REVIEW: The Magnolia Sword: A Ballad of Mulan by Sherry Thomas
B- Reviews / Book Reviews5th Century / China / fairytale / Fantasy / martial arts / Mulan / strong heroine / YA historical12 Comments
Dear Ms. Thomas:
I’m going to be lazy and steal the blurb:
A Warrior in Disguise
All her life, Mulan has trained for one purpose: to win the duel that every generation in her family must fight. If she prevails, she can reunite a pair of priceless heirloom swords separated decades earlier, and avenge her father, who was paralyzed in his own duel.
Then a messenger from the Emperor arrives, demanding that all families send one soldier to fight the Rouran invaders in the north. Mulan’s father cannot go. Her brother is just a child. So she ties up her hair, takes up her sword, and joins the army as a man.
A War for a Dynasty
Thanks to her martial arts skills, Mulan is chosen for an elite team under the command of the princeling–the royal duke’s son, who is also the handsomest man she’s ever seen. But the princeling has secrets of his own, which explode into Mulan’s life and shake up everything she knows. As they cross the Great Wall to face the enemy beyond, Mulan and the princeling must find a way to unwind their past, unmask a traitor, and uncover the plans for the Rouran invasion . . . before it’s too late.
A new Sherry Thomas book is always a cause for rejoicing. Still, I approached this one with a tiny bit of trepidation, for a few reasons:
1) Chicks in drag are not my favorite thing;
2) Mulan was one of the more forgettable Disney movies I’ve seen;
3) I haven’t had the best of luck with the handful of Asian-set historical romances I’ve read (note: The Magnolia Sword is not a romance, though it contains one).
The story opens on Mulan having a secret meeting with her adversary. She has been trained from an early age for a duel that is planned between her family and his, one that will give ownership of two precious swords, Sky Blade and Heart Sea, to the winner. Currently, each has one of the swords, and Mulan has now met her unnamed adversary for the third time in mock battle. Each time he has contacted her secretly to arrange the meeting (I wasn’t quite sure how).
This battle ends in a draw, and Mulan returns home. The opening scene establishes both Mulan’s sword skills and the ambivalent attraction she feels for her adversary.
Mulan’s family is relatively new to their town; they lived in the south for much of her life but fled to the north when the political situation became unfavorable for her father. In addition to her father, Mulan lives with her little brother Murong, her Aunt Xia and Xia’s son Dabao, who has the mind of a child.
Mulan is, of course, a girl, but when her twin brother died in infancy and then her mother died, her father began to have her dressed as a boy. When they came north, he had her registered under her dead brother’s name with the local authorities.
Mulan’s whole focus is on the upcoming duel, which is imminent at this point. Her stern father has rigorously prepared her for the duel for many years. She’s not particularly happy in the north, so different from her warmer and more hospitable southern home. But Mulan has not been raised to expect happiness – she knows only duty, honor and filial respect.
Life becomes abruptly more complicated when an imperial messenger comes to town and conscripts one male from each family to battle an invading army. (The invaders were called Huns in the Disney film; here they are the Rourans; there seems to be some confusion in the historical record about just who the actual invaders were.) Mulan’s father is paralyzed; her younger brother is a child, and Dabao is unsuited to military life due to his disability. But Mulan – in her male disguise – can represent the family. She’s filled with trepidation (I mean, who wouldn’t be?) but off she goes.
Once on the road with her fellow conscripts, Mulan’s main worry is, rather practically, how to relieve herself in private. It’s awkward, and so when the opportunity comes to impress a young officer known as the princeling – the son of a royal duke – Mulan finds herself volunteering to demonstrate combat as a way of getting away from the huge encampment of men and instead traveling with the princeling’s relatively small group. (Though Mulan herself is not sure if the exchange is worth it – fewer men around her is good, but a smaller group means more intimacy and scrutiny, presumably.)
Mulan, of course, more than impresses the princeling (to whom she’s strangely drawn; he reminds her of someone) and the military officer, Captain Helou, traveling with him. She finds herself shortly on the road with the princeling’s small group, headed on horseback (a mode of transportation Mulan’s not entirely comfortable with) to an unknown destination.
The Magnolia Sword is essentially a road story, as Mulan, the princeling (whose name is eventually revealed to be Kai) and a dwindling group of companions head for the Great Wall of China to try to stop the invasion. As they travel, they face danger from bandits and from those in their own midst who would betray them. Mulan is tested when she freezes in her first real battle, and later when she discovers that her father may not be the man she always thought he was.
