By Megan Amato
Content warning: abuse
Some authors are gifted with the ability to paint with words, and after I read Elizabeth Lim’s The Blood of the Stars Duology, I knew she was one of those beloved writers. Six Crimson Cranes is no exception. There is a soft dreaminess to the storytelling—as if made with an Impressionist’s brush—that is used to reconstruct, reshape, and transform Hans Christian Anderson’s fairytale into its own story full of immersive sensory details and lush prose.
After Princess Shiori’s forbidden magic causes her to miss her betrothal ceremony, her father orders her to embroider a tapestry in apology under the eye of her cold stepmother, Raikama. After witnessing her stepmother’s terrifying magic, Shiori runs to inform her brothers, but before they can warn their father, Raikama stops them. She turns the brothers into cranes and banishes Shiori with a bowl permanently covering her face and a warning that for every word she speaks, one of her brothers will die. Lost and alone, far away from home and unable to prove her identity, Shiori sets out to find her brothers, break their curse, and save her empire. She will have to climb a mountain, outwit an angry dragon, and sew a magical net until her fingers bleed to outwit her enemies and save her family and home—all with the help of the betrothed she never thought she wanted.
There were so many small elements of this novel that I loved, from her brothers’ distinct personalities to the adorable and mischievous dragon who got Shiori into and out of all kinds of trouble, to the paper origami bird she magicked to life and who meant so much to her. Shiori’s relationship with each of these characters is beautiful to read, but it’s the slow burn romance with her kind-hearted betrothed Takkan that is breathtaking to behold. Lim proves that swoon-worthy heroes shouldn’t and don’t come from the patriarchy-prescribed cookie cutouts of hard, possessive men who take what they want, but in the sweet, unwavering loyalty of someone who will lend strength when needed but let our heroine grow, build, and act on her own well of courage and agency.
Despite my warm, fuzzy feelings, Shiori’s character growth was just as, if not more, compelling as the romance. She starts the novel as a spoiled, pampered princess and while good intentioned, she is naïve and sheltered by her father and brothers. When she is banished without the ability to make a sound, she must earn her own keep and learns just how vulnerable those who aren’t given a voice are—literally and figuratively. Once she discovers the plot against her father and realizes it's not only her family that is endangered, her plans shift and change. With the consequences and results of her actions, she begins to understand the responsibility of the power she holds both with her magic and as a princess. As she faces the constant hardship of those who aren’t given much agency, she also begins to understand that not everyone is as one-dimensional as they are painted to be—even her stepmother.
After writing this review, my only wish is to now go back and reread this book—whew. Sometimes a book is just vibes and no plot, and while I’m not averse to those books, Lim has managed to make a book with both vibes and a stunning plot. Buy yourself this book for the cover (the UK version if you can), and keep it for the magical story within.