Monday, 27 May 2024 04:10 pm
Book Review: Siren Queen
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deckardcanineOK, I didn't finish before my birthday, but close enough. After a rather dated novel, I decided to try one published in 2022, albeit set mostly in the 1930s. It's also probably the first book by a non-White author I've read in nearly a year.
In an alternate Hollywood, actual magic is so common that no one's surprised at its existence. Mind you, we're not talking "movie magic" in the usual positive sense. Nor is it purely wizardry; while nobody uses loaded terms like "fairy" or "demon," it's apparent that not everyone who looks human really is. Better be careful about the deals you make; some have horrific consequences. (I'm pretty sure none of the names or titles herein are real.)
The protagonist, who divulges only her stage name of Luli Wei, has two Chinese-born parents who practice some magical abilities but mostly earn money via an L.A. laundromat. She wanders onto a set in childhood and gets a walk-on role, cementing her desire to become a star -- a destiny that gets more or less literal in their world. Asian actresses don't get many good opportunities, but Luli adamantly refuses to cross certain lines. Which doesn't stop her from sacrificing 20 years from the end of her lifespan just for a tip to get a foot in the door, even after a warning that studio head Oberlin Wolfe (who might be a werewolf) is as nasty as they come. Eventually, she gains fame in the titular role, an antagonistic monster.
About a hundred pages in, Luli realizes that she's a lesbian, without ever applying such a label to herself. This is not a complete surprise, given how hard it is for her to find a straight man who isn't a total jerk. Can't say I like the detailed sex scenes, tho at least they're easier to skip over than the use of language too foul for pre-Code screen dialogue.
Anyway, she's not as discreet as her partners wish. Indeed, she comes to understand why people have trouble staying close to her: She tends to act like she's the only one with problems worth addressing. That's a danger especially when you have an obsessive goal and identify with an oppressed group.
The best thing about the premises is how naturally they mesh. I can easily see the real dark side of Hollywood in connection with the occult. Sure, I'd be far less inclined to fantasize about entering show business if it involved that high a probability of death or mutilation, but some people would take their chances for literal immortality.
The ending is happier than I expected. Nevertheless, I generally prefer earlier parts of the story, when Luli is more innocent and the tragic losses haven't piled up. I'm not particularly keen on awaiting the next Nghi Vo novel.
Now I'm reading a graphic novel, The Metabarons by Alejandro Jodorowsky. It's large but going fast, which is important in the wake of a birthday that put several more books on my shelves.
In an alternate Hollywood, actual magic is so common that no one's surprised at its existence. Mind you, we're not talking "movie magic" in the usual positive sense. Nor is it purely wizardry; while nobody uses loaded terms like "fairy" or "demon," it's apparent that not everyone who looks human really is. Better be careful about the deals you make; some have horrific consequences. (I'm pretty sure none of the names or titles herein are real.)
The protagonist, who divulges only her stage name of Luli Wei, has two Chinese-born parents who practice some magical abilities but mostly earn money via an L.A. laundromat. She wanders onto a set in childhood and gets a walk-on role, cementing her desire to become a star -- a destiny that gets more or less literal in their world. Asian actresses don't get many good opportunities, but Luli adamantly refuses to cross certain lines. Which doesn't stop her from sacrificing 20 years from the end of her lifespan just for a tip to get a foot in the door, even after a warning that studio head Oberlin Wolfe (who might be a werewolf) is as nasty as they come. Eventually, she gains fame in the titular role, an antagonistic monster.
About a hundred pages in, Luli realizes that she's a lesbian, without ever applying such a label to herself. This is not a complete surprise, given how hard it is for her to find a straight man who isn't a total jerk. Can't say I like the detailed sex scenes, tho at least they're easier to skip over than the use of language too foul for pre-Code screen dialogue.
Anyway, she's not as discreet as her partners wish. Indeed, she comes to understand why people have trouble staying close to her: She tends to act like she's the only one with problems worth addressing. That's a danger especially when you have an obsessive goal and identify with an oppressed group.
The best thing about the premises is how naturally they mesh. I can easily see the real dark side of Hollywood in connection with the occult. Sure, I'd be far less inclined to fantasize about entering show business if it involved that high a probability of death or mutilation, but some people would take their chances for literal immortality.
The ending is happier than I expected. Nevertheless, I generally prefer earlier parts of the story, when Luli is more innocent and the tragic losses haven't piled up. I'm not particularly keen on awaiting the next Nghi Vo novel.
Now I'm reading a graphic novel, The Metabarons by Alejandro Jodorowsky. It's large but going fast, which is important in the wake of a birthday that put several more books on my shelves.