20201207 trans

Cao Runxin 曹润鑫

The story plays with the analogy of zhang and mu. By infusing them into an imaginary “curtain,” the framed narrative engenders dialogic interplay between the narrator and the bridegroom, between the bride and the spectator, and between the public and private spaces. Zhang and mu mean different things, though they converge in the compound zhangmu. Traditionally, the word zhang denoted a canopy hung around a bed and was used to isolate an inner space in bedroom, so it can hardly be identical with the meaning of curtain. However, indirectly, it reached to the sense of “curtain” through a translation of Jerrold D. William’s (1803-57) Mrs. Caudle’s Curtain Lectures, a fiction of early nineteenth-century England. In 1915 Liu Bannong translated the title into “Zhangzhong shuofa” and published it in Zhonghua xiaoshuo jie.[ Liu Bannong, “Zhangzhong shuofa,” Zhonghua xiaoshuo jie, vol. 2, no.3 (March, 1915). Zhou should (June, 1922).]

Chang Huiyue 常慧月

The “curtain lectures” refer to Mrs. Caudle’s poignant complaints and derision at her husband, mixed with familial trivialities and comic effects.

However, the overlap of zhang and mu was crucially related to a widely circulated myth about the Chinese origins of cinema, which was perhaps invented by Zhou himself. When Western-style movie theaters began to appear in late-1900s Shanghai, he was one of the earliest moviegoers. Like other Chinese at his time he also regarded film as a kind of “shadow play” (yingxi), meaning the performance on a screen. According to Zhou, the origins of “shadow play” can be found in the famous story in the Han Dynasty (206-24, B.C.), which tells of the Emperor Wu watching lady Li, dancing and singing, through a semi-transparent curtain.

Chen Han 陈涵

As the anecdote goes, to console his loss of the favorite lady, a sorcerer made a curtained room and asked the emperor to stay at a distance. In the night, called by the sorcerer, the spirit appears behind the curtain, amidst the candle-light, to perform as if she is alive.[ Zhou Shoujuan, “Tan yingxi” (On shadow play), in Ziluilan ji (Collections of violet) (Shanghai: Dadong shuju, 1922) 13-14. Its earlier version “Yingxi hua” appeared in the Free Talk (Ziyou tan), the literary page in Shenbao (June 20, 1919): 15.] Notwithstanding the historical merit of Zhou’s interpretation, what is significant here is that he reads history with a cinematic imagination, by which the terminology in everyday life changes - as occurred here the meaning of zhang (curtain) is substituted by that of mu (screen).

In the mid-1910s Saturday and The Pastime (Youxi zazhi) magazines often appeared Zhou’s “film fiction” (yinxi xiaoshuo) - his accounts of what he had seen in the movie theaters.

Chen Hui 陈惠

By the time he wrote this love confession, Zhou published a novella The Intimate Beauty (Hongyan zhiji), in which the hero recalls his lover on the “screen memory”: after he closes his eyes, he sees her beautiful image on a “snow-white screen” (xuebai de bumu) and hears her delicate voice; when he opens his eyes, they vanish and yet leaves a three-inch photograph in his heart.[ Zhou Shoujuan. Hongyan zhiji (Zhonghua tushuguan, 1917) 64.] However, “In the Nine-Flower Curtain” has no description of watching film, yet the narrative itself is framed by the curtain; what was shown on the “screen” was verbalized and the text was visualized. With both meanings of zhang and mu, the “curtain” can be changed into a “screen,” onto which is projected the inner space of a wedding chamber in which the author makes his confession. 在他写这篇爱情告白的时候，周出版了中篇小说《亲密之美》(《红颜之记》)，在这部小说中，主人公在“屏幕记忆”中回忆起了他的爱人:他闭上眼睛，在“雪白的屏幕”上看到了她美丽的形象，听到了她柔美的声音;当他睁开眼睛时，它们消失了，却在他的心里留下了一张三英寸的照片。(周秀娟《红颜智记》(中华图舒观1917)。然而，《九花帘幕》并没有对看电影的描述，叙事本身却被帘幕框住了;“屏幕”上显示的是语言，文字是可视化的。“窗帘”可以变成“屏风”，在“屏风”上投射出婚房的内部空间，作者在这里坦白。

Chen Jiangning 陈江宁

“In the Nine-Flower Curtain” was visually imagined and represented in terms of the spaces divided into the inside and the outside, with the beholder within the curtain and the imagined beholders without. When Zhou fulfills his promise to his friends that he will show them his “love talk” in the Pictorial Story magazine, he makes a written tableau in Diderot’s sense, in which the beholder is absent and yet always implied.[ Jay Caplan. Framed Narratives: Diderot’s Genealogy of the Beholder (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1985) 16. ] Here, we refer to the notion of “beholder” not only because of the visual nature of Zhou’s fiction, but also because it helps my imposition of the complex “subjectivity” in this paper.

Chen Jiaxin 陈佳欣

At this juncture, if we look beyond this story merely as a signal of style change in Zhou’s love story from the tragic to comical, we might be curious at the positivity of the male voice as well as the brightness of the private space. In view of the erotic-sentimental tradition of the male gaze in private space, what does this love talk mean historically? Not only does it relate to the transformation of gender roles as well as the legitimacy of the private space in Chinese literature.

This transformation occurred when this male gaze is empowered ideologically and technologically. Ideologically, it is imbued with the Republican ideal of nationhood and selfhood; technologically, it is, in this case, facilitated by the structural optical perception linked to the modern inventions such as photography and cinema.

Chen Jingjing 陈静静

While depicting a tableau by freezing a moment in the past, Diderot disturbs his narrative by arranging the beholder as a part of the tableau. As Jay Caplan interpreted, the beholder is presented for the “psychological reason”: he functions as compensation to the loss which the family suffers as portrayed in the tableau.[ Ibid., 20-37.] In Zhou’s case, the beholder is called for the moral reason as his presence is neutralized to legitimize his love discourse in the private space. Especially the term qinghua “In the Nine-Flower Curtain” can be traced back to his short story published in 1913. It describes a young couple meeting and then whispering at a public place, unaware of someone who takes a snapshot of their intimate scene.[ Zhou Shoujuan. “Qinghua” (Love talk), Youxi zazhi 5 (1913).]

Chen Sha 陈莎

It reads like a joke, yet this reportage intriguingly justifies the privacy in the public space that is a controversy of the time. The beholder plays roles of witness, voyeurist, and more importantly, sympathizer. In portraying the photographic evidence with the story of the beholder, Zhou also becomes a sympathetic beholder.

The dialogic characteristic of this love discourse lies not only in the consumerism of literary pleasure as the core of the Butterfly periodical culture, but also in the collective ethos of Butterfly community. In explicating how a bourgeois “love community” is born from the literature of intimate sphere in eighteenth-century England, Habermas says: “Subjectivity, as the innermost core of the private, was always already oriented to an audience.”[ Jürgen Habermas, The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere: An Inquiry into a Category of Bourgeois Society. Trans. Thomas Burger with the Assistance of Frederick Lawrence (Cambridge and Mass.: The MIT Press, 1991) 49. ]

Chen Sunfu 谌孙福

Zhou’s pillow talk is more than a playful response to his friends’ voyeurist curiosity, it is fulfilled as a promise of love discourse. It might embody that “the ideas of freedom, love, and cultivation of the person that grew out of the experiences of the conjugal family’s private sphere were surely more than just ideology.”[ Ibid., 48. ]

As the pillow talk unfolds, a complex subjectivity emerges. Against its ideological and technological backdrop, it is rhetorically and aesthetically embodied by a double voice, the poetics of persuasion and linguistic theatricality. The latter part of the story talks more about his family history. “When I was six years old, I became an orphan.” With this pathological tone, Zhou narrates how his father dies at that time and how his widowed mother single-handedly rears up four children by her hard work as a seamstress.

