jin yong

It Came From the Sinosphere: State of Divinity (Part 3)

September 24, 2013 by Sara K. 3 Comments

Yue Buqun

Yue Buqun in soliloquy mode.

When I first read the novel, Yue Buqun did not leave such a strong impression on me, and I did not understand why so many people consider him to be the character that the entire story turns on. As I’ve read/seen more adaptations, I have gotten a better understanding of his importance, but it is this adaptation which really drove home to me what a great character he is.

What really distinguishes State of Divinity’s Yue Buqun is that, unlike any other version of the story I’ve seen/read, we get to see his inner thoughts.

In the original novel, everything we know about Yue Buqun comes from Linghu Chong or Lin Pingzhi, and since Yue Buqun never reveals his private thoughts to these two characters, we can only understand him based on his actions. By contrast, State of Divinity offers Yue Buqun ample opportunities for soliloquy.

What really struck me is that Yue Buqun’s thoughts as depicted by State of Divinity are very different from what I expected – yet entirely consistent with canon. This, of course, is a reflection of just an enigma Yue Buqun is – though we know what he does, the reader never knows what he says to himself.

Yue Buqun … vulnerable?

And State of Divinity shows Yue Buqun being vulnerable. This is something I have never seen in any other version of the story. One of the principles of Yue Buqun’s personality is that he *never* shows vulnerability (at least not in Linghu Chong or Lin Pingzhi’s presence). To be honest, vulnerable!Yue Buqun shocked me.

I now think that Yue Buqun is one of Jin Yong’s finest characters.

Lin Pingzhi

I ended up really liking Lin Pingzhi in State of Divinity.

I’m not just saying that I thought he was well-written and well performed (though I do think that). I actually ended up liking the character himself.

Lin Pingzhi with his mother.

While most versions of the story note that Yue Buqun and Lin Pingzhi have similar personalities, State of Divinity really emphasizes that Lin Pingzhi = young!Yue Buqun. Thus they reinforce each other’s position in the story.

Laughing on the Wind introduces Lin Pingzhi as being privileged, coddled, and spoiled, which of course sets him up for being disliked by the audience. It’s almost satisfying to watch him suffer.

State of Divinity, by contrast, makes it really easy to love Lin Pingzhi. This was hard for me, because I knew what happens to Lin Pingzhi at the end. I wanted to hope that State of Divinity would show some mercy to Lin Pingzhi … but I already knew that hope was in vain.

Lin Pingzhi is experiencing a Horrible Revelation.

In this adaptation, it is Lin Pingzhi who breaks my heart the most.

About the Music

Well, a lot of the music used in the show is not original (for example, it borrows the soundtrack from Ashes of Time, among other sources). I still found it a bit jarring to hear music pulled from other contexts. Then again, borrowing really good music was probably wiser than composing original-yet-mediocre music – and what original music the show has is mostly uninteresting.

There is one original song which actually stands out is the tune of “The Laughing Proud Wanderer” itself. According to the story, it’s the more beautiful song the characters have ever heard, but I don’t think the audience actually expects that of the makers of the TV show.

The song works because it fits the atmosphere story. Bach it is not, but it does a pretty good job of condensing 43 episodes of story into a single tune. That is much more important than being a great music in its own right.

A Shift in the Ending

This scene wasn’t in the original novel, so where have I seen this before … oh that’s right, it’s just like that scene in Shēn Diāo Xiá Lǚ

Every adaptation (except Lee Chi-Ching’s manhua) alter the ending.

To be fair, the ending of State of Divinity is actually mostly the same as the ending of the novel. But there is one crucial change.

In the original novel, Linghu Chong is helpless at the end. There is practically nothing he can do to change the course of events. His must experience whatever fate sends his way.

Linghu Chong experiences utter despair.

And that is what State of Divinity tweaks. At the end, Linghu Chong does change the course of events.

That doesn’t make it a bad ending. But I find it interesting that most adaptations feel that have to change that part.

Comments on the Acting

Overall, I think both shows have very good acting. Even when they did not cast the most suitable actor, at least it is somebody competent enough to make the part work anyway.

That said, these are the highlights for me (from both shows)

Xu Qing as Ren Yingying and Wei Zi as Yue Buqun

Xu Qing as Ren Yingying (LitW) – I think it’s a bit unfair to compare Xu Qing and Fiona Leung’s performances as Ren Yingying, since the script of LitW gives Xu Qing a lot more to work with. Nonetheless, I think Xu Qing does a better job of exposing Ren Yingying in her most vulnerable moments.

Wei Zi as Yue Buqun (LitW) – It is really hard to decide whether Wei Zi (LitW) or Wong Wai (SoD) is a better Yue Buqun, but my gut says that Wei Zi’s acting is a little better (though as far as the script, Yue Buqun is definitely better written in SoD).

He Meitian as Yilin and Jackie Lui as LInghu Chong

Jackie Lui as Linghu Chong (SoD) – This is an example of great casting. To quote a review (which I can’t find right now) ‘Jackie Lui is Linghu Chong’. Li Yapeng’s performance in LitW is also good, but he fails to embody the character as fully as Jackie Lui.

He Meitian as Yilin (SoD) – If casting Jackie Lui as Linghu Chong is great, then casting He Meitian as Yilin is perfect. In a show which sets a very high bar for acting, it is Jackie Lui and He Meitian who really stand out. He Meitian also plays Qi Fang in another of my favorite wuxia dramas, A Deadly Secret, where she is once again a highlight.

Small Evil is Scarier than Great Evil

One of the messages of this story (and most of Jin Yong’s work) is that good cannot defeat evil.

Good can avoid evil. Evil can self-destruct. Good can even, rarely, persuade evil to change. But good cannot defeat evil.

Ren Woxing holds a puppy in his arms as Ren Yingying rushes up to him.

Evil can also rescue puppies.

Some adaptations (including Laughing in the Wind) try to turn one of the villains into the Big Bad, which the heroes can then take down and triumph over. That’s not how the original novel works. In the original novel, all of the villains are narrow-minded men (none of the villains are cis-female). Though they can fall individually, they can never be eliminated as a group. If you take down one petty tyrant, another will emerge.

This is scary.

Ren Yingying and Linghu Chong look really scared.

Yep, they’re scared.

If you think in terms of great evil, at least there is the hope that, after taking out the Big Bad, you will be free once and for all. But if evil is like a weed which will grow back from the soil of human nature as soon as you pull it out, then it will be with you forever.

The villains are horrible not because they are inhuman, but because they are human.

My Encounter with the TV Show

I had been in Taiwan for a short time, and I was just starting to feel out Chinese-language media. As a starting point, I would channel-surf. During my channel-surfing, the wuxia dramas caught my eye the most, since they were quite different from what I was familiar with.

However, even with my lack of listening comprehension skill, I could tell that wuxia TV dramas follow Sturgeon’s Law.

There was one wuxia drama which stood out. I could only understand 10-20% of the dialogue, so of course I couldn’t follow the story, but it still drew me in. Without understanding it, I still felt that what was happening mattered.

I remember one scene where a certain nun killed another character.

This nun has just killed somebody.

Now, I understood enough to know that the nun was horrified by the fact that she had just killed somebody. I also knew that Buddhist nuns are generally not supposed to killing living creatures. I did not know the broader context – for example, I did not know what the nun’s relationship to the victim was – but I *felt* it.

Scenes like this made an impression on me, even though I didn’t know what they mean.

Well, I had to find out what this TV show was – and I learned it was State of Divinity, adapted from a novel by Jin Yong.

Yep, this TV show was my gateway drug, both to Jin Yong specifically and the wuxia genre as a whole (I’ve even written about this before).

Now, even if I hadn’t caught reruns of this show, I would have almost certainly encountered Jin Yong and wuxia anyway. But if my first encounter had been, say The Book and the Sword, I might have concluded that it wasn’t for me, and left it at that.

And if I hadn’t gotten hooked on wuxia, this column would be really, really, really different.

Linghu Chong, Xiang Wentian, and Ren Woxing by a bonfire on the beach.

I remember watching this scene on Taiwanese TV.

It also made for a weird experience when I finally read the novel. As I read a scene, images from the TV show
would emerge in my head, and I would have lots deja-vu moments -‘This seems oddly familiar’, ‘So, this is what that was actually about’, ‘Oh shit, this is the scene where she dies!’

Availability in English

As far as I know, this show is currently not available in English.

It is listed on Dramafever as ‘coming soon’, but there are so many Hong Kong dramas which are listed as ‘coming soon’ that, unless Dramafever has a gigantic army of translators/subtitlers/etc. at its command, not all of those dramas can ‘come soon’. My guess is that ‘coming soon’ means ‘we have a license to stream this show, but we’ll only actually translate it if we think it will generate a lot of interest among our viewers’.

So if you would like to see this show with English/Spanish subtitles, tell Dramafever.

Conclusion

Okay, in some ways, Laughing in the Wind does kick State of Divinity‘s ass. Yet I think it should be obvious that I love State of Divinity much more.

I think most people agree with me. While both shows get onto many people’s ‘best wuxia TV show’ lists, everybody who has compared the two (including a Laughing in the Wind fansite!) says that State of Divinity is better.

I would take it a step further. There are many classic wuxia TV shows I have yet to see – as well as many classic Chinese-language TV shows in other genres. But of all of the Chinese-language dramas I have seen, State of Divinity is the best. That’s right, it is better than every other single TV show I have discussed here at Manga Bookshelf.

This show is so highly recommended that I think I have just wrecked the roof.

Sara K. made some comments about Shén Tōu Tiānxià by Zheng Feng (who also wrote Passionate Wastrel, Infatuated Hero and Spirit Sword) over at her personal blog.

It Came from the Sinosphere: State of Divinity (Part 2)

September 10, 2013 by Sara K. Leave a Comment

Picking up from last week, here is even more State of Divinity.

Background

This is a TVB production.

TVB Hong Kong’s (and the Cantonese-speaking world’s) biggest commercial television station, and one of the most popular television production companies in all of Asia. Their hit shows get dubbed in Vietnamese Indonesian, Hindi, Mandarin, Thai, and other widely major languages.

In wuxia, ‘TVB’ is a legendary name. Many people around Asia (and in Asian communities abroad) first got hooked onto wuxia due thanks to a TVB production. TVB has also been a launching point for the careers of many of Hong Kong’s top actors. In particular, the 1980s is known as the ‘golden era’ of TVB wuxia dramas.

Chow Yun-Fat as Linghu Chong and Rebecca Chan as Ren Yingying from the 1984 TV adaptation.

Well, this drama, State of Divinity, was made in the 1990s, after the ‘golden era’. Yet on every single list I have ever seen ranking wuxia dramas from the 1990s, State of Divinity is always in first or second place. This is actually the second time that TVB has adapted this novel – the first adaptation was The Smiling Proud Wanderer 1984, starring Chow Yun-fat as Linghu Chong. Yet, in spite of the fact that The Smiling Proud Wanderer 1984 was made in the golden 80s, every single reviewer says that State of Divinity is much, much better.

This is also TVB’s last adaptation of this novel – in 2000, Jin Yong revoked TVB’s license to adapt his work.

The Visuals

State of Divinity is not ugly. At times, it’s pretty. But if you compare it to Laughing in the Wind, which is probably the most beautiful TV drama I have ever seen, it will lose really, really badly. Therefore I will be merciful, and not compare them.

Shenggu is wearing a veil as she walks out of a burning building.

I do like this dramatic shot.

Yilin and the Hengshan Sect

I think Yilin, the young Buddhist nun, might be one of the most under-appreciated characters in the story. Almost nobody takes her because she’s just a teenage girl, and as well all know, teenage girls – particularly teenage girls with strong feelings combined with doubt – are by default silly. But if you actually think about what she says and what she does … it actually does not seem so silly after all, at least not to me.

She says that if doing the right thing would mean going to hell, then she would willingly spend an eternity in hell. Think about that for a moment. If she things that doing the right thing *might* send her to hell, that means that she does not consider the Buddhist world order to be perfectly just. While her religion heavily influences her sense of ethics, she thinks it does not have the final word on what is right and what is wrong. And she is so committed to doing the right thing that she would be willing to go to hell for it.

Can you bribe someone who is willing to go to hell in order to do the right thing? Can you threaten them?

In this respect, Yilin and Linghu Chong are very much alike. For most of the story, Linghu Chong believes that he is going to die quite soon, so whenever somebody tries to bribe/threaten him, his standard response is ‘I am going to die soon, so why should I care?’

The nuns of the Hengshan Sect

And then there is the doubt. Her religious order tells her on thing, her father tells her another thing, and then there are the feelings inside her own heart that she doesn’t completely understand. It is therefore quite reasonable that she is not sure what to do, and she is humble enough to recognize this. However, in the deepest levels of her heart, I think she has no doubt that she wants to do the right thing, it is merely a question of what the ‘right’ thing actually is.

Of course, Yilin is part of the Hengshan Sect, which is the voice of morality in the story. And many of the issues specific to Yilin also apply to the whole sect. The Hengshan sect is an order of Buddhist nuns who have taken vows to live a simple life and do no harm. While many characters publicly praise the Hengshan Sect for their upright way of life, they privately hold contempt for that ‘bunch of nuns’. I think this partially because the nuns are women, but I think it’s also because, by putting morality and humility first, they silently critique anybody whose goal is to amass power and prestige.

It’s interesting to note that, while the Hengshan Sect has many rules, whenever those rules come into conflict with what’s right, they always bend the rule and do what’s right. This is something which almost no other group in the story will do – and indeed the Hengshan Sect gets heavily criticised for bending its rules. How dare they put ethics first! Silly women!

Laughing in the Wind removes much of Yilin’s and the Hengshan Sect’s role in the story, and I understand why – its interpretation of the story doesn’t need them so much. State of Divinity, on the other hand, really does justice to Yilin and the Hengshan Sect. They are a crucial part of State of Divinity’s humanistic vision.

The Thick, Deep Humanity of It All

One thing that is really striking about this drama is the depth of the human relationships.

