Stormdancer

Author: Jay Kristoff
Series: The Lotus War, #1
Publisher: Thomas Dunne Books
Release Date: September 18, 2012

A DYING LAND
The Shima Imperium verges on the brink of environmental collapse; an island nation once rich in tradition and myth, now decimated by clockwork industrialization and the machine-worshipers of the Lotus Guild. The skies are red as blood, the land is choked with toxic pollution, and the great spirit animals that once roamed its wilds have departed forever.

AN IMPOSSIBLE QUEST
The hunters of Shima's imperial court are charged by their Shōgun to capture a thunder tiger—a legendary creature, half-eagle, half-tiger. But any fool knows the beasts have been extinct for more than a century, and the price of failing the Shōgun is death.

A HIDDEN GIFT
Yukiko is a child of the Fox clan, possessed of a talent that if discovered, would see her executed by the Lotus Guild. Accompanying her father on the Shōgun's hunt, she finds herself stranded: a young woman alone in Shima's last wilderness, with only a furious, crippled thunder tiger for company. Even though she can hear his thoughts, even though she saved his life, all she knows for certain is he’d rather see her dead than help her.

But together, the pair will form an indomitable friendship, and rise to challenge the might of an empire.

I wanted diversity. But not like this. Never like this.

I would be willing to bet that the author had written this after reading a legion of manga and watching a shit ton of anime because honestly, I was at that stage too. I wanted to dash a book full of Japanese words I wasn't truly fluent in. I wanted to write a book full of East Asian mythology knowledge I found on Wikipedia, to lump them haphazardly together to suit my own needs. Unlike the author though, one day I took a step back from my idea and realized how terrible it was. I was acting like a writer version of a weeaboo.

There was a way for my story to get on paper, but the way I wanted to go about it was one of the worst, disgusting and offensive. Their country is not a prop. Proper research is a must. It's a sign of respect towards another person's culture. Someone outside of it will make mistakes, and people will and should call them out for it, but as long as that writer tries to correct it and show that they're making an honest effort, then it's part of the learning process. Jay Kristoff shows in his actions and his work that he is not that writer.

Yukiko has a gift, an ability that allows her to touch the thoughts of animals. This allows her to gives her the unique potential to become a Stormdancer, the rider of the mighty thunder tiger that roams the land and the sky. Too bad they're nigh extinct, and the one she has hates all humans and is highly coveted by the Shōgun, who will obtain him any cost. This unlikely pair will have to brave the coming turmoil of the Shima Isles, a fictional, steampunk'd feudal Japan.

Talk about one of the biggest disappointments I've ever had felt for a book. A gorgeous cover and intriguing concept wasted.

Yukiko is a completely unlikable protagonist, to put it mildly. She's skilled in the art of combat and not afraid to demonstrate. She holds wonderful relationships with other female characters. Yet she's heavily exotified, particularly when she fights against others, and her personality is shit. She's unreasonably disrespectful, overwhelmingly arrogant, and just all-around, hair-pulling infuriating. This attitude never changes and probably never will. I can't say much different for the rest of the characters, with the exception of Jin, who is adorable, despite his Gary Stu tendencies.

One hit, and she would never see the samurai with sea-green eyes again.

It's fine to put a non-Asian trait on an Asian character, such as green eyes, but to place a huge emphases on it and to make it so that it's one of the main reasons why anyone would be attracted to them is completely. Not. Fine. It's about as grossly offensive as having East Asian characters dye a strand of their hair purple to "spice them up."

I've come to the conclusion that Jay Kristoff can't write a romance. Yukiko and the green-eyed Iron Samurai, Masari and Kasumi. Even Yukiko and Buruu's platonic relationship. All forced and terribly-paced, with horrible reasons behind all of them. These relationships had even drove me to hate the cast even more. I wouldn't care if all of them died alone by the end of this.

"Sama, please. Enough for one day, hai?"

Yes, please, sama. Enough for one day. Why do you need to put a foreign word in if a perfectly suitable word in the English can replace it? Especially if that word has no significant importance? The abundance and misuse of Romaji thrown here and there had me slogging through the pages, sometimes having me at a loss at what the characters were referring to. The glossary at the back was a waste of space, since I'd rather not go back and forth to see what this and that meant.

