The history lesson

Known in Chinese as Hàn Gōng Chūn Xiǎo (汉宫春晓), the title translates as ‘Spring Morning in the Han Palace’. However, when I purchased the kit from AliExpress it was marketed as China Ancient Town, and that’s the name I’ll be using throughout this review. The original Chinese title is taken from one of China’s most celebrated classical paintings depicting life within an imperial palace. No, there’s no extra charge for the history lesson!

From the moment I first spotted this kit, it was obvious it wasn’t trying to be another traditional book nook. Rather than depicting a quaint European street or cosy library, China Ancient Town recreates an elegant section of traditional Chinese architecture complete with multi-level pavilions, covered walkways, moon gates, ornamental gardens, waterside buildings, figures dressed in Han-style clothing, motion-sensor lighting and the option to add a music module. With 402 laser-cut wooden parts, it looked refreshingly different from the endless stream of European streets, magical libraries and fantasy scenes that dominate today’s book nook market.

The unboxing

My copy of China Ancient Town arrived in a sturdy, fully colour-printed cardboard box that survived its intercontinental adventure remarkably well. One thing becomes apparent almost immediately: this is very much a regional release. There isn’t a single word of European text anywhere on the packaging, front or back. If your Mandarin is a little rusty, don’t panic just yet—we’ll see later whether that actually matters when it comes to the build itself.

Opening the box reveals 11 full-size sheets which are fibreboard, all precision cut and securely shrink-wrapped to keep everything protected during transit. Not a sticker is to be found anywhere in the kit which, given the sticker-related trauma inflicted by a previous review, can only be considered a positive development! Also included are a full-colour A4 instruction manual and the electronic components. Oddly, that was it. No plastic or acrylic pieces, no printed cardboard, and no artificial flowers. The contents are refreshingly straightforward, neatly packaged, and arrived in excellent condition with no signs of damage or warping.

There’s something strangely irresistible about opening a new book nook kit. The sensible plan is always the same: lift the lid, check everything’s present, flick through the instructions and put it all back until you’ve got a free afternoon. It’s a lovely idea… and one that’s almost never followed.

Instead, curiosity gets the better of you. You start examining the laser-cut sheets, wondering how on earth they’re going to transform into the picture on the box. Before long, you’ve convinced yourself there’s no harm in removing just a couple of parts. After all, they’re only sitting there. They practically want to be built.

That’s usually the point of no return.

An hour later you’re surrounded by MDF offcuts, you’ve got glue on at least one finger, and you’re trying to remember whether you came into the workshop for a quick look or a full building session. The phrase “I’ll stop after this step” becomes increasingly meaningless as one stage naturally leads to another.

It’s one of the reasons this hobby is so addictive. Every completed section reveals another clever piece of engineering, another decorative detail or another challenge that simply begs to be tackled before calling it a day. Suddenly, what was meant to be a five-minute inspection has become the opening chapter of another build.

Lighting

The lighting system comes as a fully pre-wired assembly, which will be welcome news to anyone whose electrical qualifications extend no further than successfully inserting batteries without consulting the instruction manual. The package includes a battery box requiring two AA cells, a wiring loom carrying five LED light heads, and a control PCB complete with PIR motion sensor.

The manual includes a wiring diagram showing four different cable lengths to help identify which LED goes where. Unfortunately, the wires themselves aren’t colour coded and no measurements are provided, so distinguishing them involves a bit of squinting, stretching, and educated guesswork. While laying everything out, however, I discovered that LEDs two and three share the same cable length, as do LEDs four and five. To save myself repeatedly playing a game of “Guess the Wire”, I marked each LED with a coloured pen, making it much easier to identify which one I was working with at any given moment.

As anyone who has built a few illuminated kits will know, there comes a point where all the wires disappear into the structure and suddenly every cable looks exactly the same. At that stage you’re left staring at a handful of LEDs wondering which one belongs where and questioning some of your life choices.

