There’s nary a silver lining to find in The Burning God’s 560 pages, and those looking for a lighthearted book won’t find it here. What readers will get, however, is a gut-wrenching ride ... That is one of the strengths of The Poppy War books—they are at least as much about the characters as they are about the ramifications of war. Kuang, for example, is able to make us care about Rin even as she commits unforgivable atrocities ... Who is right and who is wrong is often (often, but not always) muddled in The Poppy War trilogy, and The Burning God is no exception to this. The book, however, goes beyond exploring the moral ambiguity war creates to ask whether it even matters who is ultimately right or victorious, if all that’s left at the end is death and devastation.
You know you have read a really good book when all you can do when you sit down to write a review of it is stare at a blank document for hours, trying to remember how to make words and turn them into coherent sentences. The Burning God was one of those really good books ... Kuang doesn’t flinch away from drawing real life parallels here once again as she portrays the deep trauma of being the survivor; how even as you try to move on with your life after a war is over, the past never really stops haunting you. In The Burning God, Kuang also acutely discusses how violence has a way of recreating itself as long as dehumanising narratives are carried forward ... Kuang has always excelled at writing vividly rendered, immensely gripping battle scenes, but with The Burning God, she has genuinely outdone herself. The military strategies and tactics employed were once again compelling.
Bringing her complex Poppy War trilogy to a poignant conclusion, Kuang shines a searing light on the devastating price and valiant sacrifices that warfare requires of all involved.
From this surface-level summary, Rin’s character may seem unsympathetic. Yet she is developed in such a way that the reader identifies with her, roots for her, believes that, although she is misguided and makes repeated mistakes, she is driving toward the good. Rin was the reason I felt compelled to keep reading, despite the trilogy’s sometimes gratuitous violence. I wanted Rin to come out, if not fully healed, then at least whole, despite the author’s clear message that no one wins in war ... What is at once tragic and yet compelling about the trilogy is that Rin’s path to destruction is not due to some inherent wickedness. Instead, she could be any one of us ... There are no easy answers here, neither in history nor in fiction. There comes a time in The Poppy War trilogy when Rin commits an indisputably atrocious act. The reader is left reeling. I’ve heard some readers say they felt heartbroken, felt it was a breach of trust with her character. For my part, I felt a kind of kinship with Rin. There was something familiar about her instinctive compulsion to rationalize her behavior, to root it in anger, because at least anger, in its sheer ferocity, can be mind-numbing. I understood that her rage was born from a sense of betrayal, from being lied to all your life, from realizing that the system you had tried so hard to master was in fact against you.
Kuang doesn’t hold back on the physical and emotional toll of war, along with the cycle of abuse and trauma that can cause good people to make painful choices ... An incredible end to this epic trilogy. Mixing historical parallels of Chinese history, the themes of war, politics, and colonialism are balanced with terrific, flawed characters and amazing worldbuilding.
In The Burning God, the third and final entry in the Poppy War trilogy, R.F. Kuang finds new ways to bring life, horror and excitement to this saga about a nation torn apart by war ... Though The Burning God treads new ground in many ways, Kuang constantly references people, places and things from the previous books. Of course, this is really helpful for readers who haven’t been back to Nikan in some time, but it also creates a sense of history. All of the things Rin has done and all the people who have built her feel ever-present in her mind as she makes decisions both small and large. It also feels nostalgic, wistful even ... The Burning God is the best-written book of the trilogy ... This place and this protagonist are singular in fantasy literature, and I hope we’ll get to return to Nikan someday. Better yet, I hope we get to return to the future Nikan that this book promises. I’m sure the Phoenix will be waiting, ready to set the world on fire.
Drawing heavily on 20th-century Chinese history, Kuang continues to explore familiar themes—including imperialism, racism, colorism, and the terrible and long-lasting effects of war—while deepening Rin’s portrayal, as Rin experiences moments of heartfelt sympathy and connection with others while also continually seeking power and succumbing over and over to her own hubris and paranoia. This installment dwells heavily on the devastating realities of war and the costs of leading a nation in crisis but does not sink into overly grotesque meditations—or perhaps we, along with Rin, have become desensitized and hardened. Ultimately, despite the epic scope of the plot, the novel hinges on the relationships between Rin and those closest to her: A nation may rise or fall and thousands may lose their homes or starve in the process, but their fate depends not on magic from the divine plane but on simple, fallible people ... A dark and devastating conclusion that transcends its roots in historical fact to examine brutal truths.
Kuang’s Poppy War series comes to a striking close in this gritty finale ... Kuang pointedly underlines the ambiguous moral choices and personal costs of the path toward victory and lasting peace, sparing neither characters nor readers from the horrors and consequences of war. The result is a satisfying if not happy end to the series.
