Descendant of the Crane is a Chinese-inspired YA fantasy novel about politics, leadership and sacrifice. When the King of Yan dies suddenly, Hesina knows her father has been poisoned. In order to launch an official investigation, Hesina must take her place as the queen—no easy task when this involves gaining the approval of her mother. Plus, any ruler of the Kingdom of Yan faces a number of troubles. Whole villages are disappearing without a trace along the border, but Yan’s philosophy prevents the country from going to war. Within the capital there’s rumours that the soothsayers, the magic users who propped up the previous regime of profligate emperors, aren’t as dead as once thought, and neighbours begin to turn on each other. Hesina must somehow balance these concerns with her quest for the truth about her father’s death and her growing awareness of treachery from within her court.
The story is a very ambitious one but isn’t entirely successful. Primarily plot-driven, one thread focuses on the mystery of who poisoned Hesina’s father, while another thread illustrates the persecution of the soothsayers as they attempt to live disguised among the general population. The latter is where the true heart of the story lies. It is said that soothsayers can predict the future, but consulting one is considered treason. Nevertheless, Hesina is desperate enough for answers about her father’s death to take that risk. Her subsequent encounters with various soothsayers serve to humanise these figures, who were to her previously more like monsters from a fairy tale, and she comes to realise that the kingdom’s persecution of these people is deeply unjust. However, it is no simple matter to undo generations of law and lore, even for a queen. Hesina finds herself trapped by her position, aware that going against the will of the people is a profoundly dangerous prospect. It digs into some meaty themes, such as the value of truth, the cost of leadership and the gap between public and private personas.
There were also some excellent twists, with a lovely balance between those I was expecting and those that caught me by surprise. This is not a story that shies from epic revelations, shifting to show what has gone before in a new light.
In fact, there are a number of epic elements to the story. The Chinese-inspired setting, with its sumptuous clothes and palace filled with themed courtyards and secret passages, makes a beautiful backdrop. And there are a number of cinematic action sequences featuring magic and explosions.
However, I felt it was ultimately let down by its characterisation. The story is told in third person, but the closeness of the perspective means it functions in a similar way to a first person narrative. Hesina is very much the focus of the story and we only see what she sees. Finding the truth of her father’s death is a powerful driver for her and she is so focused on solving this mystery that she ignores much else of what is going on around her.
This narrow focus also makes it difficult to get a feel for what motivates the other characters. Another key figure is Akira, a convict in Hesina’s prison who is foretold will help her with her investigation. It’s never entirely clear why he chooses to help her. Even when Hesina asks him directly, his answers give the impression that he himself doesn’t know. While this is perhaps an understandable reaction, it adds to the general fogginess of the story.
Yet other characters feel distant, such as Hesina’s mother and her adopted brother, Caiyan. Her blood brother, Sanjing, is often physically distant (as an officer of the militia) and blows hot and cold when present. There are good reasons for these people to be depicted in such fashions, but taken altogether, it weakens the emotional elements of the story. To some extent, Hesina is an isolated figure, but she also shows a lack of interest in the motivations of others—both out of naivety and out of self-centredness. Which is not to say she is an awful character. To the contrary, she frequently acts with compassion, particularly towards the ordinary citizens. But she seems to lack any kind of awareness or insight into the people in her immediate circles.
One of the standout characters of the story is Lilian, Caiyan’s twin sister and Hesina’s adopted sister. Vivacious and sassy, she comes across as a party girl who disguises her intelligence. When not making comments about good-looking men, she designs fabrics, setting colour trends for the season and making sure Hesina is always dressed stylishly. While her relationship with Hesina may not be as close as her brother’s, there’s a genuine feeling of warmth from her and she always livened up any scene in which she appeared.
While many of the characters felt a bit flat, it was a delight to see a variety of relationships on the page, particularly those related to family. We get to see a close relationship between adopted siblings alongside an uneasy relationship with blood siblings. There’s even an awkward relationship between Hesina and her half-brother to add to the variety. And, of course, there’s the obligatory romance. I found this somewhat unconvincing, but found I didn’t mind too much because decentring it left space to explore some of the other relationships.
The author has referred to it as a stand-alone novel, but I found it read more strongly as the beginning of a series. There’s a reasonable degree of resolution, but I found it an unsatisfying end that poorly rewarded Hesina’s efforts. A number of major plot threads were left loose, so there is plenty of room for more.
All in all, Descendant of the Crane showed some of the flaws of a debut novel, but remains an intriguing start to a potential new series.
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