Yu Da-Fu, Chenlun (Sinking) /郁達夫, 沉淪

Yu Da-Fu, Chenlun (Sinking) /郁達夫, 沉淪

Recognized as one of the most important modern literary voices in the Chinese May Fourth Movement, Yu Da-Fu is known for his daring treatment of sexual desires among educational youths. His writing style shares a slightly likeness with the I-novel* found in Japanese literature. One of the most famous works from this iconic novelist is Chenlun (Sinking), in which he tells the story of a Chinese young man’s life as a foreign student in Japan. Rich, luscious but all the while brooding, Chenlun is a genuine portrayal of a troubled young man whose anxiety for sex and love we all share commonly, and yet, the patriotic spirit that embodies the protagonist, however the readers try to identify, remains so long lost to our generation that it is only unlikely to recall.

The work remotely recalls our first encounter with the young artist in The Sorrow of Young Werther (Die Leiden des jungen Werther) by Goethe, whose melancholic protagonist arouses sympathy from readers over generations. While Werther suffers for his unrequited love, the sentimentality in Yu’s protagonist derives more from the absence of love and the unfulfilled sexual desire. Having all the desire and feelings in the world, but with none to share with, the newly matured young man suffers tremendously an alienation that is hard to endure. Therefore, as he bestows himself upon the healing power of nature and practices the life of romanticists, nature then becomes his only escapade.

The final complaint from the protagonist, rather than an accusation towards the country, is instead a bitter exclamation to call for a more powerful country. For his suffering is not merely the result of his self-disappointment, but also the incompetence in China’s diplomacy in worldly affairs. For modern readers, Yu reminds a time when individual and the country are inseparable; he brings to us the nostalgic feeling towards the time when patriotism is still deeply rooted within every individual. We could not help but wonder since when it has gone from us, and for how long without our awareness.

Chenlun, having much involvement with natural surroundings, is a romantic tale of an upright young man. Yu accurately captures the hollowness and meaninglessness of a lone man’s life; his representation of human desires raw and meanwhile so fundamentally truthful. As one of the most prestigious modernist writers in the early twentieth century, Yu sets for Chinese Literature an example of a character courageous enough to face his true self, a voice that is daring enough to speak out. Stylish but without embellishment, Yu Da-Fu excellently captures in his work the last innocence remained in a maturing individual, an account over a period that has already, regrettably, flown past us without leaving any trace behind.

*I-novel: A genre sprang from Japanese literature in the early twentieth century. It includes works that features realistic and honest self-confession from the protagonist, through whom experiences are represented truthfully.

Written on the Body

Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Body

As readers, we praise those writers who can once in a while bring something different to the table, things that serve our insatiable desire towards always a different perspective, different narrative from yet another surprising protagonist. We claim ourselves to be too familiar with the literary device that oftentimes we judge certain work to be uninspiring and clichéd. However unjust this might appear, in our attempt to evaluate a certain piece of literature, we must, personal feelings aside, summon the whole literary context to see in what position this work might find its stance. In Written on the Body, English novelist Jeanette Winterson showcases a perspective that may be considered idiosyncratic; however, the efforts conveyed only appear self-indulgent and patronizing when she fails to engage the reader with her over-polished language and the obviously contrived narrative.

Written on the Body takes up gender issues but without further examining it. Given an unnamed protagonist with no sexual specifications, we find ourselves wondering anxiously through the novel whether the speaker is a he or she, our anxiety a solid proof that we are too much confined within the social stereotypes. Nevertheless, the tale falls short in sustaining this issue and exploring its other possibilities. As descriptions of the “Body” are restricted mostly to that of the females’, the work concerns too much with its self-appointed sex than the panoramic examination which is otherwise promised. Winterson’s inconsistent treatment over such issue ultimately restricted the work into a prejudiced narrative that it originally tries to mock.

One significant part of the novel contributes to a series reference to human body parts, through which the protagonist identifies his/ her feelings towards the loved one. Here the author tries to bridge the gap between physical and spiritual existence, and to develop in flesh a “language” that represents love. Despite its seeming innovation, the metaphorical relation between body and mind seems awkward and forced when Winterson only manages to present forced connections through her over-sentimental love account. The main plot, interrupted by such experimental writing, appears incoherent in its development, the tale relatively common and stale.

