A certain dispute that arose during the early Jin dynasty regarding Bai Juyi that seemed to be a coincidental occurrence was to some extent inevitable. On one hand, it foreshadowed the opposition that would later arise between followers of the Tang and Song stylistic schools; on the other, it represented both the Tang school poets’ disdain for the “ornamental avant-garde” poetry that was fashionable at the time as well as their own search for a new creative direction. The re-evaluation of Bai Juyi that occurred during that period, particularly the frequent comparison of Bai to Tao Yuanming, indicates that Bai Juyi’s poetry was widely accepted at the time, which itself represented not only a challenge to traditional perspectives, but also a historical landmark in Bai Juyi’s history of acceptance. Jin dynasty poets’ creative imitation of Bai Juyi’s carefree as well as his satirical poems spurred a maturation of Bai’s spirit of concern for self and reality, which later incorporated itself into the spirit of Chinese literati in general.
In the 1920s, the Japanese scholar Naito Konan put forward the famous theories of “the Song dynasty is the beginning of modern China” and “the cultural transformation was completed during the Tang and Song dynasties,” which exerted far-reaching influence in the academic circle. However, although full of the “numerous academic growth points and exuberant academic vitality, the theories have not been well explored and illustrated yet.”1 This paper, taking Liu Yong as a case study, is intended to provide concrete examples to Naito’s theories. The urban narrative in Liu Yong’s lyrics—the multi-role discourse practice of a prodigal poet, a talented lyricist, and a traveling official—inherited the discourse splitting trend of the late-Tang and Five dynasties and finished the transformation from the elite to the mass discourse. Accordingly, it set the narrative mode of amorous themes and discourse mode of “talented lyricist plus amorous affairs,” which exerted far-reaching influence on the construction of the new urban culture in the Song dynasty.
The cane is a frequent subject in Song Literature. Its tremendous variety is starting. Meanwhile, cane-related materials, costumes, circumstances and activities reflect distinct inclination, carrying rich cultural and aesthetic implications. From the “cane literature,” we see clearly the evolution of worldviews, values, aesthetic tastes and literary claims of Song writers, as well as the selective inheritance of Song culture from preceding literatures. It can be concluded that, in a certain sense, the cane of ancient Chinese writers embodies a history of literature, of aesthetic, and of philosophy.
This essay talks about a significant moment in Chinese intellectual and literary history, centrally involving the nature of human happiness, which remains one of the great questions in all philosophical traditions. The Northern Song version of this question continues to have resonance in the contemporary world because we often still link happiness with particular situations and often, like our Northern Song predecessors, with particular sites and possessions. These questions can indeed be found earlier in the Chinese tradition, but in the major social transformations of the Northern Song—a growing commercial culture, and an elite defined by cultural prestige rather than by family background—this question came to enjoy a new intensity of discursive reflection.
Although James Joyce and Lu Xun were both writing at a time when a new nation was being created out of former empire, little has been written about the extraordinary synchronicities of their early careers or their common mission. Both understood a new nation must first be created in the hearts and minds of its people. Coming from a medical background, each regarded their countrymen as sick in spirit, paralyzed by slavish dependencies. Joyce saw such servility as fostered by Ireland’s long colonization under the British Crown, a subservience seconded by the “tyranny” of the Roman Catholic Church. For Lu Xun, this spiritual paralysis manifested itself as a legacy of the Confucianism of the late Qing dynasty. Working from a medical model, both writers present a detailed, precise, and cold account of the speech of their characters to reveal the true nature of their disease-while allowing the reader to reach his own diagnosis. By means of this new kind of narrative, both James Joyce and Lu Xun sought to liberate the “soul” or “spirit” of their people, granting them a voice of their own which itself clarified to what extent they had been conscripted by the words of others.
The author of this paper attempts to make a detailed analysis of the impact the notion of the cultural turn exerted upon the translation studies at home, and to explore the historical elements of the notion and its inevitability of the emergence. The author also intends, at the conclusion of the paper, to present his view on the broad vista that the notion of the cultural turn has opened up the new areas for the current translation studies.
In this article, I examine several narratives that express nostalgia through the food of Nanjing, especially those representing the famous halal (qingzhen 清真) restaurant Ma Xiangxing 马祥兴, in order to investigate how narrative time can be manipulated in order to variously position and frame history. After outlining the context of prevalent cultural nostalgia in contemporary China, I begin with a publicity narrative generated by Ma Xiangxing. I then move on to literary representations by authors such as Wu Jingzi 吴敬梓, Huang Shang 黄裳, and Ye Zhaoyan 叶兆言. Finally, I look at “Nanjing 1912,” a high-end shopping and entertainment district that attempts to invoke the Republican era in order to attract consumers. As food nostalgia evolved from a rebellion against modernity to a marketing strategy in China, it has generated narratives that embody a mix of restorative and reflective nostalgia. A linear narration of history and tradition coexists with a circular narration that challenges its accuracy; thus, not only does originality eventually become a meaningless concept, but simulation also precedes and creates reality in the general commercialization of nostalgia in post-reform China.
