Let me preface this review: I wanted to love this book. I wanted to see well developed Asian lesbians that has been my dream for so long. To see queer representation that looks like me. I was so excited to read the first four chapters released early by Tor.
And I cannot express how absolutely disappointed and disgusted I am at this singular example of everything it is to experience racism as a Japanese woman.
"The shorter one—who was squat and had only one braid—only snorted. I don’t know why. “Rice-eater” is not a piercing insult. “Ricetongue” is far worse. And on top of that, they called both Kenshiro and me pale-faced, when only Kenshiro is pale. I’m dark as a bay. Anyone can see that. "
It would take me paragraphs to unpack everything offensive in just this passage: the context of thousands of years of animosity between East Asian cultures as well as the colorism that is still very prevalent in modern East Asia can’t be neatly summed up. Ricetongue. I literally cannot. Did anyone run this by a sensitivity reader?????
To a Japanese reader it shows Rivera’s clear ignorance of our culture, though honestly I shouldn’t be surprised. Her author bio on her own website speaks of her interest in Japanese culture as something consumable. (FYI watching Magical Girl Utena does not make you an expert in Japanese culture.)
Even the name of the main character is enough to give me pause. In the very first sentence of Chapter 1, we are introduced to Empress Yui, a name that is confirmed in later chapters to mean “alone”. Right off the bat, Rivera is using Japanese words in her fantasy novel.
So why is this a problem? If a book is set in Japan, why should the author not use Japanese words?
If Rivera were writing historical fiction, that would be appropriate. But this is not historical fiction by any stretch of the imagination.
This book is set in Hokkaro, a badly concealed analogue for Heian era Japan. And if you thought the word Hokkaro sounds an awful lot like the very real Japanese island of Hokkaido, you aren’t far off.
Rivera does this constantly, changing a letter or a syllable here or there and expecting her readers to applaud her originality. The honorifics of -san and -tan become -sun and -tun. The Mongolian drink of fermented mare’s milk kumis becomes kumaq.
I find it somewhat ironic that Empress Yui’s name among the Qorin people (Rivera’s badly concealed Mongolian analogue) is Barsatoq, which apparently means “Tiger Thief”. It’s nearly self aware, as The Tiger’s Daughter is a blatant example of outright thievery from Japanese, Chinese, and Mongolian cultures.
Before her ascension to Empress, Yui’s name was “O-Shizuka”, which is strange on a number of levels. For one shizuka means “quiet” or “gentle” in Japanese, which is hardly the sort of name you’d expect for a Warrior Empress, as she is described in the book’s summary.
For another the honorific prefix O- (お) , which is used to exalt or make a word more lovely, is something a Japanese speaker would never refer to themselves as, which O-Shizuka does, and often. You might refer to your own mother as okaasan (おかあさん) as a sign of respect, and someone else’s mother is always given the formal word, but generally when speaking of your own mother the word haha (はは) is used. To do otherwise is to seem boastful or arrogant.
Rivera also takes other Japanese words such as kami or naginata, to fill in the gaps of her fictional setting. The result is a strange mixture of the familiar and the bizarre, and it comes with some rather troubling implications: namely that Japanese is so exotic a language as to be interchangeable with fictional words, or worse, fictional itself.
But wait! It gets worse! Because we also have examples of:
"Hokkarans rely on numbers and superstition more than they rely on sense, so when you popped out of your mother’s womb on the Eighth of Ji-Dao, the whole Empire boomed with joy."
"My mother arrived on the twenty-second of Tsu-Shao."
Those words are distinctly Chinese, and according to google “Ji Dao” actually means “to knock down”, so if Rivera hoped to make up vaguely Chinese-sounding words she didn’t bother to check if they already had a translation.
Does Rivera think that there are no Japanese words for the names of months? Japan used the Chinese lunar calendar pre-Meiji Restoration, but in the 4 chapters I read, we are not given any reason to believe that the Hokkaran calendar is a lunisolar one.
There’s also this little snippet, which carries a lot of East Asian historical context an outsider might miss:
"My tutors won’t tell me why they don’t like Qorin, but I’ve heard the way they talk about your people. I’m five years old. I’m not stupid. They don’t like Xianese people, either, but they’ll wear Xianese clothes and play Xianese music all the time."
This is horrific on a number of levels. The Xianese are obviously meant to play the China analogue to Hokkaro’s Japan. Combined with the Chinese-inspired names of the month, it seems Ms.Rivera has misinterpreted the exchange of culture between Japan and China as “Japan copied China”.