周瘦鹃的枕边私语不只是对他朋友们窥阴欲的一笑置之，还是他说给爱人的甜言蜜语。这表明男女私生活中反映出的自由观、爱情观和育人观不只是意识形态。[Ibid.,48]

随着枕边私语慢慢展开，一种复杂的主观性油然而生。考虑到其意识形态和技术背景，这些枕边话通过修辞和美学手段呈现出来，如二重唱、诗歌的劝说功能以及语言学理论。故事的后半部分谈到了周瘦鹃的家族史。他说“我六岁就成了孤儿。”周瘦鹃用一种凄凉的口吻讲述自己六岁丧父，母亲辛苦做针黹活，将四个孩子拉扯大。--Chen Sunfu (talk) 02:31, 3 December 2020 (UTC)

Chen Yongxiang 陈永相

This family story is particularly heart-rending, yet it is more than that. He goes on, “When my father died, it happened in the year of 1900. The capital Beijing was totally in chaos, and thus, unexpectedly, the familial disaster and national humiliation fell on a boy of six years old.” A sense of tragic sublimation is effectively rendered as the boy is depicted as both victim and victor in these historical disasters, owing much to the rhetoric that makes the familial and national disasters “happen” to meet, and “thus” they “both” fall on the boy. The sentences sound as if it happened simultaneously when his father died and Beijing fell, and this narration enormously affects the reader.

Cheng Yusi 成于思

However, strictly speaking, there is some slippage between fact and fiction: according to Zhou’s chronicle, his father died 22 days after the fall of Beijing.[ Wang Zhiyi, ed., Zhou Shoujaun yanjiu zhiliao (Tianjin renmin chubanshe, 1993) 20.] The dramatic simultaneity not merely refers the narrative strategy mixed with sentimentalism and patriotism, it reflects his own trauma as projected onto the screen memory of his childhood. Compared with other versions about his father’s death, this expression is most theatrical.

Zhou’s childhood memory stores the collective traumatic experiences. The 1900 national catastrophe - the Boxers Uprising and the European Allies’ invasion in Beijing - becomes the emblem of national shame that had deeply imprinted on the Chinese minds. By such theatrical representation of his screen memory, Zhou’s love talk not merely appeals to his bride, the wedding chamber itself is transformed into a public space.

Deng Jinxia 邓锦霞

Now the narrator is more aware of the presence of the public beholders. Aiming more at arousing collective pathos there inserts the scenario of his father’s death, which is also an intense moment for the author to test his rhetoric of theatricality. “When my father was dying, he was like a madman. Suddenly he jumped down from the bed and rushed out, raising his head toward heaven and shouting at the top of his lung, ‘My three sons, be heroes, join the army and fight!’ After these words, he returned to the bed and soon stopped breathing.”

Ding Daifeng 丁代凤

Permeated in the narrative of his family history are the characteristics of theatrical rhetoric: The period of his childhood is frozen, and his voice pretends to be childish; heavily emotionally charged words such as “tears,” “sorrow,” “bitter” are frequently appear between lines. Ordinary episodes are intensely represented with emphasis on the theatrical manners, gestures to deliver emotions at the highest pitch. The sentiments attached to the episodes tend to be collectively identified, such as his father’s death linked to the national calamity. There is excessive use of the adverbs to accumulate the force of persuasion and theatrical effect. No less noticeable is the role played by the narrator himself, who seems never hesitant to use the rhetoric of excess.

Fang Jieling 方洁玲

Perhaps no modern readers would feel comfortable at the author’s praise of his mother for her traditional virtue; she twice cuts off a piece of flesh from her arm and cooks it as a medicine for her ill mother and husband. “From now on, we should remember what she did and do our best to be filial to her. We should erect, in our hearts, a stele for her filial piety, and a monument for her widowhood; by this means we can make her late life a happy one.” When he repeats this to his bride as a family legend and spiritual heritage, the use of rituals to enhance his language performativity nonetheless turn the persuasion into the grotesque. But we need to be cautious at the accusation of Zhou’s promotion of the “feudal rites” (fengjian lijiao), for the rituals are only used as symbolic value serving the new social structure and ideology in the early Republican era.

Gan Fengyu 甘奉玉

According to the author’s love gospel, love must be mutual; this idea is embodied here through the narrative process itself: the act of telling the bride about his past as a token of trust aims to ask her to understand and trust him. While informing her of his intellectual paths in order to invite her to embrace his spiritual world, the pillow talk reveals its cultural meaning. Among other things, the story reveals himself as a human being who is promising yet ordinary, enduring yet fragile, and at the same time his family economy as unstable as unpredictable, indicating that they live in a hard time. It means that while sharing his bitter past and hopeful future, she must take up her duty and responsibility for him and his family.

Gao Mingzhu 高明珠

Zhou’s rhetoric of persuasion also implies that the bride is also at the center of a nuclear family, who must be subject to the new ethics. As the narrator further describes how he becomes a nationally famous novelist, due to his talent, diligence and proliferation in the “time of fiction in its full swing.” His jubilant voice echoes that of the beginning of the story while talking about how his family economy is drastically improved and afterwards the Zhous moves from the shabby old city area to the decent French concession. The narrator continues: “Ah, my phoenix lady, I have fully told you about my past. Having heard of this, you can understand what I have achieved so far is due to my bloody struggles with the hardships and difficulties, not to mention my mother who experienced as harder as thousands times than mine.”

Gong Yumian 龚钰冕

The sentimental imploration conveys the bourgeois ethics no less than a “modern apocalypse”: this is a hard time yet it is promising and fair: everyone can get what he deserves by God’s gift as well as hard work.

Inscribed with such allegorized trauma, the pillow talk implies a fatal bond between the individual, family and country, and thence elicits the “community of love.” Under the persuasion she is more than a wife and a lover - she is treated at the same time as a citizen. By the device of double curtain stated above, the narrative space is imbued with the authorial anxiety before the private and public beholders, indicating that the private realm by no means becomes autonomous without being identified with peoplehood and nationhood.

Gu Dongfang 顾东方

A Republican subjectivity is embodied in this domestic space by a speech act of persuasion, and it is the sentimentalism that naturalizes all social relations, blurring the private and public boundaries, and it ultimately functions in identifying them with the nationhood. In a sense, this peculiar love talk using the first person genre amalgamates diary, love-letter, autobiography and confession and displays a particular revelation of the community of love.

Although the latter half of this monologue is basically dominated by historical references, Zhou’s strategy of using stylistic conventions such as verbal ornaments or rhythmic parallelism shifts to an appeal to cultural convention, such as ritual and tradition. Tradition is used as both value and form. Like the scars left on the mother’s arms, ritual is infused into the narrative to such an extent that the procedure of writing is culturally encoded.

Guan Qinqing 管钦清

Compared to the characteristic of pursuing modern fashion in the first half of the story, here Zhou reveals more of his cultural conservatism. Rooted in the traditional “Teaching of Affection,” his love discourse aims at solving complex problems in a modern society; what separates Zhou from his contemporaries is that he does not intend to make his philosophy of love a perfect, unified one. In the “community of love” lies a paradox. Habermas says: “The jeopardy into which the idea of the community of love was thereby put, up to our own day, occupied the literature as the conflict between marriage for love and marriage for reason, that is, for economic and social considerations.”[ Habermas, 47.]