Written on the Body stumbles on its way to revelation; it is a philosophical meditation that goes astray. Winterson unfortunately does the translation between the body and the mind poorly as our mentor; consequently, the book reveals nothing but Greek. The book is unbelievably self-indulgent as the protagonist absorbs in his/her own intoxication all the way through. Eventually, the author proves herself not prophet but a common mortal who, like all of us, struggles to find the truth. Readers would be surprised to find, despite the work’s rather short length, how dull and lengthy the novel feels with only false teaching contains. Obviously, we need a guru with clearer mind; one who can teach us his/her own philosophy, instead of a second rate thinker who makes us all fools by following her all over the place. This book is nothing but a great disappointment.

True History of the Kelly Gang

Peter Carey, True History of the Kelly Gang

Twelve years after the 1988 success of Oscar and Lucinda, the Australian author Peter Carey again won The Man Booker Prize with his seventh novel True History of the Kelly Gang, in which he fictionalizes the life of Ned Kelly, one of Australia’s most famous bushranger. With this well devised portrait of the legendary outlaw, Carey reintroduces to the reader the unknown history of the hero through the composition of thirteen parcels, each Kelly’s own disclosure of different stages in his life. Dotted with engaging incidents, True History is a fairly paced chronicle that documents the Australian lowlifes in the Victorian age, when people faces everyday injustices; Carey successfully constructs a faux-memoir that is honest and believable, a literary tribute carefully done to commemorate Ned Kelly and his Gang.

Compiled from several reports and autobiography, True History immediately constructs an illusional “fact” that seems genuine and true. The book begins with a report on the final defeat and capture of Ned Kelly then starts with his account over his early life. With knowledge over the tragic fate that will eventually befall the protagonist, readers inevitably detect an elegiac undertone throughout the book. As Kelly addresses each thirteen parcels, all of which resonate with fatherly love, to his daughter who he never has the chance to meet, readers are helplessly drawn towards the intriguing plot and the inescapable, namely the hero’s downfall.

Remotely reminiscent of Cormac McCarthy’s work, Carey’s portrait of the life in the wilderness is comparatively more lively and interesting. As readers follow Kelly’s steps through a journey along the Australia landscape, we are awed by the rawness of its beauty, the magnificence of its range, and with the brutal and violent truth within so mesmerizing a panorama.

True History tells a tragic tale of a hero, a man who fights against the injustices all his life to no avail. Ned Kelly is a steadfast character who, in the end, dies for his own principles. His unyielding characteristic may be the one reason that results in his final fall; however, it is also this rebellion to the corrupted authority that marks the essence of Australian spirit, the steadfastness in human beings. Carey’s reconstruction of the Kelly Gang recalls back to the reader a great moment of human nature, one that shines through time and culture. It is a reminder of the heroic past which seems so long lost in our generation; an attempt to recall in all of us the courage to stand for our own beliefs. For even if we failed miserably, our spirits, like that of Kelly’s, would remain to mark its very own effort in the end .

Essays in Love

Alain de Botton, Essays in Love

Alain de Botton is a Swiss English writer whose philosophical thinking has been appearing in several different genres, ranges from Essays to fiction and non-fiction; his work also appear regularly in several English newspaper columns like The Independent on Sunday. In Essays in Love, his first fictional work that published in 1993, de Botton tries to analyze people’s behaviors in a love relationship. The word Love then is restricted to a narrower sense, indicates solely the ones that belong to couples. In his attempt to demystify “Love” and those who are in love, de Botton uses the relationship between a man and a woman as the target sample, from which much of his philosophical thinking derives.

While the book discusses the relationship between two individuals, the author only allows readers perspective of the protagonist, who, despite his occasional attempts in speaking from the other’s point of view, inevitably falls into prejudiced and sometimes stereotypical assumptions. Readers are likely to find fault in the book’s lack of another perspective and second account. Moreover, as de Botton endeavors to reveal his philosophical insights in each single step the couple takes, he unexpectedly turns his protagonist into a paranoid skeptic who tends to overanalyze everything. His sentimentality, while pushes the theories further, only becomes tedious and annoying in the end.

The format that de Botton chooses to take in constructing the book may be the one reason that distinguishes Essays in Love from all the other works that share the same idea, yet at the same time it is also this very same frame that at moments dissuades readers from pursuing the plot line. The articles, with its witty phrases or theories as titles, bring about ideas in a proper sequence with much clarity, but as the readers are introduced to one title after another, we could not help but gradually find the body of work preachy and self-proclaiming.

De Botton may be a well-informed writer as he incorporates ideas from many great thinkers throughout the work and, at the same time, manages to present sensible ideas in most of the essays; however, his efforts fail to meet the readers’ expectations from a title that promises so much. As readers, we expect the author to put down some philosophical truth that can be universally acknowledged, solutions that clear our shared doubts, but unfortunately, de Botton manages only to disappoint the reader by restricting everything under a one-sided, biased tale with an irritating protagonist who cannot arouse in readers compassion nor interests. Eventually, Essays in Love fails to educate the readers, who have been expecting ever so eagerly, and hoping still, for some wise man to teach them the wisdom within so great a mystery we call love.

