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TITLE: The Grace of Kings (Dandelion Dynasty #1)
AUTHOR: Ken Liu
GENRE: Fantasy
PUBLISHED: April 7, 2015
RATING: ★★★★★
PURCHASE LINKS: Amazon
MOBILISM LINK: Mobilism
When I found out last year that Ken Liu’s first novel was due to arrive in 2015, I was thoroughly excited. I’m familiar with Liu’s work as a short story writer: there are quite a few examples published in magazines such as Clarkesworld, and his prose is elegant and poetic, telling stories that mix East Asian mythology and history with very contemporary themes. I was looking forward to seeing whether that style would carry over into his longer work, as well as finding out what he could do when given plenty of room to develop a story.
The Grace of Kings begins with a parade. Emperor Mapidéré of the Xana Empire is touring his realm, and this parade through the conquered nation of Cocru is a way of strengthening Xana’s position as the nation that unified all others under one rule. Watching the parade are two teenagers: Kuni Garu and Rin Coda. They’ve decided (or rather, Kuni’s decided) to cut class in order to see the parade, and so far, it’s turning out to be worth it: the parade is a display of all the best that Mapidéré’s newly-built empire has to offer. But when an assassination attempt on the Emperor disrupts the parade, Kuni learns something important about the world that will shape the course of the rest of his life.
Not too long afterwards, on the island of Tunoa, the Imperial Procession wends its way past the town of Farun, witnessed by Mata Zyndu and his uncle, Phin. They are scions of the once-prominent Zyndu Clan, who were the Marshals of Cocru until they, and their country, fell to Mapidéré's forces. Mata—marked for greatness (or so Phin believes) by his extraordinary double-pupiled eyes—is determined to restore the glory of his clan, his country, and the old ways of life that Mapidéré’s conquest eliminated. He believes it is his destiny, and he will stop at nothing until he accomplishes it.
As the years go by and the discontent in the empire grows into outright rebellion, Kuni and Mata’s paths cross. That crossing leads them onwards to accomplishing deeds both great and dark, to people both good and wicked, as they both do what they think they must—even when it means they must turn against each other.
One of the most interesting and most enjoyable things about this novel is how so much of it feels familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. I attribute this to the fact that Liu draws heavily from Eastern and Western literature, and combines elements from both in a manner that reads seamlessly, but tugs at the reader’s strings in unfamiliar ways.
A clear and immediate example of this are the two main characters, Kuni Garu and Mata Zyndu. Mata is destined for greatness—indeed, is physically marked for it...
Among the ancient Ano, it was said that those with double pupils had the special attention of the gods. Most such children were blind from birth. …
Phin moved his hand in front of the baby, uncertain if he was blind. Mata’s eyes did not move, but then the baby turned and focused his eyes on Phin’s.
Among the double-pupiled, a rare few had the sight of an eagle, and it was said that they were destined for greatness.
There are plenty such heroes in both Eastern and Western classic literature, but the one that stands out the most (in my mind, anyway) is Achilles from Homer’s Iliad. Like Achilles, Mata is aware that he is destined for great things, and while he’s not quite sure how or when that destiny will come to him, he knows he must be ready for it. Thankfully, his uncle Phin (who raised Mata to believe that he had a great destiny ahead of him) has done all he can to make sure his nephew is ready; it’s just a matter of waiting and watching for the right moment.
If Mata is Achilles, then Kuni is definitely Odysseus, even if he doesn’t look like it at first...
[Kuni] was a good drinker, talker, and brawler, and soon he became close to all sorts of disreputable characters in Zudi: thieves, gangsters, tax collectors, Xana soldiers from the garrison, girls from the indigo houses, wealthy young men who had nothing better to do than stand around all day on street corners looking for trouble—as long as you breathed, had money to buy him a drink, and enjoyed dirty jokes and gossip, Kuni Garu was your friend.
Initially, it might seem that Kuni is just a good-for-nothing jokester: a side-character, perhaps, to stand witness to the greatness that Mata Zyndu appears destined for. But that’s not Kuni’s destiny: like Mata, Kuni is on the path to greatness, but that path will be very different from Mata’s. Unlike Mata, who is a hero from the very beginning, Kuni grows into his role, in a manner that’s not immediately obvious to the reader.
