What do you think?
Rate this book


669 pages, Hardcover
First published April 16, 2019
The Mahabharata is an epic of epics. It is incredibly long. While the Ramayana is a story of the golden age, the Mahabharata is meant to be about the transition to the modern age of confusion. In this epic, warriors and kings are no longer sure of their moral duties. As a made-up example, you face your brother, who wronged your wife, in war. You are obligated to your wife to kill him; but you are obligated not to kill your brother; but you are obligated by the rules of battle to kill the enemy. The epic asks us difficult questions. Honest men must lie. Good men must be tricked. The age of a simple binary between heroes and villains is over.
I was thrilled by the prospect of an epic fantasy grounded in the Mahabharata, which is why I’m so crushed to be disappointed by Upon a Burning Throne, a fantasy epic series that promised to lay its roots in the epic. Epics are occasionally repetitive and always long, and the Mahabharata I knew would be heavy, large, and violent; but Ashok K. Banker’s novel did not have to as long as it is: his writing is scattered, and he spreads stories that are compact in the original epic very, very thin. I found myself skimming in its 669 pages often.
I am also struggling with some of the novel’s choices. First, his decisions around his Krishna-like figure (capable of both great violence and wisdom). Banker frames him as a clear and inarguable villain and demon who commits disgusting atrocities and is directly responsible for the early twists of the epic. In the original, these occurrences and twists are signs of changing times, of hazy successions and dubious moral debates. Now, that confusion enters the binary: human or demon, good or evil. Banker also pours most of his new magic into the horrifying atrocities (one of the most disturbing scenes I’ve read in fantasy) of the demon. Despite the rich source material of nagas and gods, Banker’s only other main fantastic trope is in the prologue: the royal family is crowned by and impervious to fire, yet somehow this ceases to be important for the rest of the book.
Banker also introduces a ton of fatphobia into the text, and somewhat reduces, in my opinion, some of my favorite mythic women, even after introducing more female warriors (’Bhima’ is female, and Karni a complex character, and those were the only two changes I liked in his retelling). He exaggerates Adri’s blindness and Pandu’s albinism—they’re there in the myth, and threats to their legitimacy as kings; but in Banker’s novel, they are presented as crippled. Particularly Adri has many emotionally humiliating moments, and is portrayed as weak and unwilling to rule, which disturbed me. I also found Banker’s adaptive execution confusing and inconsistent. Karna’s mother Kunthi is renamed Karni in the novel, which is heavily confusing—similarly, Shiva becomes Shima—all while other characters just keep their names (Pandu).
This read, if I’m honest, was immensely disappointing. From an epic based in source material rich with strong women (Draupadi! Kunthi!) and complicated heroes, it underdelivered. I hope someone is able to execute this differently at some point in the future. Or even, I hope that I am the minority in opinions about this book. People less familiar with the Mahabharata may love this, or those who know it may have a different opinion than I do. I sort of hope they do.
I received a free copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. I studied the Mahabharata extensively in college, but will not pretend to be an expert. These opinions are my own from my own knowledge of the epic as it stands in English translation.
Pitched as "Indian Game of Thrones."![]()
