The Dragon and the Pearl by Jeannie Lin

“The Dragon and the Pearl “ is a stand-alone novel by Jeannie Lin, however it picks up where “Butterfly Swords” left off. “Dragon’s” cast includes Li Tao, the antagonist of Butterfly Swords, as the hero of “Dragon,” and his backstory gives us a much wider vision of the author’s Tang Dynasty China.

Now I loved “Butterfly Swords” (click the link to see my review), but you can see Lin’s skill as an author has increased since the first book. She has sunk herself into this world, making the characters rounded, fleshed and highly sexual. More than that, her political and social structure is more solid than the Kunlun mountains.  She needed that solidity as we find out how both the court and the seedy underground culture of Tang dynasty functioned. 

Thanks to that background structure, we discover why Li Tao is the stern and unyielding man you met before, but we also find the heart beneath that exterior. That said, he never breaks character. His is one of the strongest, most well rounded characterizations I’ve ever seen. Hypnotizing, never a good man, but always a believable and desirable man.

 If you enjoyed the dainty appetizer of “Butterfly Swords,” you will love the full course spread that is “The Dragon and the Pearl.” Go out and buy a copy via Amazon, Barnes and Noble or wherever else you can find one OR you can put your name into the hat for a paperback or e-copy.  Reader's choice.

The Shrouded Path by Aron White

Jun Quan is a boy who dreams of fighting the injustices of the world. After his beloved father abandons him at a temple and Jun learns Kung Fu, he’s prepared to fight, but he’s torn between the desire to protect others and finding his father.

When Jun returns to his father’s home town in search of information, he finds trouble instead. Jun saves a young boy whose grateful parent allows Jun to stay at their home and finds Jun a job in town. Again and again, Jun is called upon to protect others from predatory guards until he becomes a vigilante.

Leaping from roof to roof in scenes reminiscent of “Batman” as much as “Crouching Tiger,” Jun is soon joined by an old friend and the two join forces against the regional governor, Xiong Ba, whose greed and corruption forced Jun’s father to leave years before.

This book touches on the difference between vengeance and justice, with realistic descriptions of kung fu (NOT Hollywood spinning kicks) and kung fu training that young boys will enjoy. Shrouded Path is a YA approach to Wuxia, a genre where a lone warrior or a team of warriors do battle with evil villains.

When Aron White isn't hard at work writing the sequels to "Shrouded Path," you might find him at http://www.aronwhite.com.  

City of Tranquil Light by Bo Caldwell

     City of Tranquil Light is a novel based on the lives of the author’s maternal Aunt and Uncle. The fictional story of Will and Katherine Kiehn is so moving that I devoured the first 111 pages in a single sitting. After that, I continued to read, but many times with the greatest agony.

     Not because the writing turned to a lesser quality, but because the characters' little girl died. As the couple work through their grief, there are questions raised with such honest poignancy that I could not read more than one paragraph at a time because I wept so hard. Anyone who has ever grieved deeply will feel the depth of Katherine’s despair in her talk with God:

     “We buried our daughter yesterday, and I am brought up short by the harshness of Your ways. I have given my all for You and in return you have taken the gift I love most – my sweet child. But perhaps I loved her too much I am mistaken; perhaps I haven’t given my all, but have held something back. Did I love her more than You? I know you are a jealous God, but are You that jealous, that You would take the other object of my devotion? I feel broken, as though there is a great gash inside of me, and my only prayer is a question: ‘What have You done?’ I ask not from anger, but from confusion, for I truly do not understand.

     Perhaps You are a flawed God, imperfect as we are. We are, after all, made in your image. Perhaps it was not Your intention to take Lily, but your inattention. Did You look away for a moment?  Was your mind elsewhere? Many times a day I ask myself what else I could have done and search for some mistake I made.  But perhaps You are at fault, not I. It seems there is so much You could have done.”

     Who among us who has met with loss hasn’t asked these questions?  It is the first of many tragedies they live through, but Mrs. Caldwell allows us to see the glory and wonder of how God can work. The man who stole the medicine that might have saved Lily’s life comes to Will Kiehn and demands – at gun point – that Will treat his son.

     Will knows what this man’s banditry has cost him and I’m sure many of us might tell this bandit where he and his murderous son could go. Will doesn’t. He heals the son and the bandit’s men and earns their trust and gratitude before he’s allowed to return to his wife. Before he does so, he shares the Lord’s Good News with his captors both through the bible and through his actions, but Will's forgiveness is a long way away.

