wuxia

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: 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 Crane-Iron Pentalogy (Part 2)

July 16, 2013 by Sara K. 12 Comments

I actually do not think this image from the manhua is quite in the spirit of the original novels, but it’s still pretty.

Read Part 1

The Development of a Pentalogy

Though the internal chronology is Crane Frightens Kunlun / Precious Sword, Golden Hairpin / Sword Force, Pearl Shine / Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon / Iron Rider, Silver Vase, the first novel to be written/published was the central one, Sword Force, Pearl Shine, followed by Precious Sword, Golden Hairpin, with Crane Frightens Kunlun.

In other words, Wang Dulu first went back in time, and then decided to go back forward in time.

Sword Force, Pearl Shine is the shortest of the five novels, and I suspect that it was originally intended to be a stand-alone novel. However, being shorter, it is also a little less developed than the other novels. This underdevelopment may have been a blessing in disguise, for I suspect it led Wang Dulu to ask himself about Yu Shulien and Li Mubai’s origins, which inspired Precious Sword, Golden Hairpin, and then he asked himself about Southern Crane, which led to writing Crane Frightens Kunlun. Crane Frightens Kunlun itself has a loose end, and tying that up leads to the creation of a key character (Yu Jiaolong) and much of the plot of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Whether that loose end was put in Crane Frightens Kulun on purpose because Wang Dulu was already planning to write Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, I do not know. I strongly suspect, however, that Wang Dulu did deliberately write that open-ended finale ine Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon because he was already planning to write Iron Rider, Silver Vase.

The point is, Wang Dulu did not have a master-plan when he was writing the pentalogy. He let it unfold organically, one book at a time, and even he probably didn’t know where the story was going to go more than a book in advance. The novels are much better because of this.

The scriptwriter Brian McDonald says that storytellers should be the slaves, not the masters, of their stories. To me, it seems that Wang Dulu was not the master of his stories, and I mean that in a good way. On the surface, they seem quite humble and not at all impressive, but they prove to be surprisingly powerful.

About the 2000 Ang Lee Film

Nowadays, even in the Chinese-speaking world, most people know about the Crane-Iron Pentalogy thanks to the 2000 film Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. So how does it compare?

The film simplifies the story. A lot. It has to. It’s only two hours long, and most of the audience is not familiar with the events of Crane Frightens Kunlun / Precious Sword, Golden Hairpin / Sword Force, Pearl Light.

While I love the Crane-Iron Pentalogy as a whole, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon is the novel I love the least. Unlike the other novels, I felt CTHD has some rather long, tedious sections. The film, quite wisely, leaves out all of the tedious stuff, while keeping the most interesting parts.

Of course, while the movie leaves out a lot detail, it certainly drops quite a few hints. For example, one of the major characters is Cai Xiangmei, a girl who performs acrobatics on the street, yet the only reference to her in the entire movie is a single shot showing a girl performing acrobatics on the street. I think this is Ang Lee’s way of saying ‘Yes, I read the novel, but I simply do not have the screen time to include this character’s story’. I do not think people who haven’t read the novels are consciously aware of these little hints throughout the movie … but I suspect they can still feel that this is just part of a broader story.

Ultimately, the feel of the movie is not the same as the novels. That does not make it a bad movie – in fact, it probably would have been a worse movie if it had tried to stick too close to the novel. I have trouble imagining the subtle psychological tug-and-pull in the novels translating well into film, and of course the gorgeous cinematography of the film is totally absent in the novels.

It’s a good movie, and I recommend it. But…

The Thing Which Bothers Me About the Movie

I am going to be a bit vague to avoid spoilers.

The message of the movie is that you need to recognize, pursue, and consummate (romantic) love before it’s too late. That’s not the message of the original novel, but that is not a problem, nor is it a problem that the movie changes the ending to pull this off. The movie implies that a certain couple never got married because they did not realize how much they loved each other / did not have the courage to pursue their love, and that they regret this. That is also not a problem. The problem is … the couple used to demonstrate this point is Character Y and Character Z (I said I was going to be vague).

In the novels, Y and Z know that they love each other, and they didn’t remain unmarried because of a lack of courage. They stayed unmarried because they decided they did not want to marry. While one could have a great discussion about why they make this choice, it clearly is a deliberate choice on their part.

And they put up with quite a bit of nonsense from other people because of this.

Years after they have made their decision clear, their friends are still scheming up ways to get them married. They get kicked out of shelter onto the street in the middle of the night because of their unmarried status. At one point, someone practically orders them to get married.

But the movie glosses all over this. If two people who are in love with each other refuse marriage, there simply must be a problem, they cannot just be mature adults making thought-out choices about their own personal lives.

I think that’s rather insulting to Character Y and Z, and I think it contradicts the point the novels try to make about freedom in personal relationships. I really wish the movie had found a different way to make this point.

About the New Movie

The word is that Yuen Wo Ping, who was the action choreographer for the Ang Lee film, will be directing the new movie, which I’ve seen titled as both Iron Rider, Silver Vase and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon 2 – the Green Destiny.

My guess is that it will be even less faithful to the original novels than the Ang Lee film, but will probably incorporate at least parts of the story of Iron Rider, Silver Vase. Personally, as long as they make a good movie which does not do anything too irritating, I’ll be happy. That said, I do hope they will include Han Tiefang and not change him too much, since he’s one of my favorite characters in the pentalogy.

The Heart of Wuxia

One of the things which strikes me about wuxia is the emphasis on the characters’ thoughts, feelings, and relationships with each other. This introspective emphasis is much heavier in wuxia than in western speculative fiction (with some exceptions). That’s not to say that wuxia is better than western speculative fiction, since western speculative fiction explores plenty of other things. Nonetheless, the emphasis on feelings and relationships makes wuxia stories (particularly novels) sometimes feel more like romance fiction than the speculative fiction I grew up with.

The Taiwanese edition of Precious Sword, Golden Hairpin

I have not read many of the old (as in written before 1950) wuxia novels, so I cannot make my own analysis, but I’ve read that the older wuxia novels are full of lots of exciting, magical, action-packed adventures, and contain not so much psychology. The claim is that Wang Dulu, and the Crane-Iron Pentalogy in particular, changed that.

Now, anybody reading the Crane-Iron Pentalogy for the fights and action sequences is going to be disappointed. It’s not that it’s badly written, it’s just that all of the ‘action’ parts are really brief. Wang Dulu always uses violence/action as a tool to get the characters where they need to go, and never as an end in itself.

Some say Wang Dulu brought the wuxia genre to maturity. His wuxia-romances certainly became very popular very quickly, and I can tell that he has a strong influence on later writers. Based on what I know, it seems that his major contribution is putting the ‘heart’ – the passion, the introspection, the intense human relationships – into wuxia.

Availability in English

Simon and Schuster acquired the English translation rights to Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, and possibly the other novels as well, and then did … nothing.

The 2001 Ang Lee movie, the 2004 movie, and manhua which bear the name Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon are all available in English. I haven’t seen the 2004 movie, though generally it’s considered inferior to the Ang Lee film. I have also yet to read the manhua, but the word is that the first two volumes are actually based on Precious Sword, Golden Hairpin, and that starting around volume 3 the story gets further and further away from the novels.