A simple colour-coding system would solve the problem instantly, but Jia Te have opted for the “guess and hope” approach instead. To be fair, once I had stretched everything out, it wasn’t too difficult to work out what was what, but I still reached for a marker pen and labelled the LEDs myself. It took less than a minute and removed any possibility of attaching the wrong light to the wrong location later in the build.

It’s one of those tiny quality-of-life improvements that costs pennies to implement yet saves builders from unnecessary detective work. If manufacturers are looking for an easy win, this would be a very good place to start.

One part of almost every book nook build that still makes me a little nervous is the pre-wired LEDs. They always look so delicate where the cable enters the LED itself especially the type supplied in this kit, and I can’t help thinking that one careless tug while threading wires through the model could leave you with a dead light and a fair amount of colourful language!

Lighting tip of the day

My solution to ensuring your LEDs are more robust is quick, simple and has become part of every build I tackle. I apply a small blob of hot glue around the joint where the cable meets the heat-shrink and LED, then, using wet fingers, gently roll and shape the glue around the connection before it cools, and this way it’s not so large it won’t fit through gaps. The result is a much more robust strain relief that helps prevent the wires flexing at their weakest point. It only takes a few seconds per LED, but for me it’s cheap insurance against an otherwise avoidable lighting failure later in the build.

Before you succumb to the overwhelming urge to start punching parts out of the MDF sheets like a child on Christmas morning, I’d strongly recommend spending a few minutes checking the electronics. Pop a couple of AAA batteries into the battery box, connect the LED loom to the control board, and make sure all five LEDs illuminate as expected.

Unfortunately, this review didn’t quite get off to the flying start I’d hoped for. As part of my usual pre-build checks, I connected the lighting system to test everything was working correctly before a single drop of glue was applied. The result? Absolutely nothing. The supplied lighting kit was faulty, bringing proceedings to an abrupt halt before the first component had even been removed from its sheet. Rather than press on and risk having to dismantle half the model later, I reluctantly shelved the project while Jia Te arranged to send a replacement lighting kit from China. It wasn’t the ideal beginning, but it did reinforce the importance of always testing the electronics before you start building. Spending a couple of minutes checking the lights can save you a great deal of frustration further down the line.

And the supplier of the kit, via Amazon, had excellent customer relations, organising to ship a new lighting set, which arrived only six days later – impressive customer service.

Before I started the build, I noticed that the wire connections on the battery box looked a little more optimistic than robust. As a precaution, one of the very first things I did was apply a generous dollop of hot glue over the soldered connections. It takes seconds, costs virtually nothing, and encapsulates the joints nicely, making accidental damage or breakages far less likely during the build.

Build timing

Jia Te doesn’t provide an estimated build time for China Ancient Town, which is probably a wise decision. Build times are notoriously difficult to quantify. What one person can complete in a relaxed weekend, another can happily stretch into a fortnight of careful sanding, painting, tweaking and generally fussing over details that nobody else will ever notice.

To be honest, I’ve stopped paying much attention to manufacturers’ build estimates anyway. They always seem to assume you’re working in a parallel universe where every part comes out of the sheet cleanly, every piece fits first time, and nothing ever launches itself off the workbench in an impressive display of miniature aerospace engineering.

In the real world, builds tend to progress at the mercy of countless unforeseen interruptions. There’s usually at least one coffee break that lasts longer than intended, a period spent staring at the instructions trying to work out what the designer was thinking, and of course the mandatory search operation for a component that was sitting right in front of you approximately three seconds ago. As a result, your build time may vary slightly… or dramatically.