For example, more than any other version of this story I’ve experienced (including the original novel), this TV show establishes really well the relationships within the Huashan Sect. While
they certainly aren’t a perfect ‘family’, overall, it feels like a tight, warm group.

Linghu Chong is injured. Again. Never fear, the Huashan Sect looks after its own.

Of course, this makes the eventual fate of the Huashan Sect all the more heartbreaking.

And then there is Zuo Lengshan. Unlike most of the ‘villains’, he doesn’t seem to have any redeeming qualities. Yet in this adaptation, he feels human. That’s not to say he is *not* a villain – his actions, after all, are pretty much the same as in every other version of the story. But it feels like there is a human being behind those actions, rather than a mere ‘bad guy’.

Zuo Lengshan is puzzled.

I think what made the difference to me was the very first episode, where Zuo Lengshan was pondering something which puzzled him. Something about that very simple act – trying to figure out a something he doesn’t understand – made Zuo Lengshan feel like a genuine person.

Indeed, it seems much of the artistic directive in this TV drama was to make everybody feel like a real person. For example, there is an entire new subplot which is added just to explain why Yue Lingshan acts a certain way (she does the same thing in most versions of the story, but it usually difficult to buy it).

Yue Lingshan

Clearly, the actors put a lot of work into making their characters feel genuine, and to make their connections feel authentic. In addition to the actors work, there’s also the work of the camera operators and editors – I didn’t realize just how much of this TV show consists of meaningful glances and reaction shots until I translated that scene for Part 1. It all works really, really well.

The Bad Gender Baggage

Alas, there is a huge exception to the story’s humanistic vision, and that’s the way it handles non-binary/cis gender. Or, if I may be blunt, it’s transmisogynist.

During the course of the story, four characters lose their testicles. One of them loses his testicles in an ‘ordinary’ way – while he loses his interest in sex, his voice doesn’t change, and he generally still seems fairly masculine. This is consistent with what happens in the real world to people who lose their testicles post-puberty.

The other three, however (I am making up a term in order to avoid spoilers) ‘go through the mork’. In addition to losing their genitalia, they become stereotypically feminine – they develop an interest in pretty clothes, make-up, embroidery, etc. Clearly this is due to ‘going through the mork’, not just the absence of their testicles.

The thing is, these three characters happen to be villains.

Now, in some versions of the story, you could argue that they were evil *before* they ‘went through the mork’, and that it’s just a coincidence that the characters transitioning from male to female are all evil. Well, in State of Divinity that argument doesn’t hold – it clearly depicts the characters becoming *more* evil after they ‘go through the mork’. Now you could say that it’s just a coincidence that the same thing which makes them evil also makes them feminine … but that’s not what the characters in the story think (to paraphrase Ren Yingying ‘Don’t trust him because he’s a neither male nor female freak’).

I actually like Henry Lo’s performance. It’s not his fault that the story is transmisogynist.

Believe me, I have tried to interpret this story in a way which is not transmisogynist … and basically the only two ways to pull that off is a) change the story (which is what Laughing in the Wind does to reduce the transmisogyny) or b) not be honest with myself.

Some people might excuse the transphobia/transmisogyny by saying that it was written in the 1960s. My response is that Liang Yusheng managed to write an wuxia novel in 1960s Hong Kong with a transwoman character *without* implying that MtF people are evil. If he could do it, why not Jin Yong?

I am really disappointed that such a great story is also transmisogynist.

If Laughing in the Wind is a Work of Art, then State of Divinity Is a Cat

As I’ve described before, Laughing in the Wind feels like it’s been curated by somebody with impeccable artistic taste. Part of the joy of watching that show is wondering what exquisite delight is coming next, for the TV show manages to get the viewer to trust its artistic sense pretty quickly.

State of Divinity is not like that. It does not dazzle the audience with its refined elegance. It feels like a typical wuxia TV show – just as the opening theme song announces. It submits itself so entirely to being a standard wuxia TV show that it has become a ‘cat’.

The actress Uta Hagen says in the book Respect for Acting that, if you put an adult human on stage with an animal, such as cat, or a very young child, then the audience will probably pay more attention to the animal/young child than the adult human. That’s because animals/young children are not very stage conscious, and will probably act more authentically than adults who have been trained to monitor themselves. Uta Hagen said that her goal, as a performer, is to always be more fascinating to watch than a cat.

State of Divinity is so true to what it is that it sucks the viewers in and holds onto them tightly. I actually cannot think of another TV show – in any language and any genre – which excels State of Divinity in this specific respect.

And I Still Have More to Say…

So come back next week!

It Came From the Sinosphere: State of Divinity (Part 1)

September 3, 2013 by Sara K. 1 Comment

Linghu Chong wears a black cloth covering the lower half of his face as his sword is pointed at a merchant'st throat.

Linghu Chong is asking for a ‘donation’.

I noted that the opening theme for Laughing in the Wind is so low-key that it stands out from other wuxia TV shows without being pretentious at all. Compare that to the opening them of State of Divinity 1996, which is adapted from the very same novel as Laughing in the Wind:

This TV theme does not stand out at all. It is a very typical wuxia TV show opening theme. Whereas the Laughing in the Wind theme says ‘This is not your typical wuxia drama’, the State of Divinity Theme says ‘Another standard TVB wuxia drama coming right up!’

This difference in approach explains a lot of what makes these two adaptations feel different.

So, let’s look at a ‘typical’ scene from a ‘typical’ drama.

Example Scene: Why This Show Is So Addictive

This scene is not particularly special, but it is precisely because it is not special that it is good for demonstrating how State of Divinity keeps ratcheting up the tension to keep the audience hooked (of course most of the credit goes to Jin Yong, who wrote the novel). I am going to translate the scene (with abridgements), and whenever something happens which increases the tension, I will increase the font size. Ready?

This is a dinner party hosted by Liu Zhengfeng, where everybody is polite. They won’t stay polite for long.

Yu Canghai: Yue Buqun, you’re looking younger and younger! Apparently the Violet Mist Divine Skill is extending your life.
Yue Buqun: You flatter me, my skills are nothing much really. But you look like you are in excellent shape.
Yu Canghai: Oh, you are much too polite.
Liu Zhengfeng: Welcome, Yue Buqun and Yu Canghai.
[polite talk that I’m not translating]
Liu Zhengfeng: Ah, Abbess Dingyi has arrived. Oh, and the Huashan Sect disciples have also come. Welcome, welcome!
[more polite talk]
[but Abbess Dingyi looks displeased]
Yue Buqun: Abbess Dingyi, is there a problem?
Dingyi: Ah, it is best that you are here. I want an explanation.
Yue Buqun: What do you want me to explain?
Dingyi: Your unbridled disciple Linghu Chong’s absolutely unexcusable behavior.

[Yue Buqun looks at the Huashan Sect disciples. I should note that Yue Buqun is the leader of the Huashan Sect.]

The Huashan Sect disciples.

Yue Buqun: Though my disciple is a bit mischievous, he’s always been frank and outspoken. If he’s said anything which offended you, I will apologize for him.
Liu Zhengfeng: Let’s discuss this slowly and calmly, and keep the peace.
Yue Buqun: Yes.
Dingyi: Yue Buqun, please bring your horrid disciple Linghu Chong out immediately!
Yue Buqun: Bring him out?
Dingyi: Your horrid disciple is associating with that rapist Tian Guangbo, and they kidnapped my disciple Yilin!

[tension goes up]
Yue Buqun: That is impossible. Though Linghu Chong often misbehaves, he would never do such a thing. There must be a misunderstanding.
Dingyi: This is completely true. Taishan Sect’s Tian Songdao saw it with his own eyes! And Yu Canghai’s disciple Mai Renda also saw it!

[tension goes up]
Yu Canghai: My disciple saw it? Then it must be true. [laughs] I never would have though that the great ‘gentleman sword’ Yue Buqun would train such a base disciple! [laughs more]

Yue Buqun, though not amused, stays calm.

Yue Buqun: Abbess Dingyi, I feel that what you said still leaves room for doubt. Alas, Linghu Chong isn’t here now to tell his side of the story. For the moment, we cannot get to the bottom of this.
Dingyi: You think that just because Linghu Chong isn’t here, you can clear yourself of this matter?!
Yue Buqun: That’s not what I mean, but…
Taishan Sect Person: Linghu Chong, you scum, bring your ass out now!
[The Taishan Sect comes in with two bodies, one dead]

[tension goes up]
Taishan Sect Person: Linghu Chong, you monster, I am going to kill you!
[Liu Zhengfeng approaches one of the bodies, which is still moving]
Liu Zhengfeng: How did Tian Songdao get so severely injured? Who killed Chi Baicheng?
Tianmen Daoren: It was that rapist Tian Guangbo! Yue Buqun, bring out that Linghu Chong immediately!
Lingshan: What does the fact that Tian Guangbo attacked your disciples have to do with Brother Linghu Chong?
Tianmen Daoren: Though Linghu Chong didn’t kill him himself, it’s Linghu Chong’s fault that he died! He injured my disciple, killed my disciple, and Linghu Chong sat and did nothing! He should pay!
[sounds of agreement]
Liu Zhengfeng: Tianmen Daoren, let’s slow down a little. How could Linghu Chong be with Tian Guangbo? We should wait for this to be fully investigated. If Linghu Chong did do something wrong, I will persuade him to change his ways.
Tianmen Daoren: Persuade him to change his ways?! We should expel him, and take his head!
Lu Dayou: Tianmen Daoren, you’re taking this too far! Brong Linghu Chong hasn’t killed anybody, so nobody should execute him!
[Yu Canghai, leader of the Qingcheng Sect, is still smiling]
Dingyi: Who says he hasn’t killed anybody? He killed someone from the Qingcheng Sect!
[Yu Canghai stops smiling]

This is Yu Canghai *not* smiling.

[tension goes up]
Yu Canghai: WHAT! Linghu Chong killed one of my disciples? Killed who?
[The Qingcheng Sect disciples enter with a dead body]

Qingcheng Disciple: Shifu, it’s too late!
Yu Canghai: What happened?
Qingcheng Disciple: Brother Luo has been killed!
Yu Canghai: Who killed him?
Qingcheng Disciple: Linghu Chong!
Yu Canghai: So Linghu Chong really did kill him.
Qingcheng Disciple: I saw it with my own eyes. Alas, I was no match for Linghu Chong, and couldn’t save Brother Luo from that villain!
Lingshan: Who are you calling a villain?!
Yue Buqun: Did you really see Linghu Chong kill him?
Qingcheng Disciple: I’d recognize him even if he were a heap of ashes!
[Yu Canghai pulls out a sword from the dead body. The sword has the name ‘Linghu Chong’ engraved on it]

Linghu Chong’s sword

[tension goes up]
Yu Canghai: It’s proven that Linghu Chong did this, what do you say now, Yue Buqun?
Yue Buquen: This is definitely Linghu Chong’s sword. Yu Canghai…
Yu Canghai: You’re still defending your disciple?! You hypocrite!
Liu Zhengfeng: Yu Canghai, you have my deepest sympathies. But it has not been proven beyond all doubt that Linghu Chong did this. If we keep going on like this, I fear we will break the peace … we must find and question Linghu Chong. What do all of my guests think?
Yue Buqun: Brother Liu, you are right. Denuo and Dayou, go out and bring Linghu Chong here.
Denuo and Dayou: Yes, shifu.
Yu Canghai: You three, help them find Linghu Chong. I don’t trust that Yue Buqun won’t try to shelter him.
Qinggcheng Discipes: Yes, shifu.
Liu Zhengfeng: Danian, send someone to help them find Linghu Chong and Yilin.
Danian: Yes, shifu.
Liu Zhengfeng: Abbess Dingyi, don’t worry, we’ll soon find your disciple Yilin.
Yilin: Shifu!
[Yilin, the nun who was ‘kidnapped by that rapist Tian Guangbo and the horrid Linghu Chong’ enters]
Dingyi: Yilin!

[tension goes up]
Yilin: [weeping] Shifu, I never thought I would live to see you again!
Dingyi: Yilin, don’t cry. Shifu asks you, did you see that horrid Linghu Chong?
Yilin: Brother Linghu? [Yilin weeps some more]
Dingyi: Don’t cry! Tell shifu, did you see him or not?
Yilin: Disciple did see Brother Linghu.
Dingyi: Where is he?
Tianmen Daoren: Yes, where is Linghu Chong?
Yilin: Brother Linghu … he’s … he’s dead.
Huashan Sect People: Dead!
[I should point out that Linghu Chong is *the main protagonist*. And this is episode 6 out of 43 episodes. Therefore, the tension practically leaps into the air here. However, for technical reasons, I am not going to increase the font size to 50]

Yilin and Abbess Dingyi

Lingshan: Sister Yilin, who did you hear this from?
Yilin: I saw it with my own eyes.
[Lingshan faints]
Huashan Sect Disciples: Sister!
Yue Buqun: Take her back to her room.
Huashan Sect Disciples: Yes, shifu.
Yu Canghai: Well, it’s best that Linghu Chong is already dead. It looks like I won’t have to sully my hands by killing him.
[Yue Buqun gives Yu Canghai a stare]
Yue Buqun: Yilin, do you know who killed Linghu Chong?
Yilin: Linghu Chong … was [points at dead Qingcheng disciple Luo Renjie] killed by him!
Yu Canghai: [expletive], my disciple Luo Renjie was clearly killed by Linghu Chong! Are you saying that my disciple is Linghu Chong’s murderer?! What logic is this!
Yilin: Brother Linghu really was killed by this bad man!
Yu Canghai: You DARE SAY THAT! The people of my Qingcheng Sect are bad people? All of your Five-Mountain-Alliance people are good people, eh?
Yilin: I didn’t say that Uncle Yu was bad just … just that he [pointing at the body] is bad.
Yu Canghai: You… [approaches Yilin, Dingyi blocks him]
Dingyi: You dare threaten my disciple! Yilin, don’t fear, your shifu is here to protect you. Please explain to everybody exactly why he [pointing at the body] is a bad man.

I could keep translating, but I think you already understand why it was hard for me to stop myself from watching this (even though I already know the story). Suffice to say, it’s an interesting dinner party.