Gui Yizhi 桂一枝

As shown by Zhou’s own love story, he never forgot his first lover named “Violet,” and thus we come to realize that behind this pillow talk is the rueful truth: for him this is a “marriage for reason,” not a “marriage for love.” As he says to his bride, since he failed in the first love, he never had intention of making a family, and he married her in order to make his mother happy. Probably this loving experiment with baihua is a compromise for better communicating with the bride who is almost illiterate.

Guo Lu 郭露

Eileen Chang and the Modern Essay

Nicole Huang

Abstract

In her preface to Honglou mengyan (Nightmare in the Red Chamber), Eileen Chang (1920-1995) recalls that the meanings of Liuyan, the title of her essay collection published in 1944 in the Japanese occupied city of Shanghai, derives from an English saying “written on water.” She further elaborates the implications of the metaphor: she does not expect her writing to endure-it should be like words written on water, or 'flowing words,' as 'liuyan' would mean literally, lingering momentarily and eventually elapsing; but she also hopes that her writing will be endowed with the spirit of 'rumors' or 'gossip'-a second literal meaning of the word 'liuyan'-flowing freely and swiftly, reaching a wide audience.

张爱玲及现代小说

黄群兰

摘要

在《红楼梦魇》的序言中，张爱玲（1920-1995）提到，1994年出版的《流言》的书名含义来自于英文谚语“written on water”。此后她还叙述了流言的深层含义：她并不希望自己的作品只是昙花一现，她想要自己的作品能够承载着“流言”的内涵，获得广泛受众。--Guo Lu (talk) 03:22, 3 December 2020 (UTC)

Han Haiyang 韩海洋

Chang's use of a language of self-reflexivity provides a window through which the curious reader/critic can look into the rather intimate process of a creative work in the making, so much so that the creative mentality of the woman author becomes a text which is first to be deciphered. The invention of the title is characteristic of Chang's long-term effort to negotiate the boundaries between different genres of writing, and in this case, it is the distinction between critical/academic writing and the personal essay that is being questioned. Here, the mechanism behind the naming of her writing is more than just a clever pun. The title not only suggests a new style of essay writing, it also indicates a corresponding way to highlight the generic identities of this reinvented literary form.

Han Wanzhen 韩宛真

While words are described as flowing like water, and the essay genre is compared to a fluid construction of 'gossip' or leisurely talks, Chang's naming of her own writing here offers more than just commentaries on the practice of literary writing. More importantly, the renaming of the essay genre should be understood as the woman writer's commentary on the state of cultural production during a particular time in modern Chinese history that is characterized by enormous turmoil and disruption which resulted from the war and the occupation.

I argue that Chang's experience of the time, the space, and the particular historical milieu of occupied Shanghai is channeled into her attempts to redefine the generic identities of the modern essay. The choice of the essay form is central to Chang's aesthetic vision.

He Changqi 何长琦

The writer's self-positioning in the realm of urban culture of 1940s Shanghai is exemplified in her appropriation of the genre. The essay is made into an important discursive site where the woman writer overtly challenges the literary conventions, searches for alternatives in both literary writing and practices of everyday life, and promotes herself as an important cultural figure.

The modern essay also serves to contribute concrete forms to a life that appears void of any structure; in other words, Eileen Chang uses the form of the modern essay to construct an intelligible universe where one's imagination and fantasy can anchor. Detailed descriptions of everyday experience, that is, representations of cultural meanings of the material world, manifests not only a dynamic inner life but also a new social identity in formation.

Hu Baihui 胡百辉

My paper highlights two aspects of life that are conceptualized in Chang's essay writing, one is the space of a modern apartment as a liminal site in urban landscape, and the other is the discourse of fashion as a vital form of material consciousness. I argue that the essay genre not only becomes an open-ended and ongoing process for the woman writer in her entry into the existing order of the literary world, it also becomes the testing ground where the boundaries between the literary world and the larger social realm become unstable and ever-shifting. Not only life styles can be read as texts, a woman writer as an individual can become a concrete historical subject within the space allowed by the modern essay. Life is woven together with work, the boundaries between the private and the public are further blurred, and biographical contingencies become important textual devices in constructing a legend of a new era.

Hu Huifang 胡慧芳

In her perface to Honglou mengyan (Nightmare in the Red Chamber), Eileen Chang (1920-1995) recalls that the meaning of Liuyan, the title of her essay collection published in 1944 in the Japanese occupied city of Shanghai, derives from an English saying “written on water.” She further elaborates the implications of the metaphor: she does not expect her writing to endure – it should be like words written on water, or ‘flowing words,’ as ‘liuyan’ would mean literally, lingering momentarily and eventually elapsing; but she also hopes that her writing will be endowed with the spirit of ‘rumors’ or ‘gossip’ – a second literal meaning of the word ‘liuyan’ – flowing freely and swiftly, reaching a wide audience.[ See Chang, Nightmare in the Red Chamber (Taipei: Huangguan, 1977). The book, containing Chang’s essays on authorship, themes, structure, character portrayal, and linguistic construction of the most renowned vernacular narrative of pre-modern China Dream in the Red Chamber (Honglou meng), is representative of her literary and artistic pursuits during her American years (1955-1995).]

Hu Jin 胡瑾

Chang’s use of a language of self-reflexivity provides a window through which the curious reader/critic can look into the rather intimate process of a creative work in the making, so much so that the creative mentality of the woman author becomes a text which is first to be deciphered. The invention of the title is characteristic of Chang’s long-term effort to negotiate the boundaries between different genres of writing, and in this case, it is the distinction between critical/academic writing and the personal essay that is being questioned. Here, the mechanism behind the naming of her writing is more than just a clever pun. The title not only suggests a new style of essay writing, it also indicates a corresponding way to highlight the generic identities of this reinvented literary form.

Ji Tiantian 纪甜甜

During the writing process, the essay writer creates a structure of both containment (language captures the sentiments of a particular moment) and opening (language is unlimited because it lacks definite meaning or substance); and during the reading process, the immediacy and the transitoriness of the messages conveyed in these linguistic structures are first to be comprehended.

While words are described as flowing like water, and the essay genre is compared to a fluid construction of ‘gossip’ or leisurely talks, Chang’s naming of her own writing here offers more than just commentaries on the practice of literary writing. More importantly, the renaming of the essay genre should be understood as the woman writer’s commentary on the state of cultural production during a particular time in modern Chinese history that is characterized by enormous turmoil and disruption which resulted from the war and the occupation.[ For a standard historical account of cultural activities in occupied Shanghai, see Ke Ling, Zhuzi shengya (My Writing Career) (Taiyuan: Shanxi renmin chubanshe, 1986); also see Poshek Fu, Passivity, Resistance, and Collaboration: Intellectual Choices in Occupied Shanghai, 1937-1945 (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1993).]

Jiang Fengyi 蒋凤仪

Eileen Chang launched her writing career during the early 1940s, and her most important works, including the essays collected in Written on Water and the short stories collected in Chuanqi (Romances), were completed between 1943 and 45. Chang’s fictional writing has been subjected to abundant critical scrutiny since the late 1960s and early 1970s when scholars such as C.T. Hsia and Shui Jing started to reclaim the significance of Eileen Chang and promote her as one of the finest and the most original writers in the scene of twentieth century Chinese literature.[ See Shui Jing’s Paozhuan ji (Casting a Brick to Attract Jade) (Taipei: Sanmin shuju, 1969) and Zhang Ailing de xiaoshuo yishu (The Fictional Art of Eileen Chang ) (Taipei: Dadi chubanshe, 1973), as well as C. T. Hsia’s Aiqing, Shehui, Xiaoshuo (Love, Society, and Fiction) (Taipei: Chunwenxue chubanshe 1970), both published in Taipei. The three books were published in the midst of a renewed infatuation with the woman author shared by readers in Chinese-speaking communities outside of mainland China after 1949.] But the study of Chang’s essay writing is a different story.