     Time continues and the bandit’s son goes on a murderous rampage, after which he is captured, tortured and executed. The bandit returns to Will and in an amazing scene filled with the bereft father’s sorrow and humiliation, the bandit chief turns himself in as justice for having raised a shameful son. He is beaten and awaiting trial when Will brings him food and medical treatment. Neither man expects the bandit to survive, but God's ways are mysterious and wonderful.

     Their lives intertwine throughout the novel, which is a must read for anyone interested in China, missional history or the mission field. If the tremendous losses and beauty in City of Tranquil Light kept me by my tissue box, the heroism, faith and selflessness displayed by Caldwell’s characters kept me reading. 

The Two Pearls of Wisdom by Alison Goodman

    

Two Pearls of Wisdom is easily one of the best, most inventive works of fantasy I've ever read. Superb writing, characters and character development were precise and sometimes surprising and the world building was on a level seldom seen.

For instance, have you ever heard of magic built around the twelve animals of the zodiac and the Chinese belief in meridian points within the human body? In answer to the first question: yes, once. In answer to the second question: never unless you count traditional Chinese mythology. In 37 years of reading fantasy, I have never come across something quite this inventive. I wish I'd thought of it, but I can only admire.

Eon is a crippled boy with the unusual ability to see all twelve mystical dragons of the zodiac. Eon is also not a boy, but Eona, a sixteen-year-old girl who will be killed for presuming upon a man's position if she's discovered. To complicate matters, the Emperor lies on his deathbed. His brother and Lord Ido, the Rat Dragoneye, seek to make the "String of Pearls," a weapon of unholy power, and with it, change the world. Eona must learn to trust her power and find the strength to face a vicious enemy who would seize her magic and her life.

If you love political intrigue and fantasy as much as I do, then you're probably longing for a unique take on the genre. "The Two Pearls of Wisdom" is it and it's the first in a series.  Please be aware, in the U.S., the book's title is "Eon: Dragoneye Reborn." (Ms. Goodman is Australian and "Two Pearls" is the original Australian title.) I don't do spoilers, but I can tell you this was obviously planned as a series of books. "The Necklace of the Gods" won't be one of those sequels that happened because a sequel was the unplanned, but most expedient literary offering. "Two Pearls" is a stand alone novel that clearly paves the way for what must happen next.

Based on the first book, I look forward to another magical story unfolding.

Butterfly Swords Review

     

Butterfly Swords is not the sort of book I think of when I look at Harlequin Romances.  I expect lots of hot and heavy breathing, but no whistling blades arcing into flesh. I certainly don’t expect Tang dynasty China. Yet Butterfly Swords carries itself with all the confidence of its warrior class heroine through scenes both sensual and blood-stirring, and all of it set within a tumultuous period of China’s history: the later Tang Dynasty (760s). The story does tweak history a bit in that the rebellion described is loosely based on the An Lushan rebellion, but the book's events are fictional. In that sense, Butterfly Swords is an historical romantic fantasy.

     I read most of the book in one sitting, enjoying the flow and power of the author’s language. Then I decided I had read it too quickly to do it justice in a review, so I sat down a few days later and picked it up again. Darned if I didn’t get halfway through before remembering why I had decided to re-read it! It grabs and pulls in ways I can’t begin to describe. I can only appreciate the skill used.

     Consider the following scene where the heroine Ailey has agreed to a friendly duel with Ryam, the hero. If he wins, he will receive one kiss. If she wins, he has to take her to her family home in Changan.

     Ryam couldn’t resist the promise of a kiss to keep him company on the cold journey back to the frontier. It  might even be worth the risk of facing Imperial soldiers again – not that he intended to lose.

     Ailey stood across from him, poised and still. She shook the hair from her eyes with a slight toss of her head and her braid whipped over her shoulder. When she focused again on him, the young woman disappeared and a warrior stood in her place.

     The fight started here, at the moment of decision, long before his sword ever reached striking distance. Ailey radiated more determination than many a seasoned fighter. She bowed formally, bending slightly at the waist with her eyes trained on him. He considered, for a brief moment, whether Ailey had been bluffing all along.

     ‘Ready?’ he murmured.

     She flew at him.