The Story

I have summarized the story already hereand here. Instead of summarizing it again, I will offer this quote from a minor
character, Huang Zhonggong, which I think sums up the essence of the story:

“When we four brothers first entered the Sun Moon Cult, we thought we could carry out heroic deeds all over jianghu. Who knew that Ren Woxing [leader of the Sun Moon Cult] was so violent, and so hungry for power? Long after we four brothers had been disillusioned, Dongfang Bubai became the leader, and he loves wickedness even more. He executed all of the elders, and we four became even more disheartened. We decided to retreat to Plum Villa, and guard the prisoner. Firstly, far from Heimuya [headquarters of the Sun Moon Cult], we did not have to participate in all of the internecine struggle and backstabbing. Secondly, we could quietly live by Xihu, and fill our days with music and books. We can say that we have had twelve happy years. Nevertheless, in life the sorrows are many, and the joys are few. That is the nature of life.”

Just after saying that, Huang Zhonggong dies. With a few changes (i.e. replace ‘we four brothers’ with ‘Linghu Chong’), this would be an even better summary of the entire story that what I wrote.

I also suspect there is a touch of autobiography. The China where Jin Yong grew up was torn between various groups vying for control. In high school, he was punished for insulting the government in power.

As an adult, he moved to Hong Kong, where he has definitely lived a life full of books and letters … yet he could do almost nothing about the political situation in China. Many people say that Jin Yong had supported the Chinese Communist Party (some people say he is still a communist). This novel was written during the Cultural Revolution.

I am far from done…

So come back next week for Part 2!

Last week, Sara K. helped make some mud volcanic tofu, and then ate it. Why is it called mud volcanic tofu? It’s made from soybeans, water, and mud from a mud volcano. It actually tastes quite good.

It Came From the Sinosphere: Laughing In the Wind (Part 2)

August 27, 2013 by Sara K. Leave a Comment

Read part 1

What Sense of Vision!

I have come to really appreciate the films of Li Han-hsiang. He once studied to be a painter, and it really shows in the way that his films are full of beautifully framed. He also happens to be one of the most influential Chinese-language movie directors ever.

This drama gives me the same sense of wonderfully arranged images (the people who made this drama most likely studied the work of Li Han-hsiang during their film studies).

I mentioned the gorgeous scenery in the previous post, but there is much more to making a visually beautiful TV drama than selecting locations well. Aside from the natural scenery, this drama has a dazzling abundance of striking imagery.

Take, for example, this picture of Lin Pingzhi:

I really like the way the windows (with its square pattern) frames Lin Pingzhi, and I like the way Lin Pingzhi’s body contrasts with the shadow of his right arm.

And here’s a shot of Yue Buqun and Ning Zhongze (though it’s hard to tell it’s them):

I think we can agree that it’s not the setting itself that is impressive, but the composition of the stone structure, the sun, the mountains, and the figures which stands out. There’s also the effect of the light and prevalence of grey (which really fits the mood of this particular scene).

And look at these two women in the cave:

It’s a nice cave, but what really makes this image work is the thin, diagonal slit through which we can see the characters. Diagonal lines are generally more eye-catching than horizontal or vertical lines.

I could keep on pulling more and more examples if I wanted, because this TV drama simply has so much fantastically composed images. I just need to pick a random spot in a random episode in order to find more noteworthy images in a short time.

There’s also the attention paid to the characters’ appearances. For example, Yu Canghai and his Qingcheng sect have rather imaginative costumes…

… with the final touch being that, when he’s in a serious fight, he pulls various colorful masks out from his hyperspace arsenal.

And then there are the visual metaphors. For example, as Ren Yingying and Linghu Chong’s romantic feelings grown into a committed relationship, a group of ducklings grow into ducks. And, considering that this is wuxia, and that to be real wuxia, a story has to present someone weeping over an injured/dying loved one (or at the very least subvert this trope), I find it appropriate that we see the mature ducks as Ren Yingying weeps over a bashed-up Linghu Chong for the first time.

This TV drama truly is a feast for the eyes.

… And There’s the Ending

This is such a good drama … and then, at the end, it drops the ball.

Obviously, I cannot describe the problems with the ending in detail without spoilers. But I think I can make some general, spoiler-free observations.

The best comparison I can make (which would be familiar to MangaBookshelf readers) is the first Neon Genesis Evangelion anime. The last two episodes are infamous for disappointing viewers. Of course, that wasn’t the ending which was originally planned, but Gainax went over-budget, so they needed and ending which could be produced cheaply.

In spite of the last two episodes, I still think that Neon Genesis Evangelion is one of the greatest anime ever made (I pretend that the original anime ends at episode 24). Likewise, I think that, in spite of the last few episodes, Laughing in the Wind is one of the best Chinese-language dramas I’ve ever seen.

Furthermore, the last few episodes are still as visually fantastic as the entire drama.

The fact that the ending of Laughing In the Wind diverges from the original novel is not the problem. However, if you change the ending of a good story, you need to change things throughout the story in order to maintain consistency. The Ang Lee version of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon was good about making the necessary changes throughout the story so that, when it does have an ending different from the original novel, it feels natural to the audience. Yet the the ending of the original novel would have felt more natural in Laughing In the Wind than the ending which the drama actually has. To me, that indicates that a) they had probably originally intended to have an ending closer to the one in the original novel and b) the choice to change the ending was probably not made for artistic reasons.

So why change the ending? I can speculate…

– Budget. I don’t think the original ending would have been any more expensive to produce, but maybe I’m wrong about that, and this show went over-budget just like Neon Genesis Evangelion (I can easily believe that it went over-budget at least).
– Other Production Reasons. Maybe they were originally promised 45 episodes, and then an executive somewhere told them that it can only be 40 episodes long.
– Audience Reaction. Maybe they thought audiences wouldn’t like the original ending so much. In that case, they are wrong – I have never seen/read any complaints about the ending of the original novel, whereas I have encountered quite a few complaints about the way that Laughing in the Wind ends.
– Political. It’s well known that many people interpret this story as a political allegory, so maybe some censor wanted to change the ending to de-politicize it. But I think this would have been a silly move. The original, uncensored novel is currently widely available in China, so changing the ending to make it more politically palatable seems pointless.

I think ‘Budget’ and ‘Other Production Reasons’ are the most likely speculations.

Personally, I pretend that Laughing in the Wind ends the same way as the novel.

Availability in English

I’ve already mentioned that it’s available, in its entirety, on Dramafever. It’s also available on Region 1 DVDs with English subtitles, which you can find for sale on the internet very quickly using ordinary search techniques.

Conclusion

This drama feels like it was put together by an exquisite artisan. The casting of the actors is excellent, the scenery is spectacular, the script (barring the last few episodes) is superb, the costumes are imaginative, etc.

Yet it manages to pull off this artistry without ever feeling pretentious. It does not show off its artistic excellence to the audience. Instead, it invites the audience to entire a space which has been curated for virtuosity. It doesn’t need to tell the audience that it’s good, it simply just is good.

I think it is this attention to detail, in addition to the strength of the story itself, which makes this drama such a delight to watch. Highly recommended.

And Then There’s State of Divinity

State of Divinity 1996 is yet another TV adaptation of the same novel. In fact, this novel has been adapted for television a whopping six times (including the 2013 adaptation, starry Joe Chen from Fated to Love You, not to mention two sets of movie adaptations (and this is before we talk about the manhua and video game adaptations).

However, people generally hold up Laughing in the Wind and State of Divinity as being the best adaptations of the novel. Though I’m not familiar with every adaptation, I agree, these are the two best. But how do these two compare with each other? You’ll find out, because next time my subject will be State of Divinity 1996.

And I’m going to lock up the lesser of these two TV adaptations in this cage.

Sara K. just happened to be away from Taiwan proper when a typhoon came along. This is why she was at Fuao harbor an hour and a half before they started selling tickets for the Taima ferry – and the line was already long (lots of flights had been cancelled). She did get a ferry ticket – and while the Taima ferries are usually quite smooth and comfortable, this last ride through an approaching typhoon was the most stomach-churching boat ride Sara K. has ever been on. And the ride lasted nine hours (to be fair, the first 4-5 hours were okay – the ferry wasn’t so close to the typhoon at first). She remained dizzy for over an hour after she reached land (she kept on wondering why the ground was shifting under her).

It Came from the Sinosphere: The Duke of Mount Deer (Part 2)

June 4, 2013 by Sara K. Leave a Comment

First, a Song!

I’ve never seen any of the TV adaptations of The Duke of Mount Deer, but I do like the opening song of the version starring Tony Leung and Michael Miu.

Hey, I Know That Place!

I have never been to China. While I know where places like ‘Beijing’ are, a lot of the action in these stories takes place in rural areas I’ve never heard of. Likewise, my knowledge of Chinese history is very, very basic, so when certain prominent historical figures pop up I know little, if anything, about them.

But while I’ve never been to China, I have most definitely been in Taiwan (I’m in Taiwan now).

This novel has many references to Taiwanese history and places in Taiwan, and eventually our protagonist even goes to Taiwan.

Furthermore, I read part of the novel in Penghu, which was a stronghold of Shi Lang, one of the characters in the novel. So, while I was reading about the fictional Shi Lang, I was learning about the historical Shi Lang by wandering around his old stomping ground.

A view of an old village in Wangan, Penghu County.

This village in Penghu was around when the events of this novel took place.

So, for once, not only did I understand a lot of the historical references being dropped and know quite a few of the places being mentioned, they were mentioning places which I have physically visited and have vivid memories of. For example, at one point Wei Xiaobao thinks about five concubines of King Ningjing. I have visited the temple dedicated to the five concubines, and seen the very wooden rafter where they hung themselves.

I had not expected to see places I’ve been to in my travel around Taiwan to pop up in a Jin Yong novel. It’s exciting to see a bit of one’s life represented in fiction, and it made my reading experience even richer.

The Island

Something that comes up again and again in Jin Yong stories is 2-8 characters going to an island where they live together in isolation from the rest of humanity. Or maybe they go to a remote mountain instead. This is the happiest part of the characters’ lives, and if/when they leave the island/mountain, they suffer.

In other words, happiness is setting up one’s own isolated micro-society, while people living within a huge, hierarchal society are doomed to suffer. There, I’ve just summarized about 5000 pages of fiction.

(this section contains some spoilers for this novel)

But there is one protagonist who is not happy with living on his own island, namely Wei Xiaobao.

He thinks the greatest pleasures in life are watching theatre shows, gambling, and having sex with beautiful women. But on the island, only the ‘sex with beautiful women’ is an option, which is why Wei Xiaobao doesn’t want to be on the island in the first place. He does try to gamble with the beautiful women, but since they are not really into gambling, it’s not much fun. Then some gamblers come to the island, so Wei Xiaobao gets sex with beautiful women and gambling. But he’s still unhappy. Then a theatre troupe comes to the island … no, I’m making that one up, but I bet even if a theatre group had come to the island and performed for Wei Xiaobao every day, he would still be unhappy.

It is then said that Wei Xiaobao can only be happy in a bustling city, such as Yangzhou or Beijing. But I wonder, is that really it? He seems happiest when he’s with his friends. If his friends were on the island with him, would he be so unhappy?

In any case, I find it interesting that Jin Yong subverts his own island/mountain fantasy.

Not a Good Person

Jin Yong has received many complaints from readers about the novel because the protagonist is … not a good person. Jin Yong’s response is that protagonists don’t have to be ‘good’, his novels are not supposed to be morality textbooks, and nobody is completely ‘good’ anyway. He does say to any impressionable people who may read the novel that Wei Xiaobao’s loyalty to his friends is a virtue, but aside from that, his behavior should not be imitated.

I like to pride myself in being someone who wants complex characters with shades of grey and all that … yet Wei Xiaobao also frustrated me. Which makes me realize that I also like to sort characters into ‘good people’ and ‘bad people’, much as I don’t like to admit it.

Wei Xiaobao simply does not fit in the ‘good person/bad person’ dichotomy. He some some horrible things in the story, and never regrets them, let alone apologize for them. He also does some good things at personal cost to himself. At times I would be cheering him on, and then think ‘wait a minute, I’m cheering on the guy who did [horrible thing].’ And then there were times when Wei Xiaobao was suffering, and I would think ‘that’s not fair.’

Many of Wei Xiaobao’s ‘bad’ features are actually him living out fantasies we are not comfortable to admitting we have. For example, he is too lazy to study, and always finds clever workarounds for actual work. Many of use would love to have the benefit of work being done without doing the work ourselves. And while I personally do not have fantasies about having sex with a harem of beautiful women, based on some of the search results I’ve gotten, this seems to be some people’s favorite part of the story.

I have Asagi from Basara on my mind lately (thanks, MJ) and even he fits in the good person / bad person dichotomy. He’s a bad, broken person who becomes a good, healed person. Wei Xiaobao, however, is not broken – in fact, he is the least angst-ridden of all Jin Yong characters. While he does grow up over the course of the story, whether he becomes a ‘better’ person is open to debate.

To a large extent, Wei Xiaobao is just adapting to his environment. He often gets rewarded for lying and cheating, so he lies and he cheats. He grew up around people who treat young women as sex objects instead of as people, so he treats young women as sex objects instead of as people (though he gets a little better about this towards the end of the story). Older women tend to shower affection on him when he flatters and papmers them, so guess what, he flatters and pampers older women. His friends express their gratitude when he tries to help them, so he tries to help his friends. While Wei Xiaobao is individually repsonsible for his actions (especially since it is demonstrated that he CAN resist his social conditioning), to a large extent, his virtues and flaws are reflections of the society he lives in.

What a vexing character.

Wei Xiaobao and His Mother

(this is mildly spoilerific)

For most of the novel, Wei Xiaobao hardly thinks about his mother at all, and he certainly does not wonder how she’s doing. Finally, he returns to Yangzhou and sees her. From her point of view, her young son had disappeared years ago, and no matter how hard she searched for him, she couldn’t even find a clue about his whereabouts. She is understandably extremely upset about his long absence, and makes sures Wei Xiaobao knows it. At the same time, she is overjoyed to know that her son is alive and well. Wei Xiaobao also observes that she is getting older, and that some day she will need somebody to take care of her.