With all the passion in my heart, I urge you not to pick this up. It's tempting, but not worth it. I'm sure plenty of others have pointed out these problems, and to support an author who will continue to perpetuate this-this insult while disregarding genuine concerns (look it up) would be just as bad. We need diverse books, but not these ones.

The Woman Who Had Two Navels

Author: Nick Joaquin
Series: None
Publisher: Bookmark
Release Date: 1991

This novel by Joaquin is a literary assessment of the influence of the past to the time encompassing events in the Philippines after World War II, an examination of an assortment of legacy and heritage and the questions of how can an individual exercise free will and how to deal with the "shock" after experiencing "epiphanic recognition".

After glossing through hundreds of glowing four-to-five star ratings and insightful theme analyses of The Woman With Two Navels, you may be led to believe that I too will conduct this review in an appropriate, almost distant manner, praising Joaquin for such a glorious masterpiece.

You have been sorely mistaken.

There will be no detached observations. There will be no compulsory censoring. I will rant. I will spoil. It will be messy. If you take exception to this, then find another reviewer, because I cannot politely contain the fury of my emotions or thoughts this book has provoked. Classic or not, nothing can change my opinion that The Woman Who Had Two Navels, while not a waste of my time, was one of the worst novellas I ever had to sit through.

The two-naveled woman in question is Connie Escobar, a spoiled, selfish, and delusional Filipina who travels to Hong Kong in search of a treatment for her condition from a horse doctor. Yes, a horse doctor. For a condition which may not actually exist since she refuses to show her deformity to anyone who asks. Note that there is a moment when Connie relents much later in the book, but the author thought it would be more meaningful or some shit to fade-to-black at the last possible moment, since it shouldn't fucking matter whether she actually has two navels or not, and the title is supposed to double as a fucking metaphor. Let the dumb bich be whimsical, I guess.

Now I digress. Her visit sparks a chain reaction, one that effects everyone from her family to a group of childhood friends that she's never met. Each of their lives will never be the same, and they'll be forced to face the actions of the past, present, and future, regardless of whether these actions were, are, or will be theirs to make.

If you beget a monster of a child it could prove you were rather monstrous yourself.

But the story truly begins with Concha Vidal, Connie's flighty mother who's experienced much heartbreak and disillusion throughout each era she experiences. In one of them, she encounters Macho, a younger man who shares her thrill-seeking ways and unexpectedly becomes someone she grows to love. Unfortunately, she's married and he's, well, young. Although her latest husband is one of necessity and they've come to an understanding, Macho and Concha's relationship is frowned upon by society and is the subject of much ridicule among their peers. Concha, not wanting to destroy the boy's life, leaves the country, thus ending their dalliances and breaking his heart. When she returns, she asks him to marry her daughter Connie, in order to obtain the happiness of the two people she cares about most in the world.

"If your hands were not clean, your good actions had grimmer and more relentless consequences than your sins.''

Unbeknownst to anyone, Connie has been corrupted by her mother's past and this very decision, which leads the little girl on the path to insanity, for lack of a better word. In one method of coping with this, she makes friends with the hideous, inanimate idol Biliken. Biliken becomes her anchor, a way of shielding her from the harsh realities lurking beyond her safe little bubble.

After Connie grows up and experiences a few blissful months of marriage with Macho, she finds a stack of letters in the back of his closet. Although they're old, written before she was even born, they contain every excruciating detail of her husband and her mother's past relationship, something they'd kept secret for a very good reason. Upset by this shocking revelation, she runs away to Hong Kong while struggling to gain the courage to face her problems head-on.

The unfortunate victims of the Vidal family's shenanigans are a tight-knit circle of friends who grew up away from their heritage and the country it came from. There's Rita, the likeable, sympathetic leader of the group who pulls all the stops to keep them together; Paco, a poor musician who blames Connie for his unhealthy obsession with her when really, he's just a cheating, victim-blaming scumbag and unforgivable aspiring rapist; Mary, the unfortunate wife to said-scumbag who doesn't grab her kids and leave Paco's ass the moment he tells her of his escapades in the Philippines; and Pepe, a... blank sheet that really only serves to ask Connie questions and inadvertently draw her closer to mess up their lives even further. Following behind is his father Doctor Monson, a demented old man who seeks to go back to the good ol' days by becoming addicted to drugs, and his brother Father Tony, a priest who begins to question if he's cut out for his line of work.

