Taiwan at the close of the 17th century was a place that existed on the razor edge of anarchy. "This is not a place for humans," was how Yu Yonghe, a scholar and adventurer who traveled to the island in 1697, summed up the land.
Yu made the comment in his diary while in Taiwan on temporary assignment from the Fujian provincial administration to extract sulphur from the hills above Tamsui. The diary of his expedition is the basis for a new book titled Out of China by Macabe Keliher.
Part travelogue and part history, this book sheds some light on a period in Taiwan's early settlement that few have bothered to write about in English. Starting from a personal account of Taiwan in that period, Keliher writes from a perspective that is fresh and eminently readable, though frustratingly limited in scope.
The story follows Yu, whose lust for adventure makes him a curious anomaly among China's notoriously timid literati, as he travels south through Fujian to Xiamen, across the strait and then by land from Taiwan Fu, now known as Tainan, north to Tamsui.
To read Yu's story it's easy to understand why he would describe the island as practically uninhabitable for its Chinese residents. Violent death was an all too typical fate for migrants to Taiwan. A huge proportion of people either drowned on the way there, or were felled by some horrible disease or the island's vicious flora and fauna not long after arriving.
As if succumbing to the forces of nature wasn't bad enough, there were the Aborigines who periodically raided villages or ambushed hapless travelers, carrying off the victims' heads and limbs as trophies.
Indeed, detailing the dangers associated with traveling to and living on Taiwan seem to form the bulk of Yu's diary. Whether this is Keliher's edit or the full content of the diary is not made clear. It does, however, leave the distinct impression that only the brave or foolhardy had the gusto to come to Taiwan during that era.
Yu's diary entries are rarely over a few paragraphs long, which would indicate that he was not an especially prolific writer. His observations are sufficient, though, to discern the perspective of Qing dynasty scholars toward this "mud ball in the sea," as the emperor Kangxi labeled Taiwan.
He admired the tenacity and ingenuity of the settlers and noted that a large number of them were running from the law. In actuality, the majority came to this frontier island in hopes of securing a plot of its fertile soil, because population pressures in China at the time were driving peasants to starvation.
Yu also frequently turns his attention to descriptions of the Aborigines with whom he interacted during his journey. He is ashamed of their nakedness and frowns upon their cavalier attitude toward sex. On several occasions he writes of the need to impart education and "civilization" upon the Aborigines to, in effect,
Sinicize them.
Despite such imperialistic prejudice, Yu in the same breath expresses genuine awe at the ways in which the Aborigines have adapted to the harsh environment. As for himself, Yu is clearly mortally afraid of the Aborigines, perhaps even more frightened than he is of the natural elements, as he bungles from one near-disaster to the next during his trip.
To add some meat to the rather meager bones of Yu's diary, Keliher intersperses the book with chapters that provide some much-needed historical context. Together these sections form an abridged version of Taiwan's 17th-century history that will be fascinating reading for someone interested in the island's past, but who isn't fussed about too many details.
In these sections, Keliher has dug up some intriguing references to Taiwan from Ming and Qing dynasty officials that answer a few questions about the island's relationship to continental China.
The Ming wanted nothing to do with the island and the Qing was equally reluctant to take it on as a colony. The only reason the Qing came to Taiwan in the first place was to finish off the remnants of the Ming who had sought refuge on the island and set up a breakaway kingdom. Court officials remarked that Taiwan "has never been a part of Chinese territory" and said that to occupy and administer the island would be a waste of resources, though ultimately the Qing did bring Taiwan into its administrative fold.
Out of China is often an
exciting account of travel to this far-off and danger-filled island. But Yu's diary is short on details that would offer a more complete sense of what life was like in Taiwan during that time. We never know, for example, what sort of town Tainan was at the time, what people ate, wore, or what dialects they spoke. Yu rarely comments on population numbers in the towns and villages he passes, and never identifies the Aborigine tribes by name.
Yu himself is also something of an enigma. We never learn why and how the Qing government entrusted someone who was not an official with the task of overseeing the procurement of vital resources. These may have been conscious ommissions on Keliher's part, but the unfortunate result is that too many obvious questions remain unanswered at the end of Yu's tale. This and the annoying frequency of printing errors detract from an otherwise fascinating story.
In late October of 1873 the government of Japan decided against sending a military expedition to Korea to force that nation to open trade relations. Across the government supporters of the expedition resigned immediately. The spectacle of revolt by disaffected samurai began to loom over Japanese politics. In January of 1874 disaffected samurai attacked a senior minister in Tokyo. A month later, a group of pro-Korea expedition and anti-foreign elements from Saga prefecture in Kyushu revolted, driven in part by high food prices stemming from poor harvests. Their leader, according to Edward Drea’s classic Japan’s Imperial Army, was a samurai
Located down a sideroad in old Wanhua District (萬華區), Waley Art (水谷藝術) has an established reputation for curating some of the more provocative indie art exhibitions in Taipei. And this month is no exception. Beyond the innocuous facade of a shophouse, the full three stories of the gallery space (including the basement) have been taken over by photographs, installation videos and abstract images courtesy of two creatives who hail from the opposite ends of the earth, Taiwan’s Hsu Yi-ting (許懿婷) and Germany’s Benjamin Janzen. “In 2019, I had an art residency in Europe,” Hsu says. “I met Benjamin in the lobby
April 22 to April 28 The true identity of the mastermind behind the Demon Gang (魔鬼黨) was undoubtedly on the minds of countless schoolchildren in late 1958. In the days leading up to the big reveal, more than 10,000 guesses were sent to Ta Hwa Publishing Co (大華文化社) for a chance to win prizes. The smash success of the comic series Great Battle Against the Demon Gang (大戰魔鬼黨) came as a surprise to author Yeh Hung-chia (葉宏甲), who had long given up on his dream after being jailed for 10 months in 1947 over political cartoons. Protagonist
Peter Brighton was amazed when he found the giant jackfruit. He had been watching it grow on his farm in far north Queensland, and when it came time to pick it from the tree, it was so heavy it needed two people to do the job. “I was surprised when we cut it off and felt how heavy it was,” he says. “I grabbed it and my wife cut it — couldn’t do it by myself, it took two of us.” Weighing in at 45 kilograms, it is the heaviest jackfruit that Brighton has ever grown on his tropical fruit farm, located