     In a flash of silver, the butterfly swords cut tight lines through the air. He deflected in two sharp clashes of steel, surprised by the strength of the attack.

     ‘I thought this was a friendly match – ‘

     The next swipe of her blade whistled by his throat.

     Ailey pushed inside his defense without fear, without caution. For a second she darted within arm’s reach. He considered simply grabbing her and wrestling her to the ground. Pin her beneath him. The image lingered dangerously. Definitely not honourable.

     He had to jump back to avoid her knee as she drove it upwards.

     ‘I can’t take you to Changan if you kill me.’

     He twisted her next attack aside only to have her spring back, eyes dark with intent, a hint of green sparking within them. She left no room, no time to recover. His heart pumped hard as instinct took hold of him. According to her rules, he could only defend and not attack. He side-stepped and angled the strikes away. Ailey knew what she was doing, keeping him close so he couldn’t use his reach against her. She danced around him with deadly elegance, matching him toe to toe. The rhythm of it almost sexual.

     Better than sexual.

     ‘Ten,’ he announced.

     ‘Show me what you have,’ she retorted.

    

     The book had one surprising moment for me. The heroine's first goal is to return to her family and reveal the treachery of her fiance, the treacherous General Tao. With the hero's help, Ailey meets with her father and discovers that he's aware of the General's political ambitions. Her father requires her to marry Tao anyway and for some reason, the book's path from then on took me to unexpected places. Not that I minded; I was simply surprised. The plot does move a little slowly as the hero debates whether he can have the life he wants with Ailey. After he concludes that he can't, the villain captures Ailey. 

     After a book's length of errors, our hero decides to stand up for himself and what he wants. The actions he takes at that point moved me and fulfilled what I want from a book. Since this is a romance, you know you get a happy ever after. I won't tell you how, but I can tell you a border guard's love and desire for an imperial princess is satisfied in a realistic, but unsappy fashion.

     Make no mistake, this is not your mother’s Harlequin. This is the sort of romance that has crossover appeal  (potentially) to both sexes,  to readers of straightforward history and to the fantasy crowd who tend to love history.

An Excerpt From Under Heaven

The following passage occurs beside a lake where the hero, Shen Tai has buried war dead for two years. My sole difficulty in sharing it with you was deciding where to stop, as my eyes and heart wanted to continue reading.

That's a problem inherent to the novel.

Betrayal

His instincts had been dulled by solitude, two years away from anything remotely like blades pointed towards him. Keeping an eye out for wolves or mountain cats, making sure the goats were pinned at night, did nothing to make you ready to deal with an assassin.

But he'd felt something wrong about the guard even as Yan had ridden up with her. He couldn't have said what that feeling was; it was normal, prudent, for a traveller to arrange protection, and Yan was sufficiently unused to journeying (and had enough family wealth) to have gone all the way to hiring a Kanlin, even if he'd only intended to go west a little and then down towards the Wai.

That wasn't it. It had been something in her eyes and posture, Tai decided, staring at the swords. Both were towards him, in fact, not at Yan: she would know which one of them was a danger.

Riding up, reining her horse before the cabin door, she ought not to have seemed quite so alert, staring at him. She had been hired to get a man somewhere, and they'd come to that place. A task done, or the outbound stage of it. Payment partly earned. But her glance at Tai had been appraising, as much as anything else.

The sort of look you gave a man you expected to fight.

Or simply kill, since Tai's own swords were where they always were, against the wall, and there was no hope of notching arrow to bowstring before she cut him in two.

Everyone knew what Kanlin blades in Kanlin hands could do.

Yan's face had gone pale with horror. His mouth gaped, fish-like. Poor man. The drawn sword of betrayal was not a part of the world he knew. He'd done something immensely courageous coming here, had reached beyond himself in the name of friendship ... and found only this for reward. Tai wondered what his tidings were, what had caused him to do this. He might never know, he realized.

That angered and disturbed him, equally. He said, setting the world in motion again, "I must assume I am your named target. That my friend knows nothing of why you really came here. There is no need for him to die."

"But there is," she said softly. Her eyes stayed on him, weighing every movement he made, or might make.

"What? Because he'll name you? You think it will not be known who killed me when they come here from Iron Gate? You will have been recorded when you arrived at the fortress. What can he add to that?"

