Trigger Warning: Violence
Twenty days into my 30 Books in 30 Days Challenge and I am four books behind. I have been four books behind since September 5th. I do plan to catch up, but I’m not banking on my ability to speed read. One of last week’s books, The Poppy War by R.F. Kuang, gave me pause. Set in an Asiatic fantasy world, The Poppy War reads like a violent combination of a novelization of Avatar the Last Airbender, Harry Potter, and Modern Chinese History. Rin, the plucky heroine of The Poppy War, is a peasant orphan scores high on the fictional Keju exam, landing her a place at a prestigious military training academy. The contemporary equivalent of the Keju would be the Gaokao—the Chinese University entrance exam that pushes Chinese high school students every year to the point of deep mental and physical distress
While at school, Rin is targeted by her classmates for her peasant upbringing and dark skin. Rin is soon discovered to have magical abilities, which further alienate her from her classmates. Much of the time spent going over Rin’s time at the military school is rushed and sloppy. Though Kuang’s world is very clearly based off China and surrounding countries, world building is still needed. I found myself constantly confused when characters would reference something that had happened in their collectivehistory, but hadn’t been discussed. Little is said about magic or folklore; the reader is simply expected to know the rules and legends on their own.
The Poppy War suffers from severe pacing issues. Years pass in single sentences, while a day is dragged through several chapters. When Rin is removed from her school setting to join an outcast branch of the military, she is tossed into a warzone that again, the reader doesn’t know much about. Going into this book, thanks to a YouTube book review, I knew it was partially based on the Nanking Massacre.
When I went to China in 2013, I spent a week in Nanjing (Nanking) learning the city’s history. I visited the Nanking Memorial museum and it’s the place I now go to in my nightmares. Outside of the museum, an eerie soundtrack of anguish plays against the sounds of traffic. The museum houses photos that are not on the internet articles or in history books about The Rape of Nanking. In the courtyard, statues of people running and begging for their lives are flanked by columns, covered in the names of those assumed lost in the massacre. Leaving the museum, you pass the speakers, moans and cries piping out while you board your air-conditioned bus. I covered my ears, ashamed and sick.
After the museum, I could feel the lost souls of the city. Nanjing is the most haunted city I have ever been to. I don’t mean poltergeists throwing things to the ground. I mean haunted with evil and pain and desperation. The air in the city was smoggy and heavy. The heaviness felt like the weight of tormented souls and old wounds.
Reading The Poppy War, flashbacks of the photos in the museum came to me. It was almost too much for me. Kuang’s descriptions of brutality is visceral. I won’t repeat any of the descriptions here, but the images have been parading in my head. Perhaps that kind of photographic reaction was what Kuang was reaching for, but it doesn’t fit the adventure and magic and humor of the rest of the book. Kuang’s narrative voice is unpolished, but spirited. I did not care for Rin or any of the other characters—they seem to blend together. The Poppy War is Kuang’s debut, so there is time and room for improvement. I am not sure, though, if I can dedicate myself to reading any more.