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| Ann Liang (photo: Alyssa Liang) |
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Ann Liang is the author of the bestselling, critically acclaimed YA novels This Time It's Real, If You Could See the Sun, and I Hope This Doesn't Find You. Born in Beijing, she grew up traveling back and forth between China and Australia, but somehow ended up with an American accent. She now lives in Melbourne, where she can be found making overambitious to‑do lists and having profound conversations with her pet labradoodle about who's a good dog. Her adult debut, A Song to Drown Rivers (St. Martin's Press, October 1, 2024), is an epic historical fantasy inspired by the legend of Xishi, one of the Four Beauties of China, who played a critical role posing as a concubine to the Wu king in an attempt to bring victory to her homeland of Yue.
What inspired you to use the legend of Xishi as inspiration?
I've heard tales of the Four Beauties my whole life, and my impression of Xishi was quite limited to the usual stories of how beautiful she was. But it was only the summer after I graduated college that I was reading random facts about Chinese history and went down this rabbit hole, as one does, and discovered there was so much more to Xishi's story than I knew. As a romance writer, I found myself particularly drawn to the dynamic between Xishi and Fanli, as well as the conflict between what we want and what we feel we should do, between selfish desire and the greater good. While in the modern day the stakes might not be quite as high as the fate of two kingdoms, I do think that's a struggle we can relate to.
Fanli meets Xishi by accident, even though she is why he came to her village. Why did you decide to make their first meeting organic?
It was really important to me that Fanli doesn't see Xishi's face at first, and that he doesn't know who she is. Many men have fallen for her primarily for her beauty, but since she's wearing a veil, Fanli's first impression of her is based purely on her actions.
Though their time together is brief, a deep understanding develops between Xishi and Fanli. How did you manage to instill this dynamic that persists even across the spans of time they spend apart?
This was definitely something I thought a lot about, because I knew I only had those first few chapters to establish the strong connection between Xishi and Fanli. I think their understanding comes through in the sense that they both have to wear masks around other people--Xishi as the perfect concubine, Fanli as the noble adviser. But when they're together, those masks come off, and they're able to be vulnerable around each other, which is extremely rare and dangerous in this kind of political setting, where any sign of vulnerability can very well get you killed.
It's a cliff's edge that Xishi must walk between being too dismissive of Fuchai and too interested. Was this difficult to write?
There were moments in earlier drafts when Xishi acted too interested, so it was something I had to balance out and consider during the revision process, essentially through trial and error (and by reading up on seduction techniques online, which was pretty eye-opening, to say the least). It is a razor-thin line to walk. I really paid attention to how the slightest change in dialogue or movement--say, her lightly grazing his arm versus her leaning all the way forward to touch his chest--might then shape Fuchai's response.
She must also come across as participating in gender roles she does not subscribe to.
Yes, it's one of her greatest struggles--having to play this part of the alluring concubine and constantly perform for the male gaze, saying and doing all these things she doesn't mean. Her entire mission hinges on whether she can make an extremely powerful man fall in love with her. I think that's something women struggle with even today, right? I know for me, there have been moments where I've been conscious and critical of my own participation in these gender roles--for instance, by dressing a certain way to gain the attention or approval of a certain kind of person. I haven't figured out a way around it, and so I channelled those frustrations into Xishi.
You've also done a spectacular job of avoiding the "not like other girls" trope while still empowering Xishi.
Thank you! I try not to put too much pressure on the fact that I'm crafting a female character. I just want to write a character who feels human and real, and so that means giving her--and giving myself, during the drafting process--the freedom to be flawed, to be selfish at times, to be vain or scared or cruel. In writing Xishi, I really wanted to show that you can dream of love and a kingdom, and you can be proud of your beauty and also feel used because of it.
Much of what Xishi does, in fact, seems fueled by her distaste for how men hold an absurd amount of power.
That's part of the tragedy of it; she craves power because these men have proven how easy it is to ruin the lives of those without it. Xishi's motivation to enter the court is hardened and sharpened by her anger toward these men. Yet even as she inches closer and closer to the throne, her fate remains tied to the wills of kings and the very men she resents.
There is a difference, as Xishi says, between strength on the battlefield and in court. What was it like writing both of these?
Both require a certain kind of choreography. With the descriptions of battles and brute force, I really wanted to capture the feeling of it--the atmosphere, the sensations, the rhythm--not just the exact placements of the hands and feet and weapons. Writing about battles of the mind is like a chess game. You have to carefully think over every move and the consequences of them, except you have to play both sides at the same time, and you know where the pieces need to end up but not how to get them there.
What books or other media were your touchstones or biggest influences?
Whether it was in terms of tone or visuals or plot devices, I was heavily inspired by historical C-dramas--I'm talking about those 60-episode dramas where people gaze wistfully at each other across a court and stare out at the falling snow and come up with many metaphors about tea. Those dramas usually end in tragedy, but it's the kind of tragedy that hurts in a good way; it's cathartic and it's beautiful and it stays with you for a long time afterwards.
What do you hope readers take away from your book?
This book was born out of my love for Chinese history, and so I hope that regardless of their level of familiarity with the legend of Xishi, readers might be interested in uncovering even more tales from that time period. It truly is so fascinating, and as a former history student, I really do believe there's so much we can learn from the past. --Samantha Zaboski