At first, this encounter doesn’t seem to change Wei Xiaobao, but looking back, that was a major turning point in his development. Before their reunion, Wei Xiaobao has a very self-centered lifestyle – everything is about making himself safe, comfortable, and happy. After being separated from her again, Wei Xiaobao actually misses his mother, and worries about how she is doing. And it’s not just his mother – Wei Xiaobao starts considering how his actions affect other people, not to manipulate them, but because he starts to care about their well-being. He realizes that there are people who depend on him. And thus his carefree existence is finished.

This is actually not unlike my own life. I haven’t seen my own mother in years, unless you count the *one* conversation we had over Skype last year, which incidently was the only time I talked to her in all of 2012. She would probably count that, for she said was that it was so wonderful to see her daughter’s face moving and smiling again after having not seen me for so long. Though I don’t think my behavior is nearly as harmful as Wei Xiaobao’s, I am currently living a self-centered life myself. I am only taking care of myself, and though Wei Xiaobao and I do very different things for fun (well, we do have ONE passion in common – live theatre), we are both trying to please ourselves to the greatest extent feasible.

I consider my eventual reunion with my parents to be the end of my carefree existence, for I see that, between my parents and myself, the direction of the caregiving is going to reverse. One reason I value my current self-centered lifestyle is that, by my reckoning, I will never be able to live like this ever again.

Availability in English

This novel has been published in English as The Deer and the Cauldron by John Minford. I haven’t read any of it myself, but this translation gets very, very mixed reviews. Currently, it’s out of print and expensive, so I suggest borrowing it from a library.

There is also an incomplete fan translation by ‘Foxs’. I’ve looked at it, and it’s very literal (on purpose, according to Foxs). It’s not the smoothest reading experience in English, but it’s close to the original Chinese. Some people say that the best way to read The Deer and the Cauldron in English is to read the Minford and the Foxs translations side-by-side.

Conclusion

A lot of people say this is Jin Yong’s best novel, and dammit, they are right, this is Jin Yong’s best novel.

If you can get the Minford translation from a library, or get the novel in a language you understand by some other means, then this novel needs to be on your reading list now (caveat: I am not going to blame people who avoid the novel because of the sexual abuse it depicts).

I am a bit sad to finish this novel. I had held off on reading this for a long time because it is the last Jin Yong novel. Now, I will never read a fresh Jin Yong novel ever again. Re-reads are not the same. That said, this was the right novel to save for last.

Thanks, Jin Yong. It was a great ride.

What does it say about Sara K.’s life that she saw some Beijing opera, learned how to open up encrypted filesystems with a liveCD, and was bitten by wild leeches in the same week?

It Came from the Sinosphere: The Duke of Mount Deer (Part 1)

May 28, 2013 by Sara K. 1 Comment

I’m going with the title “The Duke of Mount Deer” because a) it seems to be the most common title for this story in English and b) I like it more than the other titles for this in English. It’s also known as The Deer and the Cauldron and Royal Tramp. If I had to come up with a title for this story, I would pick What the **** Are You Doing, Wei Xiaobao?, which I think better conveys the spirit of the story than any other title.

The Story

Wei Xiaobao is a teenage brat from Yangzhou who goes on an adventure to Beijing. There, he gets captured, taken in to the Forbidden City, and has to pretend to be a eunuch called “Xiaojiazi” to keep his head attached to his shoulders. He’s instructed to go looking for the “Sutra of Forty-Two Chapters,” and becomes friends with another boy in the palace called Xiaoxuanzi. Why are they friends? Because Xiaoxuanzi likes to beat Wei Xiaobao up.

I’m going to stop there, because I really don’t want to spoil the next twist in the plot. Let’s just say that Wei Xiaobao has an interesting life.

Background

This is Jin Yong’s final novel. If you don’t know or don’t remember who Jin Yong is, you may consult the archives.

The Jin Yong Anti-Hero

The Jin Yong TV Tropes page puts this very succinctly:

Wouldn’t Hit a Girl: Most of his protagonists except for Wei Xiaobao.

The typical Jin Yong protagonist is:

– hardworking / dedicated to improving his martial arts techniques
– is chaste (or at least wants to be chaste)
– feel a sense of Han Chinese nationalism (though some feel it more strongly than others, and their feelings about this are often complicated)
– is willing to die for the people he loves and/or his principles
– actully want to make the world a better place, or at least do the just thing

By contrast, Wei Xiaobao

– is too lazy to become a real martial artist (he won’t practice because it’s boring)
– is way less sexually inhibited than other Jin Yong protagonists
– does not give a shit about Han Chinese national (he doesn’t care whether or not somebody is Han Chinese, nor does he care whether or not the Han Chinese control China)
– is not willing to die for anything, though he is willing to fake his own death
– does not care about making the world a better place

Wei Xiaobao is not just an anti-hero. He’s an anti-Jin-Yong-hero. You really have to read several Jin Yong stories and then read this one really appreciate it.

And quite frankly, it’s refreshing to read about a protagonist who does not have the typical Jin-Yong-protagonist hangups.

That said, Wei Xiaobao is not a complete opposite of other Jin Yong protagonists. Most Jin Yong protagonists are child-like/immature/naive (pretty much the only exception to this is Qiao Feng, though Chen Jialuo is arguably neither child-like nor immature), and Wei Xiaobao is … child-like, immature, and naive. I think that the child-like quality is actually more essential to Jin Yong protagonists than, say, their sexual philosophies. What is at the heart of the stories is a sense of wonder while exploring the world, which is a child-like approach (though mature adults can do it too). To me, this is a key signature of Jin Yong’s style which sets apart his stories from most other wuxia.

Qing Dynasty Curio Box

Much of the imperial collections of the Qing Dynasty court are in Taipei, and a fraction is on display at the National Palace Museum.

A photograph of a Qing dynasty sandalwood curio box full of various little trinkets.

This image comes from Qing Dynasty Treasures on Pineterest

The Qing Dynasty court loved curio boxes. First of all, the boxes had creative designs, often to show off the contents in unusual ways, or with secret compartments. The contents could be artifacts from thousands of years ago, weird baubbles imported from Europe, or the fine work of the imperial artisans (and many other things beside – it could be anything that would fit into a box and delight the viewer).

To me, this novel feels like a Qing Dynasty court curio box, which is appropriate, since most of the novel does take place in the Qing dynasty court. There are lots of secrets to be uncovered, and lots of plot twists to delight the reader.

I want to give examples, but every single example would be a spoiler, so instead I am going to make something up – Wei Xiaobao notices that a middle-aged man always appears at a gambling house in Beijing on the 7th day of the month, that this mysterious man is an excellent martial artist, and that this man wants to hide, not find, the “Sutra of 42 Chapters.” Wei Xiaobao eventully finds out that this “man” is actually a woman – specficially Qingqing from The Sword Stained with Royal Blood. After Wei Xiaobao discovers her true identity, Qingqing captures him and takes him all the way to Brunei, where she has a beautiful daughter who decides that Wei Xiaobao is an excellent punching bag.

This doesn’t actually happen in the novel, but it’s like the things which do happen in the novel.

Language

This novel is very playful with it’s language, which I’m sure gives the translators ~~painful headaches~~ a wonderful challenge.

Wei Xiaobao himself is illiterate, and is too lazy to even learn the Cyrillic alphabet (Wei Xiaobao knows some Russian), let alone the Chinese writing sytem.

However, because he needs to pick up imperial etiquette mighty quickly to keep his head attached to his shoulders, he ends up learning this formal imperial language quite well.

What he does not learn, however, is how to speak as an educated person. Or rather, he learns it, but incorrectly. For example, there is a phrase – ‘it’s hard to chase four horses’. Wei Xiaobao always says it as ‘it’s hard to chase a dead horse’ (the Chinese word for ‘four’ sounds like the word for ‘death’), and furthermore often uses the phrase for totally inappropriate situations.

Of course, while Wei Xiaobao cannot use proper formal Chinese, he is a poet of gutter Chinese. This novel is full of foul language, and some of the humor comes from Wei Xiaobao using foul laguange inside the Forbidden City. At one point, Wei Xiaobao says something like ‘[character] is wearing a hat of fine emerald’. People who are familiar with the Chinese language can figure out that this is a very salacious comment. And then, some members of the imperial family pick up some foul language from Wei Xiaobao…

The contrast of the stiff, formal imperial Chinese with gutter Chinese is yet another level of fun in the novel. The prose in this novel may not be as beautiful as in some of Jin Yong’s other novels but, well, beautiful prose would miss the point.

I read this edition.

Sexual Abuse

At one point in the story, Wei Xiaobao overhears some people forcing a girl (probably around 10 years old) to drink something. Wei Xiaobao assumes that the drink is drugged, or at least is alcholic, and that they plan to rape her. He is totally indifferent to this.

We then learn that, where Wei Xiaobao grew up, this happened all of the time, and that all of the adults around him went along with this. In other words, he was taught that raping 10-year-old girls is OK.

This explains at LOT.

The parts of the novel which I enjoyed least were the sections where Wei Xiaobao was persistently sexually harassing people. On the one hand, yes, Wei Xiaobao is a very clever prankster. If he were, say, finding clever ways to pee all over his enemies’ beds (like a certain other Jin Yong protagonist), I would have had a blast.

But while I think pranking is fun, sexual harassment is not fun. I’m not saying this to be politically correct, I mean that, in my guts, sexual harassment feels bad.

So here I was, with long sections of this novel which would have been a lot of fun if Wei Xiaobao’s pranks had not been a form of sexual harassment. It was a drag.

(the rest of this section has spoilers)

Of course, Wei Xiaobao wouldn’t actually rape anybody, would he? He’s so cute and adorable, and most of the beautiful female characters could easily beat him to a pulp.

One of the most common defences of rapists is “but he’s such a charming guy – he can’t be a rapist” (or variations of this defence). Also, when people mention that they are being sexually harassed (for example, female bloggers receiving rape threats from anonymous commenters), they’re often told that there’s no danger, and that they should just ignore it. There’s also this myth that most rapes could be prevented by potential victims being armed, or learning self-defence, when in fact this would only prevent a minority of rapes.

Well, I have to give Jin Yong points for realism. Wei Xiaobao was raised to think that rape is OK, and nobody expelled this notion out of his head. When one of his victims complain about the sexual harassment, other chracters explain it away by saying that Wei Xiaobao doesn’t have any bad intentions, and that she shouldn’t take him too seriously. And the physical capabilities of his targets is irrelevant if he drugs their drinks.

The one thing which I cannot buy is that two of his victims start liking him after Wei Xiaobao rapes them. I’m not going to say this is absolutely impossible, but as a reader, I need a damn good explanation in order to believe this (even in a work of fiction). I do not get any explanation. Therefore, I had to edit my headcanon to keep the story functioning inside my headspace. It is simply not in human nature to start liking your rapist (unless there are a hell of lot of interfering factors at work).

Wei Xiaobao himself is also a victim.

At the very minimum, he’s the victim of non-consensual BDSM. It is also possible that he is a rape victim himself. The novel does not state whether or not he consented to sex with that specific character, but given a) his previous experience of non-consensual BDSM b) the fact that she often uses threats to make Wei Xiaobao do what she wants and c) Wei Xiaobao tries to avoid her precisely because he’s scared that she will cause him physical harm, I have my doubts.

Just because Wei Xiaobao himself is a perpertrator does not mean it is okay to sexually abuse him. Two wrongs do not make a right, especially when it comes to sexual abuse. I admit there were times when I wished someone would kick Wei Xiaobao in the nuts, but even that would only be okay in certain circumstances (such as self-defence).

Does Wei Xiaobao take his feelings of being on the receiving end of sexual abuse, and connect it to the way that he is making his victims feel? Of course not – Wei Xiaobao is terrible at empathy.

I’m Not Done!

Next week, I will continue to discuss this novel. If you can’t wait for the conclusion, it’s “READ THIS NOVEL!”

***

Sara K. is dealing with major technical difficulties right now. If you liked this post, you should thank Sara K.’s father, for if he hadn’t impressed on her that she should always be prepared to run a computer without using a hard drive, there is no way this post would have been finished on time. Right now, she is running the computer off a Class 10 SDHC card, which is thanks to her uncle’s suggestion.

It Came from the Sinosphere: Legend of the Fox/New Tales of the Flying Fox

February 26, 2013 by Sara K. Leave a Comment

Legend of the Fox vs. New Tales of the Flying Fox

Legend of the Fox and New Tales of the Flying Fox are both Shaw Brothers’ movies adapted from the novel Other Tales of the Flying Fox. Other Tales of the Flying Fox is a prequel to the novel The Fox Volant of Snow Mountain, which I have already discussed. However, while the original novel also has some of the characters from The Book and the Sword, they don’t show up in the movies.

Quick Story Overview

Hu Fei is an unfortunate young orphan. Just after he was born, his father, Hu Yidao, was killed by his friend Miao Renfeng in a duel—but Hu Yidao only died because the malevolent Tian Guinong put poison on Miao Renfeng’s sword. Hu Fei’s mother committed suicide shortly after this.

Hu Fei is a young man who has learned martial arts from the manual left by his father. Meanwhile, Miao Renfeng’s wife Na Lan abandoned him and their daughter to go be with Tian Guinong. As Hu Fei contemplates getting revenge on Miao Renfeng, Miao Renfeng is tricked, poisoned, and blinded. Since Hu Fei feels it would be dishonorable to kill Miao Renfeng while he’s blind, he works to restore his eyesight, so that he can then kill him with honor (isn’t that so logical?) Hu Fei meets Cheng Lingsu, a young woman who is an expert on poison and antidotes, and he asks her to help him restore Miao Renfeng’s eyesight. He also gets involved Cheng Lingsu’s conflicts with her master’s other students.

Both movies cover this much of the story, but beyond this, the plot of the two movies diverge. For example, Yuan Ziyi, who is a key character in both the original novel and in New Tales of the Flying Fox, does not appear at all in Legend of the Fox.

