Review of The Grace of Kings by Ken Liu

Ken Liu’s first published story appeared in 2002, and over the next eight years only five additional stories appeared.  A fire lit beneath him after, however, since 2010 Liu has been a machine.  An astonishing eighty pieces of fiction published in the five intervening years, the only thing more amazing is that none of these works was a novel.  But finally in 2015 Liu has emerged in long form.  A major switch in terms of style, The Grace of Kings, book one in the Dandelion Dynasty series (trilogy?), is perhaps the least and most expected story that could have emerged.

A sense of humanism grounding the storm of short fiction Liu has produced to date, The Grace of Kings is likewise rooted in history, society, culture, and the interaction among them.  Looking at cycles of power, the effects of war on a large, multi-ethnic archipelago, and the choices the people at the top face as time moves forever forward, the novel is, however, a significantly more in depth examination of these ideas than anything Liu has produced to date—a 650 page examination, in fact.

Review of "Journey to the West" by Wu Cheng’en

One of the four great novels of Chinese classical literature, Journey to the West is also one of the greatest fantasy novels the world has ever known.  The story rooted in real history, promulgated and perfected on street corners, and finally put into written form sometime in the 16th century by Wu Cheng’en, the novel is as much a cultural record of Buddhism’s transition to China as it is a delightful adventure of humorous and imagination proportions impossible to conceive in the West.  There is simply no comparing Sun Wukong, the Monkey King.

Journey to the West is the story of the monk Tang Sanzang, his small band of loyal disciples, and the journey the group takes to Vulture Peak in India to obtain a copy of the holy Buddhist sutras for the Chinese emperor.  This premise is only an umpteenth fraction of the story, however.  Implied in the title, it’s the getting there that’s of utmost importance.  One adventure happening after another, the five “man" band of Sanzang, Sun Wukong, Pig, Friar Sand, and their faithful horse get into scrapes and escapades like no other.   

Review of "Outlaws of the Marsh" by Shi Nai’an & Luo Guangshuo

There are four “novels” in the Chinese canon that are considered the greatest of all time.  Even the devastating Cultural Revolution of the 1970s unable to shake cultural perception of their importance, Shi Naian and Luo Guanzhong’s 14th century(ish) Outlaws of the Marsh, or as it is known in other translations, The Water Margin, Men of the Marshes, or The Marshes of Mt. Liang, is one of the four.  Though technically a work of historical fantasy given the parallels to factual Song dynasty events and “super-hero” powers many of the outlaws possess, the book is better classified as a work of social commentary given the political and social context, not to mention denouement.  Considered a juxtaposition to another of the canonical works, Chinese people say: “The Three Kingdoms should not be read by the old, and Outlaws of the Marsh should not be read by the young.”   It took me years of thought to realize why, but I finally did.

Spanning more than 2,500 pages (yes, 2,500), Outlaws of the Marsh is the story of Song Jiang and the rise and fall of the band he unites to fight against a corrupt government.  Bearing some similarity to the legend of Robin Hood, the first half of Outlaws relates how 108 men come together, fighting off government troops who seek to infiltrate and destroy their mountain-marsh stronghold.  Each of the men having his own history and entry point into the group, Shi goes into varying levels of detail describing the motley collection and the fantastic skill each possesses.  Dai Zong for example, is able to run nine times faster than the average man, Wu Song is strong enough to kill a tiger with his bare hands, and perhaps the most enjoyable Li Kui, the human Tasmanian Devil, flies in to a rage at the slightest provocation, but always remains loyal to the cause.

Review of "An Outline History of China" by Bai Shouyi

Having one of the earliest recorded in the world, China’s history becomes even more interesting when one learns it is unbroken.  From the 3,600 years ago to modern day, scholars and historians have kept record of the Middle Kingdom’s events—amazing considering the multiple fragmentations and government transitions.  When China’s Foreign Language Press decided to publish this history in 1982, they called upon Bai Shouyi, a man with impeccable credentials, to condense 5,000 years into a book.  The 800 page An Outline History of China is the result.