Instruction / build manual

The instruction manual comes in the form of a 34-page A4 booklet printed in full colour. While some builders place great importance on colour illustrations, I’ve always been more interested in whether they actually make sense. A beautifully printed manual is of little use if it leaves you wondering whether a part should face inwards, outwards or somewhere in between. Unfortunately, that’s exactly the issue here. The overall build sequence is perfectly logical, but many of the exploded diagrams are simply too small and lack the detail needed to show part orientation clearly. More than once I found myself studying an illustration, dry-fitting a component, then turning a page or two ahead in the hope that the next drawing would provide the answer

The build commences

One of the first things I noticed while working through the sheets was just how cooperative the kit was being. Parts popped free cleanly with minimal persuasion and, for once, I wasn’t forced into a wrestling match with a component that had clearly decided it wanted to remain attached to the sheet forever.

There were no scorched edges, very little splintering and only a few occasions where I found myself reaching for a craft knife to finish what the laser cutter should have done at the factory. However, I did notice a characteristic that’s fairly common with fibreboard, particularly on some of the smaller, more delicate components. Several of the tenons simply weren’t strong enough to withstand even gentle handling and separated from the part itself. Thankfully, a small dab of glue and a miniature clamp soon had them back where they belonged, but it did slow the build down a little. Unfortunately, that’s one of the compromises you sometimes encounter with fibreboard compared with higher-quality plywood or MDF, especially when very fine detail is involved.

Before we get too far into the build, there’s one characteristic of this kit that’s worth mentioning from the outset. Many of the tenons are just a fraction narrower than their corresponding mortises, which means they don’t produce that satisfying, positive fit you’d normally expect. Instead of locking firmly into place, quite a few joints remain a little loose until they’re secured with glue. It’s by no means a deal-breaker, but it does mean you’ll be reaching for the glue bottle far more often than on most book nook kits. As the build progresses, I’ll point out a number of examples where this became apparent—and where it caught me out more than once.

Printing

The printed elements deserve praise. The artwork is crisp, vibrant and packed with detail, helping to bring the palace to life long before the first LED is switched on. More importantly, the printing department and the laser-cutting department appear to have been on speaking terms when this kit was produced. The printed graphics line up perfectly with the cut parts, meaning windows look like windows, doors look like doors, and decorative elements aren’t wandering off into neighbouring postal codes.

It’s one of those aspects of a kit that’s easy to overlook because everything simply works. You don’t spend your time noticing perfect alignment. You spend your time noticing when it isn’t there. Thankfully, Spring Morning in the Han Palace falls firmly into the former category, allowing builders to focus on construction rather than wondering if they’ve accidentally purchased a modern art interpretation of a book nook.

Step one

So, right from the off, Jia Te throws you straight into the lighting installation. No gentle introduction, no easing yourself into the build with a few walls and decorative panels first. Nope, it’s straight to the electronics.

Now, I don’t mind wiring kits, but I do like a little warm-up period before diving into them. A chance to settle in, organise the workbench, make a cup of tea, and generally prepare myself mentally for the possibility that I may be spending the next hour untangling cables and wondering why every wire suddenly appears identical.

Perhaps it’s just me, but electrical work requires a different mindset to normal construction. MDF assembly can be approached with a relaxed confidence. Wiring, on the other hand, tends to trigger a brief period of concentration usually reserved for bomb disposal experts and people trying to connect a USB plug first time.

Fortunately, the lighting installation here is nowhere near as intimidating as it initially appears, but I was still glad I’d taken the time to get comfortable, properly hydrated, and mentally prepared before commencing hostilities. Mercifully, the lighting system comes fully pre-wired, meaning the most technically demanding part of the electrical installation is remembering which way round the batteries go.

Customisation

Regular readers will know I’m not someone who blindly follows the manufacturer’s vision if I think I can improve on it. One of the real pleasures of this hobby is adding a few personal touches that make the finished model uniquely yours rather than simply another example of the same kit.

As with most of my builds, I couldn’t resist adding a few personal touches. The courtyard pond, as supplied, is little more than a design flat printed and, if I’m honest, looks a bit underwhelming. I transformed it by applying three different coloured water gels, instantly giving it depth and a far more convincing three-dimensional appearance. A few tiny flowers added to the lily pads finished the effect beautifully, along with some white stones and larger slate pieces to provide a bit of oomph!

