These Violent Delights – Chloe Gong

A Romeo and Juliet retelling with blood on its hands and politics on its mind

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Cover © Little, Brown and Company (via Goodreads).

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There’s something quietly fitting about ending my 2025 reading year with These Violent Delights. A novel that takes one of literature’s most famous tragedies and drags it—sometimes kicking and screaming—into 1920s Shanghai, complete with gang warfare, political unrest, and a generous helping of gore.

I’ll be honest: this was a slow burn. The opening chapters felt heavy and deliberate, almost too careful, and for a while I struggled to connect. But then—somewhere in the final hundred pages—it redeemed itself. The pace sharpened, the stakes escalated, and I felt slightly more connected and invested.

A fresh spin on a familiar tragedy

Gong’s reimagining of Romeo and Juliet is undeniably clever. The political undertones are strong and purposeful, giving the feud real weight beyond doomed romance. This isn’t fantasy in the traditional sense; it leans more towards sci-fi and speculative horror, which adds an unsettling edge that feels very deliberate.

Despite being marketed as YA, this is one to approach with caution. The violence is graphic, the imagery often brutal, and the body-horror elements are not subtle. Definitely check content warnings before recommending it to students or younger readers.

Character, power, and control

At the heart of These Violent Delights is Juliette Cai, a protagonist who feels deliberately carved out of Shakespeare’s legacy rather than softly inspired by it. She is ruthless when required, politically aware, and painfully conscious of the power structures surrounding her. Juliette’s strength isn’t romanticised; it’s sharp-edged, practical, and born from survival. In many ways, she feels less like a tragic lover and more like a general—calculating, strategic, and prepared to make morally difficult choices.

Her cousins, Rosalind and Kathleen, are positioned as foils rather than equals. While their presence suggests an exploration of female kinship and inherited power, their relationship never fully coheres. At times, it feels as though they exist to plug narrative gaps rather than deepen Juliette’s emotional world. There’s potential here—particularly in how women navigate power within patriarchal criminal empires—but for me, it remains slightly underdeveloped.

A Romeo reimagined: Roma Montagov

One of the novel’s real strengths is Roma Montagov. Unlike Shakespeare’s Romeo, Roma is restrained, reflective, and quietly determined. His gentleness doesn’t weaken him; instead, it makes him more compelling. He listens. He waits. He chooses his violence carefully. In many ways, he is far more likeable than Romeo, offering a model of masculinity grounded in loyalty and emotional control rather than impulsive passion.

Roma’s relationship with his cousins, Marshall and Benedikt, is particularly effective. Their bond feels purposeful and earned—a clear brotherhood shaped by shared history and responsibility. Where Juliette’s familial ties sometimes feel uncertain, Roma’s are solid and believable, reinforcing his role as a stabilising force amid chaos.

Campfire verdict

What lingered most was the atmosphere: Gong’s depiction of 1920s China is vivid, tense, and immersive, grounding the Shakespearean tragedy in a setting rich with historical and political complexity. This retelling isn’t a cosy retelling nor is it interested in idealised romance. Instead, it interrogates power—who holds it, who inherits it, and who is crushed beneath it. Will I be rushing out to get the second book? Unlikely but it was Definitely worth the read.

Rating: 🔥🔥🔥½ / 5

A brutal, politically charged reimagining—best read with coffee, patience, and a readiness for darkness.