The manhua, again.

Conclusion

I love the Crane-Iron Pentalogy. I’m still left with a sense that there is something wonderful about the stories which I have totally failed to convey in these two posts.

My love, as you may have gathered, is not equally distributed among the novels. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon gets the least love from me, whereas my favorites are Iron Rider, Silver Vase and Precious Sword, Golden Hairpin. Particularly Precious Sword, Golden Hairpin. It is a beautiful novel which swept me up and then left me in tears. Part of me wishes they would adapt Precious Sword, Golden Hairpin into a movie, and part of me cannot imagine any movie adaptation being as moving as the original.

Next Time: Starry Starry Night (movie)

Sara K. worked on this post as Typhoon Soulik made its way across Taiwan. Soulik managed to greatly annoy Sara K., but it did not do her any major harm.

It Came From the Sinosphere: The Iron-Crane Pentalogy (Part 1)

July 9, 2013 by Sara K. 1 Comment

Book cover for ‘Precious Sword, Golden Hairpin’

The Iron-Crane Pentalogy is not just one of the most influential works of wuxia ever written, it’s possibly the most well-known work of wuxia outside of the Chinese-speaking world. In fact, many Manga Bookshelf readers have already heard of it.

Before you think “Hey, I’m a Manga Bookshelf reader, and I’ve never heard of the Iron-Crane Pentalogy,” look at the titles of the five novels:

1. Crane Frightens Kunlun
2. Precious Sword, Golden Hairpin
3. Sword Force, Pearl Shine
4. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon
5. Iron Rider, Silver Vase

The name “Crane-Iron” comes from the titles of the first and final novels.

If you have never heard of a single one of these stories, then okay, you’ve never heard of the Iron-Crane Pentalogy.

The Story

Book cover for ‘Crane Frightens Kunlun’

There is an old man who is the master of the world’s most awesome martial arts. He has two disciples, the older of whom is a mute (and nobody know his name), and the younger of whom is eventually known to the world as “Southern Crane.” Both the mute and Southern Crane transmit their martial arts knowledge to future generations. The Crane-Iron Pentalogy is about the marital artists who learn these awesome technqies.

The first novel, Crane Frightens Kunlun, is about the boyhood of Southern Crane, who was born as Jiang Xiaohe. Jiang Xiaohe centers his youth around getting revenge on Bao “Kunlun” for the murder of his father and forced separation from his mother. Jiang Xiaohe also wants to marry Master Bao’s granddaughter, Bao Ahluan, and it never occurs to him than she might object to him killing her grandfather. Xiaohe’s rashness and anger is an irresistable force, and Bao ‘Kunlun’s narrowmindedness and refusal to openly acknowledge the wrongs he has committed is an immovable object. Irresistable force + immovable object = tragic consequences.

In the second novel, Precious Sword, Golden Hairpin, Li Mubai, the son of two characters in Crane Frightens Kunlun, falls in love with Yu Shulien, whose beauty is only surpassed by her peerless sword-fighting skills and sense of honor. However, it turns out that Yu Shulien already has a fiance, Meng Sizhao. BUMMER! Li Mubai goes to Beijing, where, in his attempt to get over his heartbreak, he gets into a romantic relationship with a prostitute called Xie Cuiqian, who might secretly be a vigilante who rescues innocent girls. Meanwhile, Meng Sizhao’s greedy older brother has forced him to go into exile so he can have the family property all to himself, and Yu Shulien has to deal with her father’s very powerful enemies.

In the third novel, Sword Force, Pearl Light, Southern Crane tells Li Mubai to fix the mess that is his life. Later, people try to get some pearls, people are murdered, a girl gets kidnapped, Yu Shulien gets involved…

In the fourth novel, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, and important sword goes missing, and it seems the thief is an expert at martial arts. Did Cai Xiangmei, an acrobat girl who has recently agreed to work as a servant for Yu Jiaolong (daughter of a very high-ranking offical) steal it? Also, we learn that the family who was murdered/kidnapped because of that set of pearls in the third novel has a secret family member, called Lo Xiaohu, who, not knowing his true family origins, is a bandit…

In the fifth novel Iron Knight, Silver Vase, Han Tiefang, who grew up in an official’s family, abandons everything he has to find his mother, who had been kidnapped long ago. Meanwhile, a young martial artist, Chun Xueping, knows almost nothing about her family…

Background

Book cover for ‘Sword Force, Pearl Shine’

The Iron-Crane Pentalogy was originally published in the 1930s and 1940s, and was one of the most popular works of Chinese fiction in that era.

The writer, Wang Dulu, had a strong interest in psychology (for example, he read many of Freud’s works). Before writing wuxia, Wang Dulu was a romance novelist, though apparently many of his ‘romance’ novels were as much about sons clashing with their fathers as they were about romance. And it really shows in the Iron-Crane Pentalogy that Wang Dulu was a romance novelist, since the martial arts are just a plot device, and much more attention is paid to the characters’ romantic feelings.

The “Northern School” and the “Southern School” are the two sets of novelists who are considered responsible for defining the wuxia genre in the 1920s, 30s, and 40s. Wang Dulu is considered one of the key writers from the ‘Northern School’.

I also must note that these novels were just after the first part of the Chinese Civil War, and during the Japanese invasion of China, in other words, China as a state was unravelling. I think this helps explain much of the bleakness and antagonism found in the novels.

Practically every major wuxia writer after 1950 was heavily influenced by Wang Dulu, and the Iron-Crane Pentalogy in particular. I will write more about that later.

Just Enough to Convey the Feeling

Book cover for ‘Iron Rider, Silver Vase’

As you can tell by reading the above attempt at a plot summary, the plot is actually rather complicated … but it feels simple when you read it. In fact, it feels so simple that it’s only after the fact that I realized how many of the subtleties I had absorbed, particularly the little ripples of the characters’ consciousness.

For example, there is a scene (I’m changing the characters’ names to avoid spoilers) where Character A is grieving over the death of Character B. A and B were lovers, and even had a child together, but B left A almost two decades ago, and A never went to find her until it was too late. A is feeling intense grief, not only because B is dead, but because he never said goodbye.

Enter Character C.

C at first is moved by A’s very sincere grief, and his first impulse is to comfort A. Then he holds himself back. C has a great deal of respect for B, and feels that A is no where close to being worthy of her. Furthermore, the fact that A and B had sex and a child out of wedlock was a great stain on B’s honor. Therefore, C decides to torment A, by essentially saying ‘you did not see her for almost twenty years, and now you’re crying because she’s gone. What kind of man are you? A real man would not be weeping over this.’

A replies “You’re right.” Then he says “I am only thinking of her so much because you remind me of her.”

What A and C do not know – but the reader knows – is that C is A and B’s biological son. That makes this little scene all the more poignant.