Often when a person needs something, it’s best to go to the source.  Such as it is with An Outline History of China.  Bai being Chinese and having complete access to historical archives, the book is flooded with data and information coming directly from actual records and the work of thousands of years of Chinese historians.  Of particular interest is the early history of China.  Dynasties numerous and important figures even more so, I will not even begin to relate a summary of this, but suffice to say Bai’s work can be considered the authoritative version of matters in China before the 2nd millennium.  In this regard, the book is invaluable.

Review of "Sunflower Splendor" ed. by Liu Wuqi & Yucheng Lo

There are innumerable collections of Chinese poetry.  Some are collected by poet, e.g. Li Bai, Du Fu, Su Shi, Tao Yuanming, and the other greats.  There are some by dynasty, the Tang and the Song generally considered the best, though the Yuan and Ming also make a good showing.  And there are collections by theme, hermitry, friendship, transcendence, Daoism, etc.  Sunflower Splendor has a lot of all, making the anthology amongst the best yet published, and will be of particular interest to people who have read a fair amount of Chinese poetry already and are looking for atypical material from the Middle Kingdom.

Sunflower Splendor undoubtedly the work of many years, editors Liu Wuqi and Irving Yucheng Lo and the book’s roughly fifty contributors have collected among the best of what Chinese poetry has to offer.  From the early dynasties to the latter, the themes of water to parting, to a huge variety of poets, well-known to obscure, every facet of Chinese poetry seems packed in this collection.  But at 681 pages, it should come as no surprise.

Review of "River Town: Two Years on the Yangtze" by Peter Hessler

Having lived in China for four years, I can personally vouch for Peter Hessler’s memoirs in River Town: Two Years on the Yangtze.  It’s a spot on read that would be a great introduction for anyone looking to move to the country, particularly the “countryside”, or for anyone just curious about everyday life in the Middle Kingdom.  Though much of the China Hessler describes is fast changing as globalization takes its toll, the cultural attitudes exhibited by the people he and his fellow teacher, Adam Meir, came in contact with, pervade.

Hessler joined the Peace Corp in 1996 and went to live in the “small” city of Fuling on the Yangtze River in central China.  He, together with Meier (who features prominently in the book), went to work as English teachers at a local university.  The institution attended mostly with students from local villages, the city itself has nothing of the more civilized infrastructure of Shanghai or Beijing.  For the next two years, Hessler spent his time not only teaching, but traveling in the surrounding areas, observing life and talking with the locals, his language skills developing by the day.  

Review of "Red Star over China" by Edgar Snow

There is a famous communist image of a young Mao Zedong wearing a “flat cap” featuring a red star on its front.  As legend has it, the cap was a gift from the American journalist Edgar Snow, one of the few Westerners allowed behind communist lines in the ‘30s as China was caught in the grip of civil war and war with Japan.  Regardless of the veracity of the story, the cap would go on to feature prominently in communist propaganda, as would Snow’s resulting documentary, Red Star over China, in the West.

Though written at the time as a journalist piece, Snow’s appraisal of the communist movement in China in the ‘30s has since become a work of history.  The narrative predominantly relates the movement’s history, starting with the beginning of the 20th century to the date the book was published (1937).  From its early days in the southeast, the Long March, to its hiding out in caves of the north fighting against Nationalist and Japanese forces, Snow uses both Chinese and external sources in detailing the movement.  Each of these phases is given its political and dramatic due, though in the time since, better books have been published detailing the varying aspects.  

Review of "Wolf Totem: A Novel" by Jiang Rong

Jiang Rong was a government researcher sent to live in Inner Mongolia (a portion of Mongolia belonging to China) in the time of communism. Decades later, the difficult yet visceral life he experienced living amongst the native Mongolians and the sweeping changes he saw engulfing the traditional society inspired him to write a book. Published in 2004, a time when voices against communism were more tolerated, Wolf Totem is a moving novel of a people and culture’s existence on the Mongolian steppe, nature and the Chinese government seeking to quell their traditional spirit with every passing year.

Not subtly written, Wolf Totem is the story of the researcher Lu Jiamin and his time living in a village in Inner Mongolia to determine the area’s potential for resource extraction by the Chinese government. Suddenly immersed in horses, sheep, and yurts, Lu initially has difficulty fitting in with the native Mongolians. They are aware of his purpose and alienate him from their richly traditional culture. Slowly but surely, however, Lu works his way into the villagers’ trust and the story takes shape, his thoughts becoming conflicted in the process.

