The Empire of Gold (The Daevabad Trilogy #3) by S.A. Chakraborty

“How much of his life, all their lives and their histories, unravelled the more it was examined? The stories he’d grown up on were just that—stories, with more complicated roots and vastly different interpretations than he could possibly have imagined. It was unsettling, the world and truth he knew getting constantly shaken  up.”

Please note: There may be spoilers in this review for The Empire of Gold. Please read at your own discretion. Thank you.

The Empire of Gold by S.A. Chakraborty is the third and final instalment in the author’s epic adult own-voices Islamic fantasy series. The highly-anticipated conclusion follows Nahri, Alizayd al-Qahtani, and Darayavahoush e-Afshin as they must confront the consequences of their choices across the span of the first two volumes, all leading to a highly action-packed finale.

The Empire of Gold left behind a plethora of emotions, most of which can be attributed to the various shades of turmoil that is expected when a highly-anticipated novel becomes the biggest disappointment of the year. The hopes and expectations that I harboured going into the pages of this epic finale were built upon an incredible foundation of passion and awe. One half of me is overwhelmed with affection for the characters, specifically my two favourite individuals, and everything they underwent across the trilogy. Yet, the other half witnessed the potential for an exquisitely crafted finale fall so unfortunately short that I had to question whether it was even authored by the same person.

There are two main aspects to The Empire of Gold that were utterly brilliant. Firstly, there is the multi-layered character development of an anti-hero war criminal seeking redemption who epitomises the struggle between wanting to do what is right and wanting to do what is necessary for a populace, and the weaknesses that those two desires generate. Secondly, the writing continues to be jaw-droppingly meticulous and methodical in its creation of a world teeming with magic along with the consequences and devastating impacts that having such power (and losing it) can have on an entire world. Then there are the laundry list of shortcomings that cause The Empire of Gold to feel like an entirely separate project that is wholly removed from the Daevabad series, the key elements of which include a unbearably forced romance, the addition of fresh lore and more world-building that completely clashed with the pre-established universe, tightly knit political tension that unravelled horridly due to poor planning, and unnecessary character perspectives.

The most riveting parts of The Empire of Gold were comprised of Darayavahoush’s chapters. They consisted of some of the best writing that I have seen across all three volumes of the series. He feels the results of the choices that he made—along with the choices that were agonisingly thrust upon him—in such an evocatively heart-breaking manner that it is impossible not to ache with him. His thoughts, his reactions, his desire to stand up against his oppressors and partake in seeking justice and peace on behalf of the people—even if that meant aligning with individuals of whom he detested—was mesmerising. These chapters are the ones that I devoured hungrily and swiftly.

‘From a country that’s been fought over by foreigners for centuries. We die, and we bleed, and it’s a debt the powerful never repay.’

Another bit that I felt was a fascinating element to the third instalment was the journey that Nahri takes with Alizayd. Due to the events that wrapped up The Kingdom of Copper, the duo find themselves on the run, in a manner of speaking. The dualities of her trek with Ali versus the one she took with Dara worked to truly emphasise the differences in her relationships with both men, including the variations of chemistry. Nahri’s chemistry with Darayavahoush is fierce and passionate. It is blazingly romantic yet toe-curlingly deep. Her love for him is breath-takingly natural and complex. Her relationship with Ali is the complete opposite. She has a deep-rooted affection for him that is steeped in a sense of respect and admiration that she has never really felt for another person before. Their connection is caring and well developed on the intricacies of consistent and constant exchanges of intimate information, and it is wholesomely platonic.

This brings me to my first shortcoming: there is no passion between her and Ali, particularly from her side; not even an ounce of romantic adoration. The two different quests she takes with these men further cement this fact into existence. When the undercurrents of their relationship start to shift later on in the book, I felt my heart sink with dread and frustration. I never expected her to end up with Dara, especially given the nature of the political upheaval that Daevabad is drenched in, keeping their individual paths apart. However, I also never expected her to end up with anyone. Nahri is a strong and independent character that had so much going for her and for her to be thrust into a forced romantic affiliation made my whole heart tighten with outrage. I also did not understand the choice to have her become involved with all three male characters in the series. Given her intensely independent and cautious nature, it did not sit well with me or make sense within the confines of her character build.