I also placed a small pot of bamboo just behind the pond, although I’d recommend keeping it fairly modest in size—anything too large quickly overpowers this part of the scene. Both the bamboo and flowers came from my stash and worked perfectly at this scale.

Finally, I added three full-length bamboo stems in the upper right-hand corner. Not only do they bring that area to life, but they also do an excellent job of disguising the rather unsightly box housing the fourth lamp cable. Then some more bamboo with slate in the top left corner, and to finish off once I had glued the wire for lamp 4 in place, hid the bottom section of that front corner with a couple of bamboo stems and a piece of slate. Sometimes the best customisations are the ones that improve the look while cleverly hiding the bits the designer would rather you didn’t notice.

Next steps

If you’re the sort of builder who occasionally glances at the page number to reassure yourself you’re making progress, Page 3 of this kit might come as something of a surprise. It already looks like you’ve built half the blooming thing. Don’t let that fool you though—there’s still plenty to come. One thing you do need to watch is the cable for LED number five. It sits in a small notch on part C15, the base of the courtyard and future home of the lily pond. Miss the notch or trap the cable under a glued joint and you’ll be inventing entirely new swear words later in the build.

Another area worth keeping an eye on is wall A1. It slots into the cut-out on part K, along with the two notches in base plate D1 that house the battery compartment. Normally, when everything lines up properly, you get that reassuring little clunk that tells you the parts have found their happy place. This one was more of a whimper. It never really felt like a solid connection and I was sorely tempted to run a bead of glue along it for a bit of extra security. In the end, I resisted. Thankfully so, because there are still another two walls and the roof to fit, and you need a surprising amount of movement in the assembly to persuade everything into place, including the wiring run at a later step.

Had I glued it at that stage, I’m fairly sure I’d have been regretting that decision a few pages later.

While working through Page 3, I did notice a small amount of overprinting in the bottom left-hand corner of Sheet B. Before panic sets in, it’s really nothing to worry about. It’s purely cosmetic and doesn’t affect the build in the slightest, as all the parts remain perfectly identifiable and the laser cutting is completely unaffected. It’s one of those little production quirks that’s worth mentioning for completeness, but certainly not something that should put anyone off tackling the kit.

Build tip

While we’re still on Page 3, here’s a wee builder’s tip that might save you a bit of head scratching. Parts 27–31 form the small flight of steps, but nowhere does the manual tell you which way round they should be assembled. It’s one of those things that’s obvious… once you’ve worked it out. Looking closely at each piece, you’ll notice the projecting tenon isn’t centred. Fit the steps with the shorter side of the tenon to the left and the longer side to the right. Do that and the steps sit beautifully on top of one another with nice, even risers and no unsightly gaps. Get them the other way round and you’ll soon realise something isn’t quite right.

Burrs

One thing I’ve started noticing as the build progresses is that, while the parts pop out of the sheets with very little effort, quite a few are left with a light-coloured burr around the cut edges. It’s nothing unusual and certainly not a fault, but don’t be tempted to ignore it. From what I’ve seen so far, this is a precision-engineered kit with some very tight tolerances. Those tiny burrs might not look like much, but they can be enough to stop joints seating properly. A quick rub with a fine sanding stick or emery board removes them in seconds and makes all the difference. Spend a little time cleaning the edges now and you’ll be rewarded with a kit that fits together exactly as the designers intended.

Progression

Page four sees you tackling one of the raised courtyard platforms using parts C6, C26, E7, E12 and E23. It’s all fairly straightforward, but I did notice that the tenons weren’t quite the snug fit I’d become accustomed to in similar builds, due primarily to the issue of narrow tenons mentioned earlier. Rather than locking firmly into the mortises, there was just enough movement to make the assembly feel a little floppy.