Environmentalism the theme throughout, the vast majority of Wolf Totem is an exposition on the interconnectivity of a people, their livestock, the land, and of course, the wolf packs hanging omnipresent on the fringes, threatening to steal precious life from the villagers in all forms, horse, sheep, and child. The emphasis on balance in nature, it is precisely the wolves taking of life which Jiang illustrates as propagating the larger presence of life on the steppe. What is only a temporary tragedy for the Mongolians is a nuisance needing riddance for the Chinese. Emotionally affecting, the Lu’s disposition contrasted by the vicissitudes of life closer to nature on the steppe motivates the book well.

In the end, Wolf Totem is a book strongly pertinent to a world ever globalizing. Traditional Mongolian culture threatening to be swallowed by the Chinese machine, the story of one researcher’s life amongst the herders makes for not only informative reading regarding the intricacies of their culture, but an environmental statement on the advance of globalization upon groups and communities living more in synch with nature. The quality of the writing (or perhaps, translation) is not the greatest, however, given the basic human emotions and needs driving the story, it’s difficult for the reader not to be drawn into the fundamentally human tale of survival. Recommended for anyone interested in Mongolian culture, wolves, and the anthropological and ecological aspects of globalization in less developed areas of the world.

Review of "The Gay Genius: The Life and Times of Su Tungpo" by Lin Yutang

Lin Yutang was not to know the adjective he chose to describe the most brilliant Chinese poet of the Song Dynasty would evolve in the latter half of the 20th century to have a meaning he did not intend.  It detracts in no way from the biography, however, Lin combining beautifully the poetry and life of Su Tungpo, considered by most one of the greatest poets of not only Chinese, but world history.  The word chosen due to the hardships he endured with a smile throughout his life, Su proves that neither poetry or politics turn out as you’d like them when intelligence and integrity guide your actions.

Though born and raised in the rural west of China in 1037, Su Tungpo, or as he is more commonly referred to, Su Shi, would go on to live an extraordinary life in seemingly every province and major city in China.  Poet, counselor, governor, philosopher, outcast, even gardener and Daoist quester for immortality, his ideas may seem more scattered than they truly are.  Given the quality of his writing, the enduring strength of his wisdom, and his willingness to stand up for his beliefs, when one looks deeper they find the titles appropriately given, nothing trite about the poet’s life.  Substance to the form makes for an interesting life, and in the hands of Lin, interesting reading.

One of, if not the foremost, liaison between China and the West, Lin Yutang has a way with the English language 95% of native speakers do not.  The descriptions eloquent, Lin drifts easily along the events, major and minor, of Su Shi’s life, the political context in which he lived, and the prosaic output we still enjoy today.  Though perhaps more exemplary poetry could have been included, one cannot fault Lin as his work was intended to be a biography through and through, the poet’s words translated in innumerable texts elsewhere, including Lin’s own The Importance of Understanding.  An engaging and thorough survey, Lin never falters from the first to the last page, every deed of the major figure in Chinese history presented in appropriate measure.

In the end, The Gay Genius: The Life and Times of Su Tungpo is everything a person could want in a biography.  On top of being a complete account, Lin packs the text with cultural and historical facts to give the reader proper background on a time and country relatively unfamiliar to Western minds.  The only major complaint may be that Lin’s voice is redolent throughout, but given that he is able to express himself humbly and offer a great deal of wisdom and insight into the events of the poet’s life, he can be forgiven by less exacting readers.  Plain and simple, there is no better biography of Su Shi available in English.  If you’re interested in either Chinese poetry or Song Dynasty history, the book is well worth your while.

