This is one of the weirdest books I’ve ever read, and that can be taken affectionately and derogatorily 😂.

The Indio and the Impaler is like a fever dream or a crack fic. The number of times I’ve said “what the hell” for every random or odd plot point was almost criminal. Thinking of this as a crack fic or steeped in Filipino comedy (which can venture into unrealistic, completely random, campy, and cheesy) definitely helped in enjoying this work more. The humor was a miss for me at times, but it’s reminiscent of those old newspaper komiks (comics), where humor is exaggerated and punny. I think it tried to strike a balance between being humorous and being serious and atmospheric, and it didn’t hit the mark in certain parts. The plotlines can feel a bit disjointed. There were definitely areas that needed to be more polished and edited (I am with @superllaine and @kamreadsandrecs that there’s a specific scene that was completely unnecessary), and there’s also another scene that was possibly the weirdest one but was never explained or brought up again.

Where I think it really shines is Rizal’s character, the colonial horror, and the emphasis on Filipino culture.

In the novel, Rizal is egotistical, self-absorbed, flippant, mischievous, and cowardly, but also cunning and held such love for our people. Ong was able to flip his character and give him a transformation without fully letting go of his core traits. Rizal here was so incredibly human that, though I wanted to shake him most of the time, I still rooted for him. He's not your typical hero, and he's still carrying all of those weaknesses while training and, eventually, fighting against a monstrous being. It showed the resiliency of Filipinos, the bravery to step up despite being scared and constantly beaten down, and that Filipino pride (or vanity, as the Count said).

Though not truly scary in the traditional sense, The Indio and the Impaler’s horror wasn’t in the appearance of a certain tall, dark vampire, but in the realities that the Filipinos faced under Spanish rule. There’s a certain air of nonchalance with every mention of the ways Filipinos were stripped of their land and resources, enslaved, forced into labor, and robbed of their lives and culture that added to the unsettling feeling in the book. I know that it happened in history, but reading it, even in a humorous or fictional light, still made me feel uneasy and heartbroken for what happened to our people. The horror wasn’t the impossibility of a supernatural monster in a tropical land, but the reality of the monstrous and violent nature of the colonial system, sucking the resources of a land it deemed inferior and mortal.

Finally, the book is rife with references to life and culture in the Philippines. It made me nostalgic and appreciative of things I still have to this day. It described the sights, sounds, smells, and the precise feeling of provincial life. I also really appreciated the exploration into pre-colonial beliefs, superstitions, and paraphernalia, and its brief discussion on how colonization affected these beliefs. It might be a bit of a challenging read for anyone who isn’t knowledgeable of the Tagalog language or Filipino culture, but it made me feel right at home.

Despite the criticism I do have for it, this book was still very entertaining—like dramatic (sometimes completely wrong or nonsensical) tsimis (gossip) your neighbors are loudly talking about that you pretend you aren't listening to. It had that fun quality that you can’t put down: the “o, tapos? anyari sunod?” (”then? what happened next?”) type of feeling. This novel is distinctly and unabashedly Filipino.

i know this is a novel about growing up, but maybe he should’ve grown up faster 🙃

A novel has not made me so irritated with its indecisiveness like this one did in quite a while.

The bones of this book had the potential to be great-the world with its base in Hungarian history & folklore (edit: specifically, Hungarian history and Jewish mythology is mentioned on the back of the book, but also there’s Hungarian folklore!), the workings of a compelling enemies-to-lovers romance, and cool magic and monsters. But so much of it fell flat for me, mostly due to two glaring flaws.

The first flaw was that it felt like Reid couldn't pin down what ideas they wanted to explore. At the start, we got some really interesting themes of religion and its weaponization, specifically through the expectation of self-sacrifice, but it disappeared as quickly as it was introduced (pretty much as soon as the "romance" started to take center stage). There were glimpses of a larger commentary trying to break through in the latter half, but it felt disjointed and even contradictory at times, especially in regards to Évike's decisions and thoughts.

The second major flaw was just how unbearable our two main characters were, primarily in regards to Gáspár, though Évike definitely had her moments as well. Gáspár seemed like he was meant to be this brooding sad prince, a deep and complex character who is discriminated against for his mixed-heritage, but he truly is the concept of an idea of an attractive emo "I'll do anything for you" love interest. He is pathetic but only because he DOESN'T DO ANYTHING, and I thought it was such a shame because I really thought there was such potential!

