Are humans the real monsters?: my review of Strange Beasts of China

The title says it all. This book is strange, and it's about a collection of beasts living in China. The narrative alternates between encyclopedic fantasy bestiary, noir descriptions of urban life, and a series of adventurous short stories. This patchwork of styles echoes the diversity of the book's setting -- Yong'an, a fictitious Chinese city in which beasts, humans, and hybrids all live together in something that resembles harmony.

The novel follows an unnamed journalist with a cryptozoology background who is commissioned to uncover the stories about the beasts of Yong'an. Before every story she writes, she reminds readers, in a refrain that becomes darkly satirical with repetition, that other than their weird magical properties that make them seem to be deeply inhuman, the beasts "are just like regular people."

The beasts themselves don't get their own voices, but the narrator sympathizes with their oppression at the hands of humans, taking it upon herself to tell (and sell) their stories. Every creature could be the subject of a different magical realist fable. Some die if they smile. Some are manufactured by humans to help with rearing children. Some are enslaved. Some are extinct. Some are harvested. Some are sexually exploited. Some are whimsical. Some are uncanny. What they all have in common is that they are described as migrants, but when the narrator says they're just like humans, it's not necessarily a compliment. Humans are not always the heroes of these stories, and in making the comparison, her goal isn't to say these beasts are harmless. They're not, at least not all of them are. Her goal really is to make salient points about what happens when society makes contact with foreigners. While the commentary about xenophobia is technically never explicitly delivered, it still lives pretty obviously within the texture of the world we get to see, though the allegory gets messy at times. The beasts don't and can't have any clear real-world analogue. What may at first seem like a racial allegory can quickly morph into story about disability. A few pages later, it might seem like it's about animal rights. Each story is is exceptionally committed a high degree of ambiguity.

At first, the messy allegory may prove a little confusing or uncomfortable, but there is a purpose to it. The novel is deliberate about withholding various pieces of information, because eventually, all the stories accumulate and lace together into a broader narrative full of surprising twists and turns that raise a whole host of questions about liminality, identity, storytelling, and -- as is to be expected -- the nebulous line between human and monster. With its radical charm and its blend of multiple genres (including horror, science fiction, dystopia, fantasy, magical realism, and noir), it serves as a good book for readers who want something a little different, especially if you're looking for a contemplative and surrealist novel.