If you think of Tibet as a place of mystery and mysticism, an ethereal and other-worldly place which rejects the physical world in favor of the spiritual, you are in for some huge surprises when you read this book. Set during the early to mid-20th century, this novel by a Tibetan author feels medieval, revealing a feudal society of tribal chieftains and their internecine rivalries, complete with intrigue, murder, vengeance, double-crosses, and a callous disregard of life and limb.
In short, simple sentences, easy vocabulary, and straightforward style befitting the subject matter, Alai tells the history of the Maichi family, depicting a family of rulers who believe only in power--"You can ride [your slaves] like horses or beat them like dogs, but you must never treat them like humans." Hands are cut off, tongues are cut out, enemies are beheaded, hungry people are used as pawns and allowed to starve, children are beaten for playing. Though the Living Buddha and several lamas play roles in the novel, they are not a dominant, or even a moderating, force, appearing to be more like soothsayers than real religious leaders. One lama even remarks, "Instead of teaching us to love, why must religion teach us to hate?"
Almost cartoon-like with its shallow, black-and-white characters, its good guys vs. bad guys action scenes, and its high quotient of blood and guts, the novel is stunning in its total disregard for the value of life. When, at the end, the revolutionary Red Chinese emerge victorious in the nearby Chinese provinces and begin to exert power over the Tibetan chieftains, the reader is stunned by the irony--we know the Red Chinese historical record, but here they seem more idealistic and far more concerned with the lives of the common man than the chieftains do. I found this a disturbing book, one which raises a number of questions about the author's purpose and offers few references to a "soft," cultural side of Tibet, such as its music, art, religion, and literature. Mary Whipple