|Jade Lee is working hard to carve a distinctive niche for herself in
the historical romance landscape. Burning Tigress is the most recent in a series set in fin-de-siècle China. Like the others, it too
explores the Tao of eroticism. Unfortunately, it doesn't live up to
its exotic setting and intriguing premise.
Charlotte Wicks is tired of being a cosseted Englishwoman and would
like to explore her sexuality. No wonder she is thrilled when she
receives a set of ancient scrolls depicting naked men and women in
all kinds of positions. These instructional materials from a Taoist
sect explain how to channel sexual energy to reach Heaven on Earth
(kind of like a ground-moving, heaven-propelling orgasm, only more:
you get to meet angels and to see floating white lights). Uncertain
she understands the scrolls, Charlotte asks Ken Ji, the family's
First Boy, for lessons.
Ken Ji has little liking for Europeans. He nevertheless agrees to
Charlotte's request for his own reasons. He is an adept of the sect
and wants to "gather her yin" to open his path to heaven (see
comments above on the super-orgasm thingee.) But Ken Ji
underestimates Charlotte's determination and inner energy. As he
initiates her into sexual pleasure, he is surprised to find her
outdoing his expectations.
And yet, all is not easy in the way of the Tigress. Before Charlotte
and Ken Ji can settle down in Heaven, Charlotte and Ken Ji must come
to terms with long-held personal expectations, face down prejudices
from both Chinese and Europeans, and contend with old-running family
All this sounds very promising, if a little hokey. Still, Burning
Tigress didn't work for me. It took me a while to get into it, and
not just because of the Taoist twist. Once the sexual initiation was
under way, I worried the novel was going to be one sexual encounter
after another with only a very vague plot to tie it together. That
this is not the case didn't become apparent until the last third of
the novel, by which time it was too late.
I also had a hard time warming to the heroine, and in particular to
her odd mix of innocence and curiosity. On the one hand, Charlotte
wants to be daring and risqué; on the other, she sets a lot of
importance on her physical virginity. And if her total lack of racial
prejudice is laudable, I do wonder how historically plausible it is.
Little in her personal history, besides a mentally challenged younger
brother, justifies her open attitude.
The secondary characters aren't much better. They are either
superfluous, as with Charlotte's family, or poorly drawn, as with Ken
Ji's former partner. The latter plays the villain's part only to ride
miraculously to Charlotte and Ken Ji's rescue at the end. I'm sure
even a Taoist would agree that more balance is required in the
What ultimately nearly saves the book is Ken Ji's backstory. Not only is it engaging; it is also one of the rare moments when the historical
period and its reigning social conflicts are foregrounded. Too bad it
doesn't become relevant until the last quarter of the book, when it
leads to a rather exciting show down.
One final point: the euphemisms deployed to describe body parts, love-
making and orgasms are not the usual run of the mill. It's hard to
say whether "rearing dragon", "cinnabar cave", and "yin dew" (or flow
or tide or rain) are Lee's inventions, literal translations from
Chinese or traditional Taoist metaphors. In any case, I was rather
fascinated by the variations until I realized that purple prose in
another color is still purple.