The novels are full of this subtle little emotional back-and-forth. Wang Dulu states just enough for the reader to understand what is happening, and no more. Unlike many dramatic stories which try to squeeze more dramatic juice than the pulp of the story can supply, Wang Dulu squeezes out just enough dramatic juice to demonstrate just how juicy the story is.

And it works because it feels true. People really do have these emotional entanglements.

If I can use the word “image” to describe something that is emotional rather than visual, then these novels have plenty of striking emotional images.

The Freedom to Define Intimate Relationships

Book cover for ‘Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon’

One consistent theme in the pentalogy is that trying to force people to make their intimate relationships fit “socially-acceptable” forms leads to a lot of suffering. For example, Southern Crane’s father was killed because he pursued sex with a woman other than his wife. Is having extramarital sex without some form of agreement from one’s spouse right? No, but adultery does not justify murder, and forcing Southern Crane’s mother to remarry and separate her from her son because it’s the socially appropriate thing to do causes Southern Crane to have an extremely unhappy childhood (also, note that Southern Crane’s mother, even with the adultery, did not want her husband to get get killed).

Another example: Han Tiefang, under pressure from his family, got married when he was only 15 years old … and his marriage is very unsatisfying. Since his wife hasn’t done anything wrong, he doesn’t want to divorce her (and thereby deprive her of economic support), so instead he leaves town forever (or at least that’s what he thinks) to look for his mother.

This happens again and again throughout the pentalogy. Intimate relationships which do not follow narrowly defined social norms (which is quite a few of the intimate relationships in the pentalogy) get heavily policed.

The pentalogy also shows quite a range of intimate relationships. Some women who are unmarried and not prostitutes choose to have sex (SHOCK). Some people love and want to marry women who are not virgins (SHOCK). Some people even love and want to marry prostitutes (SHOCK). Sometimes people in intimate relationships are not having sex with each other (SHOCK). Sometimes people in intimate relationships do not want to marry each other (SHOCK).

The stories are heteronormative, but considering they were written in 1930s/40s China, I would have been extremely surprised if they were not.

One of the more subtle points is that, for intimate relationships to be satisfying, people need time. Most of all, they need time to figure themselves out, and discover who they are and what they want, before they can build a mature intimate relationship. This is exactly why pressuring people to marry young (a pressure that most of the characters feel) can lead to disaster.

And there’s more…

The Iron-Crane Pentalogy is one of my favorite works of Chinese fiction, so of course I’m not done discussing it. Come back next week for Part II.

Sara K. loves fresh lychee fruit. She ate some right before working on this post.

It Came from the Sinosphere: The Lady Hermit

June 11, 2013 by Sara K. 1 Comment

Wow. A Hong Kong martial arts movie which puts a female-female relationship at the heart of the story.

The Story

A servant called Leng Yushang observes talented young woman called Cui Ping comes to town. Cui Ping is embarking on a career of helping innocent people and kicking butt. She is searching for “Zhong Kui Niang” (who I will henceforth refer to as “the Lady Hermit”) so she can become her disciple and learn how to kick butt even harder. The catch is that nobody knows where ‘the Lady Hermit’ is. The ‘Lady Hermit’ had been badly injured by the ‘Black Demon’, and hasn’t been seen since. Little does Cui Ping know that Leng Yushang is, in fact, the ‘Lady Hermit’ living incognito.

Of course, while Cui Ping tries to uphold justice, she gets into a lot of trouble (criminals generally are not amused when their activities are discrupted), so Leng Yushang has to interfere, and eventually, break her cover.

Background

Zhong Kui is a figure from Chinese mythology who fights and surppresses demons. “Zhong Kui Niang” means “Lady Zhong Kui,” implying the Leng Yushang, like Zhong Kui, is a mysterious vanquisher of evil.

This film stars the legendary martial arts actress Cheng Peipei as the “Lady Hermit.” You know how I always like to compare martial arts to dancing? Before starring in martial arts movies, Cheng Peipei studied ballet for six years. This is also the first film which casts Shi Szu in a leading role as “Cui Ping,” and thus put her on the map. I’ve read that Shaw Brothers intentionally wanted to make Shi Szu “the next Cheng Peipei,” so the purpose of the film was probably to transfer the aura of Cheng Peipei onto Shi Szu. Not that I’m complaining.

The Fighting

Since this was made during the golden era of the Shaw Brothers, of course all of the fighting is good from a technical standpoint. However, it was a bit difficult for me to get really involved in the action because the Lady Hermit and Cui Ping mow down their opponents too quickly. Instead of making the Lady Hermit and Cui Ping seem awesome, it just makes their opponents look terribly incompetent. The heroes really should struggle a bit more when vanquishing their foes.

Of course, I do like the fight at the suspension bridge, simply because it integrates great scenery and action so beautifully.

Checkov’s Bridge: If there is a suspension bridge in an action scene, it will collapse while our protagonist is on it.

Which brings me to the topic of …

The Scenery

I love the scenery in this film!

First of all, it is beautiful scenery, but it’s not just that it’s beautiful – I love the way the characters really seem to live in the scenery.

Leng Yushang at sunset

In some movies, the scenery simply stuns the audience with its beauty. And I like that too. But in this movie, rather than stunning the audience, it naturally blends into the movie as a whole.

Even the bad guys are part of the scenery.

I think this might be partially because it is not isolated from the characters/actors. When filmmakers really want to emphasis the scenery, they place the scenery alone, without the characters.

This was the only scenic shot I found without any humans.

But this film does not do that often, and when it does, it chooses relatively soft scenery which blends smoothly with the preceeding and following shots. Often, the actors are incorporated into the overall visual image presented.

Cui Ping looks isolated and alone amid the trees and mountains.

And I like the trick where characters are often introduced by reflections in the water.

This is the first sign that the Lady Hermit is on the scene!

And it’s also nice that there is variety in the scenic shots: grassy mountains, bamboo forests, temples at night…

You know how I like to compare martial arts flicks to dance musicals…

Doesn’t this screenshot feel a bit Busby Berkeley?

Female-Female Relationship For the Win

Since almost every wuxia story has a variety of female characters, it is not hard to find stories which pass the letter of the Bechdel test. But wuxia stories which depict deep female-female relationships are rare. The only other wuxia story I know about which puts female-female relationships front and center (rather than as an aside to the Much More Important Male-Female Relationships) is The Celestial Zone.

By the way, when I say male-female relationships tend to get more weight than female-female realtionships, I’m not just talking about the romantic relationships. For some reason, more weight gets put on daughter-father and sister-brother relationships than daughter-mother and sister-sister relationships.

The development of the relationship is what sucked me into the movie, as Cui Ping and Leng Yushang slowly reveal themselves to each other. The moment when Leng Yushang finally accepts Cui Ping as her student is sweet indeed.

Of course, the relationship is so compelling because both Leng Yushang and Cui Ping are individually interesting characters. Leng Yushang is collected, experienced, calm, quiet, grounded … and slowly healing old wounds. However, while she’s very discreet, she is not the least bit cold – she’s quite warm, friendly, and open when she is not being the ‘Lady Hermit’ or trying to hide her identity.

