The Water Outlaws, by S. L. Huang (Tor)
The Water Outlaws, by S. L. Huang won an
impressive list of award nominations and rave reviews. I hesitate to offer a
contrary opinion because it did not work for me. Fortunately, we do not all
enjoy the same books, so I offer these comments as solely my own.
I have a background of over 25 years in Chinese martial arts
and I often feature women warriors in my own novels, so I dove into The
Water Outlaws eagerly, confident that it would be just the kind of story I relish.
I enjoyed the opening, especially the protagonist, expert martial arts
instructor Lin Chong. Her personal prowess and teaching style were portrayed
wonderfully. Other, equally fascinating and sympathetic characters soon
followed. Lin Chong works for the Emperor, training his soldiers even when her
superiors are fine with sloppy technique and incompetent military strategy. She’s
unthinkingly loyal, but more than that, she has a profound ethical center.
About halfway through the book, it was clear to me that the
villains were two-dimensional caricatures of wealthy, powerful, manipulative
but ultimately insecure men. There was not just one, but three major villains,
for the most part interchangeable and acting in highly predictable ways. I have
no idea of the historical accuracy of this portrayal, only that I found them
extremely unpleasant to read about. The real world has enough hideous,
exploitive strong men in it without my giving free rent in my head to those
without any discernible redeeming virtues.
Before too long, Lin Chong fends off a rape attempt by a
corrupt, powerful official and finds herself in disgrace, tattooed as a
criminal, and sentenced to slave labor that amounts to a death sentence. In desperate
condition, she is rescued and then recruited by the women bandits of Liangshan,
mountain outlaws who proclaim their belief in justice. The outlaws are a mixed
group, some spiritual, others brutal, some leaders, some followers, and still
others out only for their own power. The way the story is set up, Lin Chong has
nowhere else to go, so she does her best to forge a new life. After a great
deal of power wrangling within the bandits, she gains a measure of trust and responsibility,
but at the cost of her own integrity.
The turning point for me happened when Lin Chong made a
decision that, in my mind, compromised her ethics and integrity. Here is where
I suspect other readers will disagree with me. I realized that I did not want
to know what happened next. Maybe she redeemed herself. Maybe she found safety
and power as just another outlaw leader. Maybe she used her remarkable skills
to take down the villains. I didn’t care, and most importantly, I didn’t want
to find out.
All this is my highly subjective opinion. I concede that I might have missed out on a story that is ultimately about redemption, forgiveness, and the triumph of sisterhood. I just couldn’t bridge the gap. From the reviews, many other readers loved this book, and I hope that nothing in my review dissuades someone from checking it out. I leave this review where I began it: this book did not work for me.
