Why I Fell in Love with Six Crimson Cranes
From the moment I picked up Six Crimson Cranes by Elizabeth Lim, I felt an irresistible pull towards its enchanting world. My love for Asian mythology has always been a constant companion, and knowing Lim’s talent for retelling fairytales, I was all in. Little did I realize that this beautiful tale is an Asian reimagining of Hans Christian Andersen’s The Wild Swans. Talk about an oversight! But hey, sometimes our brain cells have their off days, right? Where my logic failed, my love for Asian retellings triumphantly prevailed, and I’m thrilled to share my thoughts on this captivating narrative.
At its heart, Six Crimson Cranes tells the story of Shiori, the headstrong princess of Kiata, who finds herself grappling with forbidden magic and a series of curse-induced calamities. Just when she hopes to avoid an unwanted betrothal, her magic swells uncontrollably, leading to unforeseen consequences that would change her life forever. The moment I read about Shiori meeting Seryu, the dragon who knows of her magic, I was hooked. It’s a story rich in stakes, dilemmas, and the allure of the unknown.
Lim crafts a world so intricate that I often felt engulfed by its beauty. Kiata buzzes with Asian-inspired aesthetics, from dragon pearls to whispers of magic lurking in every walnut shell. Yet, as much as I enjoyed the vibrancy of the setting, some of the world-building felt overwhelming at times. A few info-dumps disrupted the flow, making it a bit tricky to keep track of all the fascinating details. Still, the lush imagery and cultural elements resonated deeply with me as an Asian reader, perhaps more so than any other genre could.
Shiori herself is a delightful protagonist. Her stubbornness occasionally places her in precarious situations, but her gradual character growth feels authentic. I appreciated her flaws; they made her relatable and all the more compelling. In contrast, Raikama, the antagonist, intrigued me with her powerful presence, though I found her backstory lacking the depth I craved. And in a delightful twist, the animated paper crane, Kiki, stole the show with her humorous antics.
What I particularly loved was how Lim balances the narrative’s light-hearted moments with deeper themes of fear, resilience, and identity. I found myself reflecting on her poignant line, “Fear is just a game, Shiori. You win by playing.” It captured the essence of courage against overwhelming odds, a message that lingers long after you close the book.
While Shiori’s perspective offered an engaging lens, it occasionally felt choppy. Transitions between her feelings about Raikama and her magic felt abrupt at times, which pulled me out of the flow. Meanwhile, the ending, while satisfying in its own right, felt slightly clichéd, lacking the surprise I hoped for.
Despite these minor quibbles, I genuinely enjoyed Six Crimson Cranes. It’s a beautifully woven tapestry of magic, mythology, and heartfelt adventure, making it a perfect read for anyone who cherishes rich narratives and strong character growth. If you love Asian lore or fairytale retellings, this book will surely resonate with you. As I close this chapter of Shiori’s adventure, I’m left eager for the sequel, especially reflecting on the wisdom imparted throughout the tale: “Find the light that makes your lantern shine.”
So, grab a cozy blanket, a cup of tea, and immerse yourself in the world of Six Crimson Cranes. You won’t regret it!
Discover more about Six Crimson Cranes (Six Crimson Cranes, #1) on GoodReads >>
