So, how far does K: The Art of Love deserve its reputation as "the Chinese Lady Chatterley's Lover"? The answer is "to a considerable extent." Julian Bell was a notably liberated spirit, but so, apparently, was "K." The book's subtitle refers to a Chinese classic on sexual techniques and this proves to be her handbook. It was despised by China's modernizers of the time (and its promulgators executed later by the Communists). But to Julian it, and she, were the gateway to an irresistible world of Chinese sexuality. There are some five sex scenes, all explicit (it isn't hard to guess which pages that the court wanted excised in the Chinese edition).
Most extraordinary is the one where K tells Julian she'll take him somewhere he'll never forget. They go to an opium house of exquisite refinement. They undress soon after their first pipe and then a serving girl is called across to assist in their sexual congress, a role with which she turns out to be more than familiar.
Like all the best love stories, this one ends sadly. In the company of a student, Julian sets off into the interior in search of the Reds, who he dreams of joining. What he sees, however, supposedly puts him off revolutions for ever. He nonetheless (and the novel's last chapters are its weakest) finally leaves China to fight in the Spanish Civil War. The real-life Julian Bell was killed near Madrid in July 1937.
This novel is vivid, entertaining, very well-informed and crammed with insights into Chinese life. It's easy to read and once you've started, you'll probably devour it at a sitting.
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