Imagination is the lifeline of science fiction. In the 20th century, Chinese science fiction has produced the three distinct imagination modes of desire, possibility, and principles, conveyed through at least five expression techniques in neologisms, verisimilitude, temporal disjunction, situational extremes, and metaphorization. Although imagination is critical to the creation of science fiction, there are polarized views about its nature. A necessary task for the future development of Chinese science fiction is challenging false conceptions of imagination so as to establish more imagination modes.
This article examines the adoption of ghost marriage (冥婚) as a literary theme in twentieth-century Chinese literature, arguing that this theme reflects a set of changes in perceptions of temporality from the premodern to the modern period. As a traditional ritual of holding marriage for the dead, ghost marriage embodies premodern views of time and space wherein the living and the dead are perceived as coexisting in parallel spaces, and the boundary of life and death is seen as transcendable through the extension of kinship. In this way, the dead are kept within the family, maintaining the warmth of familial relationships that transcend being and non-being. Modern authors, promoting a linear view of time, have taken up ghost marriage as an anchoring point of nostalgia for an unrecoverable ethics-based society. For instance, Yan Lianke’s 阎连科1994 novella Searching for the Land (寻找土地) announces the utter corruption—and therefore the death—of ethics-based society, suggesting that the only alternative is to confront the future as a road to hope rather than indulge in an illusion of the past. Through an analysis of Yan’s novella, this essay discusses how the theme of ghost marriage fits into the broader literary context of the early 1990s while also anticipating some of the distinctive elements of Yan Lianke’s subsequent novels.
In The Explosion Chronicles (Zhalie zhi 炸裂志), Yan Lianke combines ancient and contemporary practices of constructing and destructing, building and burning, in a literary style he calls mythorealism. The fictional chronicles relay a history of development written in the modern language of growth, documenting the development of a community called Explosion, which subsumes a discussion of economic growth within a theme of twisted temporality. This article uses The Explosion Chronicles to interrogate the temporal assumptions inherent in contemporary discourses of economic development in China. At the heart of my analysis of these tropes is a critique of the ideological function of linear time. Time can be arrested in economic growth, becoming an interface that activates intersubjective gazes before narratives mature.
Based on the brief account of the outline and the systematic research of China modern literary journals, including the past and the present, this paper emphasizes that the modern literature journal is one of the modern literature carriers and even one of the primary research topics on modern literature. Research of the modern journals can possibly renovate the modern literature research and provide a new perspective on it.
This paper focuses on imaginative representations of peasants at the “gate” of the law in fiction and graphic arts in different periods, exploring the visualization of regimes and the ways to express the relationship among party, nation and peasants. By imagining and portraying the peasants who “saw” the law in liberated areas, Zhao Shuli’s novels and Gu Yuan’s woodcuts demonstrate changes in the peasants-law relationship—a process the Chinese peasants underwent from merely “seeing” the law in the Republican era to “seeing and participating” in judicial activities in the Yan’an era. As narrative elements and epistemological devices in novels and graphic artworks, objects such as the “gate” play an important role in representing such changes of productive relations.
Following Kenneth King’s pioneering transmedial synthetic writings on post‐modern dance practices and Kimerer L. LaMothe’s call for dance to be treated seriously in religious and philosophical discourses, I examine Yan Geling’s novella Baishe (White Snake, 1998), in relation to Lilian Lee’s novel Qingshe (Green Snake, 1986–93), with a focus on how dancing and writing function literally, metaphorically, dialectically, and reciprocally, in these narratives. In my textual and contextual analyses of Yan’s White Snake text, I borrow Daria Halprin’s therapeutic model for accessing life experiences through the body in motion. I argue that, through a creative use of writing and dancing as key metaphors for identity formation and transformation, Yan’s text, in the context of contemporary China, offers innovative counter‐narratives of gender, writing, and the body. Yan’s White Snake is considered in the following three contexts in this paper: firstly, the expressiveness of the female body in the White Snake story; secondly, the tradition and significance of writing women in Chinese literary history; and thirdly, the development of dance as a profession in the PRC, with a real‐life snake dancer at the center. These three different frameworks weave an intricate tapestry that reveals the dialectics of writing and dancing, and language and the body, throughout the latter half of twentieth‐century China. Furthermore, Yan’s text foregrounds the Cultural Revolution as an important chronotope for experimentation with a range of complex gender identities in relation to the expressive and symbolic powers of dancing and writing.