Another character who was dastardly out-of-place was Alizayd himself. He annoyed me to no avail in the first book due to his self-righteous beliefs and closemindedness. Nevertheless, I also respected him for having such a profound sense of self and the spark of curiosity that he showed when he recognised that maybe everything he had been taught was not the truth from the mouth of God, but rather a political ploy to keep him in check. It led to brilliant development and emotional growth in The Kingdom of Copper, to the point where my admiration for him and his desire to help people via listening rather than violence skyrocketed. Yet, all of that hard work and individualistic progress was lit on fire and burned to the ground in The Empire of Gold as Ali’s entire personality revolved around his grief for losing a family member with whom he did not have a profound bond with and a woman he knows he should not pursue. His morals and obstinate belief in his faith would have prevented him for engaging with Nahri in the ways that he did. Whatever inner conflicts that he had regarding these actions were also outrageously flippant and extremely out-of-character. Almost every chapter that Ali had was a formulaic monologue of grief and lust, or some variation therein. Replacing Ali’s chapters with more perspectives from either Muntadhir or Jameshid would have given the novel a completer and more fleshed out flow. It also would have added layers of dimension that the book desperately needed.

The last bit of disappointment—yet by far not the least— in The Empire of Gold came in the form of developing the marid connections that were briefly touched upon in the first two books. The entire chunk of lore was ridiculously convoluted. While I can envision the thought processes of how this brick of a section helped move the story along, particularly with regard to its contribution to the final battle, it once again creates a humongous chasm between all the groundwork laid out for the climax in the first two books and this one, tossing that compelling intrigue completely out the door. Ultimately, these were the scenes that built a gigantic wall of discord between me and the world of Daevabad, instilling a sense of reading an entirely separate story from an entirely isolated series.

Overall, The Empire of Gold was the most disheartening book that I have read all year. I fell in love with The City of Brass and The Kingdom of Copper, and as such, I had been anticipating this book like a little kid waiting for Eid mithai. Nonetheless, all I received in the end was a gargantuan pile of conflicting character builds, an overabundance of disconnected world-building, a jaw-droppingly weak and essentially pointless villain, and a supremely anti-climactic series climax. Even though I am immensely heart-broken by this third instalment, I still highly recommend the first two novels in the series because they truly are some of the best fantasy books to come out of the genre in years.

The City of Brass Review
The Kingdom of Copper Review

Publication Date: 11-June-2020
Publisher: Harper Voyager
Genre: Islamic Literature, Epic Fantasy (Adult)
Page Count: 766
GoodReads: The Empire of Gold by S.A. Chakraborty

Burning Roses by S.L. Huang

“Her bigotry had destroyed everything good in her life, and still she couldn’t twist free of it.”

Burning Roses by S.L. Huang is an adult own-voices Queer Chinese fantasy novella about Rose (a.k.a. Red Riding Hood) and an archer named Hou Yi. Together they join forces to stop deadly sunbirds from ravaging the countryside. Their journey shall take them into a reckoning of terrible sacrifices, a mourning of mistakes, of choices, and also of family amid a quest for immortality.

Burning Roses is a story that beguiled me from beginning to end. The richness of the culture, the complexities of intertwining a multitude of fairy tales to share an overarching narrative, the flawed yet highly engaging characters that readers begin to root for, and the themes of nostalgia-ridden soul-searching—all of these facets had me captivated from its very first page, making it one of the best novellas that I have read in all of 2020.

The most intimidating aspect of this book is that it retells a large handful of familiar, mostly Western fairy tales, such as Red Riding Hood, Goldilocks and the Three Bears, Beauty and the Beast, and Hou Yi (a Chinese fairy tale). They are all effortlessly interwoven to depict a perfectly paced and intricate narrative about what it means to get older and to try to find some semblance of peace within oneself. Older readers especially will feel a deeply intimate relation to these specific topics, more so if one has ever felt that life spiralled past them too quickly or was too full of regrets. Because of this the essence of the tale that unfolds is decidedly dark. It was so unexpected that when I became enveloped by its presence I was left feeling immensely surprised and wholeheartedly delighted by its progression.

When we think about fairy tales usually we are left with images of gallant heroes saving their significant others, or embarking on grand adventures full of splendour. While there is plenty of splendour and magic to go around within the universe of Burning Roses, the heroes are not what they seem to be. Envisioning good characters turning into morally grey or even villainous ones was some of the most creatively seductive elements of the reading experience.

