There's this candle-lit, long gallery no global positioning system as we know the specialized technology today can locate. Two portraits reside in the gallery. On one end is a bloodied, dying, failed rebel sitting limply like a pathetic clown on a throne to the laughter of the king whose citizenry-empowering reform he opposes in the finale of the dramatized version of Deep-Rooted Tree. On the other is a triumphant counterpart: a one-armed maid spreading her* legs on a throne like a man, to the extent her maid uniform stretches in an ungainly manner, and resting her stump on her knees to the shock of guards tumbling in as she proclaims the name of her glorious new dynasty in the irreverent closing scene of He Who Drowned The World. In one stroke, she crushes and reigns atop the age-old celestial constellations of paternalism, sexism, classism and ableism.
In such manner, the silently glowing reflections from 2011 and 2023 compete and conspire with each other to cast their surreal colors on the entranced visitor.
Warning: The book contains highly explicit material.
*In accordance with the novel's pronouns.