Together, they will unrealistically think and speak in strange riddles and analogies, rife with hidden meanings, as they will, without reason, help this one suicidal stranger—a manic pixie girl who will effectively ruin the lives of each and every one of them to obtain her happy ending without so much as a proper apology. Forget if it might be temporary, necessary, or done unintentionally. That's fucked up.

"But don't you understand, Father? I want to be good. I'm trying to stay good. Does one go mad for trying to do that? Is it that hard?"

"It's very hard indeed. But you, Connie, have taken the easiest way out. You are not trying, you have given up... When you convinced yourself you had two navels, you retreated, not from evil, but only from the struggle against evil. People can't be good unless they know they're free to be bad if they wanted to."

If this whole thing wasn't a mess already, Connie's narratives get confusing as hell towards the end. The hallucinations she experiences are supposed to show her increasingly unstable mental state and how she slowly overcomes her issues, but most of the time I had no clue what was going on or what was really happening. Only until after I had gone through these scenes over and over again for weeks did I finally get that her dreams were, in fact, dreams.

On a matter of personal taste, I have a few more complaints. The last fifty pages were utter crap. Everyone had a chance to be redeemed in my eyes, but any sliver of hope—and I mean for every single character—was kicked to the curb after I crossed that final lap. I found myself cheering when Concha was killed (tbh there was a chapter or two where I thought she was great but damn, girl) yet did Macho have to die too? They were apart of the past and so needed to be left behind, but I wanted Macho and Connie to ride off into the sunset, especially after Macho confesses that he had grown to love his little wife and forgotten all about her mother, which he'd only realized until that moment. And what the fuck was up with Connie and Doctor Monson having some dipshit, meaningful conversation in his final moments? It's past meets future, I know that too! Yet I felt like the honor of his last words shouldn't have been randomly bestowed on our pathetic excuse for a protagonist.

But despite its glaring faults, I couldn't put it down. Like a bystander drawn to the sight of a trainwreck, I couldn't tear my eyes until I reached the last page. I felt a burning hatred for every single character and every one of their stupid actions but still, I couldn't, which leaves me to my next point.

I could label this as a godawful book and leave it at that. But oh no. My feelings, much like this book, are much more complex. (See! I can do this too, Father Tony. You self-righteous piece of shit.) As a work of commentary regarding the Philippine identity and society, it does a brilliant job. Even if I may disagree with the idea that being detached from your culture makes you a broken person, especially from someone who has not experienced this first-hand, it definitely has its effects and generational trauma is certainly a thing. I admit, I will give credit where credit is due. As an enjoyable work of fiction... no. Just no. Joaquin focuses too much on getting a point across than writing a story. Which would fine, since he probably meant for it to be that way, but I wish he could have managed to have balanced both of these elements, so that the reader could be satisfied in the message and the ultimate fate of the cast.

Perhaps their lives needed to be changed. Perhaps Connie needed to go to a veterinarian instead of the psychiatrist she so obviously needs. Perhaps Connie needed to take that idiotic confrontation with Doctor Monson on his deathbed. Perhaps Connie needed to take that *coughs* unconventional step of courage. Perhaps Mary needed for her husband to be stolen away and left with a gaggle of kids to "find herself" *gags* Perhaps Paco shouldn't have gotten his comeuppance. Perhaps Macho needed to shoot Concha and himself in the fucking head instead of Connie starting over with him and living happily ever after. But this does not make me hate these choices any less, and this doesn't make any of these characters less of a dumbass for doing what needed to be done. I end this review with one big fat middle finger to all of them.

P.S. In high school, I wrote an alternate ending where Connie and Paco panic as they are held up at the border by the police and are subsequently arrested. I wish I kept it.

Team Human

Authors: Justine Larbalestier, Sarah Rees Brennan
Series: None
Publisher: HarperTeen
Release Date: July 3, 2012

Just because Mel lives in New Whitby, a city founded by vampires, doesn't mean she knows any of the blood-drinking undead personally. They stay in their part of town; she says in hers. Until the day a vampire shows up at her high school. Worse yet, her best friend, Cathy, seems to be falling in love with him. It's up to Mel to save Cathy from a mistake she might regret for all eternity!

