School Library Journal Review
Gr 6 Up--Lee's revelatory novel uncovers the tale of eight Chinese passengers braving shipwreck through the travails of a resourceful heroine. Valora Luck is in line for the RMS Titanic when she discovers that the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 will bar her from entering the United States, where she dreams of becoming a circus acrobat. But Valora needs to get on the ship for another reason--she's desperate to find her sailor brother, Jamie. After smuggling herself onboard, Valora disguises herself as a veiled widow and gains access to a first-class cabin. Valora's need to pass as a first-class, white English lady vies with her desire to rejoin her brother and his band of Chinese British sailors. She also craves the chance to showcase her acrobatic talent while navigating a ship's geography defined by class, gender, immigration status, and race. Excitement abounds long before the Titanic hits an iceberg, and the twist ending aligns with the historical record. While the stakes of Valora's quest are high, they don't detract from the joy of reading Lee's complex depiction of identity. Valora and Jamie are London-born children of a Chinese father and a Cockney mother, who switch fluidly between English and Cantonese. Through Jamie's Chinese crew, Lee depicts a nuanced spectrum of bilingualism and cultural hybridity. VERDICT With a compassionate, strong heroine and a diverse cast, this is an exciting, important retelling of the Titanic tragedy.--Katherine Magyarody, Texas A&M Univ., College Station
Publisher's Weekly Review
After two years apart from her twin brother, Jamie, British Chinese Valora Luck, 17, is boarding the Titanic, intent on finding Jamie, a coal worker heading to Cuba alongside seven other Chinese men. When the Chinese Exclusion Act results in Val being turned away at the first-class gangway despite her ticket, she engages the childhood acrobatic arts training the twins' late father provided, climbing aboard with the assistance of white aspiring American haute couturier April Hart. Val is intent on gaining an audience with a partial owner of the Ringling Brothers Circus, certain that it's the siblings' chance to go big-time in New York. With cleverness and determination, Val dons disguises to navigate between classes and decks, securing a public audience with him. But there are those who would see them fail, and soon, circumstances beyond their control throw everyone's plans--and lives--into question. Lee (The Downstairs Girl) deftly sketches a compassionate cast and immerses readers in the ship's architecture and socially stratified atmosphere, sustaining suspense throughout by foreshadowing the disaster to come. A finely crafted historical exploration of identity, class, and family that resonates through the present. Back matter includes an author's note. Ages 12--up. Agent: Kristin Nelson, Nelson Literary. (May)
Horn Book Review
Lee builds an original story around the little-known fact that eight of the Titanic passengers were Chinese men. This engaging historical novel adds a fictional young woman in stowaway Valora Luck, a biracial seventeen-year-old maid and former acrobat of English and Chinese heritage, as she reunites with her sailor twin brother and dreams of life in America. Despite having a first-class ticket, Valora is turned away because of her heritage. But once she sneaks aboard, the resourceful teen uses her wits to move around the ship in disguise, pretending to be sometimes her deceased employer, sometimes a young sailor. Lee creates vivid backstories for her characters and explores daily life on the luxury liner for upper- and lower-deck passengers, including scenes of racism and sexism. There are also memorable scenes of warmth, joy, romance, and daring, particularly when the twins perform for a Ringling Bros. Circus co-owner. As with most Titanic stories, the suspenseful final chapters focus on escape and survival, and the ending is heart-wrenching -- and unexpected. Lee's novel should, as she says in an author's note, "provoke a discussion about which of these characters society considers 'worthy' and which it does not." Recommended for history buffs and fans of the 1997 Titanic film; pair with The Six, a new documentary about the Chinese Titanic survivors. Michelle Lee September/October 2021 p.98(c) Copyright 2021. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Kirkus Review