Out came the glue, followed by a couple of small clamps to hold everything square while it dried. Once the glue had cured, I turned the assembly over and ran a small bead of UV resin along the joints on the reverse side for a bit of extra strength. It’s completely hidden once installed, but it gives the platform a much more solid feel and should help it withstand any knocks during the rest of the build.

And this is exactly why I resisted the temptation to glue those first two walls together. A few steps later, you reach the point where the wires for LEDs 2, 3 and 4 have to be fed up the corner where those walls meet. Had they been permanently glued together earlier, I suspect it would have turned into a right fiddly job. At first glance, there doesn’t seem to be any obvious way of hiding the wires and I did wonder if they’d end up spoiling the finished look. However, a quick look ahead to Pages 8, 9 and 10 of the manual shows exactly where the lights are eventually fitted. Routed carefully, the wires disappear behind later components and shouldn’t be visible at all. It’s one of those occasions where it pays to read a few pages ahead before reaching for the glue bottle.

One thing I found rather odd was the complete lack of guidance in the instruction manual about when glue is actually required. Most manufacturers will pop in the occasional glue symbol or a short note, but here you’re left to work it out for yourself. It isn’t a major issue if you’ve built a few kits before, but it could leave a beginner wondering whether a part is meant to be a friction fit or a permanent joint.

Take part D11, for example. This forms part of the banister, but the tenon was just a little too thin to grip securely in the mortise, so out came the superglue. Then there’s part D12, which forms the adjoining section of the banister. That doesn’t even have a tenon—it simply butts up against the neighbouring piece and has to be glued in place. Yet the manual doesn’t mention glue at all. It’s hardly a deal-breaker, but a few strategically placed glue symbols throughout the instructions would have saved builders from having to second-guess the designer’s intentions.

As the build has progressed, one thing has become increasingly obvious. A lot of the tenons are just a fraction too thin for their corresponding mortises, so don’t expect many of the joints to stay together under their own steam. I’ve found myself reaching for the glue far more often than I normally would, simply to keep everything where it was designed to be.

Next build tips

While we’re on the subject of helpful hints, here’s another one. If, like me, your eyesight is no longer quite up to painting masterpieces on grains of rice, you’ll probably find yourself peering at some of the assembly drawings wondering exactly where the next tiny part is supposed to go. Even with a magnifying glass, some of the illustrations are on the small side. I soon discovered that the easiest solution is simply to look a page or two ahead. The next stage often shows the assembly from a different angle, making it far easier to work out where the part belongs than sitting there squinting like a man possessed at the current page.

A word of warning when you reach Page 5 and part D15. It forms part of the steps and attaches to the wall using two tenons. This, dear reader, is where complacency took a sizeable bite out of my derriere. By this stage of the build I’d become so used to tenons being slightly undersized that I automatically assumed these would be the same and would need gluing anyway. I gave the part what I thought was a quick dry fit, only to discover these tenons were actually a very tight fit. Unfortunately, I discovered that little fact when I tried to remove the part. D15 promptly threw its toys out of the pram, twisted upwards and snapped both tenons clean off.

Thankfully, all was not lost. I managed to push the broken tenons out from the rear of the wall, sanded the remains from the back of D15 until it was perfectly flat, then simply glued it into position. Once everything had dried, you’d never know there had been a mishap. The moral of the story? Never assume anything with a book nook. Just because the previous dozen joints behaved one way doesn’t mean the next one will. Check twice, test gently and only then commit yourself. It’ll save your blood pressure—and possibly a few choice words.

Small parts

When I say you need to be careful removing some of the parts, I’m not exaggerating. Some of them are absolutely tiny as can be seen from this image.  Freddy Fat Fingers here very nearly reduced what I think was a fireplace into kindling… although, if I’ve got the wrong end of the stick, it could equally have been a rather elaborate plant stand! Whatever it was, it was minuscule and didn’t take kindly to being manhandled. So take your time easing these smaller pieces from the sheet rather than trying to persuade them out with brute force. Oh, and did I mention there are literally no spare parts in this kit? No? Well, consider this your first warning. If a part snaps, disappears into the carpet monster or fires itself into low Earth orbit, you’re on your own.