Even with these glorious attributes, the bulk of Burning Roses’ beauty lies in its main characters. Hou Yi—a gender-bent depiction—and Rose were mesmerising in their struggles with their inner turmoil and their sapphic romance. The more acclimated we become with the introspective ghosts that haunt them and the purpose of their journey, the easier it becomes to wish for their happy ending. I felt a kinship with both individuals on a personal level as they reminded me so much of my parents, a point I am sure was intentional. The cerebral thematic elements of Burning Roses orbits the notion of parents living vicariously via their children, a notion that many Asian kids and kids of conservative communities will be able to correlate to, I am sure.

My only critique of the novella is in regard to the world-building. It is such an imaginative universe that sometimes feels rather underdeveloped. This may be due to the short length (approximately one-hundred-sixty pages) or it can be attributed to the concentration on character growth. Either way, I adored what was shared and craved for more concrete dimension to the settings and atmosphere of this fantastic realm.

Overall, I highly recommend Burning Roses to readers of multicultural fantasies and to fans of beautifully re-imagined fairy tale retellings alike.


Please note that I received a free copy in exchange for an honest review, courtesy of Tordotcom.

Publication Date: 29-September-2020
Publisher: Tordotcom
Genre: Adult Fantasy, Chinese Literature, LGBTQIA+ Literature
Page Count: 160
GoodReads: Burning Roses S.L. Huang

The Prelude to Insurrection by J.C. Kang

“Jie’s heart leaped into her throat. How had she not heard someone approach on the nightingale floors, or even open the door? She spun around, hand reaching for her bladed hairpin.”

Book Cover

Prelude to Insurrection by J.C. Kang is short story introduction to the author’s expansive #OwnVoices Chinese adult fantasy series, Legends of Tivara. It follows a young orphan half-elf spy known as Jie as she tries to thwart a dangerous rebellion before it even begins.

My acquaintanceship with J.C. Kang’s multi-book universe occurred late one evening while I was browsing Amazon’s catalogue of fantasy Kindle e-books. Overwhelmed by the various connecting serials, I visited the author’s website where they shared a recommended reading order for all books in the Legends of Tivara series. Prelude to Insurrection was the suggested place to begin, so I bought a copy  for ninety-nine cents and read it immediately.

Being only seventy-four pages long, the short story is a decent way to whet one’s appetite for a historical Asian-inspired fantasy narrative. The first thing I noticed was how descriptive the settings were without being overwhelming or too wordy. The manner of which everything is described helped transport me to the location and situation that the main character Jie was embroiled in. I also appreciated the way the character’s facial expressions were portrayed as that is something that I feel is often trudged over in short stories, more so if there is already a familiarity with the cast members being depicted.

The action sequences were written very well and created an almost cinematic picture wheel in my mind as I read on. It was fast-paced and pleasantly flowing, emanating an escapism suffused adventure. This worked to add some intrigue to the hints of political strife that were woven into Jie’s mission. My hope is that the political upheaval that was teased shall be expounded upon in the full-length novels that follow because the small revelations that were shared were quite interesting.

If there’s any complaint to be had about the short story, it would be that it was, well, too short, which made it seem one-dimensional and bit pointless as a starting position for a whole series. There just was not enough information provided to completely hook me into wanting to learn more about the world of Tivara. However, if I had picked up Prelude to Insurrection after already having read a couple of the full-sized books, I am sure that I would feel differently about it.

All in all, Prelude to Insurrection was a pleasant little tale that fell a tiny bit too brief as a launching platform for a whole fantasy series. My goal is to return to it again in the future when I have more fleshed out knowledge about the political tension, the important characters, and the sort of person Jie is as both a spy and as a normal person outside of that role. I do recommend the author’s writings though. It’s rather superb and shows immense promise.

The Kingdom of Copper (The Daevabad Trilogy #2) by S.A. Chakraborty

The sky shatters into smoking pieces that dissipate like dust in water as the veil comes falling down, revealing a painfully azure sky from the realm beyond. The mountains groan as dunes of golden sand rush to swallow them, their life snuffed out.”

PLEASE NOTE: THERE WILL BE SPOILERS FOR THE CITY OF BRASS IN THIS REVIEW.

The Kingdom of Copper eBook by S. A Chakraborty | Rakuten Kobo

The Kingdom of Copper by S.A. Chakraborty is the second title in her #OwnVoices Islamic fantasy series, The Daevabad Trilogy. Taking place five years after the climactic events of book one, the story focuses on the almost tangible political tension that plagues the city, and our main characters, upon Darayavhoush’s savage attack.