There’s a lot to love about this story: the usual excellent prose, the unusual but well-drawn setting, and the characters. Mulan and Kai both sympathetic and likable characters. They’re very similar in the way they’ve been raised essentially as weapons to fight a hereditary battle going back generations. Mulan discovers at almost every turn that Kai is kinder and humbler than she would expect the son of a royal duke to be. Her journey, both figurative and literal, is a satisfying one.
Still, there were some things that didn’t work as well for me – not necessarily flaws as much as things that I couldn’t relate to. I think one of the reasons I haven’t loved Eastern-set romances and stories is that the mindset depicted is very foreign to me. Mulan’s absolute commitment to her role as her father’s weapon frustrated me – I wanted rebellion or resentment or at least questioning, things that I could understand. Even when she learns some ugly truths about her father, Mulan’s reaction is muted.
Again, I think this has more to do with my having a modern Western mindset and also probably just my own personality. (I also realize that filial duty was once more valued in the West than it is today.) But it made it harder for me to really connect with Mulan, and Kai to a degree, as well.
Kai was a little too perfect. The romance between Mulan and Kai is challenged entirely by external conflicts, and even those don’t end up posing as much of a problem as one might expect. I guess I wanted more angst, though perhaps that’s because I was more focused on the romance that I should have been in a book not marketed as a romance.
The other issue I had was with the balance of action and quieter moments. There were some really lovely character-building scenes, as when Mulan and Kai sneak up on a Rouran camp to spy. The action sometimes worked for me, but at other times it was confusing. I’m not a very visual reader, so a lot of description of “this character being here doing that” and “that character being there doing this” makes me kind of anxious. I think what happens is I keep rereading trying to create a picture in my mind, but I can’t so I get frustrated.
There weren’t so many action scenes that this was a huge issue, but the sense that I had – especially with the final battle – was that they were written and blocked almost like a movie scene would be. Again, as a not-very-visual reader, these types of descriptions don’t work as well for me.
That said, over all, I enjoyed The Magnolia Sword as something different from my usual reads. My grade for it is a high B-.
Best,
Jennie
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Idk, but the framing of ‘couldn’t connect with the characters because of my modern Western mindset’ just felt icky to me. It’s so close to ‘inscrutable Asian’ stereotypes. Disappointing to see in an otherwise positive and well-written review.
@Liz: Hmm. Well, I certainly didn’t mean to suggest that the characters were “inscrutable.” Rather, I was trying to take responsibility for why I didn’t connect with Mulan and Kai as much as I might’ve liked to. Really almost all my issues had to do with the sense of filial duty they felt. I don’t think it would’ve been realistic if Mulan was portrayed differently than she was. In a way, I admired her devotion to her father and her ancestors. But whether it has to do with culture, modernity, or my own personal issues with authority, on some level it bothered me as well.
I try very hard when I write a review to be clear about things that I think may just be an issue for *me*, personally. They may not bother any other reader, but I like to be as honest as I can about how they impacted my enjoyment of a book.
This was more like a review about your own failings as a reviewer for this story.
@Annie and @Liz Thank you so much for these comments. I wasn’t sure I wasn’t overreacting until I saw what you wrote.
This is maybe the most racist review I have ever read. I am frankly appalled that Dear Author published it.
@Annie:
I think that Jennie was clear that her inability to connect with the characters has to do with her own mindset and not with a weakness in the writing or the characters being somehow at fault.
Cross-cultural psychology is hardly my area of expertise, but there are cultural differences in values and norms, and I think it’s understandable if sometimes a creative work grounded in one cultural context is more difficult for someone from a different cultural background to relate to. This is *not* a failure of that work, but it is also not necessarily a failure of the reader.
On a purely selfish note, I wish Sherry Thomas would go back to historical romances, at least occasionally. I think the last one was the (fabulous) My Beautiful Enemy, and that was several years ago. I’ve read some of the Lady Sherlock books and might read The Magnolia Sword because she writes so beautifully, but I miss her romances.
@Rose: I agree with your assessment. Personally, I struggle with characters who want children as a prime, motivating factor in their lives; it’s something I have never understood, but I don’t fault the author or myself because I don’t “get it.” Who failed in that scenario?
Everyone’s reading experience is ultimately personal and individual, we can’t all take away or embrace the same ideas or feelings. In that vein, I think Jennie was clear about what did and didn’t work for her, and the honest reasons why.