Jiang Hao 姜好

Since the most popular essays by Chang were written during the same period as her fictional writing, namely, between 1942 and 45, and some of her essays conveniently provided the concrete historical and biographical background against which the plot in her fictional writing was possibly designed, Chang’s essay writing has so far been read as the best commentaries to her fictional writing, particularly to the short stories collected in the acclaimed Romances.[ Wu Fuhui, among many others, argues that Eileen Chang’s essays are only interesting when read together with her short stories. He uses the essay entitled ”Jingyu lu” (Stories from the Ashes) as an example, arguing that the essay should be read as providing the necessary historical context to our understanding of Chang’s highly acclaimed novella Qingcheng zhi lian (Romance Among the Ruins). I disagree with Wu because the emphasis of the essay clearly lies elsewhere: it presents a social gallery of figures – a group of female college students, all from different cultural and ethnic backgrounds, whose brilliance of personality is brought out by the war. The novella, however, focuses more on the falling apart and the reconstructing of the beauty legend. Here the generic distinctions between fiction and essay are instrumental in piecing together the meanings of these two literary texts. See Wu’s preface toZhang Ailing sanwen quanbian (A Complete Collection of Eileen Chang’s Essays) (Hangzhou: Zhejiang wenyi chubanshe, 1995).] While such an approach to Chang’s essays can provide a coherent discussion of Chang’s literary writing as an entirety, it may overlook the specificities of the essay genre in the Chinese context and may also downplay the cultural significance of such formalistic experiments.

Jiang Qiwei 蒋淇玮

Chang’s experiments with the modern essay serve to position her at a critical moment of literary transformation in modern China. While women writers had actively participated in both fictional and poetic writing since the early decades of this century, the essay genre had been monopolized by male writers. Three major essay traditions had already been canonized when Eileen Chang took up the essay as a vital means of representation. The ‘minor essay’ (xiaopin wen) tradition, represented by Zhou Zuoren and Lin Yutang, is characterized by a light and relaxing tone, a simple and elegant diction, political disengagement, wit, and a leisurely mood.

Kang Haoyu 康浩宇

The ‘miscellaneous essay’ (zawen) tradition, represented by Lu Xun and several generations of followers, including a group of leftist writers residing in Gudao (Isolated Island) Shanghai (1937-41), highlights intellectual sharpness and rhetoric eloquence, advocates active engagement with reality, and maintains the belief that literary writing should be employed as a powerful tool for social criticism and political intervention. And finally, the ‘refined essay’ (meiwen) tradition, represented by Zhu Ziqing and many writers from both the Literary Studies Circle (Wenxue yanjiu hui) and the Creation Society (Chuangzao she) since the 1920s, advocates linguistic experiments, whose goal is to create a language of refinement and elegance, and imageries that embody highly aesthetic and sensual qualities.[ Most standard literary histories published in China do not attempt to distinguish between different styles of modern essay writing. The zawen (the miscellaneous essay) tradition is often highlighted as the mainstream style for its definition of literature as social and political critique. These standard literary histories do acknowledge the lyrical qualities of xiaopin wen and meiwen but fail to situate the practice of these alternative essay writing styles in their cultural and intellectual contexts. See Wang Yao, Zhongguo xinwenxue shigao (History of the ”New Literature” in China), Tang Tao and Yan Jiayan, Zhongguo xiandai wenxueshi (Modern Chinese History), and Qian Liqun et al., Zhongguo xiandai wenxue sanshinian (Thirty Years of Modern Chinese Literature).]

Kang Lingfeng 康灵凤

Most of the women writers in 1940s Shanghai experimented with essay writing. In fact, women produced a larger quantity of essays than any other literary genre. In addition to Eileen Chang, many women writers of the period, including Su Qing (1917-1982), Guan Lu (1908-1982), Pan Liudai (1922-?), and Shi Jimei (1920-1968), also discovered the generic fluidity embedded in the essay form. Compared to their experiments with other literary genres, such as fiction, drama, and poetry, it is in women’s essay writing of the period that the discourses of female gender and sexuality, issues of the domestic sphere, and the structures of social institutions such as marriage are most vigorously challenged and thoroughly reformulated. The essay genre is the most powerful literary form adopted by women writers such as Eileen Chang in their efforts to constantly redefine the boundaries between life and work, and to meticulously weave the space of private life together with the space provided by literary writing.

Kong Xianghui 孔祥慧

In the following sections, I will argue that the woman writer’s experience of the time, the space, and the particular historical milieu of occupied Shanghai is not only mirrored in her representation of individual experiences of the war, the occupation, and the everyday, but also in her attempts to redefine the generic identities of the modern essay and to reinvent a kind of prose language that most vividly captures the transitional as well as eccentric nature of the essay genre. I will also argue that the choice of the essay form is central to Chang’s aesthetic vision.

Kong Yanan 孔亚楠

The female writer’s self-positioning in the realm of urban culture of 1940s Shanghai is exemplified in her appropriation of the genre. I will analyze Chang’s essay writing of the period to demonstrate how the genre was made into an important discursive site where the woman writer overtly challenged the literary conventions, searched for alternatives in both literary writing and practices of everyday life, and promoted herself as an important cultural figure. The uniqueness of this body of literary texts lies in the fact that it presents a version of women’s literature set within the context of the wartime occupation while interacting with urban commercial and print culture in 1940s Shanghai.

Lei Fangyuan 雷方圆

Essay and the aesthetics of liminality

How, then, does Eileen Chang write the experience of war and turbulence into the transformed form of the modern essay? While the sense of impending massive destruction is omnipresent in her essay writing of the 1940s, the representation of the specific historical situation is not delivered through any direct social and political reference to the immediate present; instead, the presence of history is often concealed under the masquerade of an aesthetic vision put together by a meditative inward gaze, an orchestra of city sounds, and an imagined border of the urban civilization endangered:

Lei Kuangxi 雷旷溪

Alone I sit next to a candle, thinking about the past and the present. What I have been busy doing for the last two years will probably be shattered soon. …… I should have a sense of it.

I was alone on the dusky balcony after Su Qing left. Suddenly I saw a tall building far away, on whose edges hung a great swatch of rouge-like redness. At first I thought it was the reflection of the setting sun on the windows, but on second glance, I realized that it was a full moon, rising crimson above the city. I thought to myself, “so this is what they mean by turbulent times.” In the evening mist, the borders of Shanghai were gently rising and falling in the distance, resembling layered mountain peaks, although there are no mountains surrounding our city.

Li Haiquan 李海泉

I pondered the fate of many people, including myself. I began to have a melancholy sense of what we call destiny. Such intimations normally connote self-involvement and self-pity, but I now think that they might suggest something altogether more broad. When the peace and security of the future finally do arrive, they will no longer belong to us; at the present moment each of us can only strive to comfort ourselves……[ See ”Wo kan Su Qing” (The Way I Look at Su Qing), in Tiandi yuekan (Heaven and Earth Monthly) 19 (April, 1945).]

