clear cut or simple, including the purported heroes. That’s what makes it so compelling.

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