This is a historical novel you guys. And also an erotic novel, yes, hence the cover, which is supposed to lure readers (believe it or not, I only noticed cherry blossoms at first. I guess female butts don't impress me, because I happen to have one). Yes, you guess right, it's more erotic than historical. But it didn't work for me in both cases.
The book is about the real historical event, a short yet dramatic affair between Julian Bell and Lin Cheng. Or Chang? I was reading it in translation, so I'm not sure. And blurbs for this book are fantastically unhelpful, as they write a lot about who was Julian freaking Bell, and the female protagonist is only mentioned as "Lin". It's simply insulting. Julian was sort of a famous person anyway, if not by himself, then by his relation to Virginia Woolf (I'm afraid in my cultural circle name Julian Bell wouldn't ring any bells, haha) and Lin definitely deserved more attention and some respect, as a poet, writer and as a personality. No wonder this happened though, as the author herself didn't do a great job at uncovering who real Lin was. Here is what happened.
It's funny how well hateable she made Julian (serves him right, actually). Not sure if it was her goal. His family and relatives look pretentious and weird only, and that's also not a good thing, considering who they were (no, I don't have a cult feelings for Wolf_Bell family). Lin is too bland, too one sided, too stereotypical, and I expected author to break stereotypes here. She's sort of trying, but she sets a trap for herself and falls into it, because she writes from Julian's POV (!), while I'm not sure if she could actually relate to snobby snotty offspring of famous bohemian family with revolutionary aspirations from the very specific place and time that was Great Britain in the beginning of 20th century. I think she could - she should - relate to Lin rather, to her sensitivity, to her Chinese cultural background and upbringing. I'm talking about the woman, who was raised in Chinese tradition, was aware of her roots and in peace with them, and who was also trying to live her life as western liberated woman, and while her attempts failed, one can't say she didn't try. If it was Lin's POV, with more detail of her life, instead of Julian's dick's details, this could be a great novel. I'm not sure if Hong Ying was too weak as a writer, or the material simply was too huge for her. Or she just didn't give a damn about anything else than sexy + steamy and fast money from her editor. I don't know. Lin's lyrics in the end of book uncovered her personality better than the author did, and they simply killed the book for me. And I don't even like poetry in general.
The whole novel seems like loose notes on what could become a really interesting story, as I said before, and it feels like the author was in hurry all the time. She was in hurry to show us the sudden affair between Julian and Lin, and most importantly the daoist sex "rituals", supposedly an extraordinary thingy, which didn't really impress me - I'd say descriptions were rather too literal and too physiological for my tastes. Also I think that she gives too much attention for the absence of female pubic hair, but hey, who am I to judge. Then she again was in hurry to show us the dramatic ending. And that's basically it. Waste of time of sorts. Giving it 2 stars for what it could be, not for what it was.
P.S. The translation was terrible. Not sure about original, I hope English readers were more lucky. And Lin's poetry was translated by a different person, who probably was much better translator than one working on the novel...