Absolutely dreadful. I kept listening for some resolution to the interesting underlying questions brought up in this historical novel, and didn't find them.
It's hard to write through a minefield, and the author deserves thanks for trying, but I'm afraid he ran afoul of the mines in the process.
The underlying story is about a Chinese fishing village in Monterey which was burned down, probably by local white residents or thugs hired by a railroad that wanted the land. The author is clearly sympathetic to the Chinese fishermen, but doesn't name any of them, have any of them speak a syllable, or describe them as individuals (even though he does make the local tong leader out to be exceptionally clever).
Also, the Chinese characters in the book are frequently described as "inscrutable." This is such an old-fashioned code word that I thought for a while that the author was using this ironically - to illustrate something about the people thinking this. However, the author also had his Chinese characters (the ones that spoke were, all but the Monterey tong official, college-educated elites) describe themselves and each other with the word. Picture a third-generation Chinese-American Stanford grade student in linguistics telling a white friend, "We Chinese are inscrutable," not once, but several times, and also his mega-rich father saying it or things much like it.
I might not have noticed the lack of irony as quickly if the author didn't also have a predilection for using other terms both ironically and unironically, and overusing them so much as to make the intention meaningless. You know how police spokespeople delicately refer to male suspects as "gentlemen," as in, "then the gentleman was seen beating another gentleman with a two-by-four." This book was full of that use of "gentleman," but without the context of police avoiding libel suits. It was just weird to have the author describing every male with anything ungentle about him as a "gentleman," as if avoiding criticism for noting that the described person had tattoos or something.
There was also nothing important in the book, in the end, possibly because the interesting people disappeared after the section ending in 1906.
On a positive note - and don't you dare read this as ironic - I did learn a lot about sumptuous banquets, fancy hotels, and what people can do with obscene amounts of wealth. Even if the appeal of this was lost on me, perhaps it found a happier audience with other readers.
Oh, and the voice actor doesn't know how to pronounce Chinese names. Did anyone at the publisher think to research how to pronounce Zheng He? Here's a start: it's not "zeng hay." Over. And. Over.
Ugh.
What a relief it was to reach the end of this book, and start listening to Gorky Park instead, and realize I was not imagining things, that there is a difference between awful writing and good, and although I may sound like a book snob (Hah! I'm a sci-fi geek and Philip Dick fan who reads manga and YA lit like they're going out of style, so there...), I really just want to save you the unhappy experience I had with this dragging, intellectually insulting, oddly ham-handed book.
And if I just panned your very favorite novel, please write to me and explain what I missed. It will make me feel much better.