The Poppy War wasn’t at all what I had expected.
I picked up this book mainly because of its popularity on Bookstagram. Everyone was talking about it. Raving, actually. So of course, I was intrigued. I usually don’t read fantasy—or YA for that matter—but every now and then, I like to dip my toes in uncharted waters, just out of curiosity.
Turns out, this book is not just YA. And it’s definitely not a romance novel, despite how some people labeled it. It’s dark, intense, heartbreaking, and surprisingly thought-provoking.
Let me give you a little synopsis:
When Fang Runin—Rin for short—finds out her adoptive parents want to marry her off to an older, wealthy man, she decides to take control of her fate. She studies hard for the Keju, a nationwide test designed to identify the brightest students in the Empire of Nikan. Against all odds, Rin scores the highest in her province and earns a place at the prestigious Sinegard military academy.
But her success is only the beginning. At Sinegard, Rin faces brutal discrimination, intense physical and mental training, and the slow realization that war is looming—and nothing she’s learned can truly prepare her for it. As the Third Poppy War breaks out, Rin is forced to confront unimaginable horrors and make choices that will haunt her.
Let’s talk about some of the major themes that stood out to me:
Discrimination
At Sinegard, Rin is constantly reminded that she doesn’t belong. She’s a dark-skinned peasant girl surrounded by elite, pale-skinned students who look down on her because of her class, her gender, and her appearance. Even some of the teachers join in on the bullying.
But instead of breaking her, it fuels her. Rin is angry, yes—but she’s also determined. She keeps going. She studies harder, trains longer, and proves herself over and over again.
Yes, she can be impulsive (she’s 16, after all), and no, she doesn’t always make the best decisions—but the important thing is that she doesn’t give up. That kind of grit is something I admired in her character.
Does that mean discrimination should be treated like a “motivational tool”? Absolutely not. It’s damaging and unfair. But it also shows the power of resilience—the ability to rise even when the system is against you. That’s something I found inspiring.
War
R.F. Kuang doesn’t sugarcoat the horrors of war. If you’re sensitive to graphic violence, this book might not be for you. The descriptions are brutal—rape, torture, dismemberment—you name it.
Much of the violence is inspired by real historical events, especially the Second Sino-Japanese War and the Rape of Nanking. Kuang pulls no punches in portraying the consequences of war, especially on civilians. It’s painful, it’s graphic, and it’s meant to make you uncomfortable.
But what struck me most wasn’t the gore. It was the psychological toll war takes on people.
We see Rin change. Slowly, and then all at once. The lines between good and evil blur. She stops seeing the enemy as human. And she makes decisions that… well, they broke my heart.
On the other hand, Kitay—her one true friend at Sinegard—keeps questioning the war. Why fight fire with fire? What’s the point of vengeance if it turns you into the very monster you’re trying to defeat? His moral compass becomes a quiet but powerful contrast to Rin’s descent.
Those questions hit me hard. How often do we learn history through only one lens? What would it look like if we started questioning the dominant narratives we’ve been taught?
On a lighter note (because I promise, this book isn’t only pain and heartbreak), I really enjoyed reading about the military strategies. They’re well-written, logical, and surprisingly easy to follow for someone who doesn’t usually read military fiction.
Resilience
I’ve touched on this earlier, but Rin’s resilience deserves its own spotlight.
She goes through so much—poverty, abuse, colorism, classism, sexism—and yet, she keeps going. Her strength doesn’t come from other people believing in her (most of them don’t). It comes from within.
She stays focused on her goals, even when everything is stacked against her. And that got me thinking—how do we build this kind of resilience in ourselves? And more importantly, how do we help our kids build it?
Resilience isn’t about pretending everything’s okay. It’s about learning how to bounce back, even when you fall hard. That’s a life skill we could all use more of.
Spirituality
One of my favorite characters in the book is Master Jiang—Rin’s eccentric teacher who introduces her to shamanism and spiritual practices. He’s funny, wise, and just a little bit unpredictable.
Through Jiang, Rin learns to channel the gods—to access an ancient power that exists beyond human comprehension. But it comes with risks. Summoning the gods means surrendering control, and not everyone can handle that kind of power.
Jiang, however, is deeply spiritual and centered. He doesn’t chase power for the sake of it. He understands the cost of power and chooses restraint. That’s what makes him so special. His spirituality allows him to see beyond what others see. He’s not just teaching Rin how to fight—he’s teaching her how to understand herself.
That made me think: true strength isn’t about domination—it’s about self-control. And that’s a hard lesson to learn.
Chinese culture references
I loved the references to Chinese culture throughout the book. From the province names to the military training, to ancient texts like The Art of War, you can clearly see the inspiration.
In fact, the story’s foundation is heavily influenced by 20th-century Chinese history—especially the atrocities committed during the Second Sino-Japanese War and the Rape of Nanking. It adds a chilling realism to the book that you don’t often see in fantasy.
Even the geography of the Empire of Nikan is based on Chinese mythology. The provinces are named after the Five Great Eldest Gods—Tulan, Speer, Khurdalain, Yalan, and so on. The lore is woven so naturally into the narrative that you don’t need to know the references to enjoy the book—but if you do recognize them, it adds a whole other layer of appreciation.
These cultural elements don’t just add flavor—they ground the story in something real and meaningful. It’s a reminder that fantasy doesn’t always have to be based on Western mythology.
Power
This book raises huge questions about power—how we use it, how it changes us, and what it costs.
Rin starts off wanting power so she can escape her situation. Then she wants it to protect the people she loves. And by the end, she wants it to destroy her enemies. Her journey is full of moral gray areas, and we see how power can corrupt even the most well-meaning person.
But again, characters like Jiang and Kitay show that power doesn’t have to destroy you. It’s about how you choose to wield it.
The Poppy War was a challenging read—emotionally, mentally, even spiritually. But I’m glad I read it. It made me uncomfortable. It made me think. And it made me appreciate stories that go beyond entertainment to dig deep into what it means to be human.
Have you read The Poppy War? What did you think?
And if you have—who’s one character that made you pause and really think? Do you think Rin ever truly had a choice by the end? Or was her path already written? Let’s talk in the comments.