This impressionistic silhouette of the city is none other than the dramatic presence of modern history itself. Here, history is visualized, flattened, and inevitably spatialized. The image of the city and the force of history intermingle into one performative moment, instantaneously captured by the ‘I,’ the woman writer, who sits on the balcony of her private home, looking out into the distance, watching the border of the city rise and fall, observing the currents of history come and go, as if the entire setting was a mere act in a long and winding chuanqi (romance) play.

Li Lili 李丽丽

History in Eileen Chang’s representation becomes a narrative which rejects any deep structure or profound meaning. Characterized by chaos and reversal, history appears to be no more than a shadowy presence in our consciousness:

In this era, the old things are falling apart, while the new ones are still in formation. Before the high tide of the era arrives, all certainty is but an illusion. We feel that everything in our everyday life is out of order to a terrifying degree. An individual belongs to a certain historical era, but our present era is sinking like a shadow; therefore we feel we have been deserted. In order to prove our own existence, we want to grasp onto something that is real, something fundamental. We then seek help from our ancient memory, the memory of human beings who have lived through various times in history.

Li Lingyue 李凌月

Looking back helps us regain more clarity and closeness than we might gazing far into the future. We then have a strange feeling about the reality that surrounds us. We begin to suspect that this is an absurd and antiquated world, gloomy and bright at the same time. Between memory and reality, there often arise unbearable discrepancies, resulting in a perplexing but subtle agitation, an intensified but indefinable struggle.[ See ”Ziji de wenzhang” (Writing of One’s Own), in Written on Water, 1944. This translation is based on an earlier version by David Wang. See Wang, ”Fin-de-siècle Grandeur: Contemporary Women Writers’ Vision of Taiwan,” Modern Chinese Literature 5.4 (1992) 45-65.]

回首过去而不是遥望未来有助于我们重新获得更清晰、更亲近的感觉。然后我们对周围的现实有一种奇怪的感觉。我们开始怀疑这是一个荒诞而古老，阴暗而光明的世界。在记忆与现实之间，常常会产生难以忍受的差异，从而产生一种令人费解却又微妙的骚动，一种剧烈但难以言喻的斗争。[《写在水上》，1944年。此翻译是基于王大卫的早期版本。见王，“台湾当代女性作家的视野”，中国现代文学5.4（1992）45-65。]--Li Lingyue (talk) 05:15, 3 December 2020 (UTC)

Li Liqin 李丽琴

Here, history is no longer presented as a linearly progressing course; instead, it is broken into numerous fragments which can be reorganized and attributed with fresh meanings. The passage quoted above demonstrates Eileen Chang’s fascination with various liminal sites, in time or in space. Throughout her writing career, Chang has created many liminal sites, such as the illusory realm between memory and reality, the brief moment between past and present, and the intersection between life and work, fiction and poetry, stage movements and everyday events. The best of Chang’s writing often captures these transitional moments or sites, and the subjectivity in question is often taken over by a deep sense of uncertainty:

Li Luyi 李璐伊

An individual can afford to wait, but an era is transient (cangcu). Things are being torn apart, and an even larger destruction is on its way. Someday our civilization, no matter how glorious, will become the past. I often use the word “desolation” (huangliang 荒涼) because there is a premonition of impending danger underlying my thought. At such a ‘transient’ moment in history which will probably ‘sink’ like a ‘shadow’ in an instant, how, then, should an individual, in this case, a woman writer, position herself? Make yourself famous as early as possible! If success comes too late, it will not be as enjoyable. …… Hurry! Hurry! Otherwise it will be too late! Too late!

Li Meng 李梦

These short, choppy sentences deliver a sense of urgency. To choose to define oneself through writing is then related to the woman writer’s understanding of the particular historical situation in 1940s Shanghai. It is a sense that the era is only a transitional moment in human history – the end is imminent and a new historical landscape will take shape. The imperative to make oneself famous then has to do with an urgent need to “occupy” a space in a swiftly dimishing landscape and to hold on to a moment that is constantly slipping away. Eileen Chang’s writing then highlights a very personal moment at a time when any individual voice is likely to be shattered by the grips of the modern warfare and eventually engulfed by the ruins of history.

Li Yongshan 李泳珊

Here the woman writer is going against her time by seeking an appropriate literary form and an adequate literary language to capture the essence of this fleeting moment in modern Chinese history. The new form and new language should be adequate to represent the dream-like world, the fragmented time, and the vanishing horizons of urban civilizations.

Chang’s choice of the essay genre is then consistent with her unique vision of history and her fascination with what I would call the aesthetics of liminality. One cannot find a more appropriate literary genre than the modern essay to capture the liminal qualities of that specific historical milieu. The essay is a genre that is positioned between the careful structuring of fiction and the free flow of poetry. The essence of essay writing lies exactly in its lack of essence or its eccentricity. The modern essay is a genre that is itself transitional.

Li Yu 李玉

The liminal qualities of the modern essay are further enhanced in various textual strategies Chang uses to challenge generic identities in literary conventions. For instance, Chang’s essay entitled “Shuangsheng” (Duet) represents one of the most intrepid literary experiments undertaken during the period. The influence of the roundtable talk, a prominent genre in popular culture, had penetrated the realm of literary writing. In “Duet,” literary writing takes the form of a mini roundtable talk. At the beginning of the essay, like most of the roundtable talks recorded in popular journals of the time, the surroundings and the atmosphere are provided in a painstakingly descriptive language. The conversation takes place in a coffee shop, where Eileen Chang, the narrator, and Mo Meng (named Yan Ying elsewhere), Chang’s female companion, indulge themselves in coffee and pastry while starting their rambling chat about anything and everything:

Lin Min 林敏

Having seated ourselves, we started chatting about a variety of things in great detail. When our topics became more weighty, she [Mo Meng] said: “You know what, this seems a lot like a roundtable discussion.”

Within the space provided by the essay, the two women then continue to talk about a variety of topics: the language of love in both China and the West, the construction of romance in different cultural contexts, gender relationships inside and outside wedlock, fashions for women of different age groups, and the distinctiveness of the Japanese mentality. The fragmentary and all-inclusive qualities (san) of modern prose style (sanwen) had already been fully elaborated by Eileen Chang; the format of a roundtable talk coincides with the need to push the limit of modern prose style to its most eccentric, unrestrained, and far-ranging extreme.

Lin Xin 林鑫

For a discussion of the roundtable talk as an important cultural genre in 1940s Shanghai, see Nicole Huang, Written in the Ruins: War and Domesticity in Shanghai Literature of the 1940s. The roundtable talk became an instrumental cultural genre in 1940s Shanghai. It was a new form of showcasing women writers by placing words (voices) and images (descriptions of their presence, and photographs) all on display. Major newspapers and journals of the period all used this strategy to advertise their publication, promote their circles of new writers, and take part in the construction of an expanded community put together by publishers, editors, writers, artists, and readers.

The structure of this essay also bears resemblance to that of a one-act play. The beginning passages can be viewed as stage descriptions. The action takes place in one quiet afternoon when two protagonists are engaged in a highly performative dialogue, and theatrical effect is enhanced when dramatic moments arise from time to time throughout the recorded conversation.

Ling Zijin 凌子瑾

“Wo kan Su Qing” (The Way I Look at Su Qing) presents Chang’s further effort to test the generic boundaries of the modern essay. The author effortlessly switches back and forth between her characterization of Su Qing and a close-up of the narrative self gazing inward. At one point in the essay, the author/narrative self pauses and admits that, in this essay devoted to Su Qing, she has actually devoted much more space to self-portrayal. Most of the time, the essay reads like an internal monologue: the narrative self is immersed in a constantly flowing display of numerous intimate moments. The free flowing of a sequence of random thoughts and the switch back and forth between different personas are fictional and theatrical devices used to further widen the representative capacities of the modern essay.

