When I saw Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao in my local bookstore, I knew I would buy it. A red and black colour scheme with an Asian woman on the cover? It’s my whole aesthetic. When I turned it over, the words “fight to shatter patriarchal definitions of power” read loud and clear. I knew I would love this book.
Going into it, I was ready for some rebellion, a ton of female empowerment, and a total destruction of the patriarchy. However, I was not expecting my entire definition of a classic romance trope to change. Look, I’m an avid bookworm, and I’ve read a lot of books. I’ve become quite acquainted with the love triangle. Usually, it’s one female being pursued by two guys. I can almost guarantee that one of those men is morally grey and mysterious with a dangerous past, probably with colourful eyes or a tattoo. I can also almost guarantee that the other guy is some childhood best friend or he’s a total sweetheart—or both.
Iron Widow starts off as a pretty classic love triangle with a lot of feminism mixed in. The main character, Wu Zetian, volunteers in a war that killed her sister, leaving behind her misogynistic family and her supportive (and rich) childhood best friend, Gao Yizhi. I was kind of on board for the Zetian and Yizhi ship. After joining the war and absolutely destroying the pilot that killed her sister, Zetian is paired with another pilot, Li Shimin, which people hoped would keep her under control. Surprise! He’s the morally grey and traumatized second love interest. I was fully on board for the Zetian and Shimin ship. To be fair, you can’t have two characters linked for life through a “special” bond and expect me not to ship them. Just as Zetian and Shimin are becoming close, Yizhi finds his way back to her. I mean, it was obvious he would, especially after he offered to marry her instead of having her go off to war.
As the story progresses, Zetian has moments with both love interests. I found myself shipping her equally with both. This was a rare moment for me, because normally I prefer one love interest over the other. While Zetian had moments with both the men, it was difficult to see moments between Yizhi and Shimin because of the book’s limited first-person narrative. But sometimes, we see glimpses of moments between the two. It was the little moments that sold me on that ship.
By the time I was halfway through the book, I was shipping all three of them together. I had never done that before. I had never before wanted a main character to end up with both her love interests, and at the same time want the two love interests to end up together. And then it dawned on me—love triangles cannot exist without queer people. Don’t believe me? Let’s take a time machine back to second grade geometry. A triangle has three sides, three vertices. This would mean three people have to be in love with each other. The classic love triangle, on the other hand, is not even a geometric triangle! It’s a corner, at best. To create the proper triangle, there has to be some kind of queer element.
Zhao has done an impeccable job at developing a totally shippable polyamorous relationship. The readers can clearly see the attraction and passion between all three characters, as well as the love that underlies it all. So much of the relationship is implicit, which speaks to the skill that Zhao has in developing characters and their romance. It’s the kind of relationship that takes you by surprise, but when you look back, the clues were all there. The relationship begins with respect and builds over time. The love is shown through actions, through small moments of conversation. It isn’t forced, robotic, or rushed. It feels like the most natural thing in the world. Honestly, it’s better than most of the monogamous love stories we see in the media today.
As Yizhi puts it, “There aren’t nearly enough nice feelings in the world, so why deprive ourselves?”
Enough of the classic love triangle—if we can even call it that. The resolution of these triangles is always so unsatisfying anyways. No more killing off beloved characters; no more making them leave because of some inexplicable reason; no more merging the two love interests into one person (I’m looking at you, Rick Riordan). Polyamory is the only solution to love triangles, and Iron Widow is the prime example on how to do that.
