Books like My Splendid Concubine — picked by fans

Also set during the Taiping Rebellion, Lande’s engrossing story begins as a sea adventure which drew me in like a Chinese version of Moby Dick, with swashbuckling characters who yell and curse in the eloquent twang of Shakespearean lowlifes.

The action shifts inland along the Yangtze River as protagonist Fletcher Thorson Wood (based on historical figure Frederick Townsend Ward) organizes a mercenary force with Western weaponry to fight off the Taiping.

There is no love story—the central characters are too busy for that—but it’s the texture of the prose, the sheer scintillating, rhythmic mastery of language, and the huge panoply of disparate voices, all superbly wrought by the author, that kept me gripping the helm of this epic narrative.

Disguised as a long-lost memoir, this compact Taiping Rebellion tale surprised me by its stately prose, exquisitely controlled by Barre from the first page to the last.

When the fictionalized Rowley is separated from (the historical) Frederick Townsend Ward’s battalion, he is captured by a beautiful but fierce Taiping rebel, Sweet Little Sister. Rowley’s simple, unironic first-person voice is perfectly suited to his worshipful love for his captress, as she leads him around the rebel camp on a leash, alternately teasing and sexually tormenting him.

The full-blown sadomasochism of Leopold von Sacher-Masoch’s Venus in Furs and Pauline Réage’s The Story of O both come to mind, but it requires a special purity of delivery to pull it off, which is why I found Barre’s telling just as exciting and erotic.

I adored this partly fictionalized, richly realized novel, which fleshes out the life of China’s greatest female painter, Pan Yuliang (1895–1977).

Rescued from a brothel by a wealthy government official, she fled to where the action was—1920s Paris—after graduating from art school in Shanghai. Boldly specializing in paintings of female nudes, including of herself, Pan was invited by high-profile artists to return to Shanghai and display her art, only to become embroiled in a series of widely publicized scandals over her nudes, leading her to quit China for good and resettle in Paris.

Her uncompromising devotion to her independence and her art marginalized her into a life of poverty and posthumous fame. It’s precisely these noble qualities that endeared me to Epstein’s treatment of the artist.

Hong Ying’s first novel, Summer of Love, was banned for depicting a sex orgy amidst the backdrop of the Tiananmen Square protests. Almost as provocative, to me, is K: The Art of Love, which plays on the old theme of a wealthy man’s spurned wife, Lin Cheng, with the twist that it’s not the young lover she takes on who liberates her but Lin herself, steeped in Taoist sexual practices, who liberates him with her ferocious passion.

Her lover happens to be historical Julian Bell, son of Vanessa Bell, the sister of Virginia Woolf and member of the polyamorous Bloomsbury Group; Lin is modeled after Julian’s real Chinese lover, Ling Shuhua. What I find most refreshing about Hong Ying’s novels is her frank and fearless sexuality, clearly stemming from her own experiences, thinly disguised.

To understand where China is now, and where it has been travelling from since 1949 when the People’s Republic was established, you need to grapple with the complex history that preceded that. German sinologist Klaus Muhlhahn expertly does this, succinctly drawing out the key theme of institution-building and showing how this provides the link between the final imperial period of the Qing to its collapse in 1911, and then the slow rise to power of the Communists over the 1920s to the 1940s when China was fragmented and beset by war. Accessible, authoritative, and ambitious.

The Qing dynasty is covered in both volumes 10 and 11 of this wonderful series. Volume 10 contains essays that earlier in my career I would always go back to—not for the riveting prose but for the solid information. John K. Fairbank (1907-1991), the father of U.S. Sinology and longtime professor at Harvard University, invited the finest Sinologists to contribute to these volumes. Pick and choose from among the excellent chapters including: Joseph Fletcher (Inner Asia and Sino-Russian relations), John K. Fairbank (the treaty port system), Philip A. Kuhn (the Taiping Rebellion) in volume 10; and Immanuel C. Y. Hsu (foreign relations), Marius Jansen (Japan and the 1911 Revolution) in volume 11. Beware that the two volumes are very much scholarly works—in both the positive and negative meanings of the word, scholarly.

I think this is the best up-to-date history of the Qing dynasty. I use it for teaching because it’s completely reliable, covers everything you might need to know, and lays it all out clearly.

It also has a really good balance between the history of major events like the Opium Wars and the Taiping Rebellion and the social history and context. And I like the fact that it explains the big debates that scholars are having in clear and simple terms.

Few include the White Lotus War in their discussion of nineteenth-century rebellions. Yet, in many ways, it provides the perfect starting point. Lasting over eight years, plowing a path of destruction across five central Chinese provinces, and emphatically marking the end to nearly a century of peace and commercial prosperity, the White Lotus War is an ominous harbinger of what was to follow. Chinese historian Yingcong Dai highlights the many disparate factors – from bureaucratic negligence and administrative apathy to the rise of secret societies and charismatic religious leaders – that transformed otherwise weakly connected local protests into a massive revolt that threatened to upend the Qing imperial state (1644-1911). As a specialist on Chinese warfare and imperial governance, the author pulls back the curtain on a rarely told tale that brings turn-of-the-18th-century China to life.

I loved this book because the story of the Zhang family brings the history of the Qing dynasty alive as real women experienced it. Qing dynasty people can seem very different from us, and it’s often hard to get a sense of their characters, but Mann does this by taking us right into their homes and making this a story of the three women who were also writers, poets, and teachers.

We hear about their studies, their loves, and their families’ grief when they died, and just when we’ve really got to know them, we find that they were also living through and writing about some of the great events of the nineteenth century like the Opium Wars and the Taiping Rebellion. It’s also beautifully researched by a great scholar.

I loved this little book because, in just a short space, it takes you into what it was like to live through the Taiping Rebellion, one of the most important events in China’s nineteenth century, and it does it through the eyes of a child. It’s an amazing viewpoint, and the stories are dramatic.

The introduction, which explains all the background, and translation by Xiaofei Tian, who is a well-known poet in Chinese as well as a professor at Harvard, is also beautifully written.