100 books like The Book and the Sword

I am a great fan of the sensational xianxia drama The Untamed, which is why I love this novel from which the drama is adapted.

One thing that I really like about the novel is the character Wen Qing. My heart is captured by her quiet ways of going about her practice of medicine, her deep but understated affection for her brother Wen Ning, and her unwavering loyalty to her good friend Wei Wuxian after facing adversities together with him. She actually saves him twice, the second time with her own life.

What also strikes me as outstanding is the way the novel constantly asks the thought-provoking questions: what is good and what is evil, and why are unorthodox ways deemed as evil?   

The carefree Lotus Huang comes into her own in this volume as she charms her way with wiles through problems and obstacles she and Guo Jing encounter as a couple, including two girls to whom Guo Jing is betrothed against his will. She is not as frivolous as she appears, and she always watches bumbling Guo Jing’s back.

This is the second English volume in Legends of the Condor Heroes, which is a popular novel by Jin Yong that I had read in Chinese as a child and which I recently re-read and still loved. I picked out this volume mainly because I adored the translation of one poetic passage describing the hallucinating “Ode to the Billowing Tide” flute melody played by Apothecary Huang. 

I’m most impressed by the fact that the author, a white American, did meticulous research into Chinese mythology and Daoist practices. The kungfu fight scenes are also arresting.   

Xian Li-Lin, a plucky Daoist priestess with superior martial arts skills who is bent on forging her own way in a male-dominated world of 19th century San Francisco Chinatown, charmed me from the start of the novel (which is a sequel but can be read as a standalone). Beset with personal challenges as a lonely Chinese widow with a harsh father, she still takes it upon herself to fend helpless immigrants from the perils of ghosts, evil spirits, and gangsters.

The grumpy, shrewd, and open-minded Ling Taishi, the mentor of the spoiled hero Jian, certainly steals the spotlight in this novel. The initial uncomfortable master-apprentice relationship gradually turns into a warm and lasting bond as the two face a world of danger, assassins, and revolution together.

The badass image of this older war artist is quite striking, while the other two female leads (one is an idealistic revolutionary and the other a brutal assassin) are also nicely fleshed out in their respective separate plotlines. The martial arts action scenes are cinematic and well-written.

Drawing from her work as a journalist, Chen gives us unsettling stories crystallized by the ferocious competition that engulfs everyone in the vast anonymous landscape that is contemporary China. The endless micro-struggles of small-town individuals to escape poverty or gain an educational foothold reveal their warped understanding of society and life. Mindless mishaps, fears, and even cruelty are everyday experiences of people struggling to survive and protect their families. The great hidden human costs of China's rise are simply mind-boggling. 

I feel almost obligated to begin by noting that I found Thien’s prose absolutely gorgeous. This is both a brave novel—in its representation of the massacre of student demonstrators at Tiananmen Square in 1989—and beautifully contextualized by further timelines spanning 1960s China and 1990s Canada.

I felt at once that Thien was showing me not only a snapshot of the infamous military response to student protests in Beijing but helping me understand what this brutal event might mean to those directly affected by it. The emotional and psychological power of the storylines and their exploration of grief and joy left me in awe of the novel and its author’s talent.

I adore good historical fiction, and this rich novel has a murder mystery embedded within to boot.

As a women's doctor in 15th-century China, Lady Tan is an outlier among my favorite female sleuths. She minces around on tiny bound feet and lives in luxurious confinement in the compound of her husband's family, where she is grudgingly allowed to attend to the medical needs of the dozens of first wives, second wives, and concubines in the household. She is keenly observant and when a beloved “auntie” is found face down in the koi pond, Lady Tan risks banishment or worse to suss out the motive and the murderer.

Lisa See has authored a dozen other historical novels centered around Chinese women and I intend to read them all.

Probably the most astonishing book I’ve read in the last five years. Imagine every dramatic extreme you ever thought you wanted in a novel—love, intrigue, brutality, violence, scenes as sweet as candy, spectacular magic, cataclysmic struggles, good and evil writ large across the sky... Then imagine that they were all packed into the same novel and that novel was so hilarious that you laughed out loud, so profound that you quoted it unintentionally, so heartbreaking you had to actually read through tears. Compulsively readable with characters that readers love, hate, hate to love and love to hate. It gave me a book hangover that still hasn’t gone away six months later. I routinely force my friends to read the first few pages of this story—one time I even paid someone five bucks just to try it. It’s that good. An official English translation will be available Fall 2022

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Jin Yong’s characters move in the gritty village lanes or wander China’s remote mountains, seeking vengeance, escaping persecution, forming alliances. The launch of a martial arts series, A Hero Born was first serialized in a Hong Kong newspaper in the 1950s and is about a young hero who ends up in the Mongol camp of the future Genghis Khan. It’s a thrilling read and proved an immediate sensation, spawning movies, video games, comic books, etc.  Holmgren’s new translation offers a window into the gallant world of martial men and women who will fight to the death to defend their honor. It also gives a Chinese perspective on the rise of the Mongols.

This novelized biography of a poet some consider China’s greatest pleases me over and over again. Rendering Li Po (sometimes Li Bai) as a libertine living on a barge, drinking too much and partaking with gusto in the pleasures of the flesh at the red-candle district near which he moors, really helps bring alive the great man’s life and work. There’s also a bit about his relationship with Du Fu, more of a straight arrow. Those two, along with Wang Wei really offer a picture of the Daoist life I so adore and the feeling of watching the world spin out of control in war but also the peace and solitude of a mountain retreat.