Background on the Movies

Why did Shaw Brothers adapt the same novel twice only four years apart (1980 and 1984)? I don’t know.

Legend of the Fox was directed by Chang Cheh, who is considered one of the great marital arts movie directors.

New Tales of the Flying Fox stars Felix Wong as Hu Fei and Kara Hui as Yuan Ziyi. Felix Wong is famous for playing Jin Yong heroes, such as Xu Zhu, Guo Jing, Yuan Chengzhi, and Qiao Feng. Well, in this film, he plays Hu Fei. Kara Hui, meanwhile, is a noted and highly-respected kung-fu movie star.

Mesmerizing Disco Fashion

One of the things that really struck me about Legend of the Fox was the fashion. Many of the characters were dressed as if they were ready to go to a disco party.

This is 18th century China?

I was particularly mesmerized when there were whole slews of people dressed in oh-so-late-70s clothing.

Seeing all of those chests becomes hypnotic after a while.

New Tales of the Flying Fox also looks like an 80s film, but at least if feels like it’s set in imperial China, not a disco club.

My review of Legend of the Fox

First of all, this movie has *way too much dialogue*. I think at least 1/3 of the dialogue should have been cut out. I could have maybe forgiven the wordiness if it were being really faithful to the novel, but it makes a number of departures from the original novel (completely changing the ending, for example).

The acting … okay, the acting is not bad. At least, not bad enough to make me cringe. However, I don’t feel that the actors brought much to the table. Sure, the performances have a minimal competence, but I also feel that they didn’t bring any insight to the stories or the characters. Chin Siu-ho, in my opinion, was a shallow Hu Fei, which is a pity, because I think Hu Fei has a lot going on psychologically.

Now, it’s clear from the fight scenes that this came from the golden era of martial arts films. Everybody involved is clearly professional and skilled (I would expect no less of Chang Cheh). Some of the fights are a little long … but some of the fights are bloody impressive, such as the one where blind!Miao Renfeng fights a bunch of guys armed with chains.

Alas, while the fights do a fine job of supporting the movie, they can’t carry it—and as you may gather from the above comments, the script and the acting don’t carry the movie either.

Summary: though some of the fights are nice, I don’t like this movie.

The Value of Young Women

I could dedicate an entire post to the way Jin Yong’s female characters are treated, but here’s a short version: in Jin Yong stories, young women are valued for beauty/attractiveness and intelligence/knowledge. A young woman ideally is beautiful and smart, but if she’s not beautiful, she better be smart, and if she’s not smart, she better be beautiful. Young men, on the other hand, don’t have to be smart, or pretty, or anything else to be valued.

Cheng Ling-su, in the novel, is not pretty, so she has to justify her existence by being very smart and knowledgeable. This is who they cast to play her in Legend of the Fox

That’s right, they cast a pretty actress to play one of the few Jin Yong female protagonists who is not pretty.

Who do they cast in New Tales of the Flying Fox?

I think this is okay. By the standards of Hong Kong cinema, she is plain-looking.

My Review of New Tales of the Flying Fox

Even though this movie (90 minutes) is much shorter than Legend of the Fox (123 minutes), a lot more happens. This is partially because there is a lot less pointless dialogue.

Doesn’t that look exciting?

In fact, this movie moves so quickly that once I got into the story I didn’t realize how quickly time was going by. “Whoa, I’m already an hour into the movie!”

The fight scenes are shorter in this movie, but I think that makes them better. They pack more of a punch this way. But it’s not just that. They also have a delightful playfulness about them.

Playing with pots is fun.

The highlight of the movie for me, however, is the way that Felix Wong and Kara Hui come together so well in this film. Every scene featuring Hu Fei (Felix Wong) and Yuan Ziyi (Kara Hui) was a joy to watch. As actors, they reacted to each other like lightning, building on each other’s performance. It’s to bad there is no TV series starring the two of them together—I would watch it.

Felix Wong as Hu Fei and Kara Hui as Yuan Ziyi

I wish this movie were a bit longer. I would not have minded seeing more fighting or more screen time between Hu Fei and Yuan Ziyi, but I think there were a couple things missing from the movie:

1) Some parts of the plot should have been better explained. I was able to follow everything because I had read the novel … but without knowing what happened in the novel, some things would not have made sense.

2) I would have liked more development of the relationship between Hu Fei and Cheng Lingsu. Ideally, Cheng Lingsu/Hu Fei/Yuan Ziyi should be a tense love triangle, but Hu Fei/Yuan Ziyi pretty much steals the show in this movie. The problem is that Hu Fei and Chung Lingsu simply don’t have enough screen time together, and as a consequence, one of the most moving parts of the story falls a bit flat in this movie.

Hu Fei and Cheng Lingsu: these two do not look like they have romantic feelings for each other.

Summary: If the biggest complaint I can make about a movie is “it was too short,” then I probably really liked the movie.

Availability in English

Both Legend of the Fox and New Tales of the Flying Fox are available on region 3 DVD with English subtitles.

Conclusion

The original novel is a bit all over the place, so it makes sense that a movie adaptation would pick and choose bits, and try to mold them into a coherent movie. These two movies did not pick and choose the same things, so even though they are based on the same novel, they feel very different from each other. Legend of the Fox is more about scheming and demonstrating physical might, and New Tales of the Flying Fox focuses more on personal relationships, with violence added for fun.

Yuan Ziyi has her knife at Hu Fei’s throat – how romantic.

If you want to see a movie adaptation of Other Tales of the Fox, pick New Tales of the Flying Fox, not Legend of the Fox.

There will be a special post on Thursday, February 28.

Sara K. needs to watch more martial arts movies. She also needs to spend more time learning Chinese. She also needs to spend more time hiking. She also needs to cook more often. She also needs to learn some new skills. She also needs at least two hundred years of good health and economic security to do everything she wants to do. Sigh. That’s not going to happen.

It Came from the Sinosphere: The Sword Stained with Royal Blood (2007)

January 29, 2013 by Sara K. 2 Comments

It’s a Jin Yong double whammy. Last week, I discussed a manhua adaptation of The Laughing Proud Wanderer, Jin Yong’s penultimate novel. Now, I’m discussing the 2007 TV adaptation of Sword Stained with Royal Blood, one of Jin Yong’s earliest novels.

The Story

Yuan Chonghuan was a patriotic general, and the emperor rewarded him with assassination (what a nice emperor). His son, Yuan Chengzhi, is rescued, and reared at Mount Hua, where he learns some martial arts. Yuan Chengzhi, as a young man, decides to leave Mount Hua to embark on adventure, and eventually finds the martial arts manual, “Golden Serpent Sword,” and bones of Xia Xueyi, a mysterious man who had incredible martial arts skills. By studying the manual, and wielding the Golden Serpent Sword, Yuan Chengzhi inherits Xia Xueyi’s awesome abilities.

Yuan Chengzhi wants to avenge his father’s death. That’s a tall order when the target of your revenge is the *emperor of China*. During his adventures, Yuan Chengzhi discovers that the world is not quite as simple as he thought.

Background

If you don’t know/remember who Jin Yong is, a search can help you.

This is a TV series produced by Zhang Jizhong, who is China’s star TV producer. He’s known for big-budget TV productions in which local governments often fund the construction of the lavish sets … but the local government gets its money back when tourism drastically rises after the TV series is aired (in some places, I’ve read, Zhang Jizhong’s TV productions have caused tourism to increase ten fold). He has taken much more control over artistic decisions than earlier Chinese TV producers, which is why his name is more strongly associated with the TV series than the director’s.

By Zhang Jizhong standards, this series is a bit modest.

The Songs

The opening song really grew on me. In particular, I love the lyrics – they have a nice, bold rhythm and punch to them (unfortunately, this is the kind of thing which is almost always lost in translation). I think the song’s baroque tone suits the story quite well.

Of course, people who prefer sappy wuxia tunes (and hey, I like some of them) can enjoy the ending song. However, one of my favorite wuxia TV theme songs for sappiness value is not this one, but the song for the 1985 version of Sword Stained with Royal Blood, “Passions Cold, Passions Hot”.

The Fighting

Overall, the fighting is excellent, particularly in the first half of the series.

There is a conscious effort to be specific with the moves, and to show them clearly so that the audience can follow the fights and notice how the balance between the fighters change (fights which cannot be easily followed are boring). There’s also variety – it’s not the same fight repeated over and over again.

The strange Xia Xueyi

Most importantly, the fighting styles – by which I mean the actually choreography – are tied to the characters. Most distinctive, of course, are the strange techniques of Xia Xueyi and his strange Golden Serpent Sword. When Yuan Chengzhi picks it up, we can see the resemblance. Meanwhile, Princess Changping’s style – with her incredible flexibility – is also distinctive.

A high kick from Princess Changping

And some of it is straight-out creative. For example, there’s a scene where characters fight over a bunch of treasure chests. Yuan Chengzhi first tries to defend the chests, then the chests get used as weapons, then Yuan Chengzhi knocks the chests into the air, creates a single-stacked column of chests, and then has a precarious duel on top.

The boy can keep his balance!

The Lighting and Colors

Look at these pictures:

Notice how it looks like all of the characters have a halo effect around their heads, in particular, their hair gets turned white by the backlight? The back-lighting forms a white silhouette of their bodies, particularly their heads.

I don’t know about your life, but in my life this type of lighting is very, very rare. So the fact that this type of lighting is the default in this TV series gives the entire show a feeling of being grander than life. Specifically, it makes the characters feel grander than life, since it is they who are highlighted by the white-silhouette effect.

Of course, by making this the default lighting scheme, deviations do stand out, which can be put to good artistic use (the best example of this I can think of is a spoiler, so I’m not going to point it out).

To get this particular lighting effect, you need to keep lots of stuff in the shadows, which explains why this series is more heavily weighted towards darkness.

Different kinds of scenes have different palettes – for example, the scenes at the palace tend to use a lot of yellow, orange, and red. However, when I look back on my impressions of the show, it seems to me that the palette was emeralds in the background, and lavender in the foreground. That palette feels just right for the story (then again, if somebody did a good job filming the story with a different palette, I might then feel that that other palette is just right for the story). These screen shots show what I mean:

I do notice a lot of the screen shots I’m using in the post are heavy on the electric blues.

A Note about Qingqing

Jin Yong’s early novels are full of tomboyish heroines who often try to pass as male. Li Yuanzhi in The Book and the Sword even asks a woman to marry her (albeit not seriously). However, I think Qingqing merits special mention because she is, if I recall correctly, the only Jin Yong female protagonist who hires (female) prostitutes to entertain her (actually, I can’t of any male protagonists who hire prostitutes either).

Yuan Chengzhi and Xia Qingqing in the red light district (Qingqing has a lot more fun).

And I love the way Qingqing is dressed in this TV series, but since I’ve already gotten into a digressions about the lighting, I don’t want to get into a digression about costumes too.

Beijing strikes back at Hollywood

Since I had read the novel, I knew that there were some minor Portuguese characters, but I was quite surprised when I watching the TV series and suddenly heard … English???

At first I thought that maybe they had changed the nationality of the European characters, but nope, they are still Portuguese. Then I was puzzled why Portuguese people in 17th century China would speak English.

However, I would have put this issue out of my mind quickly and gotten back into the story if the Portuguese characters’ acting was good. It was not. It was terrible.

Considering that one of the readers of this column is a fluent Portuguese speaker who has experience in the film industry and lived in China for years—not to mention that there are still thousands of Portuguese speakers living in Macao—I think it probably would not have been so hard to bring in native Portuguese speakers (if you are that reader, I am interested in your take on this). And there are white men who establish entire acting careers in China. However, if getting decent Portuguese-or-English-speaking actors really was not feasible, I would have preferred it if the TV series had just let the Portuguese characters speak Chinese, with their lines dubbed in by good actors. That would not have broken the flow of the story.

That said, this is less than nothing compared to what Hollywood does to Chinese/Chinese-American people and culture (if you don’t know what I’m talking about, this website offers some clues).

And finally, as far as the story is concerned, I think the treatment of the Portuguese characters is quite kind considering the history of China-Portugal relations.

The Xia-Wen Drama

I was surprised by how caught up I got in the opera between the Xia and the Wen families. Like other reviewers, I found this arc to be the most engaging in the series.

Wen Yi and Xia Xueyi on the swing

I think this is partially thanks to the beautiful way that the choreography, cinematography, and Vincent Jiao’s acting all come together. The images of Wen Yi and Xia Xueyi on the swing are particularly memorable. This music video shows much of the footage I’m talking about.

Now, why is this more engaging than the main story, which is about somebody who wants to get revenge on the emperor, and then wants to help the peasantry, but things keep getting more complicated? After all, that is definitely more epic than a mere family vendetta.

I think it might be because the pain of the Xia and Wen families is simply more visceral. For all that Yuan Chengzhi is determined to get revenge, we actually don’t get to experience much of his pain over the loss of his father. By contrast, Xia Xueyi blaming himself for the fact that a man from the Wen family raped and murdered his sister makes his pain very apparent.

The story of Yuan Chengzhi/the Chongzhen emperor/Princess Changping is still interesting and has its moving moments, and towards the end there is certainly pain … but perhaps not enough. Even though he experiences a lot of internal conflict, Yuan Chengzhi doesn’t get thrust deeply enough into the fire to have his world burn down.

Availability in English

This TV series is available on DVD with English subtitles. Click here to be notified when it becomes available at DramaFever.

Conclusion

I liked the original novel – as a Jin Yong fan. Many of the ideas developed in later novels, particularly the Condor Trilogy, are present here. For example, Yuan Chengzhi’s own personality is basically a combination of Guo Jing, a little Yang Guo, and more than a little Zhang Wuji. Yet Yuan Chengzhi is much more boring than any of those three, which to me is evidence that more specifically defined characters are generally much more engaging. If, however, I weren’t a Jin Yong fan, I probably would have gotten a lot less out of the novel.

I think this TV adaptation is more fun than the original novel. Some parts are extremely entertaining, which is the main reason I’m glad I watched this series. Some parts are less entertaining, which is the main reason I’m not enthusiastically recommending it.