Culture Corner: The sidewalk

Imagine walking down an empty city sidewalk when you spot someone walking in your direction.  As they head directly toward you, what do you do? Move slightly to the right as a polite gesture so the two of you may pass unhindered? If you answered ‘no’ to this question, you are either from a country where people drive on the left side of the road, or, you are amongst a minority of people and fit to take your first day’s walk in China. (There are of course other exceptions, maybe there was something horrid spattering the right side so you had to go to the left side…)

When someone is walking towards you in China, they rarely make an attempt to get out of your way, and combining this one person with the 1.3 billion walking the streets, driving mopeds on the sidewalk, and cruising around on bicycles, I often feel like a ballerina, tip-toeing, dancing, and curtseying my way through the throng, trying to preserve what little semblance of personal space I’ve preserved after spending the past eight months in Nanjing. They press close.  Approaching somebody from behind on the sidewalk is even funnier. 

A relaxed nation of amblers and meanderers, going anywhere for the Chinese at a hurried or steady pace is not often thought of.  Instead, the pleasantries of walking are savored, hands clasped behind the back and eyes to the sky in leisurely stroll.  Because of the wandering nature of these footsteps, I often wonder if they have eyes in the backs of their heads and are intentionally trying to get in the way as I approach from behind. (Of course they’re not.) It seems no amount of pre-meditation or planning can allow me past without them subconsciously knowing which side I intend to pass them on and suddenly swerving into my path. I’ve tried feinting like a ball player, but somehow they still know and take that “surprise” step in the opposite direction directly in front of me. I have to laugh at this. But, this is not the only game the Chinese enjoy playing in public places.

Just like the mother in the grocery store who occupies the entire width of the aisle as she ponders which brand of peanut butter has more riboflavin, another popular sidewalk technique employed in China is the “sudden stop for no good reason”.  And it is not only people who stop directly in front of you causing you to alter the location of your next footstep, but bicycles and mopeds as well - occasionally with the owner looking you directly in the eye and smiling as he stops his bicycle on your toes and goes in a store, leaving you to walk around the obstacle he’s given you.  The preferred location for this little trick is critical junctures, places where the flow of pedestrians and assorted wheeled vehicles must to come to a complete stop and wait as the trickster babbles to a friend, sends a text message, or stares at the sky. Such places, are, for example, the middle of stairwells and entrances to stores. My favorite is the man who gets on the bus, pays the driver, and stops, blocking the aisle and causing the driver to tell him: “Move to the back of the bus idiot so the other fifty people waiting can get on.” I ask myself: “How can this man not be aware of the crowd behind him waiting to get on the bus?” If it happened once or twice, it would be normal. But as situations like this happen so frequently, it makes me wonder if they are completely unaware of the other people moving around them in society, or just don’t care. Maybe the large numbers have calloused them?

One day while walking down a sidewalk, on my way to teach, a man stopped his bicycle in front me.  He then turned the bike sideways to block the entire sidewalk, put down the kickstand, and entered the store, all the while smiling at me, white teeth flashing happiness.  It was plain and simple as that, not a hint of malice.  One of the stranger occurrences of my life in China, it could have been me, an old lady, anyone, and he would have done the same thing.  Long after walking onto the street around his bicycle to continue on my way, I’m still pondering this bit of social insensitivity.

Re-reading what I just wrote makes me sound like an impatient person, and through the first few months I definitely was when dealing with Chinese mannerism in daily public situations. But, I’ve come to (or forced myself to come to) laugh at the sidewalk cha-cha I do every time I walk somewhere. I feel like Frogger. Up up down left left up right down right right up up left right down up up left left right up up… My personal space has dwindled to a point of near non-existence. I no longer feel uncomfortable having complete strangers caked onto me riding in an elevator, or think someone is trying to steal something from me when my bookbag is jostled continuously. So, if when I return to the US I feel the desire to give extra hugs or sit a little closer than usual, slap me, I’ll come out of it eventually.

Review of "Heaven, Earth, and Man in the 'Book of Changes'" by Hellmut Wilhelm

Heaven, Earth, and Man in The Book of Changes is a collection of papers delivered by Hellmut Willhelm at the Eranos meetings held in the 1950s.  Picking up where his father Richard, the renowned scholar, left off, the book touches upon a variety of subjects directly and indirectly related to Yi Jing, or, the first book in the Chinese canon, The Book of Changes.  