Liu Bo 刘博

While “The Way I See Su Qing” imports fictional devices into the form ‘minor essay,’ an earlier essay entitled “Siyu” (Whispers) demonstrates an even more radical experiment, that is, to turn the genre into a new form of autobiographical writing. The title of the essay takes on double meanings: while ‘siyu’could mean ‘private talks,’ it could also mimic the lowered and fragmented voice used in talking about the most intimate moments in one’s private life. The narrative voice in the essay whispers, murmurs, and gossips. Nothing substantial is presented; instead, segments of life, tinted with the haziness of childhood memory, are organized in the re-invented prose form, like a stream of thoughts or a random layout of scenes. The technique used here closely resembles montage: segments of the past are presented like flashbacks, and moments of free-association further remind the reader of the constantly blurred boundaries between memory and reality, past and present.

Liu Jinxingqi 刘金惺琦

The essay entitled “Tongyan wuji” (A Childish Discourse) presents another example of writing autobiography within the space of the modern essay. Sometimes the way that moments of childhood memory are narrated resembles the use of close-ups in film-making. The following episode even makes a direct reference to cinema:

I stood in front of the mirror and watched my trembling face, with tears falling down in streams. My face looked like a close-up in a movie. I told myself, grinding my teeth: “I want revenge. One day I will take my revenge.”

Each sub-section in this essay – ‘Money,’ ‘Fashion,’ ‘Food,’ ‘Gentleman,’ and ‘Brother’ – can be viewed as one filmic long take, and there is no direct connection between them. The entire essay is put together by a series of long takes. Within the space of the modern essay, there appear to be many of these extended fictional or cinematic moments. Sometimes, description of details of clothing, or simply the pattern on a piece of fabric, can contribute to the shaping of a dramatic moment, the formation of a narrative structure. The following passage from the same essay is a good example:

Liu Liu 刘柳

Japanese printed fabrics. Each bolt is a work of art. Each time I bring one home, before handing it over to a tailor, I repeatedly unroll it and bask in the image. A small Burmese temple is half shielded by the leaves of a palm tree; rain is falling incessantly through the reddish brown haze of the tropics. A pond in early summer, the water coated with a layer of green scum, above which float duckweed and fallen lilac petals, purple and white. Seemingly a fitting scene for a song lyric set to the tune “Laments of the South of the Yang-tze” (Ai Jiangnan)……

Reading some of these highly aesthetic moments in Chang’s essay writing, we might argue that it is within the space provided by the modern essay and by means of cinematic devices that the fragmentation of conventional fictional language becomes inevitable.

日本的印花面料。每一根螺栓都是一件艺术品。每次带回家，在交给裁缝之前，我都会反复展开，沐浴在画面中。一座缅甸小庙被棕榈树叶半遮半掩，雨水透过热带的红褐色雾气，不停地落下。初夏的池塘，水面涂上一层绿色的水垢，上面漂浮着鸭舌草和落下的丁香花瓣，紫白相间。配上一首《哀江南赋》似乎很应景......

解读张爱玲散文写作中的一些极具审美性的瞬间，我们可以说，正是在现代散文所提供的空间里，并且借助电影手段，传统小说语言的碎片化才成为必然。--Liu Liu (talk) 07:56, 3 December 2020 (UTC)

Liu Ou 刘欧

Essay and the making of a new prose language

Few writers in twentieth-century China are as persistent as Eileen Chang was in constantly experimenting with new literary language. In her essay entitled “Ziji de wenzhang” (Writing of One’s Own), Chang retrospectively remarks on her use of a new fictional language in the novella Lianhuantao (Linked Rings):

I adopted the language from traditional fiction on many occasions when writing the novella Chain of Rings. In the story, Cantonese people and foreigners who lived fifty years ago speak like figures walking out of [the world of] Plum in a Golden Vase (Jing Ping Mei), …… My original intention was: I already created a considerable distance in space by writing about a romanticized Hong Kong from the point of view of a Shanghainese; I also created a distance in time by writing about the Hong Kong of fifty years ago. Therefore I intentionally adopted an antiquated diction to represent such a doubled displacement (shuangchong juli). ……

Liu Yangnuo 刘洋诺

To situate the story in both a remote time and a distancing space endows the writer with abundant freedom in her choice of language. By returning to traditional literature to search for imaginative inspiration and expressive resources, Eileen Chang has redefined, on the discursive level, the cultural as well as political connotations of the modern vernacular language. For a modern reader who has considerable knowledge of the May Fourth literature, Chang’s fictional language presents the reader with a remote system of referentiality by using diction and narrative tone characteristic of those used in classical Chinese novels such as Plum in a Golden Vase and Dream of the Red Chamber.

Liu Yi 刘艺

What, then, are the characteristics of Chang’s linguistic experiments in her essay writing of the period? The titles of both the essay collection Written on Water and the essay “Whispers” can be viewed as the author’s own commentaries on the language she has chosen for the transformed essay genre. While literary language is compared to voices whispering, murmuring, or gossiping, and while words can eventually flow away just like water, the practice of writing then is a process of both embracing and breaking away from words, and the meanings that are presented no longer contribute to a system of enclosure. Chang’s naming highlights the indeterminacy of literary language and directs the reader’s attention to the uncertainty embodied in both the structure of the essay and the language that it employs.

In the opening passage of the essay “Tan nüren” (Talking about Women), collected in Written on Water, in a whimsical and relaxed tone, Eileen Chang cites a characterization of ‘women’ presented in a small pamphlet written by an English author:

Liu Yiyu 刘怡瑜

Westerners refer to sinister and cruel (yinxian kebo) women as ‘cats.’ I ran across a pamphlet recently, written in English, entitled Cats, which does nothing else except condemn women. It is not that what is said in it has never been expressed by other people. Interesting remarks (juanyu) concerning women are scattered everywhere and it is just not easy to collect them all together. But here this pamphlet is really a compilation (ji qi dacheng) [of what has been said about women].

Chang then invites her readers to accompany as she glances through a group of quotes she has selected and translated from that pamphlet, much of which is a condemnation of women’s erotic potential. Not a single word of explicit judgment is offered throughout the essay by Chang, nor are the assumptions contained in this pamphlet about the gendered character of each individual expressly challenged. After reading Chang’s essay, a reader might wonder to what extent has the ‘real’ author behind the masquerade of the narrative internalized such an ‘othered’ male view?

Liu Zhiwei 刘智伟

And to what extent is Chang’s translation ‘faithful’ to the original text? The original author’s name remains unmentioned in Chang’s essay, making it difficult to assess the extent to which the original ‘male’ narrative voice has been twisted or distorted by Chang’s rendition. The narrative voice appears to be a composite in those quotes and is even more so in the rest of her essay. One approach to reading Chang’s essay is then to regard the quotation as an integral part of the whole essay, to view it as Eileen Chang’s own linguistic construction, a construction which already contains her critique. Within these quotes, the message is complicated, and presented in several levels. Some of the quotes are reminiscent of an archetypal ‘male’ voice:

Lou Cancan 娄灿灿

This kind of fictional and temporal distance is also characteristic of Chang’s short stories written during the period. David Wang argues that the fictional world presented in the short stories in Romances points to a remote system of referentiality for modern readers by interweaving many ”unreal” elements such as the fantastic, the grotesque, the decadent, and the dark romanticist. See Wang, ”Nü zuojia de xiandai guihua: cong Zhang Ailing dao Su Weizhen” (Modern Ghost Narratives by Women Writers: from Eileen Chang to Su Weizhen), in Zhongsheng xuan-hua: sanshi yu bashi niandai de Zhongguo xiaoshuo (Heteroglossia: Chinese Fiction of 1930s and 1980s).