The Kingdom of Copper fully embraces the three facets of storytelling that I originally fell in love with via the first instalment and nurtures them into a spellbinding masterpiece. With this continuation, the world-building is further fleshed out, the characters are more refined through devastating experiences with new characters being introduced that are as equally developed as the main cast, and with scorching political intrigue to rival that of fantasy (or sci-fi) epics such as A Song of Ice and Fire or Dune.

The creation of the city of Daevabad—and the overall universe of the series—is chock full of multi-dimensional characters that evoke an array of emotional responses. It consistently maintains some of the best individuals I have ever come across in the genre.

With Nahri, we have a woman that has always been fiercely independent, but now has to bow to a tyrannical king in order to save the lives of her people while trying to find a way to wrestle away their freedom from this dehumanising oppression. With Ali, we have a royal who was betrayed and thrown out by his own family, forcing him to survive in a way that shall test everything that he as ever believed in. With Dara, we have someone who has spent centuries being nothing more than a tool and slave for power-hungry persons claiming peace with some grand, self-righteous saviour complexes. Each one of these individuals is given their own unique journey of self-discovery in The Kingdom of Copper. Sometimes it is beautifully inspiring, whilst at other times, it breaks the reader’s heart and wraps them in a great sense of grief and sadness.

Out of the three of them, Alizayd was my second favourite to read about. In The City of Brass he was a spoiled palace brat that could never formulate political opinions that were distinctly his own; ideas and beliefs that were not tainted by the influences of a brother he worshipped and a father he respected above all else. Now that he has been exiled, having to fight for the simplest of things changes him in ways that are astounding as the narrative moves forward. He really comes into his own and becomes a man that is much more than his brother’s keeper or his father’s pawn. He is carved into a person with a ferocity and strength that only comes from wanting to abate suffering.

A second perspective that was as delightful as it was distressing to read about (and also my favourite in the whole book) was Darayavahoush’s. For the first time, we get a glimpse of how the world works through his eyes. There are so many moments when Dara has clarity and understands what it is that should not be done versus what should yet falls utterly powerless to help alter the actions that unfold in the pursuit of tragedy. The more darkness he witnesses with regard to the people he respects and admires, the more he comes to comprehend that things are not as blatantly black and white as he perceived them to be. It causes him to open his mind to the possibilities that he has been wrong for a very, very long time. These newfound personal revelations create an internal conflict within Dara that is breathtakingly sorrowful and perversely compelling as he is forced to choose sides.

“It was a grin that made Dara sick. That was what he looked like now when he shifted, his fire-bright skin, gold eyes, and clawed hands a mirror of the demons who’d enslaved him. That his ancestors had looked the same before Suleiman’s curse was of little comfort. It hadn’t been his ancestor’s grin he’d seen just before the fetid water of the well closed over his face.”

We also have a plethora of side characters that play key roles in keeping the main cast plunging onwards with their narratives. What I love about these more supporting individuals is how much attention they are given. They are not merely unnamed pieces on a board but have difficulties and morals and individualism all their own that helps the reader to formulate an intense emotional bond to them. I became wholly invested in their desires and pursuits, at times more so than the main trio. Everyone has phenomenal chemistry relative to their relationship to each other as well, whether they are friends or foes.

The Kingdom of Copper (The Daevabad Trilogy, Book 2) by S. A. ...

The rudimentary examination of the city’s tightly knit political atmosphere is taken up quite a few notches in The Kingdom of Copper. There is a near-labrynthine connection between the different factions, their faith and what they believe they’ve been owed for centuries, their right to exist, their desire to break from subjugation, and more. Betrayal is as common as the desert sand with compounding duplicities and jumbling loyalties. The intrigue is methodical with a slow-burn build of attrition that is provoked by dwindling hope and a fierce exhaustion of constant brutal persecution.   

The Kingdom of Copper is very different than the first book in that The City of Brass was jam-packed with action and snappy comebacks as well the magical acclimation of characters. Whereas, this sequel is dedicated in fleshing out the people we know and love and the minute yet vastly vital details of the city of Daevabad, particularly where stateship is concerned. Both are equally thrilling and irresistible without losing sight of the ultimate story and should be devoured by all fans of the fantasy genre.