Popping in to disclose that I am Sherry Thomas’s critique partner. It’s in my reviewer biography at the bottom of my posts, but not here, so I should have disclosed it at the top of this review as well. I forgot and I apologize for that. Sherry and Jennie have no connection to each other.
Maybe I should have been more clear.
This review reveals the reviewer’s racist mindset.
Being honest about it doesn’t make it not racist. Like, gee, thanks for putting your racism out there for all to see, with no attempt to change it or grapple with it. So brave!
I, and a lot of women, have a lot of contempt for men who don’t read books by or about women because they can’t identify with a female mindset. We would rightfully consider that narrowminded with a nice strong side helping of misogyny. How is this any different?
Anyone who reads a lot will read about protagonists they don’t identify with on some level. And PoC and WoC REGULARLY read about white nineteenth century ladies in the romance genre, with whom who can identify very little, because we have little choices, and over time we DO come to enjoy these stories because fiction is how we learn empathy.
Reviews like this, and casual acceptance of this mindset, will only continue to strangle diversity, never very strong to begin with in this genre and publishing at large.
This is white supremacy at work. I’m out. I don’t have the time or emotional bandwith to educate people who think this is okay and will double down on their views in order to protect their self image as Not Racist, but if you care about actually becoming less racist, try following social media accounts like @aconsciouskid to learn more about why it’s so, so important for white people to read more books with non white protagonists.
“men who don’t read books by or about women because they can’t identify with a female mindset. … How is this any different?”
She read the book.
“over time we DO come to enjoy these stories”
She enjoyed the book.
“it’s so, so important for white people to read more books with non white protagonists.”
She read the book.
Since being called a white supremacist offers one an opportunity for self-reflection, I decided to reread my review. I noted a couple of things:
It probably wasn’t helpful for me to mention that I haven’t really liked the Asia-set historical romances I’ve read. I was mostly thinking of one series that I probably read fifteen years ago, that contained a lot of mystical sex stuff involving yin and yang. Other historical romances that come to hazily to mind were set in India, and tended to feature uncomfortable (to me) interactions between colonizers and the colonized. The fact is, I haven’t read much historical romance for years, and historicals that weren’t Western-set were pretty rare when I did read historical romance regularly. So, especially since this book isn’t even a romance, I don’t think the comparison was useful.
I absolutely see nothing wrong with noting that the mindset of a girl in 5th century China may be hard for a woman born in 20th century America to relate to. Mulan was relatable in a lot of ways – my only disconnect was in her sense of duty to her father, a father who I believe treated her quite badly. In attributing that to an “Eastern” mindset, I was placing it in context – it would’ve been ignorant of me to complain about Mulan’s sense of filial duty without acknowledging that that was a real THING in that time and place.
I’ve read plenty of other books where I had trouble relating to the characters fully because of cultural differences. I’ve had mixed success with most of the big 19th century Russian novels I’ve read, but even with those I’ve liked there’s what I perceive as a Russian 19th century mindset that is alien to me. The Viking bodice-rippers I occasionally read a couple of decades ago presented a host of challenges to my 20th century American mindset, often having to do with the treatment of women. The Magnolia Sword is a good book, but I couldn’t relate to the expectation that Mulan and Kai were treated as merely instruments to fulfill their parents’ wishes, and that they didn’t have a problem with that.
I agree with a lot of the former commenters who noted the problems in this review. I also think it’s really emblematic of our times that pointing out potential bias gets a whole bunch of other people up in arms.
For you, Mulan might have been forgettable. For a whole host of girls growing up, it was probably the only time they ever saw a character who looked like them on screen. And she was a cartoon. I loved it. I know a lot of other women today who grew up loving it.
I don’t understand how the concept of filial piety is an alien one. Perhaps the unwavering devotion and obedience is odd to you, but is that really all that different than those Victorians or other books where young women are married off willy nilly, whether they want to be or not? They just complain alot more about it.
Even now, I see plenty of instances of the evolution of this concept. Especially for immigrant children, who’s parents suffered more than we will ever know to get here, duty to one’s family is strong and important. This is in some ways a stereotypes, but there’s a lot of doctors and lawyers and investment bankers out there today who likely would have taken a different path if we didn’t understand that we have to do better than our parents as a way to repay them for their own sacrifices.
@elizabeth:
Jennie pointed out her own bias, and it is clear that the review is her subjective take, based on her own mindset and experiences.
That Jennie did not find Mulan – the book or the movie – particularly compelling, does not negate the experience of the many readers and viewers who did. Not everyone is going to find every creative work similarly relatable; isn’t that the whole point of advocating for more diverse books?