Meanwhile Cui Ping is young, energetic, brash, bold, and naive. She has very strong feelings about almost everything, which is what drives her to try to uphold justice, constantly improve her martial arts, and try so hard to find the “Lady Hermit.”

You might notice that these two are a bit like opposites, and I find their relationship compelling in the same way that good ‘opposites attract’ romances are compelling.

I really have to applaud both Cheng Peipei and Shi Szu’s performances, as I feel that their acting is what made the teacher-student relationship between the Leng Yushang and Cui Ping feel so intense.

… But There’s Something Which Irritated Me

And that is Changchun.

Well, not Changchun himself. As a character, he is so empty that there’s not much about him personally which can irritate me. It’s his position in the story which irritates me.

First of all, I don’t understand why the female characters are so attracted to him. There is nothing in the script which explains this, so the only explanation I can think of is that he is physically handsome, in which case they should have cast a better-looking actor.

Now, I do actually like the scenes between Changchun and Leng Yushang, since they seem genuinely tender without being over-the-top. Okay, maybe I can understand why Leng Yushang likes him.

What really irritates me is that a) Cui Ping gets a crush on Changchun and b) when Cui Ping discovers how sweet and tender Changchun and Leng Yushang are, even though she is not in a committed exclusive relationship with Changchun, she decides to break off her relationship with Leng Yushang.

WHAT!

Cui Ping went to great lengths to become Leng Yushang’s disciple, and her actions indicate that Leng Yushang is the most important person in the world to her. It’s understandable that she would be upset to see Leng Yushang and Changchun touching each other lovingly … but to break up with Leng Yushang over a mere crush seems to indicate that the teacher-student bond was not as important to her as the audience was led to believe.

Disclosure Time.

I will admit that, as an aromantic, I am particularly sensistive to this sort of thing (if you do not know much about aromantic people, here’s a primer). I have nothing against romance – I even like well-written fictional romances – but to me, full-blown romance is like sisterhood – very common, frequently interesting, but something I will probably never personally experience. That’s okay, because sibling relationships and romantic relationships are not the only kinds of relationships which can be psychologically fulfilling.

I do not like being told that romantic relationships are so special that it’s only natural that any other relationships – no matter how deep – can be dumped for romance – regardless of how shallow the romance is. If individual people want to only value romantic relationships, that’s their business (though I think they should inform their friends, families, and colleagues that they do not value non-romantic relationships). But to see such a wonderful teacher-student relationship disrupted over such an empty romance is heartbreaking.

Then again, Chang Yushang herself is hurt by Cui Ping’s actions, and it seems that Cui Ping is so upset not because her feelings for Changchun are so deep, but because her feelings for Leng Yushang are do deep.

And this brings us back to culture.

One of the reasons I enjoy Chinese-language fiction as much as I do is that, compared to mainstream English-language fiction, the value of romantic relationships is more balanced with other kinds of relationships. And ultimately, the movie does vindicate me, and show that the relationship between Leng Yushang and Cui Ping is far more important than anything going on with Changchun. In an American movie … I think that vindication would have been less likely.

Even son … sigh … I wish they had chosen a different plot device to acheive the same effect.

Availability in English

This movie is available on Region 3 DVD with English subtitles.

Conclusion

A beautiful movie about a beautiful relationship between two vivid characters. What more can I say?

This column will go on hiatus for two weeks.

The Dragon Boat Festival is happening on June 12th! Time for Sara to go watch some dragon boat races and eat some rice dumplings. She also finally has an excuse to visit the town of Longtan.

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.

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, Melinda) 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.

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: Datang Shuanglong Zhuan

April 30, 2013 by Sara K. 1 Comment

The best English translation of the title I recall encountering is Tang Dynasty Dragon Duo, but it just sounds better is Chinese, which is why many people use the Chinese title even when discussing the book in English.

The Story

The story is set at the end of the Sui dynasty, which is on the verge of collapse. Everybody sees this as an opportunity to grab power.

Xu Ziling

Enter two orphans living on the street, Kou Zhong and Xu Ziling. They only have their wits and each other. They just happen to get the precious martial arts manual Changsheng Jue, which makes them targets. They are rescued by Fu Junzhuo, a martial artist from Koguryo (Korea), and they accept her as their mother … then she dies.

Kou Zhong

Kou Zhong and Xu Ziling study the Changsheng Jue, and become martial artists themselves – but more dangerous than their martial arts are their cleverness and capacity for strategic thinking. Xu Ziling ambition is to merely get revenge for their mother (Fu Junzhuo), take care of their sister Susu, and have fun wandering around. Kou Zhong, on the other hand, wants to … how can I say it in English … “take over the world”?

And therein lies conflict. Kou Zhong and Xu Ziling, closer than brothers, are the most important people to each other in the world. Xu Ziling wants to do what’s right for the common people of China, and deep down, he suspects that Kou Zhong’s ambitions are not in the common people’s best interests. In the medium term, they are united by their desire to get revenge for Fu Junzhuo and care for Susu. Yet Kou Zhong does not want to give up his dream of demonstrating his might to the world, Xu Ziling does not want to let Kou Zhong cause suffering to the common people, and neither wants to destroy their relationship. In the long run … something has to give.

Background

This is Huang Yi’s longest and most popular novel, in fact, it’s probably the most popular wuxia novel of the 1990s. Right around the time that wuxia was ‘dying’, Huang Yi’s fiction appeared, and became very popular in Hong Kong and Taiwan. For an interesting take on Huang Yi, go to the Science Fiction Encyclopedia.

Datang Shuanglong Zhuan has been adapted into two TV shows, Twin of Brothers (2004/Cantonese) and Twin of Brothers (2011/Mandarin), and there are more planned. There is also a manhua adaptation by Tony Wong.

This novel is so popular that, when I mention that I’ve read it to Taiwanese men, the most common reaction is ‘oh, that’s a good book, I’ve read it too’. The fact that almost every general bookstore in Taiwan has a copy on hand speaks literally volumes – (the Taiwanese revised edition contains twenty volumes, which takes quite a bit of shelf space).

Female Characters

First, look at the illustrations of the Dramatis Personae throughout this post. Do you notice a pattern?

I do. The female characters are all showing off skin and/or their figures, in other words, there is an emphasis on their sex appeal. None of the male characters are showing off their skin or figures, so while they are not unattractive, they are not primarily being shown as sex objects.

I find it particularly implausible that Li Xiuning, who as a princess has to follow lots of rules about social propriety, would ever been found in a pose like this (except maybe in the private company of her husband)

To some extent, this reflects how the novel depicts the characters. Female characters are frequently noted for their beauty, so much so that I sometimes had trouble distinguishing Super-Beautiful-Woman 1 from Super-Beautiful-Woman 2. Meanwhile, there is little to no comment on male beauty. Yes, I know this is typical in wuxia, but this novel takes it further than most.

That said, women aren’t just considered romance/sex objects. Kou Zhong and Xu Ziling want to get revenge for their mother because she cared for them, not because of her romance/sex appeal. Then their is their sister, Susu, who they value simply for being herself (and she is one of the few young women who is not described as being super-beautiful).

