Review of A Palace Near the Wind by Ai Jiang

Two years ago I read an interesting little novelette by Ai Jiang and was intrigued. Now I’ve got a review copy of A Palace Near the Wind courtesy NetGalley, and I remain intrigued. Jiang once again harnesses her incredible talent for descriptive prose and layers atop that an impressive, tender style of characterization. I wanted to like this more than I did—and will explain why I didn’t—but I did like it quite a bit.

Liu Lufeng is the eldest princess of the Feng, a people made from bark and who live more or less harmoniously with the natural world. The Land Walkers (ordinary humans, near as I can tell) encroach upon the forests of Feng with their Travellers and engines and other machinery. Only the marriages of Lufeng’s sisters and mother to the King has delayed further encroachment. Now it’s Lufeng’s turn—except she is about to discover there are far more secrets to this agreement than she could ever realize.

The first thing you’ll notice is how immediately Jiang creates a strikingly different world from ours. Lufeng is, of course, somewhat alien to us in how she lives, from her custom to her very being—the Feng walk on the wind. Yet even the human characters in this story feel utterly alien as well, with names like Copper and Tin. There is precious little familiar to grasp on to—in a good way. I loved how Jiang slowly reveals this world to us piece by piece as sheltered Lufeng explores and questions everything.

The reader must do the same thing. On its surface, A Palace Near the Wind is obviously a book about colonialism, extraction-based capitalism, industralization, etc. If you stop there, however, you will miss some deeper motifs. Family, and the tensions caused by family members embracing different ideologies, is another somewhat obvious one. Deep down, however, I think this novella is trying to say something about the knife’s edge between guile and cynicism.

Lufeng at the beginning of this story is guileless and, if not innocent, quite gullible. She learns quickly. She starts to develop guile and the ability to dissemble, and she soon plots escapes and betrayals. Yet the people around her constantly tempt her with the opportunity to nope out, to take the easy way out, to join them or at the very list stop opposing them, and in return, her life will be set.

This is a book about why we choose the struggle when evil uses every tool at its disposal to tell us that struggle is pointless or profitless.

For some reason—I honestly cannot explain why—this book reminds me of The Wizard of Oz. There is something of the Wizard in the King. There is something of Oz and its wider landscape in this world. I make this comparison favourably, mind.

My major criticism is simply that I wish this were a full-throated novel rather than the first novella in a … trilogy? Duology? Some kind of series. The story builds and builds and ends on a semi-cliffhanger that is … fine. But I think it takes some of the wind out of the story’s sails, if you will. I liked this story but not enough to be hungry for the sequel, whereas if it were a novel, I feel like I’d be more satisfied when I reached the conclusion. Or maybe not!

Points for originality and beautiful writing, along with an interesting exploration of themes.