The general tone of the book made my heart ache, and I mean that as high praise. There was a melancholy to it that came out of a very strongly represented notion of ‘otherness’. I want to feel for the characters when I read, especially when I read horror, and I felt for every one of the characters living in these pages Black Cranes: A Tale of Unquiet Women is a horror anthology of stories written by ten different Asian people, about Asian women. It is edited by Lee Murray and Geneve Flynn, who both also contributed stories, and will be released in September 2020 by Omnium Gatherum (the small press, not the metal band from Finland – though this anthology and that band’s songs have an edge of brutality in common!). It has taken me ages to figure out how to write this review, because I simply didn’t know where to start talking about it. Black Cranes gives you a lot to think about, so I slept on it, thinking that I’d wake up with a more clear idea of how to go about discussing it. I was wrong! I woke up with twice as many things swirling around my head as there were before. This is a collection that doesn’t preach to the reader but it will teach you things. In the foreword, written by the wonderful Alma Katsu (The Hunger), she asks: “What does it mean to be an Asian woman? The whole world thinks it already knows what we are about. We are usually reduced to one of two stereotypes.” And she is absolutely right. Asian women are mostly perceived as stereotypes in the western world as either Geishas or Dragon Ladies (so says Alma). I like to think I’m a liberal and non-judgmental person but I sat there thinking ‘oh no… I pictured the stereotypes before she even mentioned them’. She goes on to talk about the expectations put upon Asian women, the familial obligations, the tremendous sacrifice to the self they have to make in order to be subservient to the men in their societies. They are dehumanized, negated as individuals, and often fetishized. I sat there questioning my ignorant perception of the eastern world and its people and beliefs and folklore, alarmed and ashamed in my realisation that really, just like Jon Snow, I know nothing. My ignorance of the many eastern cultures has never been intentional, but the extent of my ignorance became apparent to me for the first time in my life in reading Alma’s words. I wondered how much of what I thought I knew to be true was formed by growing up in a generally insensitive and apathetic Western society that, as whole, doesn’t tend to take the time to learn or teach its children about people who are from other places that are deemed to be exotic. Why have I never taken the time to learn more? Why is it that despite my incredible love of “all” things horror, I am mostly familiar with western folklore and superstition? There’s an entire other side of the world with different tales and traditions and all I know of them came to me through American remakes of Japanese and Korean works. What exactly are the pressures that Asian women face, and how do they differ from country to country, and how are they unique in the plights they face? Where do their fears and their strengths come from? How is this translated through story telling? I knew this anthology was something special as I turned those first few pages because if a foreword can make you think that much, then imagine what the stories can do. If I were to write about each individual story, I fear this review would never end, so I’m just going to talk briefly about a few in particular that stayed with me. This is not, by any means, a slight on the stories that I don’t mention. Every writer in this anthology is of a remarkable calibre, each with significant professional and creative achievements that include numerous prestigious literary award nominations and wins. The writing is top-notch all around and I honestly can’t criticise that aspect of the book in any capacity. Angela Yuriko Smith, for me, is something special. She contributed two stories, Skin Dowdy and Vanilla Rice, both of which explored themes of the aesthetic values placed on women, with a touch of self-loathing thrown in. It is perhaps disturbing that I empathised with these women so much and I found myself engrossed in their sad, horrific situations. My only criticism is that I wanted more! Both stories ended exactly where they should have, but it was a great disappointment to find myself on the last page each time. Most definitely a writer I will be seeking out in the immediate future. The Ninth Tale by Rena Mason opened my eyes to a whole new world of magic and intrigue that I was completely unaware of. I had never heard of a fox spirit before, though I read elsewhere afterwards that they are common in eastern folklore. This story was fascinating, intriguing, and wonderfully told. Rites of Passage by Gabriela Lee had me squirming in my seat. I was engrossed from the first page and the sense of dread and horror I felt intensified with each page I turned. I don’t think it quite falls into the body horror category, but in some respects, it’s not far off. This one, I feel, is particularly horrifying to those of us who already find the idea of pregnancy terrifying. Lastly, I couldn’t possibly end this review without mentioning Phoenix Claws by Lee Murray. I swear, it gave me anxiety. I was enthralled, disgusted, and on the edge of my seat. I felt so stressed for the protagonist, but you know, in the good way that you hope for when you’re reading a horror story. Overall, this anthology is outstanding. There were stories I preferred over others, but none that I didn’t enjoy. I was introduced to a new world of monsters and creatures, and not only were the writers of these tales skilled enough to bring them to life in the most beautiful/horrific ways, but they made me want to delve deeper into Asian folklores and mythologies. The general tone of the book made my heart ache, and I mean that as high praise. There was a melancholy to it that came out of a very strongly represented notion of ‘otherness’. I want to feel for the characters when I read, especially when I read horror, and I felt for every one of the characters living in these pages. The unique anxieties experienced by Asian women were so masterfully penned here that reading it really was an eye-opening experience. The themes were seamlessly woven in to the narratives in a way that both tugged at my heartstrings and filled me with dread. I would recommend this anthology to everyone – there’s a huge range of narrative styles with every writer sounding entirely different from the last, and there’s also a range of sub-genres to enjoy. Sci-fi, fantasy, mystery… there is nothing ‘samey’ as you go from story to story in this anthology. This is a 4 out of 5 stars for me, only losing that one star because some of the stories leaned much more into fantasy, for example, than horror, and this is a horror anthology after all. I don’t have to feel scared every time, but I need to feel at least tense, or a sense of foreboding, or dread, and some just didn’t get there for me. But that really is my only criticism. The phrase, ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’ is defunct in this case – the cover (by Greg Chapman) is magnificent and a perfect reflection of what you’ll find inside. Go ahead and order it – you won’t be disappointed. I never know how to end a review so. Bye. Over the past three days we have been running an excellent article series from lee Murray and the authors who haunt the pages of this excellent anthology, you can check it out by clicking on the links below Part One Part Two Part Three ![]() Almond-eyed celestial, the filial daughter, the perfect wife. Quiet, submissive, demure. In Black Cranes, Southeast Asian writers of horror both embrace and reject these traditional roles in a unique collection of stories which dissect their experiences of ‘otherness’, be it in the colour of their skin, the angle of their cheekbones, the things they dare to write, or the places they have made for themselves in the world. Black Cranes is a dark and intimate exploration of what it is to be a perpetual outsider. Comments are closed.
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