The female characters, of course, to the greatest extent they can, are active agents, organizing attacks and manipulating the situation to further their own goals … but that goes without saying. While wuxia fiction has plenty of sexism, at least it’s taken for granted that female characters will set their own agendas, and do what they can to make their agendas happen, and that if they have tools, they can do a lot. The same is, alas, not a given in English-language speculative fiction.

Kou Zhong and Xu Ziling’s Relationship

90% of what kept me flipping the pages is the relationship between Kou Zhong and Xu Ziling, in other words, I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

In particular, watching Kou Zhong was fascinating. He wishes he were light Light Yagami in Death Note so he could pursue his ambitions without his feelings getting in the way … but unfortunately (fortunately?) for him, he’s got a big, squishy, sentimental heart.

To Kou Zhong’s credit, when he falls in love, instead of trying to kill his feelings, he makes himself vulnerable and makes a sincere effort to be a good lover. That’s why it’s so heartbreaking when he fails, and concludes that he must redouble his efforts to take over China since he cannot find any other meaning in his life.

For much of the novel, I thought it was a bit like Death Note, but with casting Light Yagami and L as brothers who are closer to each other than anyone else in the world. Both stories focus a lot on tactics and strategies for outsmarting one another (though Kou Zhong and Xu Ziling usually work together, not against each other). Towards the end, though, I realized that this story is actually more in the spirit of Basara than Death Note. Kou Zhong and Xu Ziling have a brotherly, not romantic, relationship, and they know each others’ identities, but their fundamental struggle is similar to Sarasa and Shuri’s.

It is a beautiful, deep relationship, and though Kou Zhong and Xu Ziling make friends, lovers, and even gain a mother and sister, it’s clear that nothing can replace the experience of relying on each other for survival as children in the street when everybody else ignored or abused them. That’s why the possibility of the relationship being shattered is so … dramatic.

One of the most moving parts of the story is when Kou Zhong says something to Xu Ziling. I don’t remember what Kou Zhong literally says, but I remember how Xu Ziling understands what Kou Zhong means: Kou Zhong’s love for Xu Ziling is so deep that, even if Xu Ziling betrays him, Kou Zhong would still love him.

The Length of the Novel

After I told someone how long this novel he, he replied ‘it’s like War and Peace‘. I replied ‘No, it’s not like War and Peace. War and Peace is less than 2000 pages long. The Taiwanese revised edition of Datang Shuanglong Zhuan is about 7000 pages long.’

Yes, this is the longest novel I have ever read.

I don’t think I could have marathoned it. Instead, I would read a few hundred pages, then read something else, then pick this up again and read another few hundred pages. I did, however, marathon the last 1500 pages or so.

Most readers know that a story which is only 7 pages long feels very different from a story which is 70 pages long. While they may have the same plot structure, a 70 page story can pack in a lot more detail and nuance. Furthermore, a 700 page story feels very different from a 70 page story.

Now, I can say, that the difference between a 700 and 7000 page story is just as great at between a 70 and 700 page story. I am not even sure the label ‘novel’ still applies to a 7000 page story. There is simply much more richness, depth, and subtlety possible with those extra pages.

As such, I feel like I’m misrepresenting this novel. Even though I’m focusing on Kou Zhong and Xu Ziling, who are the core of the novel, I still feel that I’m oversimplifying them because they evolve so much and show so many different facets of themselves during the course of the story.

And this feels woefully incomplete without saying more about the complex web of relationships that Kou Zhong and Xu Ziling are in (they sure don’t live in a vacuum). For example, I’ve managed to get this far in this post without mentioning Li Shimin, one of the most important characters.

Li Shimin

However … the whole point of writing something 7000 pages long is that the story does not lend itself to brevity.

This work feels very different from anything else I’ve read, and I think I’d either need to read another super-long novel, or read a series of novels with the same characters which was as long as a super-long novel, to have this kind of experience again.

My Take on the Ending (spoiler-free version)

First of all, it was not the ending I expected. Okay, even I know enough about Chinese history that I knew who was going to end up emperor of China, but otherwise … not what I was expecting.

And I was disappointed.

After reflecting on it, it’s not the ending itself which disappointed me. It actually could have been a great ending. What let me down was the execution of the ending. And that’s about as much as I can say without spoilers.

Availability in English

The novel: ha Ha ha hA HA HA HA Ha ha ha HA!

The TV shows: The 2004 TV show is available on region-free DVD with English subtitles (for sale at YesAsia.com). The 2011 TV show, as far as I know, is not available anywhere with English subtitles. I haven’t seen either show, so I cannot comment on the quality.

The manhua: As far as I know, it’s also completely unavailable in English..

Conclusion

Well, though the ending was a let-down for me, this novel was still worth it for the journey. I’d like to read another super-long novel some day, though finding the time to do so is a challenge…

For me, at least, this was a novel about how to set one’s priorities for life. Do you just try to have fun? Do you try to make the world a better place? Should you dream big? Who should be the important people in your life, and how important should they be? Should you abandon your ambition for the sake of personal relationships, and just how much wrong would the important people in your life have to commit before you would turn your back on them?

The novel makes the point that, if you have to ruin your relationships with the people closest to you to make your grand dream come true, your dream will become a nightmare.

Next Time: Hear Me (movie)

Last week, Sara K. hiked up Syueshan Main Peak, which is the second highest mountain in East Asia (aside from the Kamchatka peninsula).

It Came from the Sinosphere: Ashes of Time

March 26, 2013 by Sara K. 2 Comments

This movie is a critics’ darling and a box office flop. It often gets placed on lists of “Best Chinese-Language Movies”—for example, this movie is ranked at #35 in the Hong Kong Film Awards list of 100 Best Chinese Movies (this is a bit like the AFI 100 list).

This movie is also plain weird.

The Story

Ouyang Feng contracts sword fighters and martial artists to carry out paid assassinations. His best friend is Huang Yaoshi. Someone called Murong Yang wants Ouyang Feng to kill Huang Yaoshi for jilting his sister. Then Murong Yin (the sister) comes to ask Ouyang Feng to kill Murong Yang (her brother) for getting between her and Huang Yaoshi, and … *sigh* … I quit this synopsis.

I don’t want to spoil anything, and even if I did write a comprehensible plot summary (which would be spoilerful), it would completely miss the point. Just know that this takes place in a desert, there are love polygons, and that the men, at least, are all skilled fighters.

More Background

This is a film by Wong Kar-wai, one of Hong Kong’s most recognized film directors. He’s the only Chinese-language director who has won an award at the Cannes Film Festival. He’s famous for making movies with lots of lush visual imagery that explores personal relationships and memories, which describes this specific film to a T.

This film also features many of Hong Kong’s top stars of the era.

This movie is supposedly a prequel to Jin Yong’s Condor Trilogy. Indeed most of the main characters (Ouyang Feng, Huang Yaoshi, and Hong Qi) are also significant characters in the trilogy, and a few of the plot points in this movie (specifically Ouyang Feng’s relationship with his brother’s wife) are also mentioned in Jin Yong’s work. But this movie is so different, that I would describe it as fanfiction loosely inspired by the Condor Trilogy rather than an actual prequel (though being a work of fanfiction doesn’t mean that it has any less merit).