The swords did not waver. She smiled thinly. A beautiful, cold face. Like the lake, Tai thought, death within it.

"Not that," she said. "He insulted me, with his eyes. On the journey."

"He saw you as a woman? That would have taken some effort," Tai said deliberately.

"Have a care," she said.

"Why? Or you'll kill me?" Anger within him more than anything now. He was a man helped by rage, though, steered towards thoughts, decisiveness. He was trying to see what it did to her. "The Kanlin are taught proportion and restraint. In movement, in deeds. You would kill a man because he admired your face and body? A disgrace to your mentors on the mountain, if so."

"You will tell me what Kanlin teachings are?"

"If I must," Tai said coolly. "Are you going to do this with honour, and allow me my swords?"

She shook her head. His heart sank. "I would prefer that, but my instructions were precise. I was not to allow you to fight me when we came here. This is not to be a combat." A hint of regret, some explanation for the appraising look: Who is this one? What sort of man, that she was told to fear him?

Tai registered something else, however. "When you came here? You knew I was at Kuala Nor? Not at home? How?"

She said nothing. Had made an error, he realized. Not that it was likely to matter. He needed to keep talking. Silence would be death, he was certain of it. "They thought I would kill you, if we fought. Who decided this? Who is protecting you from me?"

"You are very sure of yourself," the assassin murmured.

He had a thought. A poor one, almost hopeless, but nothing better seemed to be arriving in the swirling of these moments.

"I am sure only of the uncertainty of life," he said. "If I am to end here by Kuala Nor and you will not fight me, will you kill me outside? I would offer my last prayer to the water and sky and lie among those I have been burying. It is not a great request."

"No," she said, and he didn't know what she meant, until she added, "It is not." She paused. It would be wrong to call it a hesitation. "I would have fought you, had my orders not been precise."

Orders. Precise orders. Who would do that? He needed to shape time, create it, find some way to his swords. The earlier thought really was a useless one, he decided.

He had to make her move, shift her footing, look away from him.

"Yan, who suggested you hire a Kanlin?"

"Silence!" the woman snapped, before Chou Yan could speak.

"Does it matter?" Tai said. "You are about to kill us without a fight, like a frightened child who fears her lack of skill." It was possible─just─that goaded enough she might make another mistake.

His sheathed blades were behind the assassin, by his writing table. The room was small, the distance trivial─unless you wanted to be alive when you reached them.

"No. Like a Warrior accepting orders given," the woman amended calmly.

She seemed serene again, as if his taunting had, instead of provoking, imposed a remembrance of discipline. Tai knew how that could happen. It didn't help him.

"It was Xin Lun who suggested it to me," Yan said bravely.

Tai heard the words, saw the woman's hard eyes, knew what was coming. He cried a warning.

Yan took her right-hand sword, a backhanded stroke, in his side, angled upwards to cut between ribs.

The slash-and-withdraw was precise, elegant, her wrist flexed, the blade swiftly returned─to be levelled towards where Tai had been. No time seeming to have passed: time held and controlled. The Kanlin were taught that way.

As it happened, he knew this, and time had passed, time that could be used. Timelessness was an illusion, and he wasn't where he'd been before.

His heart crying, knowing there was nothing he could have done to stop that stroke, he had leaped towards the doorway even as she'd turned to Yan─to kill him for speaking a name.

Tai screamed again, fury more than fear, though he expected to die now, himself.

A hundred thousand dead here, and two more.

He ignored his sheathed swords, they were too far. He whipped out the open door and to his right, towards the firewood by the goat pen. He had leaned his shovel on that wall. A gravedigger's shovel against two Kanlin swords. He got there. Claimed it, wheeled to face her.

The woman was running behind him. And then she wasn't.

Because the faint, foolish, desperate idea he'd had before entered into the sunlit world, became real.

The wind that rose in that moment conjured itself out of nothing at all, without warning. From within a spring afternoon's placidity, a terrifying force erupted.

There came a screaming sound: high, fierce, unnatural.

Not his voice, not the woman's, not anyone actually alive.

The wind didn't ruffle the meadow grass at all, or stir the pine trees. It didn't move the waters of the lake. It didn't touch Tai, though he heard what howled within it.

The wind poured around him, curving to either side like a pair of bows, as he faced the woman. It took the assassin bodily, lifted her and hurled her through the air as if she were a twig, a child's kite, an uprooted flower stalk in a gale. She was slammed against the wall of his cabin, pinned, unable to move.

