“No maids, no funny talking, no fainting flowers.” Luli Wei is beautiful, talented, and desperate to be a star. Coming of age in pre-Code Hollywood, she knows how dangerous the movie business is and how limited the roles are for a Chinese American girl from Hungarian Hill—but she doesn’t care. She’d rather play a monster than a maid.
But in Luli’s world, the worst monsters in Hollywood are not the ones on screen. The studios want to own everything from her face to her name to the women she loves, and they run on a system of bargains made in blood and ancient magic, powered by the endless sacrifice of unlucky starlets like her. For those who do survive to earn their fame, success comes with a steep price. Luli is willing to do whatever it takes—even if that means becoming the monster herself.
There's power in what we choose to call ourselves. Nghi Vo's titular Siren Queen is unnamed, forced to use her own sister's name when a pseudonym is demanded of her. Battling against racism and sexism and later, homophobia, she shrouds herself in a coldness that protects her and allows her to succeed in an old Hollywood where studio executives are literal monsters, inhabited by ancient beings - maybe fairies, maybe demons - powered by blood sacrifices. Such coldness, and her determination to not have what she perceives as demeaning roles, finally lands her the role of a monstress, a murderous mermaid in a successful movie franchise. The character we know as Luli Wei is the Siren Queen, at least in the studio.
Inside, we see her insecurities and her loves, from her first love to the person whose comments pepper and interrupt the recollection, small playful moments that show us how things will get better, which constantly remind us that while things are bleak in the narration, there exists a future where Luli is free. We also see her friendships, the lengths she can go to in order to help the people she loves; but we see her shortcomings too, and her regrets. She's very human in this regard, a character who is allowed to make mistakes. Every character is fallible and complex, and the strongest part of this book are the bonds between them, messy and real and tragic and beautiful. Her lovers especially are all treated with the same dignity, and even when her first love ends due to her partner's choice to protect herself, said partner isn't villanised. After all, the villains of the book are something else.
The magic is fey, never explained, in the same way as it was(n't) in Nghi Vo's The Chosen and the Beautiful. This is a world were the Wild Hunt takes place every Friday night, where the Hunters mount cars instead of horses. Every year on Halloween, an actor is sacrificed. Actors and directors sometimes disappear; sometimes their place is taken by dolls. It's unclear whether the studio changeling are actual folklore changelings, or if it's a metaphor. Pacts are made with creatures who will take years off someone's life in exchange for the chance to be extraordinary. Sometimes your fellow actor can be a kidnapped magical being, or a plain boy transformed into a beautiful man. Immortality can be achieved by successful Hollywood stars. These things are all taken for granted, and never explained; but it works perfectly.
In the Afterword Nghi Vo says that the novel began as a set of novellas. This is especially visible in the structure, with each part taking place some years after the climax of the previous one. I wouldn't mind other novellas further exploring this world and the protagonist. While the ending is satisfying, it leaves tantalizing morsels of information that beg to be turned into a full story.
Nghi Vo caught my attention with The Empress of Salt and Fortune, but with this book she fully captured my heart.
✨ 5 stars
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