The book is divided into seven papers.  The first two, “The Concept of Time” and “The Creative Principle”, provide an overview of the history and philosophical underpinnings of Yi Jing.  The two concepts innate to Chinese culture, these papers offer a good starting point for those unfamiliar with the origins of the book, particularly its relationship to Daoism and Chinese mythology, and the fundamental principles underlying its intent.  The third paper, “Human Events and Their Meaning” moves to the abstract, particularly the transcendence of the moment - fate or destiny, as it were. The book is approached from a practical stance, however, rather than one involving the supernatural or the divinitive.  The fourth and fifth papers, “The ‘Own City’ as the Stage of Formation” and “The Interaction of Heaven, Earth, and Man” attempt to locate physical representations of Yi Jing throughout history and humankind.  The arguments weak but unprovable, Wilhelm cites the abandonment and traditional layout of cities as the result of Yi Jing in the former, and the uniqueness of humanity as being the result of its position between the heaven and the earth in the latter.   This essay the most specious, Wilhelm attempts to use a more modern Chinese philosopher’s matrix for change as proof against the original, all too poor effect.  The last two papers, however, “Wanderings of the Spirit” and “The Interplay of Image and Concept” deal more with the concrete aspects of Yi Jing and are therefore sustained by less fallible research.

Throughout these seven papers Wilhelm makes ample use of the 64 hexagrams as examples supporting his claims.  The numerological aspect of Yi Jing glossed only briefly, readers looking  for knowledge on the more mystical or spiritual side of The Book of Changes should look elsewhere.  More in the vein of Levi-Strausse, Eliade, Frye, Campbell, or Jung, Wilhelm instead approaches Yi Jing as his father: a scholar.  As a result, the readings, though often debatable, are in the vein of 20th century Western critique.  Symbolism and allegory in full bloom, analogies are drawn not only amongst the hexagrams, but amongst world philosophy, mythology, and conceptual allusion, as well.  A smattering of Chinese poetry, history, and philosophy round out the work.  Aside from dialectic matters, the main complaint would be that the book contains no graphs or pictures.  Though constantly referencing the variety of castings possible, no map or plan of the hexagrams exists, though it often would have gone far toward providing pictorial support for Wilhelm’s lines of reasoning.

In the end, this book will undoubtedly prove interesting for people with general interest in Yi Jing or more seasoned experts.  Whether they agree with Wilhelm’s interpretations or not, the content is there for critique and sourced properly.  All others deciding whether or not to purchase this book should cast yarrow stalks.

Culture Corner: Summer Holiday 2005 - Part II

This is the river city of Chongqing, the only city in China I visited that wasn’t flat as a board, and the starting point of my Yangtze River “cruise”.  The Yangtze River I believe is the third largest river in the world and it’s a bit muddy from all of the sediment stirred up by the farmers along its length - oh, and also because it’s considered a giant flowing rubbish bin by a large number of Chinese people.  Up close there is not only a mocha color to it, but all manner of floating objects… shoes… empty noodle bowls… strange brown amoeba like things (that might take over China someday if they continue to be allowed to mutate)… plastic bags… more shoes… lots of shoes…

I love this photo.  Waiting for the passenger ferry I was to embark in the evening, the dockside came alive with little eateries and makeshift restaurants.  The aura of the dim lights on this steaming hot night was great, as was the food.

Throughout the night and in the fog of morning heat and humidity, the passenger ferry down stopped at little towns and villages to drop off people and pick them up - people whose only connection to the world was through the Yangtze as no outside roads lead to their communities.

And despite all of the negative things I heard about the giant Three Gorges Dam project, including its submerging of some of China’s more significant sights, I still found the gorges to be quite beautiful, though I don’t know what they looked like prior to having +/- 50 meters submerged.  You can use your imagination like I did.

After going down a portion of the Yangtze in a passenger ferry, I took an incredibly packed train complete with clucking chickens to a remote area called Zhangjiajie, which features many things, including weird rock formations like these above.  

After Zhangjiajie I took a space ship to Saturn and…  Ha!  (I know, I know, bad joke...) Above is a scene from Yellow Dragon Cave, purportedly the largest cave in Asia and another interesting part of Zhangjiajie.  This was only one of the few times I liked the Chinese penchant for gaudy neon lights. 