This is where Liu shows his influences for this novel are not limited to Western literature. One can easily compare Mata to Achilles right from the get-go, but it takes time for the reader to start seeing Odysseus in Kuni, mostly because the story arc he undergoes has more similarities to Chinese classics like The Romance of the Three Kingdoms and Outlaws of the Marsh than to anything Homer wrote.
Another similarity that The Grace of Kings shares with classic Chinese novels is its structure. The story hops from the point-of-view of one character to another, focusing primarily on Kuni and Mata, though other characters do get to hold the reins of the story from time to time. Every other chapter or so, the story jumps away from any of the main characters, and focuses instead on another part of the world, and on other characters and events. These chapters read almost like self-contained short stories within the novel’s larger framework: they detail certain events happening in a given area of the world, focusing on their own set of protagonists and antagonists and having their own central conflict. What ties these chapters back into the main story is the impact these characters and events have on the bigger picture: either the characters (if they survive the events of the chapter that introduced them) become supporting characters in the main story arc, or the events that occurred in that chapter are mentioned as influences on the ongoing events of the main story arc.
This tendency to play a little fast and loose with the plot structure is one of the things that makes The Grace of Kings so very interesting to read—but it’s also one of the things that can turn some readers off. Because the novel doesn’t have a tight central focus in the first third, it’s easy for readers to get lost. It also doesn’t help that many of the names aren't very memorable at first, a situation made even more confusing by their sheer number. It’s especially difficult to keep place-names straight: it’s easier with characters, because a reader can associate names with certain personalities (if not certain faces, if the reader is good at making up faces to go with names), but places are another thing entirely. Like many fantasy novels The Grace of Kings has a map, but it’s irritating to have to flip back and forth between the map and the story, just to remind oneself about where the action is happening at any given moment.
Despite its problems, though, this is a wonderful, exquisite read. There are a lot of characters (which some readers might find irritating because it can be hard to keep them all straight), but none of them feels like a cardboard cutout. It’s easy to unequivocally love a character, or unequivocally hate them, but I find it more interesting when a character makes me feel more ambivalent about them than I thought. For example, I really like Kuni, but he makes some questionable decisions in the novel that make me look askance at him. The same can be said for Mata: I don’t really like him, but there are moments when I really, really like him because of something he’s said or done.
I’m also exceedingly fond of the female characters in this novel. There’s not a lot of them, especially in the first third of the book, but once they start arriving they are a very fun and interesting bunch. Unfortunately, most of them don't really get to grow very much in this novel, which is disappointing because I would have loved to see these fantastic women grow under such challenging circumstances as the ones presented in this novel. However, there are hints at the end of the novel hinting these women will be able to spread their wings even further in the second novel, so I'm hoping Liu devotes time to developing the amazing women he’s introduced in The Grace of Kings, because it would be an utter waste if he doesn’t.
The novel’s true saving grace, though, is how immersive it is. Once (or if) the reader overcomes issues with Liu’s writing style, it’s easy to get lost in the world he’s created. Part of it is the characters themselves: they feel human enough that it’s easy to sympathise with their concerns and troubles, and those troubles and concerns are ones that at least some readers will be able to relate to. The other part is the themes: they touch upon a whole host of ideas, but the central theme—of revolution, and what comes after—is a very contemporary one for most readers. All revolutions begin with the need to topple an old, oppressive regime, but what happens after that? Once the old regime is gone, who or what takes its place? Those are the questions both the characters and the reader must confront throughout the novel, and just like in real life, there are no easy answers.
Overall, The Grace of Kings is a beautiful, immersive, heart-wrenching read, but it’s not the easiest read to get into. Liu’s style might be elegant and poetic in his short stories, but it feels a little clunky in this novel: there’s a lack of focus in the first third of the novel that might turn readers off from the very beginning, though things do tighten up a bit in the middle and stay that way to the end. This lack of focus isn’t helped by the fact that there are plenty of names being tossed around; it’s fairly easy to keep track of the characters, but keeping track of places is another story entirely, and it’s irritating for a reader to have to keep flipping back and forth between the novel itself and the included map just to confirm where things are happening.
However, if readers are able to look past the initial clunkiness, they will be rewarded with a deep, immersive story, populated by characters who are beautifully, fatally human; and deeper themes and ideas that echo issues that trouble us today. The ending is equally satisfying: no homicide-inducing cliffhangers here, but there is the promise for more. It’s a good thing Liu is writing a sequel, because there’s lots more story left in the world he’s built, and I’m eager to see what’s in store for it, and for everyone in it.
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