Seventeen-year-old Valora Luck boards the Titanic in search of her twin brother--and destiny. As children, Val and Jamie performed acrobatics to bring in money during lean times, dreaming of one day becoming circus stars. But after their White British mother's death, Jamie left to work for the Atlantic Steam Company while Val stayed in London to care for their Chinese father. Now, with both parents gone, Val is determined to find what's left of her family and forge a new path in America. There is, of course, the Chinese Exclusion Act to contend with, but Val is confident that she and Jamie can convince one of the ship's passengers, a part owner of the Ringling Brothers Circus, to hire them and bring them into the country. Unexpected allies provide help along the way, including an American couture designer and Jamie's fellow Chinese steamship workers. Issues of racial and class discrimination are seamlessly woven into the story as Val's adventure takes her through the Titanic's various decks, from a first-class suite to the boiler rooms. Her wit and pluck give the story such buoyancy that when tragedy strikes, it almost comes as a surprise. Anticipation of the inevitable adds a layer of tension to the narrative, especially with a sober note prefacing the book that informs readers, "Of the eight Chinese passengers aboard the Titanic, six survived." A gem from start to bittersweet finish. (Titanic diagram, list of characters, author's notes) (Historical fiction. 13-18) Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Booklist Review
Lee follows the success of The Downstairs Girl (2019) with a dauntless character's experience on an infamous ship. Valora Luck is determined to board the Titanic. After the recent death of her Chinese father and still grieving the loss of her British mother, she longs to reunite with her twin brother, Jamie, who's already on board along with his steamship crew. Val becomes hard-set on convincing Jamie to revive their acrobatic act, hoping it will impress a circus magnate on the ship, who could secure them entry into the U.S. and bypass the Chinese Exclusion Act. As a stowaway, Val experiences the opulence of first class and the contrasting xenophobia in third class, and all the while her movements throughout the ship offer a strong sense of setting and will ground readers both familiar and unfamiliar with the interior of the Titanic. The intensifying narrative is driven by Val's tenacity, but the relationships fostered with Jamie's steamship mates, whose characters are inspired by the real-life presence of eight Chinese passengers aboard the fated ship, lay the groundwork for the emotional reckoning. Lee's conversational style adds a freshness to the historical frame and achieves a thrilling balance between hope and anguish through budding romances and humor amid the looming tragedy.
Excerpts
1 April 10, 1912 When my twin, Jamie, left, he vowed it wouldn't be forever. Only a week before Halley's Comet brushed the London skies, he kissed my cheek and set off. One comet in, one comet out. But two years away is more than enough time to clear his head, even in the coal-thickened air at the bottom of a steamship. Since he hasn't come home, it is time to chase down the comet's tail. I try not to fidget while I wait my turn on the first-class gangway of White Star Line's newest ocean liner. A roofed corridor--to spare the nobs the inconvenience of sunshine--leads directly from the "boat train" depot to this highest crossing. At least we are far from the rats on Southampton dock below, which is crawling with them. Of course, some up here might consider me a rat. The couple ahead of me eyes me warily, even though I am dressed in one of Mrs. Sloane's smartest traveling suits--shark grey to match her usual temper, with a swath of black bee-swarm lace pinned from shoulder to shoulder. A lifetime of those dodgy looks teaches you to ignore them. Haven't I already survived the journey from London? A half a day's travel, packed into a smoky railcar, next to a man who stank of sardines. And here I am, so close to the finish line, I can nearly smell Jamie--like trampled ryegrass and the milk biscuits he is so fond of eating. An ocean breeze cools my cheeks. Several stories below in either direction, onlookers crowd the dock, staring up at the ship rising six stories before them. Its hull gleams, a wall of liquid black with a quartet of smokestacks so wide you could drive a train through them. Stately letters march across its side: "TITANIC." On the third-class gangway a hundred feet to my left, passengers sport a variety of costume: headscarves, patterned kaftans, fringed shawls of botany wool, tasseled caps, and plain dungarees and straw hats. I don't see a single Chinese face among them. Has Jamie boarded already? With this crowd, I may have missed him. Then again, he isn't traveling alone, but with seven other Chinese men from his company. All are being transported to Cuba for a