It took a lot of time to shoot this movie, which caused it to go over-budget. To try to get some more cash, the makers of this movie spent about a week putting together a spoof of the The Eagle-Shooting Heroes, which ironically made more money than Ashes of Time itself.

In 2005, Wong Kar-wai put together Ashes of Time Redux. I haven’t seen it (I saw the original film), but I’ve read that the story is easier to understand in the “redux” version.

The Cinematography

I generally don’t talk much about cinematography or editing, since I know close to nothing about such things. However, even someone like me who has never taken a film class in her life can tell that this movie has great imagery. This movie also makes creative use of moving light/show, such as in scenes where light shines through a twirling wicker cage, which causes the light to shine in moving lines across the actors’ faces.

Wicker cage shadows!

Another example is this scene with a woman on horseback, in which the light reflected off the water makes the woman’s face look almost white (the whiteness of her face is starkly contrasted with her otherwise dark surroundings).

The woman on horseback with light reflecting off the water (this is really hard to convey in a single screenshot)

Reflections in the water is actually a theme in this movie.

And the desert is … very scenic. I won’t say “beautiful,” since that’s not the intention, but it certainly has visual impact.

I’m sure somebody who actually knows something about cinematography could make more insightful comments.

Position in Wuxia

This is obviously a wuxia film, and it’s the kind of wuxia film which defies what many non-Asians imagine wuxia is. Though there are a few furious fights, they are also furiously brief, therefore I can’t enjoy this film in the same way I would enjoy a Lau Kar-leung film for the exciting kung-fu choreography. It’s also not a tearjerking melodramatic romance. This, in a way, makes it the opposite of a Jin Yong story, since Jin Yong stories tend to be very high in technically-detailed fighting and melodramatic romance (soap operas with swords!)

This is a quietly-meditative kind of wuxia story, which uses the psychologically heightened setting of wandering fighters to look at personal relationships (I’ve seen this before in novels, though not in a movie—in fact, I’m impressed it works at all in a film format). The relationships aren’t there to make drama; the drama is there to reveal the relationships.

The Pacing

If you haven’t guessed it already, this is a slow movie, and it’s not until the end that the various bits and pieces of the story cohere into something that feels complete.

Being familiar with The Eagle-Shooting Heroes makes it a little easier to understand what is going on, but not much easier. I understand why this bombed at the box office.

On the other hand, I did not find the film boring at any point. Aside from the eye-catching imagery, the individual moments were usually pretty interesting, even though it was sometimes hard to understand what was connecting the various moments together.

And the fact that this film feels so disjointed actually helps make its point. It’s a film about memory and personal reflection, and when we think back on our own memories, we generally think of them in sets of particular vivid moments, rather than a linear narrative.

Personal Relationships and Regret

This movie is basically about how we let our personal relationships deteriorate, how we fail to value the most meaningful things in life, and how we mourn for that loss when it’s too late. The most positive reviews I’ve seen of this movie came from people who watched it after a breakup, and a few people recommend watching it alone (then again, some people recommend watching it in a theater if possible to fully experience the cinematography).

The current state of my life is not such that I can fully appreciate this film. It does not speak to what are currently my deepest personal issues. Therefore, I feel that I haven’t felt the full impact of this film. Perhaps I should revisit this film again when my life is different.

However, the film still has some relevance to my current life. I have spent most of my life in San Francisco, and prior to moving to Taiwan, I had spent all of my life living in northern California (aside from brief trips to other places). Modern technology makes it much easier to maintain the relationships which are most important to me … but not being in the Bay Area has meant that relationships which are not so close, but still valuable, have gradually withered away.

During my first year in Taiwan, I didn’t think at all about returning to the United States since I was still dazzled by the novelty of being on a different continent, but now I often think about returning, and of all the things I should do to re-establish myself before it’s too late (the United States as a whole, and my neighborhood specifically, has changed since I left, and if I wait too long, I will only be able to return as a stranger). The fact that I think so much about returning also affects my relationships here in Taiwan—I’m afraid to go deeper into relationships, lest they break when I leave. Heh, maybe this film is a preview of how I’ll feel after I return to the United States, in which case, it’s a bit scary.

Availability in English

This movie is readily available with English subtitles, and they don’t suck. Since this movie is in Cantonese, I actually used a combination of Chinese and English subtitles to watch it, so I was able to compare the two. While I’m certain the Chinese subtitles are closer to what is being said in Cantonese, most of the departures in the English subtitles make the English feel more natural, and a more literal translation would feel much stiffer.

Non-Conclusion

I think I need to see the film again before I have a conclusion. And seeing the film again right now wouldn’t count—I need to wait at least six months before seeing the film again. I might conclude that this film is really deep, or I might conclude that it’s bullshit dressed up with impressive cinematography. Perhaps I’ll watch the redux version next time.

Next time: Burning Moon (manhua)

Sara K. finally went to Sun Moon Lake. She had been warned that she shouldn’t get her expectations too high, but she thinks Sun Moon Lake is gorgeous, and that Nantou County is fantastic. She suspects the people who find Sun Moon Lake disappointing/boring either have a different temperament from her, were doing/seeing the wrong things, or simply had super-high expectations (Sara’s learned to never have super-high expectations during travel).

It Came from the Sinosphere: The Nine Provinces

March 19, 2013 by Sara K. Leave a Comment

The Story

In ancient China, Asule is the son of the leader of a powerful northern tribe. As a child, he was sent to another tribe for rearing, then his father’s tribe came along a few years later and wiped out the tribe. Asule regarded a number of the people from that tribe as family, so to say that he is distressed is an understatement.

Asule has been designated as the heir of the tribe, even though he has older brothers, and his body is frail and weak. He’s afraid that his brothers will kill him one day, and he’s frustrated that, with his weak body, he can’t protect the people he loves.

He eventually learns that he has inherited the “green-copper blood.” If he rouses it, it grants him great physical strength, but at the cost of his ability to reason. His grandfather wants to rouse the “green-copper blood” in him to carry on the family legacy, whereas Asule’s father wants Asule to live a nice, happy life. It turns out that Asule’s father had imprisoned his grandfather because his grandfather had killed his own daughter, Asule’s aunt (it’s hinted that his grandfather killed his aunt because of the “green-copper blood”).

Though there’s a lot more about Asule’s family, but I think it’s enough to say that becoming merely dysfunctional would be an improvement.

Eventually, Asule is sent to Donglu, where he takes the name “Lü Guichen.” In Donglu, he makes two good friends, Jieye and Yuran, and interesting things are happening in Donglu…

Background

This is a novel by Jiangnan, one of China’s most popular active wuxia writers, published in traditional Chinese characters by Kadokawa.

Wait a minute … isn’t Kadokawa a Japanese publisher? Why are they publishing an wuxia novel from mainland China in Taiwan and Hong Kong?