As the build has progressed, where this kit does fall down is in the instruction manual. Time and again you’re left to work out which way round a part should be fitted because there’s no indication whether the printed face should be pointing inwards or outwards. Most of the time common sense gets you there in the end, but there are occasions where you’re left scratching your head and hoping you’ve guessed correctly.

That uncertainty then creates another dilemma—do you glue it now or leave it dry-fitted until you’re certain? Once the glue has gone on, there’s no easy way back without risking damage to the part. For a kit that’s otherwise proving to be well engineered, it’s a surprising omission and one that really shouldn’t have made it through to production. A few simple directional arrows or shaded diagrams would have made a world of difference.

Another little trap awaits on Page 8 with part D7, one of the crossbars. The instruction manual isn’t particularly clear about exactly where it should be positioned, and I managed to get caught out. I glued mine a little too high, only to discover that when part D6 was added later it completely covered the tops of the pillars beneath. It’s hardly a disaster and won’t ruin the build, but if you want those pillar tops to remain visible, position D7 a fraction lower than you might first think. Sometimes it pays to look a step or two ahead before committing the glue bottle to action.

Floor fitting

Take care, builders, when you reach Page 8 and 9, which covers routing the lighting cables to their final locations. The diagram shows the cable for LED 1 running alongside one of the decorative mouldings on the rear wall. Whatever you do, don’t make the same mistake I did and route the cable along the edge of that decorative strip. It seems the obvious place to put it, but you’ll only create problems for yourself later. When you come to fit the upper floor section, the cable becomes trapped between the floor and the wall, preventing the floor from sitting flush. The result is that the tenons can’t pass fully through their mortises, leaving the whole assembly slightly proud. Instead, make sure the cable sits behind the decorative moulding rather than alongside its edge. It’s a tiny difference in cable placement, but it makes all the difference when the floor is fitted.

Another little warning while you’re fitting floor section F31. Before you press it home, double-check that the cables for LEDs 2 and 4 are sitting neatly within their respective notches. It’s all too easy for one of them to wander out of position without you noticing, and if that happens you’ll trap the cable between the floor and the framework. Apart from stopping the floor from seating properly, you also risk damaging the wire insulation. It only takes a few seconds to make sure everything is sitting where it should be, and it’ll save you a lot of grief later on.

It’s becoming increasingly obvious that this build is taking far longer than it really should. That’s not because I’m colouring every exposed edge or because the kit contains over 400 parts. Much of the additional build time comes down to the instruction manual. The assembly drawings are simply too small. Even the exploded diagrams leave you wondering exactly where some parts are supposed to fit and, more importantly, which way round they’re meant to go. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve dry-fitted a component, stared at it for a good twenty minutes in the hope it would somehow jump into the correct position of its own accord, then resorted to skipping ahead two or three pages to see if a later illustration gave the game away. More often than not, it did. That’s hardly ideal when you’ve paid good money for a kit that should be guiding you through the build, not sending you on a treasure hunt through the instruction manual. I suspect that the Chinee instructions may reveal a bit more information, but I barely scraped through a French O level, never mind any of the Chinese dialects.

Take your time when you reach the final cable run for LED number 4, the one hidden behind the small box in the rear right-hand corner. As you’ll see from the photograph, I couldn’t understand why the top panel refused to sit where it was supposed to. After a bit of head scratching, the culprit revealed itself. The cable for LED 4 had ridden up and was sitting on the top edge of the box, preventing the roof section from seating flush. The solution was thankfully quite straightforward. I simply filed a small notch into the top of the box to give the cable somewhere to sit and, hey presto, the top dropped neatly into place exactly as it should have done. It’s another one of those little jobs that only takes a minute but can save you a great deal of frustration if you know about it in advance.