Luo Weijia 罗维嘉

“The physical construction of women is so exquisite; therefore, their spiritual construction is incomplete. This is predictable. We just cannot be over-critical of them [women].”

“If you do not seduce a woman, she would say that you are not a man; if you do, she would say that you are not a man of the upper-class.”

“The only difference between a woman and a dog is: a dog is not as spoiled as a woman is; a dog does not wear jewelry; and – thank God! – a dog does not speak!”

The expected readers of the pamphlet Cats are married middle-class men. According to Eileen Chang, the original author admits that, “a man, after having just fought with his wife, would feel comforted if he reads this pamphlet before he goes to bed.” Functioning as a psychological therapy, the expected reading process should yield pleasure which soothes grievances and unhappiness in one’s ‘actual’ life.

Luo Yuqing 罗雨晴

Within this reading process, through the mediation of a narrative language, the imagined male reader takes upon the implicit point of view built in the assumed male author’s account, manipulates and appropriates the construction of the female image, and displaces his sense of anger, repression, and alienation, or his frustrated desire for control and domination, onto such a constructed image. For a married man, the unsuccessful threats toward his wife in real life can then be successfully prosecuted on a textual level.

Such a female erotic image depicted in a seemingly unambiguous male text could generate a variety of culturally coded specific meanings and gendered differences. However, the tone of Chang’s language seems to invalidate the possibilities of applying an ideologically charged critique of these messages. Her narrative tone is relaxed, whimsical, playful, humorous, and somewhat ironic. The message transmitted in these quotes is impure, it has been reworked, and already contains a ‘look.’ This ‘look’ is interwoven with a sense of irony. This is even more explicit in some of her other quotes:

Ma Juan 马娟

“A man can flirt with a bar waitress in the squalid bar without losing his reputation; yet an upper-class woman is not even allowed to blow a kiss at a postman from afar. We can then draw an inference that men are different from women – no matter how low they [men] bend their backs, it is never difficult for them to stand up straight again.” “Generally speaking, women do not need the variety of stimulants in their lives that men do. Therefore, we should tolerate a man if he transgresses boundaries during his leisure time, in order to enliven his weary body, [to expel] his worries, [and to accomplish] his unrealized aspirations.”

Ma Shuya 马淑雅

These quotes should be understood as mainly Eileen Chang’s own rendition. Through the ironic tone, the message becomes twisted, distorted, highly dramatized, and thereby transformed into parody and ridicule. If Eileen Chang does seek to tease out this assumed male voice, such an attempt proceeds through the creation of a narrative distance, a sense of innuendo, a skillful rewording of the male voice, and not through any explicit charges or critiques. The reader is left to herself to read between the lines, to speculate about the hints, and to screen out the mixed messages.

Ma Zhixing 马智星

Despite the absence of an explicit criticism toward this unambiguous male voice, Eileen Chang’s presentation has revealed the fact that the male denunciation of the public effects of a female eroticism is itself manifested in an eroticized form. Such an eroticized form has been dramatized to the extreme by Chang in her skillful rewording. A reader would ponder whether this male denunciation addresses the danger of the placing women in public display or is itself a public display of women as eroticized subjects? Eileen Chang’s appropriation of the male denunciation of female eroticism becomes a doubled affirmation of the much textualized eroticizing potential of female images, which makes it difficult to pin down the ‘femaleness’ of her use of literary language.

Meng Ying 孟莹

Perhaps, then, to examine the ‘femaleness’ of Chang’s language is not an appropriate approach. Nor can we confidently situate Eileen Chang into the female literary tradition of modern China, a tradition which is usually characterized by the May Fourth style of writing. Chang’s cultural marginality, her interest in irrelevant details and domesticity, and her teasing of patriarchs and of gender relations all tempt critics to label her work with various feminine qualities. But Eileen Chang’s voice cannot be simply categorized in a dichotomy of conventional and patriarchal speech on the one hand, and experimental and anti-patriarchal speech on the other. It is obviously impure; it is a kind of language that occupies the space of the liminal; it is a mixed voice, both ‘male’ as well as ‘female.’ In many instances, her language appears to be the so-called “protective language,” a “neutralizing middle tongue,” a language of concealment rather than revelation. The mixed voices prevent us from going on to ‘genderize’ the grammar, the expression, and the diction in her writing. Eileen Chang’s language is one of resisting the process of ‘genderizing,’ and of eliminating the possibilities of polarizing different identities.

Mo Ling 莫玲

In her recent study of Eileen Chang’s fictional writing, Rey Chow defines Eileen Chang’s ‘femininity’ as predominantly associated with ”irrelevant” details. In the picture painted by Chow, ‘detail’ carries a distinctively ‘feminine’ label and is defined as ”the sensuous, trivial, and superfluous textual presence that exists in an ambiguous relation with some larger ‘vision’ such as reform and revolution.” Chow argues that Eileen Chang constructs a different vision of modernity and history through ”a release of sensual details whose emotional backdrop is often that of entrapment, destruction, and desolation.” Eileen Chang’s understanding of culture, therefore, carries a ”powerfully negative affect.” See Rey Chow, Chapter III ”Modernity and Narration: in Feminine Detail” in her Woman and Chinese Modernity: The Politics of Reading Between West and East (Minnesota and Oxford: University of Minnesota Press, 1991) 85.

Rey Chow’s emphasis on the intricately related history of details and the feminine in the Chinese case is certainly illuminating in the sense that she suggests a new perspective to define the significance of Eileen Chang’s writing and thus a new way of critiquing the construction of a history of modern Chinese literature as a whole.

Nie Xiaolou 聂晓楼

However, in Rey Chow’s categorization of Eileen Chang, a new type of femininity is classified, whose characteristics are intimate, domestic, sensuous, pre-rational, trivial, obsessed with its sexual being, yet embodying subversive strength and transgressive potentials. This seemingly fresh and autonomous femininity does take one thing for granted, that is the unproblematized association between the female, the domestic, and trivial details. Rey Chow’s emphasis on feminine detail may have endowed Eileen Chang’s writing with a critical power deriving from the marginal position that she is inscribed in; but to domesticate Chang, to enclose her within woman’s traditional domain of the home, could also lead to the draining of the heaviness and the other intellectual potentialities in Chang’s writing.

Ou Rong 欧蓉

The terms ”protective language” and a ”neutralizing middle tongue” are lifted out of Catharine Stimpson in her discussion of Gertrude Stein’s writing. According to Stimpson, ”Stein’s coding of sexual activities becomes a privileged and a distinguished ‘anti-language’,” that is, a language of ”anti-societies.” Stimpson argues against some other critics’ attempts to ”adjectify” Stein’s work as ”female.” She suggests that Stein’s language is ultimately ”impure,” it is ”linear as well as pluridimensional,” it is ”male” as well as ”female.” Stimpson argues that Stein’s literary language is neither ”female,” nor ”an unmediated return to signifiers freely wheeling in maternal space.” See Stimpson, ”The Somagrams of Gertrude Stein,” in The Female Body in Western Culture: Contemporary Perspectives, edited by Susan Rubin Suleiman.

