She Who Became the Sun by Shelley Parker-Chan

Question: What happens when someone studies history and says, "this is cool, but what if it were infinitely queerer, significantly more ruthless, and with about 300% more emotional devastation?

Answer: She Who Became the Sun by Shelley Parker-Chan

And truly? It really works.

Parker-Chan imbues historical fantasy with sufficient ambition, gender chaos, and existential turmoil to power a medium-sized dynasty. Let's face it, "destined to achieve greatness" sounds far nicer than "destined to... wait, who? Never mind," hence the narrative rewrites the birth of the Ming dynasty with a protagonist who essentially inherits the identity (and destiny) of her dead brother.

Occasionally poetic, the prose is snappy and always vivid—but be advised: there is more political plotting here than at a dysfunctional family's holiday dinner. Sometimes the intrigue is thick enough for you to wish characters arrived with labels like "Hello, my name is Traitor," or "Hi, I'll betray you in 50 pages."

Character-wise, Parker-Chan creates ethically ambiguous antiheroes you will passionately pull for and then quickly criticise yourself for supporting. Readers may be left staring dramatically into space, considering all their life decisions as the emotional punches fall with precision. Conversely, though the intensity sometimes strays slightly toward soap-opera territory; at this point, you're probably too engaged to notice anyway.

Nestled in layers of power dynamics, wistful looks, and (naturally) tragedy, the sapphic undertones—and overtones—are wonderful and nuanced. These people would conquer continents without exerting effort if yearning could raise armies.

Ultimately, She Who Became the Sun will probably become your next obsession if you want your historical fantasy epic, shockingly queer, and loaded with merciless ambition. Just expect existential crises and emotional whiplash. I promise; it is worth it.