Two weeks ago we reviewed the autobiography of one of China's foremost translators, Yang Xianyi. Last week we looked at a new biography of the now classic Chinese author, Lu Xun. To complete the triptych, here is Yang Xianyi's translation (in collaboration with his wife Gladys Yang) of Lu Xun's best-known piece of fiction, The True Story of Ah Q.
In his introduction, David Pollard (the author of the above-mentioned biography of Lu Xun) compares The True Story of Ah Q to George Orwell's 1984 and Joseph Heller's Catch 22 as books that have etched themselves into the consciousness of entire nations. It was, he says, the most influential book that Lu Xun ever produced.
The story dates from 1921. The pigtail, or queue, symbolizing loyalty to the Manchu dynasty, had by then been outmoded for a decade. But it had always been felt to represent traditional Chineseness and, in giving his central character the name Ah Q, Lu was using a Western letter that looked like a head with a queue, and coincidentally was in English a pun on the queue itself. Ah Q, then, personified the outmoded China of old that Lu Xun was so anxious to satirize.
This book represents what is a common strategy in revolutionary times. We have been oppressed, the argument goes, and must rise up and claim our rights and our legitimate heritage. What is stopping us? One of the problems is certain aspects of our national character. In recent eras we have become lethargic, self-pitying, easy victims of fantasies that other things will come to our assistance rather than the bold remodeling of our society which is the only real remedy.
The True Story of Ah Q falls into exactly this category. Consequently it is somewhat inappropriate for foreigners to expatiate too long on its subject matter. In our mouths these sort of things assume the character of racist stereotyping. Moreover, even Lu Xun wouldn't have claimed that the Chinese character he depicts represented some eternal truth. The book was, rather, a tactical maneuver adopted to goad his people into coming to their senses, accepting reforms, and adopting the lineaments of a modern, 20th century society.
Ah Q is an odd-job man in a small country town, and in these episodes from his life he comes in addition to inhabit the role of a burlesque clown. His shortcomings are those of all fools, you are meant to feel, while at the same time representing something more -- the pitfalls all Chinese of its period were in danger of falling into if they didn't pull themselves together and live a more rational life.
Revolution against imperial rule finally comes to Ah Q's town, and then he dreams of becoming one of the new local rulers. He also gets involved in petty theft. In the end, however, he is executed by a revolutionary tribunal simply because he can't think of anything to say when accused of being guilty of the one robbery he happened not to have taken part in.
In all truth it has to be said that this little book doesn't set the imagination on fire these days. No doubt there is more to it when seen from a Chinese perspective, but to a Westerner it has the character of so many Asian folk tales, quaint and curious, but after a few pages a bit of a yawn. This review, therefore, will not praise its readability, but instead record the re-publication of what is from a historical point of view undoubtedly a significant text.
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