On top of trying to help Cathy (whether she wants it or not), Mel is investigating a mysterious disappearance for another friend and discovering the attractions of a certain vampire wannabe. Combine all this with a cranky vampire cop, a number of unlikely romantic entanglements, and the occasional zombie, and soon Mel is hip-deep in an adventure that is equal parts hilarious and touching.

Acclaimed authors Justine Larbalestier and Sarah Rees Brennan team up to create a witty and poignant story of cool vampires, warm friendships, and the changes that test the bonds of love.

I never knew I could feel physical pain from giving a low rating to a book, if only a little. Team Human was sold to me as a detective, vampire parody lead by a headstrong, street-smart Chinese teen girl. It isn't often we get Asian protagonists in any novel and being Asian myself, I was more than ready to love this book. What can I say? I'm biased that way. Couple that with Sarah Rees Brennan's dry but witty writing style, I expected a fun, light read that would have me laughing out loud.

I have never been so wrong.

He was also cold. Not ice cold, but cool like water is at room temperature. It was wrong. People should be 98.6 degrees, not 72.

I gave creepy, cold Francis a bright smile, clapped my hands together, and said: "Can you believe summer is over? Hands up, who's going to miss the sunshine?

Mel is the equivalent of a racist. There is no denying that, and no one can convince me otherwise. Whenever she belittled or openly mocked Francis or vampires in general, for that matter, I saw red. Although I enjoy sneering at perfect, romanticized vampires as much as the next girl, it's one thing to make fun of them in fiction; it's entirely different to make fun of one that lives alongside you. If vampires were living, (non-)breathing creatures of our world, I sure as hell wouldn't start cracking jokes at their expense. I don't care if they have ridiculously archaic names. I don't care if they act like they live in the past. I don't care if they become the most disgustingly perfect beings that ever existed. If they led civil lifestyles and didn't hunt humans for food, there is no excuse to be treating them like dirt. Though not exactly people, they are pretty damn close to it and are certainly not animals.

"A true lady would never dream of discussing her health in mixed company," I told him.

"Is everything humorous to you?" Francis inquired with some asperity.
The would be Francis-speak for "snippy."

"Not everything," I said. "But it's really the only way to deal with you."

Francis's lip curled. "I deal with you, as you put it, but remaining courteous despite your ill-judged attempts at humor."

"Everyone else laughs at my jokes," I said. "Oh sorry, I forgot. You can't do that, can you?"

Because of Mel's cruel attitude against vampires, she was extremely hard to sympathise with, and I had to constantly fight the urge to throw the book against the wall for her prejudice. By the end, she does seem to have a change of heart to some extent but as they say, too little, too late.

Aside from the species-ism, I was appalled by a certain snide comment about the stereotypical mean girl, anorexic cheerleaders who threw themselves at Francis, and Mel's harsh judgments about dying patients that would rather live longer as a vampire than accept the embrace of death as a human. At this point, the only thing that potentially made Mel redeemable was her friendship with Cathy.

"Come on, Frankie, she's like a million years younger than you. Where's this going to lead except to breaking her heart?"

After a few days of embarking on her relationship with Francis, Cathy decides to become a vampire as soon as possible. Her friends and even Francis himself are astonished, and each make various attempts to dissuade her from making an incredible life-changing decision so soon. I understand that Cathy is beyond her years and she's given a considerable amount of thought of whether it's worth the risk but like everyone else, I wish she had waited longer. Not just for herself, but for her friends and her family to adjust to the idea. It is her choice, but her choice affects everyone around her.

Another human who looks forward to becoming a vampire is Kit, the boy who was raised by one. He and Mel hold strong attraction towards each other, but she turns him away because of his unwillingness to remain as he is. Their romance, although interesting, invoked little more than a shrug and a "meh" from me, with the exception of the cellphone scene, which I found adorable.

The authors managed to explain their alternate world very well, the humor present in the book was reminiscent of Cassandra Clare, and the detective-sleuthing was pulled off nicely. If not for Mel, Team Human might have been given a solid three.