new route after coal strikes here berthed their steamship. Something cold unspools in my belly. I received his last letter a month ago. Time enough for things to change. What if Jamie's company decided to send them somewhere other than Cuba, maybe a new route in Asia or Africa? The line shifts. Only a few more passengers ahead of me. Jamie! I call in my mind, a game I often played growing up. He doesn't always hear, but I like to think he does when it matters. In China, a dragon-phoenix pair of boy-and-girl twins is considered auspicious, and so Ba bought two suckling pigs to celebrate our birth, roasted side by side to show their common lot. Some may think that macabre, but to the Chinese, death is just a continuation of life on a higher plane with our ancestors. Jamie, your sister is here. Look for me. Won't he be surprised to see me? Shocked may be more accurate--Jamie has never handled surprise well--but I will get him to see that it is time for him, for us , to move on to bigger and better things, just as our father hoped. I think back to the telegram I sent him when Ba passed five months ago. Ba hit his head on post and died. Please come home. Ever your Val. Jamie wrote back: Rec'd news and hope you are bearing up okay. Very sorry, but I have eight months left on my contract and cannot get away. Write me details. Your Jamie. Jamie would have known that Ba had been drunk when he hit his head, and I knew he wouldn't mourn like I had. When you live with someone whose mistress is the bottle, you say your goodbyes long before they depart. Someone behind me clears her throat. A woman in a pinstriped "menswear" suit that fits her slender figure like stripes on a zebra watches me, an ironic smile wrapped around her cigarette. I put her in her early twenties. Somehow dressing in men's clothing seems to heighten her femininity, with her creamy skin and dark hair that swings to her delicate chin. She lifts that chin toward the entrance, where a severe-looking officer stands like a box nail,a puzzled look on his face. I bound forward on the balls of my feet, muscled from years of tightrope practice. Ba started training Jamie and me in the acrobatic arts as soon as we could walk. Sometimes, our acts were the only thing putting food on the table. The severe officer watches me pull my ticket from my velvet handbag. Mrs. Sloane, my employer, secretly purchased tickets for the two of us with her dragon's hoard of money. She didn't tell her son or his wife about the trip, or that she might stay in America indefinitely to get away from their money-grubbing fists and greedy stares. After her unexpected demise, I couldn't just let the tickets go to waste. "Afternoon, sir. I am Valora Luck." The officer glances at the name written on my ticket, then back at me, his steep cheekbones sharp enough for a bird to land on. His navy visor with its distinctive company logo--a gold wreath circling a red flag with a white star--levers as he inspects me. "Destination?" "New York, same as the rest." Is that a trick question? "New York, huh. Documentation?" "You're holding it right there, sir," I say brightly, feeling the gangway shift uncomfortably. He exchanges a guarded look with the crewman holding the passenger log. "Luck?" "Yes." In Cantonese, our surname sounds more like "Luke," but the British like to pronounce it "luck." Ba had decided to embrace good fortune and spell it that way, too. He'd intended the lofty-sounding name "Valor" for Jamie, and "Virtue" for me--after a sea shanty about a pair of boots--but my British mum put the brakes on that. Instead, she named my brother James, and I got Valora. It's a toss-up as to which of us is more relieved. "You're Chinese, right?" "Half of me." Mum married Ba against the wishes of her father, a vicar in the local parish. "Then at least half of you needs documentation. Ain't you heard of the Chinese Exclusion Act? You can't go to America without papers. That's just how it is." "Wh-what?" A pang of fear slices through me. The Chinese Exclusion Act. What madness is this? They don't like us here in England, but clearly, they really don't like us in America. "But my brother's on this ship, too, with the members of the Atlantic Steam Company. They're all Chinese. Did they get on?" "I don't keep the third-class register. You'll need to get off my gangway." "B-but my lady will be expecting me." "Where is she?" I was prepared for this question. "Mrs. Sloane wanted me to board first to make sure her room was ready." Of course, she had already pushed off on a different ship, one that wouldn't be making a return journey, causing me great inconvenience. "We had her trunk forwarded here a week ago. I must lay out her