I would like to know the answer to that. I’m sure they hope to make a profit, but I’d like to know more a bit more about their reasoning. Most of what Kadokawa publishes in Taiwan are Japanese manga and novels translated into Chinese—for example, they publish the Taiwanese edition of A Bride’s Story. Recently, I learned that they have branched into publishing original Taiwanese light novels, but as far as I know, this is the only wuxia novel as well as the only novel from China that they have published (if you know of others, please comment).

Actually, maybe I shouldn’t call this a wuxia novel. Though this novel tends to get labeled as ‘wuxia’ by bookstores, marketers, etc., and Jiangnan is considered a “wuxia” writer, Jiangnan himself says that this novel is a “betrayal”—not fantasy, not historical, not romance, and not wuxia (emphasis mine).

Jiangnan is from Anhui province, and earned a Ph.D. at Washington University. He started reading a lot about ancient Chinese history, in particular, he wanted to understand the motivations of various historical figures. It was he was trying to get into the heads of ancient Chinese strongmen that he got the inspiration which eventually led this this novel.

Speaking of history…

The History (or My Ignorance and Confusion)

As I’ve said before, I actually do not know that much about Chinese history, and that is especially true of ancient Chinese history. “The Nine Provinces” is a reference to China in the Xia and Shang dynasties. However, I couldn’t find any information about most of the geographical locations mentioned in the novel. Does that mean they are fictional, or am I so ignorant that I am looking at the wrong references? Also, I couldn’t find any information about the emperor mentioned, which makes me thing he almost certainly is fictional.

My guess is that Asule’s homeland is not in “China” since, well, “Asule” is not exactly a Chinese name. I reckon that “Donglu” is China since, after moving to Donglu, Asule takes the name “Lü Guichen,” which does sound like a Chinese name, and more significantly, he felt a need to take a “Chinese” name.

In case you don’t know, in Chinese-speaking societies, everybody who is somebody is expected to have a Chinese name, regardless of ethnicity. In Taiwan, there are some legal/business things which are impossible to carry out without a Chinese name. Though I do not have a formal Chinese name, I get asked fairly often what it is, and I eventually made one up for myself. In Chinese-speaking culture, people are supposed to change their name to fit whatever cultural context they are operating in, which includes ethnic Chinese operating outside of Chinese-speaking culture. That’s why many ethnic Chinese have “English” names like “Betty,” “Harold,” “Robin,” and so forth—to them, that is the way that different cultures should interact. That, more than the name “Lü Guichen” itself, makes “Donglu” feel like China to me.

In short, I think that Jiangnan is making up his own alternate ancient Chinese history, but I am so ignorant of Chinese history that I don’t know how much is based on actual history, and how much is based on his imagination. Maybe writing a historical novel based on his own re-imagined history is what he means when he says that this novel is a “betrayal.”

My Own Reaction

The first time I read the first volume, it didn’t engage me. I didn’t get what the big fuss was about Jiangnan. I think the problem is that it was so different from anything else I’ve read that I didn’t know where to sink in my teeth.

On the other hand, I kept it around, and eventually, I figured it was worth a second chance.

The second time, I got hooked.

It’s fascinating partially because Asule’s personal circumstances are amazingly messed up (basic rule of fiction = the more hurt the characters are, the more the audience cares), it’s fascinating partially because of the contrast of Asule’s sensitivity and perceptiveness with his “uselessness,” and it’s fascinating because Jiangnan creates a world which feels truly fresh and original (though it sure is not a world I would want to live in).

I think it makes a difference that Jiangnan’s starting point was nonfiction rather than fiction. Even though he apparently tossed out most of the facts to pursue his own ideas, his ideas come from his thoughts on ancient Chinese history, not the tropes of any particular fictional genre (though I have nothing against recycling tropes, particularly tropes I like). Reality, being stranger fiction, in some ways is more creative.

Availability in English

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

However, the mere fact that contemporary wuxia from mainland China is getting published outside of China at all is intriguing. I certainly do not expect this to get translated into English in the near future (or ever), but I wonder … would Kadokawa consider publishing this into Japanese?

Conclusion

If all wuxia novels were the same, even if they were all just like my favorites, I would be thoroughly bored of wuxia by now. However, just when I think I have a rough idea of the parameters of wuxia, surprise surprise, I find a story which falls outside of those parameters. The main reason I keep on trying different wuxia novels and writers is not because I want to relive the wonderful experiences I’ve had with certain books—re-reading those books would be much more efficient—but because discovering the range of the genre is exciting.

Granted, Jiangnan claims this is not actually an wuxia novel, but I think it’s fair to say it at least belongs to the wuxia tradition (hey, if you’re betraying tradition, you still have a relationship with it). And this novel is certainly quite different from any other wuxia novel I’ve read, or for that matter, any other novel I’ve read.

This novel is not complete, at least not in traditional Chinese characters, so I don’t know how it concludes. But I certainly intend to read future volumes.

Next Time: Ashes of Time (movie)

Sara K. actually ended up ordering volume two of The Nine Provinces online. She finds the Taiwanese system of buying books online a lot more convenient that the system in the United States (she can get the books the next day AND free shipping AND she can pay with cash, no credit card necessary). Though this is partially because Taiwan is a densely populated island, she still can’t help but feel a bit disappointed in the services offered by online booksellers in the United States.

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: The Eleventh Son

January 8, 2013 by Sara K. Leave a Comment

It is high time that I actually write a post about Gu Long, so here it is.

But First, the Story

Xiao has a reputation as a notorious bandit (even though nobody’s proven he committed any crime), and ends up rescuing Shen, who is The Most Beautiful Woman in the World (there are so many Most Beautiful Women in the World in wuxia fiction that it’s ridiculous – this gets lampshaded in Passionate Wastrel, Infatuated Hero where they keep a bloody list of the most beautiful women in the world, which Zhao Guan takes exception to). Xiao and Shen end up spending a few months together, and fall in love with other. Alas, Shen is already married, to a handsome, strong, skilled, rich, well-mannered young man no less. Oh, and she’s pregnant (with her husband’s child).

Anyway, Xiao has his own matters to deal with, being an outlaw and all. Eventually, Shen’s family is murdered and Xiao is accused. Things get pretty gnarly…

Now, I Talk about Gu Long

Gu Long, along with Jin Yong (discussed previously many times in this column) and Liang Yusheng (discussed here), is considered one of the three great writers of “new wuxia”. I actually prefer to call it “Cold War wuxia” since, you know, a new generation of wuxia writers has already emerged. Gu Long is also one of the four great (Cold War) wuxia writers of Taiwan, of which he is certainly the most popular.

What I respect about Gu Long is that he created his own personal style of wuxia, and was never content with his success – he always strove to push the wuxia genre and his own craft to the limit of his ability. As such, his works feel unique, both distinct from other wuxia writers, and distinct from each other.

Gu Long studied foreign literature in college, so it should come as no surprise that his works are heavily influenced by non-Asian literature. That isn’t to say that other wuxia writers weren’t influenced by foreign writers – Jin Yong was certainly influenced by classical Greek literature and Alexandre Dumas – but studying foreign literature is one of the things which helped Gu Long break away from the conventions of the genre and make his own kind of wuxia. Some of the foreign writers who influenced him include Ernest Hemingway, Ian Fleming, John Steinbeck, and Friedrich Nietzsche.

