Booksology I’ve loved samurai stories ever since I read Eiji Yoshikawa’s 1939 classic samurai novel Musashi for the first time. Now in that same lineage is A.S. Tamaki’s debut fantasy epic The Book of Fallen Leaves, whose lyrical writing, ruthless politics, and nuanced characters made for a great introduction to the series and Tamaki’s now certified talent in the world of epic fantasy.
Although The Book of Fallen Leaves is inspired by The Tale of the Heike—one of the most well-known epics in Japan—it is set in its own world. After a failed revolution by the Gensei clan, the land is ruled by the emperor of the Ten’in clan and the imperial chancellor of the Keishi clan. Yet the peace is fragile; revenge, honor, fate, and greed again stoke the embers of war and revolution. Sen and Kai—the fugitive heirs of the disgraced Gensai clan—seek to reclaim their legacy. The chancellor’s old friend and confidant Yora plays all sides to keep peace. A commoner girl Rui seeks her own peace as gods, war, and fate tear her life apart. A vengeful demon spirit lurks in the shadows.
The first thing that pulls me into a story is writing style, and Tamaki’s use of language is well-suited to the genre. The aesthetic is reminiscent of Shogun-era Japan and Studio Ghibli’s Princess Mononoke, with giant sky-walking spirits, numinous gods with unknown powers, quiet farming villages, temples and royal estates. Introspective descriptions of the natural world speak to Haiku poetry, and the style has a sort of reverence to it. The unique language alone made it a worthwhile read.
Although the main plot is a political epic, much of the novel focuses on the character’s introspections. Inner turmoils contrast the peacefulness of trees, skies and ponds. While the novel sacrificed some dense, propulsive plot lines to give quiet scenes room to breathe, Tamaki’s pleasant writing style and tenderness with his characters allows slower character developments to be moving counterpoints to the action.
For example, with Rui. As a commoner, she is removed from clan politics (though I suspect she will shape the world as much as any warlord in the coming books). It is an important feat of storytelling in a fantasy book to find meaningful drama off of the battlefield or outside of the throne room. The death of a single sparrow in a Rui chapter broke my heart. Finding a safe, peaceful job in a stable felt like a greater triumph than being given leadership of a battalion. Other readers may find their attention drifting or itching to see which noose will tighten next, which is fair; I had those moments as well. As a matter of taste, though, I enjoy pensivity in character and plot.
That being said, some moves in the political chess matches felt predictable. While there were eye-widening action scenes that were major plot moments, I wasn’t blindsided by jaw-dropping subterfuges or manipulations. That’s not to say the characters were not clever or that I was never surprised; the moves were still interesting. Yet even within this critique I’m conflicted. Questions of agency, power, and fate are central to the story. The inevitability of certain plot points plays into that, especially with a character like Yora who will die on the sword of maintaining peace. It’s an interesting question: what does one do when they know the game is a few moves from checkmate? Do you politely play out the game, or flip the board? In this game, people die either way. You may die either way.
With a big world and complicated politics, clear character arcs kept me grounded. With Yora, Rui, Kai, and Sen, I can confidently describe their main characteristics and character arcs. I was intrigued by them, too, which is important for a first book in the series with a lot of plot and world-building set up. Even if a section wasn’t necessarily a page-turner, I was still invested in the nuanced characters.
A strength of the book is each character’s life-defining crossroads that highlights different philosophical questions. Will Yora stay loyal to old friends, or uphold his principles? Will Sen choose his found family over his inheritance? Will Rui fight her fate, or accept it? Tough, thoughtful questions are great gifts from a book, and these ones have stayed with me.
Rui and Sen’s friendship fell short for me at the beginning of the novel, primarily because it seemed like I was being told they cared deeply about each other without many scenes showing their friendship blossoming. I love the heartwarming development of a strong friendship that sets the foundation for later triumphs and heartbreaks to hit even harder. I have faith their relationship will deepen throughout the series given the author’s dedication to character development.
I’m not a big battle fanatic when it comes to fantasy; I’m more interested in what comes before and after violence. The chapters-long final battle in The Book of Fallen Leaves kept me hooked, though. It’s not that the fighting was described in a more exciting way, but because it was impressively well-crafted from a creative writing perspective. Multiple character arcs converged in this single battle, from intimate arcs with Yora and his protege to larger world-shaping moments. Allied forces became separated, so each group had their own objectives and the added tension of limited information. Tamaki also used little tricks that were more subtle, like making arrows a constant threat, and using the freezing, muddy landscape to make combat extra miserable. I’d be curious to hear other creative writer’s opinions, because it’s a great example of writing extended battle scenes.
Going into book two, I’m excited to learn more about the gods and magic introduced in The Book of Fallen Leaves. This first book offered glimpses and rumors, but with the barrier between worlds breaking down, the second book is sure to uncover more of these mysteries. After a solid first book, I’ll be waiting for the sequel.
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