The City of Brass (The Daevabad Trilogy #1) by S.A. Chakraborty

Crouched like a cat over the smouldering remains of a small fire—the sharp smell of burnt green wood filling the air—the djinn stared at her with a sort of wary curiosity in his bright green eyes.”

The City of Brass eBook by S. A Chakraborty - 9780062678126 ...

The City of Brass by S.A. Chakraborty is the first book in an #OwnVoices Islamic epic fantasy series called The Daevabad Trilogy. The remarkable story of Nahri, Dara, and Alizayd begins here and it is quite life-changing, to say the least. Nahri is an orphaned woman that has spent her entire life in the city of Cairo. Gifted with extraordinary healing abilities, she agrees to help a local lady with exorcising an evil spirit from a little girl, a practise that Nahri does not completely believe in. In the process, she accidentally summons a great and powerful being named Dara. With his arrival, he brings with him myriad questions and vengeful ifrit that quickly begin to pursue them. The mysterious Dara realises the safest way to flee the dark creatures hunting them is to travel to the grand city of Daevabad, where Nahri may finally receive answers about her parents and clouded past.   

The City of Brass crafts three elements of fantasy storytelling with absolute brilliance and they include intricately created and awe-inspiring settings, an introduction to characters dappled with imperfect moralities, and a distinct story within the overarching narrative, which helps the book feel complete upon its finale while still leaving the reader with intense anticipation of the next volume.

The world-building is phenomenal and breath-takingly detailed without falling victim to the commonality of info-dumping. Rather than receiving walls of boring textual information telling the reader what to imagine or feel, we are instead left to experience the surroundings ourselves. The outskirts of Egypt and Daevabad are threaded together in such a fashion that it is difficult to believe it is a work of fiction. The fragrances of food, fauna and flora, smoky and sweaty Djinns, mouth-watering teas, and scrumptious delights when combined with the rough and arid atmospheres of the desert and the beating heat of the sun, truly transports the reader to a whole new universe.

A chilly breeze swept through the winding streets, past intricately tiled bathhouses and the thick doors protecting fire temples whose alters had burned for millennia, bringing the smell of damp earth and tree sap from the thickly forested mountains that surrounded the island. It was the type of morning that sent most djinn scurrying indoors like cats fleeing in rain, back to beds of smoky silk brocade and warm mates, burning away the hours until the sun reemerged hot and proper to scald the city to life.”

We are introduced to the three main characters—Nahri, Dara, and Alizayd—with a basic understanding of their beliefs, morals, and values; aspects that shall be nurtured and expounded upon in the next two books, giving way to some of the most remarkable character development that I have read in years. Nahri is fiercely independent and defends her right to that individuality as much as she can, which means asking questions that others may not take a keen appreciation of. Dara has years of trauma and subjugation to contend with, which blind him to the fallacies of the beliefs that grew out these experiences. Alizayd is a sheltered, privileged young man who has no idea how the world works outside of the gold-glistening walls of entitlement and obeyance. Together they formulate a complex web of emotions and intellectual discourse of the fine lines between right and wrong, moral and immoral that play the part of plot progression as their individual journeys all collide towards the end.

The City of Brass (The Daevabad Trilogy, Book 1) | Rakuten Kobo

Even though there is an overarching plot in The City of Brass that shall be continued onwards through to The Kingdom of Copper and then The Empire of Gold,  the book has a tale that is unique to it. For example, Dara and Nahri’s journey is a necessary part of the narrative that not only creates the foundation for their relationship and bond, but also for the events that occur much later on. However, even though it plays such an impactful role for the series as a whole, conflicts that arise during their journey is mostly resolved by the end. When there is a series with multiple instalments, it becomes critical to have a need for each respective segment, otherwise everything blurs together and each book can feel like filler fluff, which is the mark of poor writing. It should be there to help develop and promote growth of a narrative, not to spread it out for the sake of doing so; something Chakraborty executes splendidly well.

For a first book in a trilogy, The City of Brass is almost flawless. It does everything that a first book should do, and it does it well, with excellent writing, pacing, world-building and fallible characters that shall lay down the groundwork for the next part of this grand adventure. It was a supreme honour being able to read such a masterful work of culturally-rich fantasy storytelling.

I highly recommend this to anyone that is in the market for an adult fantasy book that is beautifully diverse and fantastically constructed in just about every way imaginable.