I’m tempted to say that Gu Long’s works are ‘wuxia noir’, except his work is so diverse that I think that is too limiting.

Writing Style

Some people say that a picture is worth a thousand words. Right now, I think thousands of words are worth taking pictures of.

Here is a random page from The Bride with White Hair.

Those paragraphs are … well-sized. Actually, these paragraphs seem a bit shorter than average for Liang Yusheng – it’s not unusually for a paragraph to take up an entire page (yes, even in this big-page format). Furthermore, Liang Yusheng uses quite a range of vocabulary.

Here is a random page from a Jin Yong novel.

That is a wall of words alright. And not just any words – the vocabulary required to read this is significantly more advanced than needed to read Liang Yusheng. I reckon it took me about 90 hours to read Shè Diāo Yīngxióng Zhuàn. It’s not just non-native readers who think Jin Yong is hard – I’ve met Taiwanese people who claim they can’t read Jin Yong novels because it’s too hard (on the other hand, I’ve also seen 10-year-olds reading Jin Yong novels).

Now what about Gu Long? Here’s a random page:

It’s heavy on dialogue, and even the non-dialogue paragraphs are awfully short, heck, most of the sentences are short too. It’s not just the paragraph/sentence length – the vocabulary is also much more basic. Granted, Gu Long occasionally uses pretty advanced vocabulary, but even so, when it comes to difficulty, he’s definitely not in the same league as Jin Yong or Liang Yusheng.

I think you now understand why some learners of Chinese interested in wuxia choose to start with Gu Long.

The fact that Gu Long chooses to write mostly dialogue and sentences which are much shorter than what is standard for Chinese literature (or even conversational Chinese) definitely affects the mood. Whereas Jin Yong will go into a loving digression about tea or something, Gu Long can be so brief it’s stark.

Gu Long and Gender

Ha, I could dedicate an entire post to this topic.

Some people say that Gu Long is the most misogynist of wuxia writers. Other people say that Gu Long wrote better and showed more respect female characters than other wuxia writers.

I partially agree with both sides.

I think Gu Long has earned reputation as a misogynist. No other wuxia writer I’m familiar with comes anywhere close to saying anything as vile as what Gu Long says about women in some of his works. To be fair, the most misogynist remarks are concentrated in the villains’ mouths, however the narrator and protagonists are also guilty, and even if it’s in the villain’s mouth, it’s not much fun to read.

Now, I don’t think there is any respect in which one could claim that Gu Long writes better female characters or is more gender-egalitarian than Zheng Feng or Liang Yusheng. There are certain respects in which I think Gu Long handles female characters in a more egalitarian manner than Jin Yong or certain other wuxia writers … but in my opinion, this is more than outweighed by the misogynist bile that Gu Long sometimes pours out. It’s my impression that a much higher percentage of Jin Yong fans than Gu Long fans are female, and I think it’s because that it’s because, overall, Jin Yong is simply friendlier to a female audience.

But it’s not the sexism which most bothers me about Gu Long. It’s the gender-rigidity. Like I said, Gu Long’s works have quite a bit of variety, and some of his works are much less misogynist than others. However, everything I’ve read by him is full of statements like “All men do X because they are men” and “Women always do X. Otherwise, they would feel bad.” First of all, this erases anybody who doesn’t conform to the gender binary While I wouldn’t call Jin Yong or Liang Yusheng champions of gender diversity, they do have some characters who are not cis-gendered. But even among cis-people, there is greater differences between people of the same gender than there are between different genders. While I think there are biological between the sexes, I think gender is a social construct, and that most of the “differences” between female and male are driven by society, not biology. I strongly take exception to Gu Long’s policing of gender roles, which is far more stringent than any other writer I’ve encountered in Chinese.

I will give credit to Gu Long for offering his characters more flexibility vis-a-vis gender in Happy Heroes (which was translated into French as Les quatre brigand du Huabei), but that seems to be the exception, not the rule, for Gu Long.

Why is Gu Long more wretched than his Chinese-speaking precedents and contemporaries? I can’t definitely answer that question … but remember how I mentioned that he was strongly influenced by foreign literature? Among other things, he was influenced by the James Bond novels … and one of the lines in The Spy Who Loved Me is (trigger warning) “All women love semi-rape. They love to be taken.”

Gu Long, to his credit, has written with sensitivity at least one female character who had experienced rape, and has never managed to make a statement quite that terrible. Nonetheless, he is the only wuxia writer I know who I could ever imagine saying anything like that. Overall, his gender-policing seems to be derived much more from European and American writers than Chinese writers.

Women in The Eleventh Son

Fortunately, The Eleventh Son is quite tolerable when it comes to gender, at least by Gu Long standards. Shen, as The Most Beautiful Woman in the World, could have easily just been a fantasy object, but she’s a fully realized character with a vibrant inner life. She tries to figure why she is not in love with her fantastic husband, she is very attached to her birth family and visits them regularly, she isn’t sure how to deal with Xiao, etc. In fact, she has so much going on that she hardly has brain space left to think about her pregnancy.

Shen’s also not always a helpless victim – she has mastered a bad-ass martial art technique courtesy of her family (and thus is heavily tied up with her feelings about her family), and ends up rescuing Xiao more than once. Eventually, she is the one who decides how to resolve the love triangle between Xiao, her husband, and herself.

Additionally, another female character ends up starting a successful new romance in her mid-to-late thirties (I don’t remember her exact age).

Availability in English

This novel has been published in English.

Ha, I bet you weren’t expecting that!

I haven’t read the translation myself, but the reviews I’ve read claim that it’s excellent.

Conclusion

I actually discussed Gu Long more than this novel specifically, didn’t I? That’s probably because I think this is less interesting than the other Gu Long novels I’ve read. It’s not that it’s a bad novel – it’s fast-moving and I got involved in the story and all – it’s just that I can’t think of much to say about it.

If you can read French, I recommend Les quatre brigands du Huabei (my favorite Gu Long novel so far) over this one. In fact, if The Eleventh Son hadn’t been translated into English, I would have probably chosen to write a post about Happy Heroes/Les quatre brigands du Huabei instead. However, if you can’t read French/Chinese/etc., then I actually highly recommend reading this novel. Gu Long is one of the most influential writers of the 20th century, and this is quite different from anything I’ve read in English. Most importantly, it is a fun read.

Next Time: Night Market Hero (film)

Sara K. sometimes wonders why she spends so my effort reading, watching, and writing about stuff in Chinese. After all, the global economy is speeding head-first into another crisis, the too-big-to-fail-banks and other oligarchical/monopolistic corporations have murdered democracy in the United States (and other countries), and if we don’t make radical changes right now, climate change will kill off at least 90% of the human population within 30 years. Shouldn’t she be spending her energy dealing with these issues instead? However, she also thinks that the power of popular culture is underestimated, and needs to be examined.

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