It’s been such a bizarre week for me in terms of reading. To be finishing audiobooks in just a day or two, to have most physical books taking two days, and to be so thoroughly distracted as to when I finish things, or might finish them.
Tanith Lee is a lot, which is why I try to space out her works so widely. And apparently it’s too much to be reading Nalini Singh in two formats and two series at the same time. So I knew that my next physical novel had to be different. That it’d be best if it wasn’t more paranormal romance, and much newer than Tanith Lee. So I settled on something my book friend sent months or years ago. She’d cautioned me at the time that she wasn’t sure I’d like it, and I can understand why. But sometimes like is irrelevant. Because it was just what I needed.
Strange Beasts of China by Yan Ge is a first person narrated glance into what could be termed cryptids living in that distant land. The various types of beasts (and there’s a lot) each have clearly inhuman features, but those tend to be minor and they can generally pass for human at least at a distance.
The narrator is an author, who writes a regular newspaper column that she populates with tales of the various types of beasts. I don’t think the book’s contents are directly equivalent with the column, but I’d guess much of the essence makes it through.
There are nine sections in the book, each devoted to a different beast type, and an epilogue. Each starts with a basic description of what is commonly known about said beasts, as well as their appearance. Each shows the narrator’s experience with those beasts, and all sections are chronologically placed. And each section ends with the narrator offering a truer glimpse of what the beasts are and do, contrasting with the section opening.
The narrator’s life also goes through upheavals throughout. Her mother had died years before, but she will revisit the memory. She never knew her father. Oh, and there’s her professor from university who seems to keep in contact as if he was her father, and his student that he sends in his stead all too often. She has a cousin, and her cousin has a lovely child. And the narrator has her friend whom she goes drinking with. All these relationships will be brought up, often changed, or set into clear focus throughout the book.
Strange Beasts of China is a soft book. It feels very lyrical, so kudos to translator Jeremy Tiang. I’m no expert on China, but I feel like what I’ve read is very true to what Yan Ge intended readers to experience. Still, it never feels like the world is about to end. The trouble in Southeast Asia is some ways away, not touching the people in the city of Yong’an, where the whole book takes place. There was some difficulty, some unrest, but it was decades ago. The only real pain and suffering is on an individual level, when they get themselves into trouble.
There’s definitely a lot of commentary in this book, probably almost entirely about China, its culture, its government, etc. But I’m sure most of it went over my head. What I do see most easily is that the beasts aren’t considered human. That they aren’t even second class citizens, but pets at best, depending on the type and subsequent nature. The assumption of superiority is always dangerous, but in this book it’s not like slaves rising up. Like I said, it’s a soft, quiet book. The danger, in the end, could be said to be the ennui that results from assumptions, from safety, from living in a bubble.
I’m not going to keep Strange Beasts of China. It’s too weird for me to want to reread. But I do think this is a good book, something worth reading. I enjoyed it, even though many aspects went over my head. I don’t read a lot of translated works, so they can be hard to judge. (Except for manga. I have enough of a grounding in manga and anime that they’re much easier for me to judge.)
One thing that struck me throughout was how only some characters have names. People without names include the narrator, her mother, her professor, her cousin, and most of the beasts. But some characters do have names, including some beasts. I haven’t yet been able to determine what commonality exists between those who are named or those who are unnamed, but I have no doubt that the choice of whether or not a character was named is deliberate for each and every one. I also have a strong feeling that part of the choice to name or not is rooted in Chinese culture in a way I’m unfamiliar with.
Honestly, my biggest regret for Strange Beasts of China is that it was published too long ago to have been eligible for the Hugo awards in Chengdu. The Chinese Worldcon happened last year, and this book is from 2020. Based on the works up for this year’s vote, the Chinese sci-fi fandom is strong and I think a book like this would’ve gotten some strong representation if it had been eligible. Of course, since I only sometimes make an effort to read the nominees, it’s questionable whether I would’ve gotten around to it before voting closed.
Yes, I should probably consider reading some of the nominees before this year’s vote closes. I’ve read a couple at least already, and at least one I’m not sure deserves to be on that short list. But that’s getting really off topic. Might as well leave it here and go on to listen to more audiobook.
It is a statement of fact that I visit many used bookstores. And I often engage their staff and owners in conversation, because who better to talk to about books? And so I found myself exchanging recommendations with such an individual at one of the more local stores. She recommended a volume to me, but they had no copies at that time. So she made a note and some weeks later I got an unexpected call in the middle of a convention. Afterwards I picked up The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield.
The book then sat in my Pile for a few years.
The Thirteenth Tale is narrated by Margaret Lea, a woman who seems to have been born in the wrong century. She loves books, with a particular focus on the eighteen hundreds, and basically grew up in her father’s antiquarian bookstore. (The store doesn’t really make money. The money comes from her father finding and selling rare books to collectors.) Margaret herself has written some things of her own, mostly biographies of side characters in the annals of history. People who are outshone by the famous features they stand next to.
Out of the blue she receives a letter from the famous author Vida Winter, a woman whose books she’s never had an interest in reading. It seems the writer wants Margaret to come and be her biographer. Why this unremarkable, unmemorable woman whose essays are rarely published and even more rarely in places people might see them is the best option is unclear. But there are two important things to know. Firstly, that Winter’s first book was a collection, Thirteen Tales of Change and Desperation. Except after the first printing it was called Tales of Change and Desperation, because there’s actually only twelve. The other thing is that Winter had been interviewed many times over the decades and she’d never once told a true story about who she was and where she came from.
She wants to tell Margaret the truth.
So, in the style of old, the bulk of this tale will have our theoretically plucky heroine in an isolated old house on the English moors, a house filled with mysteries of past and present. And maybe, just maybe, Margaret can come to grips with her own personal story as well.
After receiving the letter, Margaret reads Winter’s books for the first time, and describes how they engrossed her in a way modern literature generally hadn’t previously, how she devoured a stack of them. And reading The Thirteenth Tale was a similar experience for me. Setterfield’s book flowed so smoothly and powerfully that I could scarce put it down, wanting to see what happened next, where this line of inquiry led, how it relates to the few clues we know.
There are things I want to say, but I feel that to include such details here would be to spoil important revelations. And I think this is a book worth reading. It’s certainly not my usual fare, but I think if the Book of the Month Club had been extant in 2006 (I don’t actually know when it was established in its current form), this would definitely have been an option. I have a book club, well, reader’s club, edition actually. Not that I’m bothering with any of the discussion questions. I never do.
Still, this was a powerful book, a story told by a bookworm who never saw herself as a heroine. I’m glad the bookstore staff recommended it and sold me the next copy they got in. And I’m glad I finally got around to reading it. Like my earlier book, this is another great contrast to my audiobooks.
But, then, there’s the eternal question. What do I read tomorrow?
mouse Reads Books 