The Woman Warrior

Maxine Hong Kingston, The Woman Warrior

On the English literary scene there comes, once in a while, a distinctive voice that catches the public’s attention. However, such cases are rare for writers who come from minority groups. A decade before the success of The Joy Luck Club from Amy Tan, Maxine Hong Kingston published a nonfiction work called The Woman Warrior: Memoirs of a Girlhood Among Ghosts that won her the National Book Critics Circle Award, and has since been known as one of the greatest Asian writers. However, despite Kingston’s careful design in storytelling, readers today may consider Kingston’s documentation dour, her effort in incorporating the Chinese mythic element mottled.

Composed of five sections and each focus on a different stage of life, The Woman Warrior is a close examination over the early Asian women immigrants and their survival in America. The first part, No Name Woman, opens with her mother’s incomplete revelation over an aunt who killed herself, a family secret that cannot be told nor mentioned. Kinston then begins an imagined retelling of the story that fills the blanks left out by her mother. To this aunt whose name is erased from the family history, Kinston devotes her words, in a way to appease the cursed soul and absolve it from the blames. Kingston’s tactic works fine up to this point, and yet her imagination may well be the only light on this otherwise too gloomy novel.

Thematically, the book is so ill-proportioned that it weakens the impact it could have over such an ambitious title. As it turns out, the book is not merely a simple memoir. Kingston pours in fictional elements that turn the book into semi-autobiography. Consequently, the blurry line between the true events and the make-believes confuses the reader. Kingston gets all tangled up in her attempt to allude to Chinese folklore in the second part, White Tigers, where she imagines herself to be a heroine that protects the family from harm. For readers, especially Chinese, who knows the references by heart, Kingston’s effort seems awkward and contrived. While reading along, we find the misadventure ludicrous and absurd.

As a humble contemporary reader, I cannot overthrow the work’s value simply because it lost its impact that it may originally created when first published. There are two types of literary work, or so I believe, one that transcends the time and the other gets caught in its own age. For the readers nowadays, The Woman Warrior evokes things that are too familiar, themes that we too repeatedly encounter, that it may arouse only little interest and scarce compassion. Like the women in the novel, who find themselves caught between their Chinese tradition and the American culture, the book, after over three decades, sadly finds itself stuck in its own time frame and becomes an old time cliché.

The House on Mango Street

Sandra Cisneros, The House on Mango Street

As one of the most prominent writers in Chicano (i.e. Mexican American) literature, Sandra Cisneros’ The House on the Mango Street is the one book that puts her on the literary scene ever since its 1984 publication. From a girl named Esperanza, we are introduced to a world that does not belong; we are told, in a somewhat nostalgic tone, of her dreams and hopes in a place where things always fall short. The House, compiled from a series of short writings that resemble both poetry and prose in style, is a true to life observation of a young girl’s living and her coming-of-age experience, in a place she finds difficult to identify with.

“Shame is a bad thing, you know. It keeps you down.”(The House, 91), so says Esperanza’s mother. Surely, much effort is spent as Esperanza struggles to outgrow the things that shame her. Her weird-sounding name, that disgraceful place she has to call home, and together with all the other worries, are the things that confuse her, the obstacles that refrain her from growing into a mature self. Her thinking, mostly innocent yet at moments deep and philosophical, reminds the readers of our own troubled youth, and we cannot help but take side with her.

And yet, The House does not merely focus itself on the little girl’s bildungsroman, it also grants the reader admissions to different aspects of life that surround the Mango Street. Esperanza’s matter-of-fact tone amplifies the seriousness of the social issues that are mentioned. These references not only reflect serious issues down in the lower society, but for Esperanza, these are the things she desperately wants to break away from. From domestic violence to social segregation; from repressed women to immigrant issues, Cisneros, using her fictional characters, puts focus on the actual problems that need to be addressed to.

The House is a novel that reveals a lot despite its rather short length, an honest confession of a little girl and those around her. Cisneros superbly constructs the voice of Esperanza, whose truthful revelations comes up real without any pretence. Readers will be more than glad to see the timid little girl from the beginning grows into a more mature selfhood. For even though in the end she finds a way to leave the Mango Street, she has the thought bear in mind to always come back, for those who are left behind, and this time she stays willingly, without any regret.