Despite my bad joke, it truly felt like I was in outer space the couple of hours I spent wandering through the immense caverns of this cave.  So large, there was even a boat ride on an underground river that took you back to the entrance after you'd hiked the many kilometers deep inside the cave... I think it was a boat ride...

As a whole, I spent a couple of days camping in Zhangjiajie, after which I went to…

 …the Yangtze port city of Wuhan.  Take a moment to take in the variety of enterprises the dock workers in this photo are engaged in.  There are quite a few.  My favorite is the man curled up, sleeping on the top of the bus to the left.  The man sprawled out on the wheelbarrow comes in a close second.

 Some houseboats on the Yangtze in Wuhan.  If you can’t tell, Wuhan was ridiculously hot and humid.  A form of torture for this northlander.

The last place I visited on my trip before returning to Nanjing for a few days and eventually the U.S. was Yellow Crane Tower, a place Chinese of old used to go to say goodbye to friends and family.  Aww, wasn’t that sweet of you…

THE END

(If you missed it, Part I was here.) 

Culture Corner: Summer Holiday 2005 - Part I

These two sets of photos upcoming are taken from the month I spent traveling around China after my teaching contract was finished in 2005.  I traveled a ridiculous amount of miles, spending something like four full days on a train or bus.  I think I’m still worn out from it.  Never again… maybe...

The first place I went was Mount Tai, which featured the path of eighteen bends (seen as a faint white line above my tired right dog).  It should have been named: “Path of Quadricep Torture” as it was a stone staircase that went straight up the mountain for about 6 km.  My feet are happy to have nothing beneath them but air for the moment...

After Mount Tai, I continued performing my tourist duty and visited Beijing.  Pictured above is one of two iron lions guarding the entrance to the Lama Temple, the best maintained temple I saw in China that summer, and I saw many…

These are two of the dragons in the Nine Dragon Screen located in Beihai Park of Beijing.  The surface of the screen is made of glazed tiles – just in case you were wondering.

The Gate of Heavenly Peace complete with a portrait of Mao Zedong.  This was the only place I visited where I had to undergo any sort of security screening.

Due to renovation work in preparation for the upcoming summer Olympics in Beijing, much of the Forbidden Palace was covered in ugly scaffolding.  But, here is a portion of one of the outer walls sans scaffolding.

This is the Tiananmen Square.  Unlike 1989, the only thing active now are the tourist dollars...

Along with the Forbidden Palace, Tiananmen Square, and the Temple of Heaven, I wouldn’t have been a good tourist if I didn’t visit the Great Wall, and here it is.

I spent an afternoon hiking about 10 km of the Wall – a crumbling, authentic portion of the original Wall as you can see.  If I tried I could imagine messengers scurrying along this raised road, or armies marching to defend a besieged point along its length.  I also had to imagine its end as no matter how far in either direction I could see in the distance, all it did was wind through the hills and mountains without stop. Certainly impressive.

After Beijing’s 13 million people, I traveled to Inner Mongolia’s essentially uninhabited grasslands and camped.  For a couple days this was my and my tent’s view.  The peace and quiet was a nice contrast.

After the grasslands, I traveled through Ningxia Province, staying for a couple days, before continuing through the dry plains of Gansu province to Mount Kongtong, pictured above.  Sitting inside this little side temple is a massive, multi-armed Buddhist deity maintained by a wrinkled and kind female monk (nun? monkette? monkess?).  Scattered around the remainder of the mountain were numerous other temples and monasteries.

 A friend I made – or I should say, found me – in the small city of Pingliang near Mount Kongtong.  He showed me great kindness before I continued on to the city of Xi’an.

A melon seller and his storehouse on the streets of Xi’an.  For one Chinese dollar you could walk away with the fattest slice of watermelon that dripped streams of juice as you buried your face in it.  

A fortune teller on the streets of Xi’an.  

Near the city of Xi’an is Mount Hua, another of China’s great mountains that is seemingly always shrouded in fog.  Also near Xi’an is the Terracotta Warriors, but I neglected my tourist duty and did not visit them.  The fashion in which tourists – domestic and foreign – are funneled through China’s world famous attractions had begun to take its toll.  The idea of climbing a mountain was more appealing.

End of Part I.  Part II is here.