It was as if she were nailed to the wood. Her eyes were wide with horror. She was trying to scream, her mouth was open, but whatever was blasting her, claiming her, didn't allow that either.

One sword was still in her hand, flattened against the cabin. The other had been ripped from her grasp. She had been lifted clear off the ground, he saw, her feet were dangling in air. She was suspended, hair and clothing splayed against the dark wood of the cabin wall.

The illusion, again, of a moment outside of time.

"Under Heaven" by Guy Gavriel Kay

To honor his deceased father, a general who led imperial forces in their last great war, Shen Tai has spent two years alone at a battle site by a mountain lake, burying the dead. At night he can hear the ghosts moan and stir. When a voice falls silent he knows that a ghost has been laid to rest.

One morning he learns that his vigil has been noticed at the highest level: the court of their one-time enemy is pleased to bestow on him two hundred and fifty coveted western horses. The Heavenly Horses are an overwhelming gift. They exalt Tai, and could bring him great power – or have him killed before he ever leaves the mountains, let alone reaches the imperial city.

Before he leaves the lake, he is threatened and a friend, murdered. Then things get more difficult as Tai hires a female body guard who annoys and attracts him, is tempted and threatened by local magistrates and entwines himself in an Empire-shaking rebellion. “Under Heaven” is the story of Tai’s journey home to his former life and all the unrest entailed there; it is a tale filled with love, loyalty and secret machinations.

The novel is set in an alternative world’s version of the Tang Dynasty during the An Lushan Rebellion (circa 755-763 A.D.) and is Kay’s first foray beyond a European setting. He does a memorable job. There are no jarring moments of modernism or western thought. He did a few atypical things, including a list of names due to the wide cast of characters. He also draws out the ending more than his norm, using it to tie up the various characters’ stories and leaving little ambiguity to the novel’s conclusion. This book has all of the characters and lovely language of a typical Kay novel, but strikes a balance between the plot’s strengths and Kay’s characterizations. Although he’s had stronger characters in previous novels, the denizens of Kitai were real individuals whom I cared for, identified with and plan on re-visiting soon.

For instance, the following extraordinary moment of characterization evokes young love, and the creation of life-long friendships within five sentences:

She shook her golden hair and gave him a look he knew well by then. I am enamoured of an idiot who will never amount to anything was, more or less, the import of the glance.

Tai found it amusing, sometimes said so. She found his saying so a cause of more extreme irritation. This, too, amused him, and she knew it.

For a moment after reading that passage, I flashed back to college. My (future) husband said something intended to exasperate and I responded with this exact look, or perhaps with a comment designed to make him laugh. Remembering that, I became Tai’s lover in this scene. That’s where Kay’s greatest skill lies; he doesn’t write fiction. He writes about us. Throughout his novels, Guy Gavriel Kay enlarges our foibles, failings, successes and courage into an enormous ongoing scene – a tapestry we love examining to find where he put us this time.

A fan asked me recently, “Am I going to hate him for being so good? Am I going to be inspired?” My response: “Was there ever any doubt?”

At the first viewing, one is dazzled by the audacity and beauty of “Under Heaven,” but like so many works of great art, it cannot be consumed in one sitting or in one reading. The reader will need to view it many times before appreciating the depth of craftsmanship. I expect to find the book grows in power upon a second and third reading.

“Under Heaven” is an adult novel, but is accessible to mature young adult readers. It was released April 27th by Roc.

Victoria Dixon writes book reviews and writer advice columns at http://ronempress.blogspot.com.

Under Heaven

To Honor his deceased father, a general who led imperial forces in their last great war, Shen Tai has spent two years alone at a battle site by a mountain lake, burying the dead. At night he can hear the ghosts moan and stir. When a voice falls silent he knows that a ghost has been laid to rest.

One morning he learns that his vigil has been noticed at the highest level: the court of their one-time enemy is pleased to bestow on him two hundred and fifty coveted western horses. The Heavenly Horses are an overwhelming gift. They exalt Tai, and could bring him great power─or have him killed before he ever leaves the mountains, let alone reaches the imperial city.

"Entrancing." ─Publishers Weekly
"Profound." ─Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction
"Brilliant." ─Locus
"Classic." ─Science Fiction Weekly