This TV series is superior to A Deadly Secret in every way except one: the basic story. The story of A Deadly Secret haunts me. While Sword Stained with Royal Blood is more fun, it had not made nearly as deep an impression.

Next time: Hokkien Hollywood and Anime Amoy (fandom)

Sara K. has taken a lighting design class. It changed her understanding of the world, particularly visual art, much more than she expected. She had underestimated just how much light affects people’s feelings.

On a completely different note, can you match up the theme songs of the 80s versions of Jin Yong stories with the 90s versions (i.e. figure out which songs are for the same story)? It’s pretty easy if you know the stories and/or understand Chinese, but I wonder about people who don’t know Chinese/the stories.

It Came from the Sinosphere: Lee Chi-Ching’s The Laughing Proud Wanderer

January 22, 2013 by Sara K. 11 Comments

An Example Scene

Linghu Chong notices that the young woman whom he is still very sweet on, Yue Lingshan, is unhappy.

Furthermore, he notices that her father and husband don’t care that she’s unhappy. He tries to think of a socially appropriate way to cheer her up.

Linghu Chong remembers that, when he was a part of Yue Lingshan’s family, he could always cheer her up by losing to her in a sword fight (without letting her know that he lost on purpose). Therefore, he figures the best way to cheer her up is to challenge her to duel.

Notice how the artwork first shows Linghu Chong and Yue Lingshan’s intense gazes, then goes back to show how the fight looks to the crowd – i.e. Linghu Chong and Yue Lingshan have now entered their own world, oblivious to everyone else.

The crowd notices that, while the fight is intense, the feeling is not of intense enmity, but a feeling of intense love. Somebody even remarks that it seems like they are dancing rather than fighting (ha, I am *not* the only person to consider the fights in Chinese martial arts fiction to be a kind of dancing).

I love those flowers. Methinks the artist has been exposed to shoujo manga.

This fight is bringing back Linghu Chong and Yue Lingshan’s memories of practising swordplay at Mount Hua, which was the happiest period in both of their lives. In fact, they are using the sword technique that they themselves made up together.

And this is why Jin Yong writes the best fights. Anyone who invests the time it takes to be a good martial artist has pretty strong feelings about it, and in Jin Yong stories, the fights are a key means by which characters express their feelings, grow, and mature. I have yet to encounter another storyteller who so thoroughly integrates combat and the characters’ emotional journeys.

Yue Lingshan’s husband is jealous. Personally, since he doesn’t care about his wife’s happiness (or lack thereof), I think he has forfeited his prerogative to feel jealous.

A sword has been launched into the air!

And it lands on Linghu Chong’s back (Linghu Chong let this happen so that Yue Lingshan would win).

Everyone, especially Yue Lingshan herself, is shocked that she injured Linghu Chong, except Linghu Chong, who is busy enduring the pain of having a sword in his back.

The reader knows that purposefully losing this duel is a potential disaster for Linghu Chong and the people he is responsible for, but it would take at least a paragraph to explain the context, so I’ll just say that the reader should feel an impending sense of doom at this point.

Background

The Laughing Proud Wanderer is, of course, one of Jin Yong’s more famous novels. It should not come as a surprise to anyone who read my post about Lee Chi-Ching’s The Eagle-Shooting Heroes that I would eventually review the other manhua adaptation of a Jin Yong novel. This novel is also special to me for a personal reason, but I plan to discuss that in a future post.

The Laughing Proud Wanderer was written during the Cultural Revolution in China, and it’s pretty obvious that Cold War politics strongly influenced the novel. Some people even go so far as to say that it’s a political allegory. I prefer not to interpret it as an allegory, but allegories are fun, so I’m going to describe the story in allegorical terms using the most common interpretation (Five Mountain Sword Sects = Soviet Union, etc.)

Story

Linghu Chong is a disciple of the Hua Mountain Sect, which is part of the Soviet Union. He a bit of a loose cannon. He tries to do the right thing, but this sometimes gets him in trouble. Furthermore, in situations when most Jin Yong heroes would run away, he says, “Bwa ha ha ha ha ha, I am Linghu Chong, I’m NOT SCARED OF YOU! HA HA HA HA HA!” even when he is clearly no match for whatever he’s facing, which leads to him getting bashed up a lot and spending at least half of the story recovering from injuries he could have avoided by running away. It’s a bit astonishing that he manages to survive all this.

Anyway, the Soviet Union is sworn enemies with the Chinese Communist Party, led by Mao Zedong, and has a … tense relationship with Shaolin, Wudang, and Emei, which belong to NATO.

Linghu Chong gets kicked out of the Hua Mountain Sect, which causes him much angst because he has been brainwashed by the Soviet Union, and is in love with his shifu’s daughter, Yue Lingshan. During his wanderings, he encounters another young woman, Ren Yingying, and slowly develops a relationship with her, but then it’s revealed that she is part of the Chinese Communist Party. which, according to the Soviet Union, is totally evil.

Of course, the intrigue gets thicker. Joseph Stalin, who already leads the most powerful sect in the Soviet Union, wants to bring the entire Soviet Union under his control, and Mao Zedong has imprisoned Ren Yingying’s father and taken over the Chinese Communist Party. Linghu Chong does not want to deal with this, but he has a clue of what’s at stake and, unfortunately for him, NATO, the Chinese Communist Party, and especially the Soviet Union want to deal with him.

Artwork

Many of the comments I made about the artwork in Lee Chi Ching’s The Eagle-Shooting Heroes also apply to this manhua, though there aren’t nearly as many tears in this one. Linghu Chong is the *laughing/smiling* proud wanderer, not the weepy proud wanderer.

Lee Chi-Ching is still a master of depicting movements of the human body.

Lee Chi-Ching’s style, of course, is heavily influenced by Japanese manga, but he also draws upon the long history of Chinese brush-ink paintings, which makes the manhua feel more distinctively Chinese (this was, if I remember correctly, one of the reasons Jin Yong was interested in having Lee Chi-Ching adapt and illustrate his novels).

Additionally, this manhua has a few color pages, like the ones below.

The palette is quite muted, unlike the palettes seen in most Hong Kong manhua, or Japanese manga (or American comics for that matter). It most resembles the color palettes found in traditional Chinese paintings. Since the color is used to highlight particular moments, I wouldn’t want the entire manhua to be in color, but I would have definitely liked more color pages (perhaps having the manhua be 10% in color).

Two characters who I think Lee Chi-ching did a particularly good job of depicting are Yue Lingshan and Yue Buqun.

Yue Lingshan is upset

Lee Chi-Ching says Yue Buqun is one of his favorite characters, and I can see that in the artwork (one of the color examples above shows Yue Buqun). I also think he got Yue Lingshan just right. This manhua deepened my appreciation of both of these characters.

However, comparing this to The Eagle-Shooting Heroes, I find that the art in The Eagle-Shooting Heroes is ultimately more striking. I think this mainly due to the differences in the stories. The Eagle-Shooting Heroes is a story where characters are constantly wearing their hearts on their sleeves and feels like an epic folk tale, whereas The Laughing Proud Wanderer is a more intellectual story in which characters do a lot of thinking and often don’t reveal their true feelings, and the plot is much more complicated, so it simply does not lend itself as well to striking artwork (unless one wishes to distort the story).

Adaptation

This time, I read the novel before reading the manhua.

On the one hand, I’m a bit disappointed that it removed one of my favorite scenes. On the other hand, I recognize that this story is so long that Lee Chi-ching almost had to abridge it, and that the scene is not essential to the main story.

Impressively, Lee Chi-ching did manage to keep most scenes from the novel, but he often slimmed them down—I often notice that specific bits of dialogue I remembered were not present in the manhua. It is a compliment to Jin Yong’s writing skill that I was able to remember so many bits of dialogue more than six months after having read the novel, yet at the same time I think slimming down the dialogue was the right choice; having too many words would have bogged down the manhua’s pacing, and people who really want that should read the bloody novel.

While it’s not identical to the novel, I feel this is faithful to the spirit of the novel, and while it’s always possible to find something to complain about, I still think this is, overall, an excellent adaptation, and I don’t think anybody else would have done it better.

Dongfang Bubai

Dongfang Bubai and his/her lover

It would take an entire post for me to describe what I think about the depiction of Dongfang Bubai and certain other characters, so let’s just say that I think it’s transphobic, homophobic, and sexist.

Given the source material, I think Lee Chi-ching’s depiction was as inoffensive as it could be while staying faithful to the original … with one exception.

In both the novel and the manhua, Linghu Chong says that it’s laughable that a sect leader would dress as a woman. First of all, there’s Huang Rong in The Eagle Shooting-Heroes who is a sect leader and usually dresses like a woman, but maybe she doesn’t count because she’s cis-female. And for some reason, people don’t think it’s shameful for women to dress as men (which happens quite often in Jin Yong stories).

However, in the novel, Linghu Chong later on ends up dressing like a woman himself, demonstrating that masculine heroes are just as capable of dressing like women as anybody else. This is one of the things which ameliorates the transphobia in the story. Unfortunately, this scene is cut in the manhua. I am almost certain this was in order to make the story move faster, but I still wish it had been kept, if only to counteract the transphobia/sexism.

Lee Chi-ching’s Afterwords

Each volume of this manhua ends with an afterword from Lee Chi-ching, and these were actually quite interesting. Almost all of them contain a sketch of himself, like this one:

He sometimes talks about Hong Kong current events (such as the transfer to People’s Republic of China rule and the SARS epidemic), he sometimes talks about the personal meaning The Laughing Proud Wanderer has for him (it’s his favorite Jin Yong novel, which is why he was so stoked when Jin Yong asked him to adapt it), and he talks about his artistic ambitions, as well as the other projects he’s working on (such as illustrating all of Jin Yong’s novels for the large-print edition).

Of particular interest to Manga Bookshelf readers are his comments about Korean manhwa. I knew one reason Jin Yong licensed manhua adaptations of his novels was to counter the influence of Japanese manga, but I hadn’t realized that the Hong Kong manga industry also feels invaded by Korean manhwa. Lee Chi-ching tries to see the competition with Korean manhwa as an inspiration to try harder.

Availability in English

I wish.

Conclusion

Whenever I return to an artist I love, I always wonder if the artist is as great as I recall, or whether a given work will fail to meet my high expectations. Sometimes I am disappointed, but this time I was not. Instead, this manhua reminded me why Lee Chi-ching is one of my favorite comic book artists in any language.

Next Time: Sword Stained with Royal Blood (TV series) (yes, it’s a Jin Yong double whammy)

When you like going outside and live in Northern Taiwan, that means the weather has a great deal of control over your schedule. The weather has been unusually good lately (by local standards), so Sara K. barely finished this post on time.

It Came from the Sinosphere: A Deadly Secret (Part 2)

December 7, 2012 by Sara K. 1 Comment

You may read Part 1 here.

The Fighting

It would probably be unfair to say that the fights in this series are just indiscriminate sword-clanging. But I think most of the fights are no more than one notch above that level.

The thing is, to get good on-screen fighting, you need the following:

1. A good fight choreographer
2. Skilled performers (actors and/or stunt people)
3. Tons and tons of rehearsal time

Now, a great fight choreographer can compensate for less skilled performers, and very talented performers can compensate for a mediocre fight choreographer … but nothing can compensate for a lack of rehearsal time.

All of the above costs quite a bit of money. Particularly the rehearsal time.

I suspect this was outside this TV series’ budget.

Given that they couldn’t afford good fighting, I think they handled the fights pretty well. Though the choreography itself was not exciting, at least the fights moved the story forward. And Jin Yong writes his fight scenes so well that they would be engaging even if the performers were wet noodles.

There were a few fight scenes which did stand out … surprisingly, they were mostly fight scenes which weren’t in the original novel (or maybe that shouldn’t be surprising … when you make up your own fight scene, you can choose to do something which will look good without breaking your budget).

The standout for me is definitely the big fight at the end of episode 25 / beginning of episode 26. I never expected I would say this, but this fight works so well because of the set.

Look at that fantastic ribbon leading up to the stand.

It’s a very scenic way for the fighters to run up…

… and get kicked down.

And that stand is a great place for the fighter to stand above the crowd.

But wait!

The stand gets destroyed in the midst of the fighting!

And we have the two fighters standing on drums, while the stand collapses. Now the space has completely changed. Notice that the fighters are still elevated above the crowd. And notice all of those nice tall yellow-and-red streamers, adding nice vertical lines to the scene. With a set like that, it’s okay if the fighting itself is mostly indiscriminate sword-clanging.

I also need to give points to the costume designer who gave Di Yun such a swishy white outfit. It makes his ~~dancing~~ sword-fighting look more graceful.

Even if you don’t understand Mandarin, I highly recommend watching this fight scene yourself, because I don’t think I can adequately describe it with words and screenshots alone. You can see it in this youtube video (it starts around the 17 minute mark).

Life in an Unjust World

In a way, this is the harshest, bleakest, and most relenting of Jin Yong’s stories. The world is full of greedy people who really aren’t concerned with ethics … and they ruin the lives of the people who actually do follow some ethical principles. Again. And again. And again.

The characters could have easily been portrayed as being just black and white, and I think the TV series does go in that direction for some of the characters. However, rather than showing people as being innately good or evil, it shows that some people choose to prioritize money and power over other people, and let their greed corrupt them …. and other people choose to prioritize other people over money and power. Alas, the people who prioritize money and power tend to actually get more money and power.

Yet when money and power are not involved, the ‘bad’ guys can actually do good things and be very nice people. They don’t want to do evil. They merely don’t mind doing evil.

There is something called the ‘just world fallacy’ (TRIGGER WARNING for the link) – in other words, people want to believe that life is fair. It’s called a ‘fallacy’ because there is lots of evidence that the world is not, in fact, fair.