Although among the modern Chinese intellectuals endeavoring for the enlightenment of the people, Lu Xun is the most rebellious and resolute, his rebelliousness against tradition does not mean that he has nothing to do with tradition itself. On the contrary, in order to fight against a tradition, as a precondition he must have a deep understanding and cognition toward that tradition. The emergence of Lu Xun’s philosophical proposition, “everything is an intermediate object” (yiqie doushi zhongjianwu ), occurs exactly in this way. With the evocation of this philosophical thought, the “intermediate object” (zhongjianwu ), we see the inseparable indigenous tie predestined between Lu Xun and Chinese traditional culture, even while he fiercely fights it. Lu Xun’s innovative idea was produced in the process of deducing and developing the excellent and discarding the worthless in Chinese traditional culture, while absorbing and learning from the advanced thought of the West. Furthermore, his philosophy of the “intermediate object” forms the basis of his study and practice in translation. His purpose in translation is to bravely step out of the circle of inherent traditional culture, to come to the advanced “middle zone” where Chinese and Western cultures collide, and to probe into the new cultural factors from the West. In doing so he seeks to reform and improve Chinese traditional culture, and thus meet “the third era which China has never experienced before.” However, Lu Xun’s idea of “intermediate objects” is neither the traditional idea of the “golden mean” (zhongyong zhidao ) nor that of “hypocrisy” (xiangyuan 乡愿). Unfortunately they are often mixed together into chaos by many people. So it is necessary to have further discussion about these terms and distinguish them separately.
This article provides an existentialist reading of Liu Cixin’s novel The Three-Body Problem (Santi). Luo Ji, with the chance/miracle of Trisolaran invasion, got rid of the unreal status and became the self-conscious existence and the hero who protected the mankind by his decisiveness and responsibilities. However, he gained terror and hostility from human. Eventually, human civilization was extinct because of the rejection to the heroes. The Three-Body Problem showed Liu Cixin’s endeavor to revive heroism in the contexts of China and the world, but also represented the writer’s confusion as a symptom of the era when he was dealing with the ideological theme of hero and the common people.
Contemporary Chinese science fiction author and journalist Han Song’s works often cross the lines dividing reality from imagination, science fiction from literary mainstream, technology from the supernatural. This article, focusing in particular on Han’s novella “The Rebirth Bricks” (Zaisheng zhuan), aims to investigate the role played by the senses in a shift from the science fictional novum to the fictional “uncanny.” Featuring technological bricks, haunted by sounds of the dead which are perceived through sight and hearing, this novella is analyzed from the standpoint of this perceptual complementarity which expresses Han Song’s “science fictional re-enchantment,” a re-use of supernatural themes of the past that allow him to express the (technological) anomalies of China’s current reality.
The Chinese translation of Edward Bellamy’s Looking Backward: 2000–1887 (1887) at the turn of the twentieth century has been little studied, in spite of Bellamy’s obvious influence on Chinese intellectuals and reformist thinkers. Enthusiastically embraced by the intelligentsia as a gospel of social change, the utopian fiction has inspired subsequent Chinese writings of science fantasy in popular fiction. Bellamy’s tale centers on the adventure of time-traveler Julian West, a young Bostonian who is put into a hypnotic sleep in the late nineteenth century and awakens in the year 2000 in a socialist utopia. He discovers an ideally realized vision of the future, one unthinkable in his own century. This article argues that Chinese translators, in their conventional form of storytelling, have intentionally converted Bellamy’s original religious prophesy into a vision of a new and modernized state that is in line with the Chinese evolutionary historical imagination. It discusses the problematic of imagining the future by delineating the relationships of utopianism, social modernity, and temporality as the novel was written by an engaged American writer and then rendered into various Chinese versions by Western missionaries, Chinese intellectuals, and popular writers.
If a domesticated translation from Chinese to English can be understood as an act of eurocentrism, then the difficulties in translating Wong Bik‐wan’s latest novel Weixi chong xing (The re‐walking of Mei‐hei, 2014) reveal how this Hong Kong female writer uses language to escape patriarchal and colonial influences. This article examines how Wong makes use of the strategy of writing as a “repressed” individual (both in terms of her subject position and language style). Even though her language and sentences are at times short and dense, and the rhythm is fast, Wong demonstrates how one can reveal more by seemingly saying less. Attempts to reduce her text to a single interpretation have only resulted in failure. If it is hard for the repressed to speak without oppression, Wong illustrates how one can circumvent the constraints through the tactic of evasion, and demonstrates how the repressed can explode from gaps and silence.
Xiang Chu , Zhang Zikai , Tan Wei , He Jianping. Tangdai baihua shipai yanjiu;Zhao Shanlin. Zhongguo xiqu chuanbo jieshou shi;
Zheng Jiewen . Zhongguo Moxue tongshi;Zhu Shangshu . Songdai keju yu wenxue;Chen Yunji . Fojiao yu Zhongguo wenxue lungao;
Huang Tianji , Kang Baocheng . Zhongguo gudai xiju xingtai yanjiu;Lu Shengjiang . Wenjing mifulun huijiao huikao;Xia Jing. Liyue wenhua yu Zhongguo wenlun zaoqi xingtai yanjiu