Ann Liang’s a song to drown rivers promised a captivating journey into ancient China, weaving together historical elements with a touch of fantasy romance, a genre often termed “Romantasy.” As a reader eager to explore this blend, particularly with the positive buzz surrounding Liang’s previous work, I dove into this novel with high expectations. However, what I encountered was unfortunately a failed opportunity, leaving me feeling more adrift than drowned in its narrative currents.
The most significant weakness of a song to drown rivers lies in its underdeveloped characters. Despite being central to the plot, Xishi, Fanli, and even King Fuchai felt remarkably shallow, hindering any real emotional investment in their individual journeys or intertwined fates. The purported romance, especially the central tragic love story between Xishi and Fanli, was particularly disappointing, lacking the depth and emotional resonance needed to make their connection believable, let alone heart-wrenching. While Liang’s prose is undeniably elegant and creates a soothing reading experience on a surface level, the beautiful language couldn’t mask the narrative’s fundamental shortcomings.
One of the key issues is the uneven pacing that plagues a song to drown rivers. Long stretches of the narrative meander without significantly advancing the plot or allowing for meaningful character development. This sluggish pacing makes it difficult to remain engaged, especially when the core characters themselves lack compelling inner lives.
The protagonist, Xishi, suffers from a particularly frustrating lack of depth. Instead of a complex and nuanced character, she comes across as a caricature of a “strong woman,” devoid of genuine agency. Her spy training, a potentially fascinating aspect of her story, is glossed over, and her motivations often feel dictated by plot convenience rather than organic character growth. While the novel attempts to incorporate historical and cultural nuances of ancient China, Xishi’s actions and thought processes often feel anachronistically modern, pulling the reader out of the intended immersive experience. It’s hard to reconcile her supposed strategic brilliance with the superficial portrayal of her inner world.
The supporting cast fares no better. King Fuchai, the supposed antagonist, is reduced to a caricature of a handsome, drunken fool, never truly embodying the villainous role he should have occupied. Fanli, Xishi’s love interest, is relegated to the sidelines, a minor player in a narrative that supposedly centers their tragic romance. This underutilization of Fanli is a critical flaw. For a love story to resonate, the audience needs to witness the bond between the characters develop. In a song to drown rivers, Fanli’s presence is so minimal that his supposed deep connection with Xishi feels wholly unearned. He occupies a mere fraction of the book, making it impossible to believe in the profound love that is meant to define their relationship.
To salvage the romance between Xishi and Fanli, a song to drown rivers desperately needed several key elements that were glaringly absent. More meaningful interactions between them were crucial. Showing, not telling, their bond growing through shared experiences and conversations would have been fundamental. Exploring emotional intimacy, delving into their vulnerabilities and inner struggles, could have fostered a sense of genuine connection. Introducing conflicts and tension, obstacles to test their relationship, would have made their love feel earned and precious. Even subtle foreshadowing of their tragic fate could have built anticipation and emotional weight. Instead, their separation, meant to be heart-wrenching, landed with a resounding thud, eliciting little to no emotional response from the reader. Fanli is described as cold and unfeeling, then suddenly, inexplicably, deeply in love. This abrupt shift requires a stronger foundation to be believable.
The wasted potential extends beyond the central romance to Xishi’s interactions with Fuchai. The narrative hints at a love triangle, yet Xishi displays virtually no emotional engagement with the king. This lack of emotional complexity makes their interactions feel flat and uninteresting. Fuchai himself is another victim of underdeveloped characterization. Despite the promise of a complex and nuanced king, he is consistently portrayed as foolish and intoxicated. His motivations, including his supposed hatred for his father, remain superficially explored. We are told of his trauma, but never truly shown its depth or impact beyond a simplistic anecdote about childhood isolation. This shallow portrayal diminishes his credibility as a ruler and undermines the political intrigue that should have been a key element of the story.
Instead of a strategic and intelligent king, Fuchai is presented as a weak and easily manipulated figure. This not only weakens his character but also diminishes Xishi’s challenge. A more ruthless and cunning Fuchai would have heightened the stakes and made Xishi’s mission significantly more compelling. His suspicion of Xishi should have been more pronounced, her betrayal a truly impactful climax. Instead, the reveal of her deception is anticlimactic, expected given the king’s consistently portrayed ineptitude. The author essentially sacrificed Fuchai’s character arc, significantly detracting from the overall narrative strength of a song to drown rivers.
Furthermore, the classification of a song to drown rivers as “Romantasy” and “adult fiction” feels misleading. The fantasy element is virtually nonexistent, making the “Romantasy” label inaccurate. Similarly, the themes and tone lean heavily towards Young Adult (YA) rather than adult fiction. The book draws from the rich legend of Xishi, one of the Four Beauties of ancient China, a source brimming with potential for a captivating historical novel. However, a song to drown rivers relies on tired tropes – insta-love, damsels in distress (ironically, despite the attempt to portray Xishi as strong), and unconvincing character development – failing to capitalize on the inherent strengths of the source material.
A song to drown rivers ultimately fails to live up to its initial promise. While the premise and historical setting held immense potential, the execution falls short. With more nuanced character development, a genuinely compelling romance, and a more thoughtfully constructed plot, this story could have been truly memorable. Instead, it stands as one of the year’s more disappointing reads, a song that sadly fails to resonate, let alone drown rivers.