To pick one example (I could pick many other examples) a bunch of financial firms in the United States bribed politicians to loosen regulations, then violated even the watered-down regulations, committed fraud on a wide scale, blew up a giant housing bubble which made shelter less affordable for tens of millions of people, and which destroyed over 40% of the net wealth of middle-class Americans when it burst. Were the CEOs fired, the financial firms broken down, and serious criminal investigations launched? No! The financial firms got large government bailouts, the CEOs saw their pay increase, tens of millions of people lost their jobs and homes, fraudulent foreclosures are poisoning the centuries-old chain-of-title system which are essential to property rights, etc etc. Oh, and the statue of limitations on their crimes is coming up, which will make them immune to prosecution. This is not what a fair and just world looks like.

A variant of Sartre’s hell: being stuck in the mountains with somebody you don’t like (fortunately, for them, they stop disliking each other, which improves their quality of live).

Justice does sometimes happen in the world, but only by random luck, or when people insist on justice happening. And when people already think that the world is just, they aren’t motivated to do the hard work required to insist on justice.

Most fiction (okay, most fiction that I’m familiar with) supports the just-world fallacy – the good guys win and the bad guys lose. Like most people, I also want to believe the just-world fallacy, so in a way it’s very comforting. Such fiction serves as an escape, which probably is necessary for one’s mental well-being. But I don’t want all of my fiction to be like that.

The TV series does make the story a little more just than the original novel. For example, in the TV series (but, IIRC, not the novel), the bad guys are often plagued with nightmares filled with the ghosts of the people they have wronged. It’s a nice idea that everybody who commits evil is tortured by their consciences, but I don’t think reality always works out that way.

There’s also a new subplot in the TV series where the good guys defeat one of the bad guys very neatly. On one level, I loved watching that, because it’s nice to see the characters I like delivering a character I hate what he deserves. On another level, it makes the world of the story a little more fair, which I think goes a little against the point of the story.

This detestable character finally gets impaled on the spear of justice (the character in the background means ‘justice’). This does not happen in the original novel.

The power of this story, for me, is that it shows that, in spite of the fact that the world is unfair, it is still a wonderful to be alive.

First, integrity is its own reward. Even if you lose, lose, and lose, integrity is still worth something.

Second, there are wonderful people in the world. It is only by staying alive that one will ever have the opportunity to connect with them. And a good relationship is worth the hardship of living in an unjust world.

Of course [SPOILTER] the bad guys blow themselves up with their own greed at the end, and the good guys who are not dead get an ending that is, if not joyful, at least has some contentment. There is a limit to how much unjustness even I can stand in a story, and I’m not sure I could have taken it if the bad guys were all allowed to live happily into old age in luxury. But this story certainly takes the unjustness of the world a bit farther than a lot of other fiction I’m familiar with.[END SPOILER]

I actually find a story which acknowledges that the world is unjust and how to live on in spite of that more comforting than an escapist tale about a just world.

Availability in English

This TV series is, sadly, not available in English. It would be really nice if somebody fixed that. The novel isn’t available in English either. The only version of this story available in English is the movie, which is available on Region 3 DVD with English subtitles.

Conclusion

This … is actually a good TV series. I had my reservations at the beginning, and it took a number of episodes to win me over … but I totally got sucked into the story all over again. If you understand Chinese, I highly recommend trying this.

The movie is also worth watching.

However, my love ultimately belongs to the original novel. Whenever I go back to a story which I had loved before, I’m always afraid that it won’t be as good as I had remembered it. Sometimes my fears prove correct … but not this time. I noticed some flaws in the story which weren’t apparent to me before, but overall it served as a reminder of why I have come to love this story.

Sara K. actually did take a class on set design (as well as a class on costume design and a class on lighting design). She is not a good designer, but she got a lot of practice describing how various designs help or do not help tell a story. The posts she writes about comics would be really, really different if she hadn’t taken those classes … in fact, when she’s writing about comic book artwork, she often feels like she’s talking to one of her design teachers. Of course, it also bleeds into some of her other posts, like this one.

It Came From the Sinosphere: A Deadly Secret (Part 1)

December 4, 2012 by Sara K. 2 Comments

It’s high time that I discuss something from China again. It’s high time that I actually review a TV series that is not an idol drama. And it’s high time for me to discuss Jin Yong again. Now, I’m going to do all three at once.

A Scene

Why, it’s a wedding!

It’s a wedding in front of a tomb.

See, both the bride and the groom are dead, so the wedding has to take place at the bride’s tomb.

In wuxia stories, if you promise to marry somebody, you marry them. Death is no excuse.

He’s drinking because he is so happy that his best friend is finally marrying the love of his life (who apparently is also the love of his afterlife).

And he’s swinging his sword around with joy.

Anyway, since the groom and bride are dead, he needs to help them get together. This is the problem with getting married when you’re dead – there’s no privacy when the newly married couple finally gets intimate physical contact.

Wait a minute … why are the bride’s arms stretched up like that?

And there’s writing on the inside of her coffin. That’s only possible if she was put in the coffin while she was still alive.

The writing says that, as a reward to whoever reunites her with the love of her life (afterlife), she is revealing The Deadly Secret (which is not exactly a favor, since people who learn The Deadly Secret have a tendency to die young).

The groom’s cremated ashes are poured onto the bride’s body. What a romantic wedding!

Background

I don’t think it’s possible for a Jin Yong novel to be underrated, but if any of his novels are underrated, it’s this one. It’s my personal favorite of his novels under 1000 pages.

If you don’t know or forgot who Jin Yong is, you can refer to my post about the Condor Trilogy or The Book and The Sword.

There are only three adaptations of this novel: the 1980 movie, the 1989 TV series, and the 2004 TV series. This is (mostly) about the 2004 TV series.

The Story

Di Yun is a country bumpkin who is studying martial arts and is in love with his master’s daughter, Qi Fang. It’s a real bummer when his master disappears, he gets framed for heinous crimes, Qi Fang marries the man who framed him, the prison guards break his body, and he’s put with a cell mate who beats him up for apparently no reason whatsoever.

This is what Di Yun looks like after hearing that Qi Fang is going to marry the guy who framed him and put him in prison.

Why does his life suck so much? Well, you see, there is this ultra-powerful martial arts technique and fabulous fortune that everybody is trying to get … and Di Yun is unwittingly close to this deadly secret.

The Songs and the Production Values

At first I didn’t like either the opening or the ending songs. But the opening song eventually grew on me and, by the end of the series, I even liked the ending song.

If you watch the opening and ending songs, you might notice that the production values are a bit lower than the norm for, say, Hollywood TV shows.

Welcome to China.

Personally, I’d rather watch something with consistently low production values than something with mostly high production values which spectacularly drops the ball, and really, the production values of this TV series really aren’t that bad at all. And ultimately, the quality of the story and acting is much more important to me than the quality of the special effects.

Adaptation

This TV series is 33 40-minute episodes long. The original novel is less than 500 pages long. Before watching this series, I wondered how they could make it so long without lots and lots of padding.

Well, it turns out that there is not that much padding per se. There is quite a bit of added material, but a lot of it is just spelling out things which are merely implied in the novel. Most of the added material is relevant to the story. At worst the new stuff is offensive (because of sexism or ableism) but thankfully most of it is not. Quite a bit is powerfully mediocre. Some of the new stuff, however, is quite good.

The biggest change is not that new stuff is added (since much of it was implied by the novel), but the pacing itself. This novel is quite concise by Jin Yong standards, so things move fairly quickly. In the TV series, things progress in a much slower and more thorough way. In some ways, this increases the emotional impact – for example, we see a lot more of Di Yun and Qi Fang’s relationship, which makes their separation even more heart-breaking. However, in some ways it makes the story harder to watch – it’s much easier to read about Di Yun getting framed in the novel, where events move pretty quickly, than to watch the TV series, where it takes several episodes to watch Di Yun getting framed and tortured in prison.

I also think there is some power in leaving some things left unsaid. That’s one of the things I like about the novel. Sometimes, when the TV series fleshed out the unsaid stuff, it did pretty cool things with it … but I still think leaving things to the reader’s imagination is more powerful.

It’s hilarious to compare the 33-episode TV series to the 90-minute movie. Things which take two episodes in the TV series happen in two minutes in the movie. Of course, the movie cuts out about 60% of the original story (the TV series covers about 130% of the original story).

Ding Dian

Even though Ding Dian only appears in two chapters of the original novel (specifically chapters 2 and 3 of the novel), he is definitely the most memorable character in the story. Apparently, other people agree, because both the movie and this TV series give him plenty of screentime.

On the one hand, he is a bad-ass martial artist, one of the toughest fighters in this story, and he spends a great deal of time cultivating his kung-fu skills. In fact, he can even (under certain specific circumstances) bring dead people back to life. But it turns out martial arts is not his greatest passion in life.

His great passion, it turns out, is flowers.

Ding Dian at the flower fair

He is a flower encyclopedia (this is most apparent in the novel, but also indicated in the TV series). He goes to a flower fair. His greatest joy in life is watching flowers. It turns out that one of the villains is also a flower-arranging geek, so he gets to communicate with Ding Dian via flowers.

Of course, there are other reasons to love Ding Dian. He is a person of great integrity, and intensely loves his friend and his sweetheart. But being a badass martial artist who loves flowers above all else (except maybe his friend and his sweetheart) clinches the deal.

The Female Characters

In some stories, I would be annoyed if the female characters were constantly relying on the male characters to rescue them. Not in this story. It is clear that they are just as innately competent as the male characters. However, patriarchy has so badly stacked the deck against the female characters that they can’t rescue themselves. They do still manage to rescue the male characters when it is in their power to do so.

A picture of Qi Fang

All of the main female characters – Qi Fang, Ling Shuanghua, and Shui Sheng – have the same problem; they were born into a society that is so patriarchal that even their own families, who ‘cherish’ them, ultimately consider them to be merely disposable possessions. Sure, their families claim to love their daughters and other female relatives dearly, but when push comes to shove, in this TV adaptation [SPOILER WARNING] one female character is murdered by her father, another female character, after having almost been murdered by her fiancee, is driven to suicide by her uncle, and the last one is murdered by her husband [END SPOILER WARNING].

And the fact that Baroque China was an extremely patriarchal society makes it that much easier for their families to oppress them, in fact, without the patriarchy helping their families bully them, these female characters would have definitely had much happier outcomes.

A Picture of Ling Shuanghua

An interesting thing I noticed is that the female characters don’t want to believe that their families regard them as (potential disposable) possessions. They want to believe that they are being loved as full human beings. I can understand this, since the truth is very cruel. In a way, it’s easier to keep on believing one is being valued and loved properly. But reality catches up with all of them.

I appreciate that this TV series gave a lot more attention to the female characters than the novel. On the one hand, some of the new material is powerfully mediocre (at worst, offensive). On the other hand, some of it is good, and definitely fleshes out the females characters more than the novel does. In particular, the TV series is a bit more sympathetic to Qi Fang, and treats us to the Extended Adventures of Shui Sheng (granted, it’s a mixed bag).

A Picture of Shui Sheng

Yes, the adult female characters even talk to each other in the TV series, which is not true of the novel (they mostly talk to each other about men though). That said, I actually think it’s okay that this story fails the Bechdel test, because the female characters’ isolation is one of the worst ways the patriarchy has stacked the deck against them. Two of the female characters’ families hardly ever let them leave home, and only with supervision, and the third one gets kidnapped, which drastically limits her opportunities to bond with other women.

What is really interesting is that, even though all of the main female characters have the same problem, they react to the problem in different ways.

You Think I’m done Talking? Bwa ha ha ha ha…

I definitely have more to say about this TV series, but this post is getting long, so I guess I’ll have to wait until Friday to say more.

Next Time (not Friday): The Bride with White Hair (novel)

Sara K. plans to discuss every single Jin Yong novel at Manga Bookshelf. She is now halfway there, having discussed six novels and having six novels left to cover. Her plan is to discuss Tales of the Young Fox, Sword Stained with Royal Blood, and The Laughing Proud Wanderer next, in that order, but that’s only a tentative plan.

It Came From the Sinosphere: The Fox Volant of Snow Mountain

July 31, 2012 by Sara K. 2 Comments

Brief Story Overview

A group of martial artists find and fight over a treasure chest. Then they get snowed in at a house on top of a mountain, menaced by the vicious “Fox Volant of Snow Mountain.” Having nothing better to do, they tell each other stories, which gradually reveal a long history of family feuding and provide a lot of context for what is going on.

I am not going to try to summarize the whole, complicated backstory—instead, I’m just taking out a slice.

One of the people present in the house, Miao Renfeng, unintentionally killed his good friend Hu Yidao. He does not know what happened to Hu Yidao’s infant son, Hu Fei, but he wishes he could have raised the child himself to compensate for the wrong he did to his friend. Miao Renfeng also did not teach his own daughter, Miao Ruolan (also present in the house) martial arts because he wants the feuding to end with his generation.

[Tangent: in lots of western literature and even sometimes in manga they make a big deal when a female can do well in combat—”ZOMAGOSH she can fight?!!!”—but in wuxia it is taken for granted that females can fight, so generally it’s more shocking when it is revealed that a female does not know martial arts—”ZOMAGOSH she can’t fight?!!! How come she’s still alive??!!”]

Miao Ruolan had felt sorry for Hu Fei ever since she first heard the story of what happened to Hu Yidao, and thought that if, by chance, he was still alive she would want to comfort him for all of the pain he must have endured in his wretched life. I don’t think I’m spoiling anything if I say that Hu Fei is actually still alive. In fact, he has a nickname … “Fox Volant of Snow Mountain.”

Background Information

This novel is by Jin Yong. If you read this column regularly, you already know who he is. If you don’t know who Jin Yong is, read this and this.

The novel was originally serialized in Ming Pao, one of the top newspapers in the Chinese-speaking world. In fact, the first chapter was published in the very first issue of Ming Pao.

Since I’ve discussed Ady An a couple times (The Outsiders 1&2 and Autumn’s Concerto) I feel obliged to say that she was cast as Miao Ruolan in the most recent TV adaptation of this novel. I haven’t seen the adaptation (and probably never will, based on the negative reviews I’ve read) but casting her as Miao Ruolan makes a lot of sense to me.