It wasn't all terrible, I did enjoy Reid's writing, with their detailed, gothic-flowery descriptions, and the atmosphere in the woods was good. I've read and enjoyed another of their works, and I can see in their debut the foundations of it. But it wasn't enough to save this novel for me, and honestly this overall was such a disappointment.

i’ve read two hundred and ten pages of this allegedly academic book and all i’ve come away with is the fact that i can’t stand rf kuang’s writing style. the author’s note in the beginning is completely unnecessary and feels like it’s no more than yet another way for her to flex the fact that she studied in oxford unlike the rest of us plebeians. “the trouble with writing an oxford novel is that anyone who has spent time at oxford will [nitpick] your text” yes, yes—is that not exactly what happens with any other real-world setting? you’ll have to forgive me for not understanding how ivory-towered oxford is any different.

now for my review of the actual book, which will be done in bullet points because this book is not worth the time and effort a full-length review will require:

• rfk can’t seem to decide whether she wants to use pinyin (with godsforsaken diacritics) or the actual characters themselves when she inserts chinese words into the narration. there’s seemingly no rhyme or reason to which she chooses to use at any point in time and i absolutely loathe it. if you want to switch between transliteration and using the actual characters, i beg you to come up with a coherent system for it.
• robin speaks mandarin in 1820s guangzhou, which is the most absurd thing i’ve ever heard of in my life. unless you had to deal with the imperial court, most chinese people would simply speak their own local variety. indeed, most chinese people today speak their own regional varieties, be it of mandarin or their topolect. watch literally any variety show, particularly if you speak a southern variety, and you will notice that even the form of mandarin most celebrities (being northerners) speak differs from standard mandarin. rfk inserts a footnote two chapters later to explain that it’s because robin’s family migrated from beijing recently, which would be a logical explanation for why robin speaks mandarin in his own home, but then claims cantonese is robin’s “preferred native tongue”? and yet he seems to instinctively revert to mandarin? make it make sense.
• the fact that pinyin is used in a book about languages and translation set in the 1820s KILLS me. the 1820s predates even wades-giles, which—no matter how much i hate the sight of it—would at least in turn predate pinyin, which was only created/formalised in the 1950s. more than a century later. rfk would’ve been much better served doing less research on oxford for historical accuracy and more on the languages her protagonist speaks, i think. also, there’s that glaring (but unfortunately lost) opportunity to make some meta-commentary on the colonisation of language and translation (very relevant for this book, i believe!) in using wades-giles (a transliteration system created by white men) instead of pinyin (which was created by chinese people).
• speaking of historical accuracy and oxford, there are a bunch of things rfk openly admits to changing—not for any narrative purpose, no, but simply to parallel her characters’ experience to her own. for instance, despite “oysters being a staple of the early-victorian poor”, rfk “choose[s] to make them a delicacy” because “heaps and heaps of oysters on ice” was her “first impression of the 2019 may ball at magdalene college, cambridge”. the fact that this paragraph is then followed up with the sentence “if you find any other inconsistencies, feel free to remind yourself this is a work of fiction”—which, in fact, suffices to sum up her entire two-page author’s note—makes this justification completely fucking insufferable. either own your inaccuracies or cut them. quit dithering.
• rfk mistypes 無形 / incorporeal as 五行 / the five phases, despite 無形 being used correctly in the previous sentence. in the same page, she proceeds to translate “help me” as 幫忙 / help, which is such a clunky and awkward translation from a professional chinese-english translator that i am embarrassed on her behalf. i would’ve translated “help me” as 幫我 or 助我 (a more formal alternative which i think fits better in this context).
• the politics really are just twittercore but couched in a vaguely victorian-sounding register. i say “vaguely” because it really isn’t all that victorian. it just sounds like a slightly formal modern register. and apparently this problem is consistent with her other books, particularly yellowface, though it would at least make more sense for her to be responding to a very online form of criticism there.
• the fact that she uses a long-running stem/arts joke as an explanation for why babel hasn’t noticed the hermes society stealing their silver is just astoundingly beyond any capacity for suspension of disbelief i have. “for the virtue of a humanities faculty … was that everyone was hopeless with numbers” are you joking. is this a joke to you. you cannot possibly expect me to take this seriously.
• everything they’ve said and been taught about translation so far has been incredibly basic, and i’m only an amateur translator. i’d be embarrassed on oxford’s behalf if they truly taught this to third-year undergraduates.
• chattel slavery is a “wholly european invention” now :)
• despite this being an adult novel and therefore requiring some level of sophistication and maturity on the reader’s part, rfk can’t seem to resist the urge to shove her opinions—all entirely correct, of course—in the reader’s face. it’s pretty humiliating to read a book whose author seems to believe that the reader can’t go two sentences without being reminded that “racism bad” in the footnotes. of course it is, but i’d like to believe that it’s also possible to write a novel critiquing racism, elitism, and colonialism in academia without such hamfisted arguments.

anyway, i do think this novel does something good for the dark academia genre, in that it critiques the elitism inherent to academia, and it does have some good points about translation and colonialism and the like, but i think more subtlety and elegance would’ve served it better—and also better editing and proof-reading, because it’s genuinely embarrassing for your protagonist to make such errors in his native language(s).

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: .✦ . :★. ───✧

pre-reading

why is he speaking mandarin in canton...

edit: they’re also using pinyin despite it not having been created until the 1950s? correct me if i’m wrong but the transliteration systems in use until the mid-19th century were based on nanjingese? so even if they did have a reason to speak mandarin it wouldn’t have been romanised this way