Cultural Treks, Yu Qiuyu's first collection of historical essays, revealed aspects of Chinese culture both tragic and happy and a writing style that was more emotional than intellectual. History takes on strong emotional colors under Yu's rendering. His approach stands in sharp contrast to the stiffness that has characterized the work of most Chinese intellectuals even after the Cultural Revolution. His essays herald the rebirth of the imagination in China.

During the Cultural Revolution in Shanghai, Yu once served as a "cudgel" or hatchet man for the powers that were, the most notable writer in a group of 11 that collectively wrote under the pen name Shi Yige (see note). As well as writing much about the early 20th century writer Lu Xun, Shi Yige dutifully scribed pro-Gang-of-Four social and political commentary. Liang Xiao and Luo Siding were other noted "cudgels," but Shi Yige was the best of the bunch. After the Cultural Revolution, the writers behind them shed their infamous pen names. Yu Qiuyu's reappearance in the literary world as a writer true to himself was no small feat. From holding a pen dipped in blood to bearing the flag for a new historical consciousness, his metamorphosis is in itself a cultural phenomenon well worth our attention.

Navigating the historical side streams

Yu has now published a second collection for readers in Taiwan: Mountain Home Journal. Turning from his focus on Chinese historical cities in Cultural Treks, in his new book Yu concentrates on historical persons and events. What hasn't changed is that Yu still packs his writing with his feelings for and observations about traditional culture. In the eleven essays in this collection, the writer displays a sharp eye and a lively ability to make associations. The book starts with "The Background to a Dynasty" and ends with "The Dark Corners of History." Skipping back and forth through time and space, these essays are imbued with abundant poetic emotion. Every generation in some significant way transforms its legacy, and important people and events crop up over the course of this transformation. Mountain Home Journal is focused more on these.

Yu intentionally stands at a distance from traditional viewpoints, finding the power of history in characters at its margins. Traditional historians tend to ignore ethnic minorities, border areas, exiled officials and the mean-spirited "curs of history." If mentioned at all, they will only play minor roles. As the traditional historians see it, history has only one mainstream, and only the people or events that surface or sink over its long course are worthy of assessment. They regard the cultural phenomena that take place on the side streams as unessential. It is this human tendency to designate things as primary or subordinate that leads to systems of power and domination, which in turn result in oppression. Yu's observations reveal the great vitality that exists at the margins.

The rise and fall of the Qing dynasty, during which China was ruled by Manchus, have always been regarded as matters of secondary importance in Chinese history. The Manchus were after all minority invaders of China who were finally overthrown by Han Chinese, and so it is difficult to find a place for discussions of their dynasty in traditional Chinese history. In "The Background to a Dynasty" Yu tries to view the Qing with greater perspective, looking at the Manchus' hardships and embarrassments as they did their best to go native. The essay is quite moving when it shows how Wang Guowei's death hinted at Han Chinese recognition of Manchu-Qing culture. "Intellectuals always go against the grain. And after political and military upheavals, they always show the long-term tenacity of culture. As culture takes on life, one can only rely on life to contain culture. There's no other way." (page 30) After trying to sinicize for 200 years, the Manchu efforts finally reached fruition. But does using Wang Guowei's death to express respect for the Manchu tradition show the force of Chinese culture or its degradation? This is one of the penetrating questions the book leaves unanswered.

Exile and return

More than the theme of life and death, the book's focus on exile and return is worth really mulling over. "The Land of Exile" is about the vast expanses of northeast China, whereas "Stories from the End of the Earth" looks at Hainan Island. These widely separated remote lands were once places of banishment for mandarins who had fallen from favor. "Having been stripped of rank, status and family, all these men had left was direct and honest communication with others," Yu writes of those banished to the northeast. (page 48) Relying on a rich historical imagination, Yu finds the spirit of exile in scant lines of poetry the exiled have left behind and shows the traditional noble spirit of the Chinese literati in their efforts to help others in times of trouble. "Relying on this noble spirit, people could compose poetry close to death, using their own warmth to melt the ice in other's hearts, and their own personal humiliations to light the tinder of civilization." (page 60) The historical spirit of exile eventually takes root in the place of banishment. There the exiled will live out their lives with no chance of return And as a dynasty falls, the exiled will give a brash vitality to the hinterlands. This kind of wordless response is stronger than their actual return.

Literati banished to Hainan Island met with difficulties of a different stripe. "Here at the ends of the earth, in a place of no escape, where life was pushed to the very edge, things were suddenly deeply felt." (page 21) For people living in happy circumstances, the passage of time doesn't hold any special meaning; but for those bearing great hardship, every minute and every second is experienced vividly, and in this way the meaning of life is revealed. For Su Dongpo in the Song dynasty, Hainan Island was an alien land, but for Hai Rai in the Ming, the island was his home turf. Yet both came there at the end of a failed career, after being either banished or removed from office. It is easy to imagine how blue they must have felt. At least the island would provide a solacing warmth. Northeast China and Hainan Island, though both lands of banishment, differ in this respect.

Chauvinism

The best essay in the book is probably "A Distant Final Note." Instead of skipping back and forth between eras, it focuses on reconstructing the history of the Wei and Jin dynasties. And it has a small cast of characters, concentrating its discussion on Ruan Ji and Ji Kang. Culling from both establishment and alternative histories, Yu nimbly gives these two legendary Chinese literati new life. He seamlessly moves from discussion of one to discussion of the other. They came face to face at the funeral of Ruan's mother. Though separated in age by more than ten years, both were flouters of convention and true to themselves, and they understood each other well. At its conclusion, the essay makes vivid use of "Guang Linsan," a mysterious and moving musical score then known only to Ji Kang. When Ji Kang was executed, "Guang Linsan" would die with him. Yu writes, "On this dark day in Chinese cultural history, the sun was shining." (page 335) It is a poignant use of irony.

Yu isn't a writer who was trained as an historian and he doesn't pay much attention to the order of historical developments. Thus unconstrained by the bounds of eras, he is able to bring his imagination into full play, giving deep meaning to many little-examined historical incidents. He writes from the perspective of someone on the margins, examining historical facts that have been erased or overlooked, and he undeniably presents broad historical vistas. But chauvinistic views are still central to his interpretations. In regard to the rise of civilization in northeast China, he can't help betraying an ethnocentric Han Chinese point of view, giving all the credit to the seeds sown by the banished literati from South China. Similarly Yu describes Hainan Island with its warm human relations as a "feminist civilization." But what kind of "feminism" is this? He believes, "though always present, it may at times appear to be absent, only to spring forth in inexhaustible abundance when most needed." It's a male chauvinist's feminism. And with so many chauvinistic attitudes betrayed in these essays, it is difficult to get a hold on the elusive spirit of people living in the hinterlands.

Historical essays are hard things to manage because they require that their writers have sufficient historical knowledge. Some of the observations in the book show that Yu's own historical research was rather slipshod. For instance, in "100,000 Successful Candidates," a description of the civil service exam system that is the collection's longest essay, his thoughts are very muddled, and he is unable to grasp the system's essence. The face of Chinese culture is evident everywhere in the book, but the spirit of culture is awaiting further probes.

Note: Sinorama asked Yu Qiuyu if he had been a "cudgel"; Yu replied that it was "wholly false." He went on to explain that he was only 19 when the Cultural Revolution began, at which time he was sent off to a commune for reform through labor. Thus he asserts that it would have been impossible for him to assume such duties.

Half-buried relics bring to light the rise and fall of civilization over history. Besides visiting these sites and sighing, do modern people come to any conclusions about them? （photo by Pu Hua-chih）