About the Context

This is unusual for a Jin Yong novel. Most Jin Yong novels span the course of years or decades, but thanks in part to the framing-story device with the various people telling their stories at the house, this novel just takes place within the course of a day. And while Jin Yong stories tend to have people running up and down Jianghu, this story takes place at that building and its vicinity (it’s hard to travel far within a day, especially with all that snow). Thus this story does not have the sense of adventure I associate with Jin Yong. Instead, it feels a bit more like No Exit, where a bunch of characters are stuck together and have to hash out their issues with each other. It’s one of his most “literary” stories, since instead of having characters swashbuckling around, he uses fancy narrative devices and gets nice and psychological in a way that literature professors approve of.

However, while this is unusual for a Jin Yong novel, it is not an unusual wuxia novel. Wuxia comes in many flavors. Jin Yong novels tend to be sweeping, historical, melodramatic adventures, but there are plenty of wuxia novels which emphasize mystery and atmosphere and focus more tightly on a smaller cast of characters (hello, Gu Long). Though I personally prefer epic adventures, even I like variety.

“The Lovers’ Blades” and “White Horse Riding in the West Wind”

Most Chinese-language editions of this novel come with two Jin Yong novellas, “The Lovers’ Blades” and “White Horse Riding in the West Wind.” I do not have anything to say about “The Lovers’ Blades,” but I find “White Horse Riding in the West Wind” interesting because it is the only Jin Yong story in which the main protagonist, Li Wenxiu, is female.

In some ways, Jin Yong treats Li Wenxiu just like most of his other protagonists—she undergoes childhood tragedy, trains in martial arts, and eventually overcomes and compensates for that tragedy. But he treats her differently in that, instead of granting her a (reverse) harem, she gets just one love interest, and [spoiler]she even loses him[/spoiler]. It’s more like a typical Jin Yong tale than The Fox Volant of Snow Mountain. I also happen to like the story.

The Lady, or the Tiger?

One of the most noteworthy parts of the novel (whether you love it or hate it – many people hate it) is the ending. Thus I have to discuss it. I will try to express my opinion of the ending without saying what happens, but people who are very spoiler-sensitive might still want to skip this section.

I never liked the story “The Lady, or the Tiger” because I know almost nothing about the princess—how am I supposed to know what decision she would make. However, The Fox Volant of Snow Mountain is not a short story. It’s a novel, and it has a prequel (Fēihú Wàizhuàn / Tales of the Young Fox) too. Thus there is a lot more material with which to reveal how the characters would make a tough choice.

Lots of people complain about the “inconclusive” ending of The Fox Volant of Snow Mountain, and Jin Yong has received many requests to write a “fuller” ending. I actually think the ending is sufficiently conclusive. I mean, in “The Lady, or the Tiger?” the outcomes are really different—marry a beautiful woman, or get mauled by a fierce tiger. But in this novel, the choice is between [spoiler]one tragic outcome, and a completely different yet equally tragic outcome[/spoiler]. Yeah, the possible endings are really different … except they are not. No matter what choice the characters make, the general direction is pretty clear to me. And it’s pretty clear what the fallout for each outcome would be, so I don’t think it needs to be spelled out.

The final scene, however, is exquisite in just the same way as one of my favourite scenes in Shēn Diāo Xiá Lǚ. In both scenes, Character A has a very dramatic choice to make; either save Character B’s life, or kill him. Jin Yong writes the stories in such a way that Character A has really compelling reasons to kill Character B … and really compelling reasons to save him. I have rarely been more engaged in story than when I was reading that scene in Shēn Diāo Xiá Lǚ because I really did not know what was going to happen, and it is still one of my most vivid memories in Taiwan. Of course, Shēn Diāo Xiá Lǚ actually had to move on with the plot, so Character A finally does make a choice … and the moment when the choice was made was … powerful stuff. But that was the climax of the scene for me—the remainder of the scene was not special to me. So I do understand why people are frustrated by the ending of The Fox Volant of Snow Mountain—they feel cheated of the promised climactic moment. Yet The Fox Volant of Snow Mountain does not have more plot lying in wait, and is not trying to make a specific point in the same way that Shēn Diāo Xiá Lǚ is. So I think, even if the choice was revealed, it wouldn’t add anything to the novel. The point of the final scene is the charged feelings of the characters and the readers, and I think trying to “complete” the ending would just dissipate that.

In fact, the fact that so many people passionately hate the ending of The Fox Volant of Snow Mountain proves just how effective Jin Yong is at rousing the readers’ feelings.

There is something that really does frustrate me about the ending, but it’s not the finale itself. It’s the build-up to the finale. Under the circumstances, a good father would have asked his daughter how she felt. Not only did Miao Renfeng not ask Miao Ruolan how she felt, but when she tried to tell him, he told her to shut up. If he had bothered to listen to his own daughter for just two minutes [spoiler]the entire tragic dilemma would have been averted and the story would have had a nice happy ending[/spoiler]. Argh.

At least people talk about the ending of this novel. Some Jin Yong endings are not particularly memorable, and I think those endings are actually worse than this ending.

Availability in English

This novel has been published in English. A lot of people criticise the Olivia Moktranslation, but based on the brief excerpt I’ve read, it is actually not so terrible (aside from the way the characters’ names are handled, which is terrible). I don’t know whether it includes the novellas “The Lovers’ Blades” and “White Horse in the West Wind” or not.

Like every Jin Yong novel published in English, it’s not cheap, so I suggest making inquiries at a library near you.

Conclusion

You know what? This novel is recommended.

Reading this novel won’t give you a typical Jin Yong experience. On the other hand, it’s more accessible than some of his other works. This story actually gets to the point quite quickly, unlike Yǐ Tiān Tú Lóng Jì in which Jin Yong spends over 200 pages before bothering to introduce Zhang Wuji (who happens to be the main protagonist).

I would say that, after A Deadly Secret, this is my second favorite of Jin Yong’s shorter works. It’s not as fun as some of his other tales, but the structure works quite well and I got involved in the characters’ mental tangles. I’ve read it twice, and it worked better for me the second time around. I will probably eventually read it a third time.

Next time: The 36th Chamber of Shaolin (movie)

Sara K. has heard rain and fireworks while editing this post. Both sounds are very common in Taiwan.

It Came From the Sinosphere: The Book and the Sword

June 12, 2012 by Sara K. 4 Comments

Opening

To kick off this review, I will go over the first three pages of the novel. Here’s a summary:

Page One: Li Yuanzhi, a 14-year-old girl, sees her school teacher, Lu Feiqing, kill flies by shooting golden needles at them. She begs him to teach her how to do it.

Page Two: Lu Feiqing accepts Li Yuanzhi as his kung-fu disciple.

Page Three: Li Yuanzhi eagerly awaits her first lesson. Lu Feiqing arrives late, injured, soaked with blood, and he tells Li Yuanzhi to close the door and be quiet.

Right there, on the first page of the novel, we get the first glimpse of the writer’s imagination. He does not merely kill the flies, he kills them by SHOOTING GOLDEN NEEDLES AT THEM!!! Li Yuanzhi seems to be a spunky girl, which is always a good sign. And of course, page three sets up some suspense and promises a fast-moving story with plenty of action.

With an opening like this, I was pretty excited to read this novel.

Background

The Book and the Sword is Jin Yong’s first novel. Jin Yong (English name: Louis Cha) is the most popular Chinese-language novelist of the 20th century. He is one of the most popular novelists of the 20th century period. The Book and the Sword was a sensation when it was first published in 1955-1956, and to this day it is still adapted for television (the most recent TV adaptation was made in 2008).

Brief Plot Overview

The story is set during the reign of Emperor Qianlong of the Manchu dynasty. The Red Flower Society is a secret society of sword and kung-fu fighters who want to restore rule by Han Chinese. I think the conflict here is really obvious.

One of the members of the Red Flower Society, Wen Tailai, discovers Emperor Qianlong’s greatest secret, so he is captured in order to silence him and the Red Flower Society has to rescue him.

Meanwhile, an Uyghur tribe is trying to recover their copy of the Quran (the “book” referenced in the title). Chen Jialuo, a Red Flower Society member and the chief protagonist, helps them, and in return the leader’s daughter Huotongqing gives him a sword (the “sword” referenced in the title).

As the plot gets thicker, things get messier, especially after the emperor’s secret gets spilled and Kasili (aka Princess Fragrance) gets involved.

The Bad

Chen Jialuo is the most boring of Jin Yong’s main characters. He is virtuous, a good fighter … and that’s pretty much it. Almost all other Jin Yong leads are also virtuous and good fighters, but they generally have personalities too. Chen Jialuo does not, or at least his personality is so flimsy it does not count.

The worst is that he almost never experiences doubt or inner conflict, or questions himself, not even in a “Do I kill the man who caused my father’s death or do I marry his daughter instead?” kind of way. This is especially bad because he is put in situations where 99% of the human population would experience inner conflict, yet he does not. For example, towards the end of the novel, he has to choose between keeping something precious to him, or doing what he thinks is in the interest of the greater good. He goes ahead and does what he thinks is in the interest of the greater good without hesitation or even suffering. The explanation is that he thinks he is going to paradise after he dies, so it does not really matter if he has want he wants in life. Not only is this less interesting than actual conflict, it also rings false. Even people who believe in paradise, believe they are going there, and use that thought to console themselves would experience some reluctance and pain when they give up something precious. The fact that Chen Jialuo does not experience this makes me think that either this thing is not actually precious to him, or that he’s not human.

And then there is keeping track of the cast. There are other Jin Yong novels with a far larger cast of characters (Yǐ Tiān Tú Lóng Jì and Tiān Lóng Bā Bù come to mind), yet this is the only Jin Yong novel where I had serious trouble keeping track of who was who—particularly the various members of the Red Flower Society. I was able to keep track of Li Yuanzhi and Lu Feiqing pretty well because of the memorable opening of the novel, but most characters did not get such a memorable opening, so it was hard to sort out who is just a minor character and who is somebody I should actually remember, especially when a bunch of characters are introduced at the same time. In later novels, Jin Yong handles this much better. Significant characters generally get a memorable introduction, and are generally introduced one by one instead of in a batch.

And there are the fights. Many of the sword fights are just good guys and bad guys finding themselves in the same place at the same time, therefore they fight. All of the sword techniques are generic. It gets pretty monotonous. To contrast this with an excellent Jin Yong fight where the sword techniques are well described and interesting to follow, as well as having psychological depth, read my post The Condor Trilogy in Manhua: Fighting. To be fair, the fights in the second part of the novel are better, with more variety and human interest, but they still do not measure up to the fights in later Jin Yong novels.

So, what did I like about the novel?

The Good

First of all, there is Emperor Qianlong’s secret. It is a good secret. I will not spoil it here.

Then there is Jin Yong’s imagination. It is evident in passages like this:

過了良久良久，陳家洛才慢慢放開了她，望著她暈紅的臉頰，忽見她身後一面破碎的鏡子，兩人互相摟抱著的人影在每片碎片中映照出來，幻作無數化身，低聲道：“你瞧，世界上就是有一千個我，這一千個我總還是抱著你。”

“After a long time passed, Chen Jialuo slowly let her free, gazing at her blushing cheeks. Suddenly he saw behind her the shattered mirror, the reflection of two people hugging each other visible in every fragment, fantastic countless incarnations of themselves. He murmured ‘You see, the world is just a thousand Chen Jialuos, these thousand Chen Jialuos all embracing you.'”

(Please forgive my English translation for not being as elegantly phrased as the Chinese original.)

His imagination sometimes manifests himself for just a moment, like above, and it sometimes manifests itself for an entire scene, such when the characters are running around in the desert city.

Of course, Jin Yong got lots of ideas from Chinese history and lore. For example, Princess Fragrance was inspired by the Fragrant Concubine, who, according to legend, was an Uyghur woman with beautiful looks and an even more beautiful smell. Jin Yong is at good at picking which ideas to borrow, and the historical background adds another layer to the story. He skillfully weaves his own ideas with other people’s ideas into a fresh narrative.

One of my favorite scenes in the novel is when Chen Jialuo goes to visit his mother. This is one of the rare times in the novels where Chen Jialuo actually seems heartbroken. He had been delaying visiting his mother because of his duties at the Red Flower Society, and when he finally does it he learns that she has just died. I can sympathize. I was actually more moved by this scene than certain scenes in other Jin Yong novels where mothers commit suicide right in front of their sons (a lot of main characters watch their mothers commit suicide in Jin Yong novels). Of course, Emperor Qianlong happens to be around when Chen Jialuo pays his respects to his late mother. This helps set up the reveal of the emperor’s secret, and foreshadows later events in the novel.

Availability in English

The Book and the Sword has been translated into English by Graham Earnshaw and published by Oxford University Press. It is supposed to include a character glossary, which I would have found really useful when I was reading the novel. Excerpts from this translation are available at Graham Earnshaw’s website, but I must note that some of the later excerpts might contain spoilers. Considering how expensive this translation is, borrowing it from the library is the most practical option.

I have only taken a brief look at the translation through Graham Earnshaw’s website, but based on what I looked at, it seems alright.

Conclusion

I really, really wanted to like this novel … but it should be apparent that my efforts to like this novel failed. In fact, this is the only Jin Yong novel I do not like.

That said, I am still glad I read it. It deepened my appreciation for Jin Yong. Some of his techniques are more obvious in this novel than in other novels. Some of the ways this novel does not work for me helps me understand how other Jin Yong novels do work for me.

And finally, I am in the minority, at least among people who have expressed in English their opinions of this novel. Most people who have reviewed the Earnshaw translation have a positive opinion of the novel.

Still, why they decided to publish this in English and not Shè Diāo Yīngxióng Zhuàn (which, in my opinion, is the best choice for people who have never read a Jin Yong novel) is beyond me.

Next Time: Divine Melody (manhua)

The Book and the Sword was technically the first novel Sara K. ever tried to read in Chinese. Of course, considering that she knew less than 800 characters at the time of her first attempt, she did not get very far (she did it more as an experiment than as a serious attempt). She did learn that it would probably be better to slide into rather then leap into Jin Yong … and then she saw Lee Chi Ching’s The Eagle Shooting Heroes in bookstores, and the rest is history.