things." Mum's Bible is in that trunk, within its pages my only picture of her and Ba. At last, my family will be reunited, even if it is just with a photo of our parents. "Well, you're not getting on this ship without the proper documentation." He waves the ticket. "I'll keep this for her for when she boards. Next!" Waiting passengers begin to grumble behind me, but I ignore them. "No, please! I must board! I must--" "Robert, escort this girl off." The crewman beside the severe officer grabs my arm. I shake him off, trying to muster a bit of respect. "I will see myself off." The woman in the menswear suit behind me steps aside to allow others to go before her, her amber eyes curiously assessing me. "I saw a group of Chinese men enter the ship early this morning," she says in the no-nonsense tone Americans use. "Perhaps you can check if your brother was one of them." "Thank you," I say, grateful for the unexpected charity. A family pushes past me, and I lose the woman in a flurry of people, parcels, and hats. I find myself being squeezed back into the train depot, like a piece of indigestible meat. Mrs. Sloane would've never stood for this outrage. Probably a rich lady like her would have persuaded them to let me on. But there is no one to speak for me now. I descend the staircase, then exit the depot onto the quay. The glare from the overcast sky cuts my eyes. I figured the hardest part of this endeavor would be getting on without Mrs. Sloane. Never could I have foreseen this complication. What now? I need to be on that ship, or it could be months, maybe years, before I see Jamie again. Something skirts over my boot and I recoil. A rat. They are certainly bold here, called by the peanut peddlers and meat pie hawkers. I shrink away from a pile of crates, where the rodents are making short work of a melon rind. The river slaps a rhythm against the Titanic 's hull, and my heart beats double time with the slosh. Taking the American's advice, I make tracks for the third-class entrance farther down the quay toward the bow. Unlike in the first class, passengers crowd the gangway, tightening the queue as I near. I straighten my jacket. "I'm sorry, I just need to check if my brother made it through. Please let me pass." A man with a dark mustache chastises me in a foreign tongue, then jerks his head toward the end of the line. Heads nod, cutting me suspicious glares, and people move to block me. Seems wearing first-class clothes will not gain me any advantage here. Perhaps things would be different if I looked less like Ba and more like Mum. I exhale my frustration, a wind heated by a lifetime of being turned away for no good cause. Then I continue farther along the quay to the end of the line, passing dockworkers manhandling ropes and a navy uniform shining a torch into people's eyeballs. They don't check the first class for disease. Beyond the nose of the ship, a couple of tugboats line up, ready to tow the Titanic from her mooring. Voices rise as people look up to a massive crane on the bow lowering a hoisting platform onto the quay ten paces away. A horn honks, and the queue shifts, making way for a sleek cinnamon-red Renault motorcar. It stops right before the hoisting platform. It could take an hour to reach the gangway from here. But even if Jamie has boarded, they still won't let me on that ship without papers. Then the Titanic will leave, and he will be lost to me, possibly forever. His letters to me will be undeliverable at the Sloanes', and I will have no way of knowing which new route he was assigned. Jamie is the only real family I have left. I won't let him idle his time on a steamship when he is destined for better things. Great things. A woman with large nostrils glances at me, then pulls her son closer, spilling some of the peanuts from his paper cone. A rat slithers out from behind a crate and quietly feasts. "Stay away from that one. I've heard they eat dogs." Barely glancing at me, the boy returns his attention to the Renault. A crewman gestures at the dockworkers positioned on either side of the car. "Easy now. Load her on." I am getting on that ship, by hook or by crook. Jamie is there, and I won't let him leave without me. As for the Chinese Exclusion Act, put out the fire on your trousers before worrying about the one down the street. But how will I board? The hoisting platform sways on its hook, the stage just big enough to hold the motorcar. A crewman reaches up and guides it the last few feet to the quay. By hook . I flex my back, my muscles twitching. There are more ways onto the Titanic than the gangways. Excerpted from Luck of the Titanic by Stacey Lee All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
