While Vincent Lam created a protagonist who was undeniably complex, Percival Chen’s stubbornness and self-absorption often bordered on frustrating to the point of alienation. His repeated misjudgments made sense for his character, but they also made it difficult to fully invest in his fate. At times, his obliviousness to the changing political climate felt exaggerated, almost to the point of contrivance. The supporting characters were stronger—Mak was easily the most compelling, with his quiet loyalty and mysterious past, while Jacqueline provided a welcome contrast to Percival’s arrogance. However, some characters felt underdeveloped, particularly Percival’s son, Dai Jai, whose emotional depth was never fully explored despite being central to the plot.

The historical setting was easily one of the novel’s greatest strengths. Lam’s depiction of 1960s and 1970s Saigon was immersive, capturing the underlying tension of a city on the brink of war. The sensory details—the humidity, the cigarette smoke, the bustling gambling dens—felt vivid and authentic. However, at times, the setting felt more like a meticulously researched backdrop rather than an organic part of the story. There were moments where the historical details felt inserted for effect rather than seamlessly integrated. While the atmosphere undeniably enhanced the novel, it occasionally leaned toward over-description, slowing the narrative’s momentum.

Lam’s writing was strong, but it wasn’t always consistent. There were passages of stunning prose, particularly in the descriptions of Saigon’s decaying opulence and the paranoia of war, but there were also moments where the narrative became bogged down in unnecessary detail. His tendency to repeat Percival’s internal conflicts felt redundant at times, making certain sections feel longer than necessary. Dialogue was generally well-crafted, but there were occasional instances where characters felt like mouthpieces for historical exposition rather than fully realized individuals. While I appreciated the overall style, it lacked the sharp precision that could have elevated the novel to something truly exceptional.

The story’s pacing was its biggest weakness. The first half took too long to establish key conflicts, and while the slow burn allowed for deep character exploration, it also tested my patience. Percival’s repeated failures to recognize the shifting tides of war and his own precarious situation felt predictable after a while, making his downfall less impactful than it could have been. While the plot had its moments of intrigue—particularly in the latter half—the narrative occasionally meandered, losing its sense of urgency. The climax was effective, but the resolution felt slightly abrupt, leaving certain character arcs unresolved in a way that was more frustrating than thought-provoking.

There were stretches where I felt fully invested, particularly in moments of political tension or personal betrayal, but the novel didn’t consistently hold my attention. The stakes were clear, yet the pacing dulled their impact. There were long passages where Percival’s reflections became repetitive, making it easy to disengage. While I wanted to see where the story was headed, I wasn’t always eager to pick up the book after setting it down. The latter half of the novel regained some momentum, but it didn’t fully compensate for the sluggish buildup.

Most of the relationships in the novel felt authentic, but they weren’t always fully developed. Percival’s relationship with Jacqueline, while compelling, lacked a deeper emotional core—it often felt more transactional than truly intimate, which made later developments feel less impactful. His bond with Mak was fascinating, but I wanted more from it; Mak’s background and motivations were hinted at but never fully explored. The father-son dynamic between Percival and Dai Jai had potential, but it wasn’t given enough depth to make Dai Jai’s fate as heartbreaking as it should have been. The political backdrop was well-handled, but Percival’s continued naivety stretched believability, making him feel like a man frozen in time rather than someone adapting to the realities around him.

I appreciated the novel’s ambition, but it wasn’t always an enjoyable read. While the historical depth and character complexity were commendable, the slow pacing and repetitive internal conflicts made sections feel like a slog. I never felt fully disconnected from the book, but I also never experienced the unshakable urge to devour it in one sitting. It’s a well-crafted novel with significant strengths, but its pacing issues and occasional lack of narrative focus prevented me from enjoying it as much as I had hoped. I would recommend it to those interested in historical fiction with rich atmosphere and political intrigue, but with the caveat that patience is required.