We adopted the Chinese writing system, but we made it our own. Our version of Buddhism, passed through China into Korea into Japan is not like China’s Buddhism. We traded in silk, but we had our own forms of historical dress, and we do not interact with Confucianism in the same way Chinese culture does.
I shouldn’t be surprised. After all, Rivera has made it her career to copy + paste East Asian culture. No doubt she thinks Japan would do the same.
And that’s just one issue. The context of that paragraph is explaining the Hokkaran (Japanese) mindset towards the Xianese (Chinese) and Qorin (Mongolian) peoples. The historical context of thousands of years of war are not something to be used lightly in a fantasy setting. Have another example:
"No one writes to her in Qorin. No Hokkaran courtiers bother learning it. Horselords are beneath them, and thus there is no reason to learn their tongue. It’s the same reason only Xianese lords learn to read and write that language, the same reason Jeon is a cipher more than a tongue, the same reason one only ever reads of Doanese Kings in faded, musty scrolls."
There are still people living today who remember the Second Sino-Japanese War. Does the Rape of Nanking ring a bell? It should, because as much as Japan likes to deny it happened, it was one of the largest incidents of mass murder and mass rape in history, and it was all done to fuel Japan’s Imperialist agenda.
"One of the newer pages scurries to the threshold. He’s wearing black and silver robes emblazoned with Dao Doan Province’s seal."
Again we have a Chinese-sounding name of a province of this Hokkaran Empire. We don’t know for sure if this is a conquered province or not, but considering the nomenclature doesn’t fit with a Japanese aesthetic, it’s fairly easy to assume so.
I am proud of my Japanese heritage, but I will never take pride in Imperialist Japan. And neither should anyone else. There is no glory to be found in genocide and conquest. That will forever leave a stain on our history, and for Rivera to whitewash the atrocities committed in the name of that Japanese Imperialism does a disservice to those both dead and living, who are still suffering its effects.
Our animosities cannot be boiled down to "elves vs dwarves" levels of petty dislike. History will not permit.
Rivera cannot even keep her character descriptions from being fetishizing and racist:
"I liked touching your hair. It’s so much thicker than mine, Shizuka, and so much glossier. I wish I still had that lock of hair—I treasure all my remnants of you, but to have your hair in a place so far from home…"
"I have my mother’s round cheeks, which you always seemed to have an unending fascination for. I have her wavy hair, her skin, her height, her bowleggedness, her large hands, her grass green eyes. But of all the features on my wide, flat face, my nose stands out. It is narrow, pinched, and begging for a fist to reshape it. My father’s stamp on me."
For the record? No Asian woman would ever refer to herself as “flat faced”. That’s an insult that’s often hurled at us for not conforming to Western ideals of beauty. We also have an example here of a half-Hokkaran half-Qorin character facing racism from her own people. Asian-on-Asian racism, which carries far more weight than the average biracial story of “where do I belong?”
The last example is perhaps the smallest, and the least significant in the grand scheme of things. But it was at this point that my heart broke completely, because Rivera has no idea of what it means to hear a Japanese-coded woman say this:
"'Why not a naginata?"
You scoffed. “The weapon of cowards,” you replied. “The weapon of those who think our only enemies come from the North.”
Considering the entire novel is about the adventures of a Japanese-coded Warrior Empress, I find it hard to believe the author did not once google “Japan + Female Warrior.” If she had, Rivera would know of the Onna-bugeisha, an order of women warriors whose signature weapon is, you guessed it, the naginata.
The naginata was the weapon of choice for Japanese women because of its superior reach compared to a sword, which could offset the disadvantages of generally having less upper body strength than men. With it, Japanese women could protect themselves or their families and defend their homes.
Some of Japan’s most famous legendary women were onna-bugeisha: Empress Jingu, the very first Japanese Empress. Tomoe Gozen, who fought and was recorded in the Tale of Heike during the Genpei War. Hojo Masako, known as “The General in Nun’s Habit”, who fought to change 13th century Japan’s inheritance laws so that women could inherit equally.
The naginata is not and never will be the weapon of cowards, and O-Shizuka’s rejection of this is a gross act of misogyny when taken in the context of Japanese culture. None of the information listed above is obscure. A simple google search will reveal Wikipedia articles on all of it, and more. Rivera has no excuse.
I’m so tired of this. I’m so tired of Doctor Strange and Ghost in the Shell. I’m tired of seeing Iron Fist and being told to be grateful for what little scraps of representation we receive.
And the worst part? Somewhere out there, an East Asian woman is trying to get her story, our story, published. And yet this is what slips through the cracks. The stolen story of a girl named “Tiger Thief.”