The same goes for the cable feeding LED number 5, the light over on the right-hand side that illuminates the interior of the building. To be honest, Jia Te has been rather generous with the cable length. You only need around 280mm, so there’s plenty left over. Fortunately, the excess can simply be tucked back down into the base where the battery compartment is housed.

One thing to be aware of, though, is that there’s nothing provided to disguise this cable as it makes its way up the inside corner of the model. My advice is to get it sitting as neatly into the corner as possible. I tacked it in place with a few tiny spots of UV resin, gently pulling the cable just enough to remove any twists before curing it. The result is a nice, straight cable run that hugs the corner and is far less noticeable than if it had been left to wander where it pleased. It’s a small detail, but one that makes a surprising difference to the finished appearance. In my case I utilised some of my bamboo stash and another piece of slate to hide the beginning of the cable run where it leaves the base to run up the corner.

My verdict

After just over 14 hours at the workbench, I’m delighted with the finished result. Yes, it took considerably longer than I’d expected, but I can honestly say a large chunk of that time wasn’t spent building—it was spent sanding away burrs, edge colouring virtually every component, and repeatedly studying the instruction manual to work out where parts were actually supposed to go. If you’re someone who likes to build straight from the box without all the extra finishing touches, I reckon you could comfortably complete this kit in around seven to eight hours.

One thing I would say, though, is don’t be fooled by the attractive box art into thinking this is a beginner’s kit. It really isn’t. There are dozens of delicate pillars, tiny figures, intricate roof sections and other fragile components that demand patience and a gentle touch. Add in the occasionally confusing instruction manual and you’ll quickly appreciate why I’d place this firmly in the intermediate category. Builders who’ve already tackled a few of the larger, more awkward book nooks shouldn’t have too much trouble, provided they take their time and resist the temptation to rush. Do that, and you’ll be rewarded with a model that really does look quite spectacular once it’s sitting on the shelf.

So, would I build China Ancient Town again? Absolutely… but I’d do so armed with the experience gained from this first build. This is a kit of contrasts. The finished model is one of the most attractive book nooks I’ve built, packed with beautiful traditional Chinese architecture and unlike anything else on my shelves. The journey to get there, however, is made more difficult than it needs to be by an instruction manual that often leaves builders to work things out for themselves. What it needs is a Scotsman to redraft it!

Despite all my moaning throughout this review—and there has admittedly been quite a lot of moaning—I always judge a kit by what ultimately ends up on display. Visitors won’t see the hours spent studying tiny diagrams, rerouting cables or persuading loose joints to stay put. They’ll simply see a beautifully illuminated slice of traditional China sitting proudly amongst your books. And, in the end, that’s exactly what a good book nook should do.

If you’re thinking of buying

Pros

•          Stunning finished model with a unique traditional Chinese design.

•          Excellent print quality with vibrant, well-aligned artwork.

•          Parts remove easily from the laser-cut sheets.

•          Motion-sensor lighting adds a really nice finishing touch.

•          Plenty of scope for customisation, around the pond and landscaping.

•          A refreshing change from the usual street scenes and fantasy book nooks. 

•          Well packaged with no damaged or warped components.

•          Finished model is sturdy and makes an impressive display piece.

•          Excellent opportunities for customisation.

Cons

•          Instruction manual lets the kit down with diagrams that are simply too small.

•          No indication of which way many printed parts should face.

•          No glue symbols or guidance on which joints should be glued.

•          Many tenons are undersized, resulting in loose joints that require adhesive.

•          Cable routing has several design flaws and requires careful planning.

•          Cable routing occasionally interferes with the fit of surrounding components.

•          Extremely delicate parts with no spares supplied.

•          Often need to look several pages ahead to determine correct part orientation.

•          Definitely not suitable for beginners despite the suggested age rating.

Video – China Ancient Town

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Copyright Book Nook Workshop 2026 – All rights reserved. (John A. MacInnes)