Ouyang Jinglan 欧阳静兰

Julia Kristeva suggests that ”the very dichotomy man/woman as an opposition between two rival entities may be understood as belonging to metaphysics”; it must be dismantled through ”the demassification of the problem of difference, which would imply, in a first phase, an apparent de-dramatization of the ‘flight to the death’ between rival groups and thus between the sexes.” Kristeva refers to this as ”a strategy of disintegration.” This strategy is a ”true radicalism” in such attempts ”to undo given identities, to go beyond the policy of creating counter-identifications.” See ”Women’s Time” (translated by Alice Jardine and Harry Blake) in Signs (Autumn, 1981).

Ouyang Ling 欧阳玲

Perhaps, then, to examine the ‘femaleness’ of Chang’s language is not an appropriate approach. Nor can we confidently situate Eileen Chang into the female literary tradition of modern China, a tradition which is usually characterized by the May Fourth style of writing. Chang’s cultural marginality, her interest in irrelevant details and domesticity, and her teasing of patriarchs and of gender relations all tempt critics to label her work with various feminine qualities. But Eileen Chang’s voice cannot be simply categorized in a dichotomy of conventional and patriarchal speech on the one hand, and experimental and anti-patriarchal speech on the other. It is obviously impure; it is a kind of language that occupies the space of the liminal; it is a mixed voice, both ‘male’ as well as ‘female.’ In many instances, her language appears to be the so-called “protective language,” a “neutralizing middle tongue,” a language of concealment rather than revelation. The mixed voices prevent us from going on to ‘genderize’ the grammar, the expression, and the diction in her writing. Eileen Chang’s language is one of resisting the process of ‘genderizing,’ and of eliminating the possibilities of polarizing different identities.

那么，分析张爱玲语言中的女性特征也许不是一种恰当的方法。我们无法十分肯定地说她的作品体现了近代中国文学中的女性传统，这一传统以五四文体为特征。张爱玲作品中的文化边缘性、对细枝末节的关注、蕴含的家庭特征以及对男性家长和性别关系的调侃无一不促使评论家将其打上女性特质的标签。但是我们不能将张爱玲的语言简单地划分为两个对立面：一方面是传统的父权话语，另一方面则是实验性的反父权话语，她的文学语言无疑是模糊的，是一种位于两种状态分界处之上的语言，是一种糅合了“男性”与“女性”与一身的语言。在很多情况下，她的语言都表现出一种所谓的“保护性”、“中性的口吻”，或者说是一种隐没而非彰显的语言。张爱玲的作品语言的复杂性让我们无法将其中的语法、表达以及用词性别化，这种语言正是一种抵制“性别化”过程的语言，消除了分化不同身份的可能性。--Ouyang Ling (talk) 03:40, 3 December 2020 (UTC)Ouyang Ling

Peng Dan 彭丹

In Eileen Chang’s essay writing, it is finally the narration itself that becomes a site where conflicting cultural discourses meet and interact. The narrative voice does not embody or point to any authoritative discourses: it is neither the passive receiver of a system of accomplished social customs and values containing stereotypes of passive femininity, nor a spokeswoman for a ‘progressive’ nationalist ideological agenda. While history is viewed as transitory and fragmented, the language used to account for this history is no longer something which is ideologically or rhetorically charged. It is not a language to account for truth and beliefs, it is a language of ‘paradox’ and ‘enigma’; it is a ‘counter-language.’ Chang’s use of language serves to recuperate a remote tradition that is incompatible to the present historical situation, and to restore a different set of voices which are inconsonant with the chorus of her time.

Peng Juan 彭娟

Chang’s essay writing indicates that the coherence of a so-called women’s literary writing tradition in modern China is a mere fabrication. The linguistic constructions in Chang’s essay writing playfully appropriate male fantasies, turning them into props in the creation of a new literary space. By turning structures of male fantasies into narrative devices, and by transforming male voices to enhance the theatrical effect of essay writing, Eileen Chang has demonstrated a much more confident gesture in offering a critique of gendered constructions in both the larger social context and the sphere of literary writing.

Essay and the Invention of Life in Wartime

In the preface to her 1988 collection entitled Xuji (The Sequel), Eileen Chang confesses that she has been a “loyal believer” in Greta Garbo’s philosophy of life:

Peng Ruihong 彭锐宏

For several decades, relying on make-up and acting skills, she [Garbo] lived the life of a recluse, seldom seen through by other people. Her life-time belief was that “I want to live by myself.” …… Why is it that writers also have a hard time preserving the privacy of their lives?

These sentiments could not have been expressed back in the 1940s. The solitude of the latter half of Chang’s life, that is, the four decades since she came to America in the fall of 1955, forms a sharp contrast to the glorious moments during the first half of the 1940s, particularly the years of 1944 and 1945, when she and Su Qing emerged in the cultural scene of Shanghai simultaneously and became brighter stars than the most acclaimed movie actresses and popular singers.

Peng Xiaoling 彭小玲

As argued earlier, the most important players in this society-wide promotion of women intellectuals were none other than women writers themselves. And among all literary genres, it was the modern essay that became the most powerful form of expression in women writers’ self-promotion and myth-making. Essay served to contribute concrete forms to a life that was void of any structure; in other words, women writers such as Eileen Chang and Su Qing used the form of the modern essay to construct an intelligible universe where one’s imagination and fantasy could anchor. Detailed descriptions of everyday experience, that is, representations of cultural meanings of the material world, manifests not only a dynamic inner life but also a new social identity in formation. In this section I will highlight two aspects of life that are conceptualized in Chang’s essay writing, one is the space of a modern apartment as a liminal site in urban landscape, and the other is the discourse of fashion as a vital form of material consciousness.

Peng Yongliang 彭永亮

Passage from apartment to street

In her essay entitled “Gongyu shenghuo jiqu” (Interesting Moments in Apartment Life), Chang depicts a spatial construction which serves as the backdrop of the formation of a new urban persona:

I would ride the wind, returning up there, but fear those marble domes and jade galleries the place so high, the cold is unbearable ……

On reading these lines, residents who live on top floors of apartment buildings will more or less shiver with fear. The higher the apartment, the colder. Ever since the price of coal soared , radiators in apartments have become purely decorative. The “H” on the hot water faucet is indispensable in order to perfect the bathroom design; but if you turn on the hot water tap by mistake, a hollow but grievous rumble will burst out from the “Nine Springs” (Jiu quan) down below. It sounds like the very complicated and very capricious hot water pipe system in the apartment building has lost its temper. Even if we do not provoke it, the God of thunder still makes its power felt at any moment.

Peng Yuzhi 彭育志

Out of nowhere, it can set off a long and evil buzz followed by two blasting sounds, as if an airplane was circling above for a while and then dropped two bombs. Having been terror-stricken in wartime Hong Kong, this kind of noise would always make me panic when I first returned to Shanghai. At first the pipe was still working conscientiously; in much difficulty, it would carry some hot water all the way up to the sixth floor, accompanied by a gurgling sound. That was still acceptable, but now it is like deafening thunder followed only by drizzle, and worse yet, all we get are just two droplets of yellow rusty mud. But I dare not complain anymore; the unemployed can easily fly into a rage.

What is most striking in this beginning episode of Chang’s essay is how the experience of the everyday is depicted as parallel to that of war. War makes its metaphorical presence in daily life of an apartment dweller, serving as a trope for the erratic rhythm of an urban life style. Chang’s depiction of the texture of an apartment life then can be read as a parable of war.

Qi Kai 漆凯

This opening episode makes references to several archetypal war themes, including death (as in the reference to the “nine springs” or Jiu quan), the scarcity of necessities in life (such as the mentioning of high price of coal and deficiency of hot water in the apartment), and the threat of air-raid (as suggested by the narrator’s haunted memory from her years living in wartime Hong Kong). Themes of unemployment, social unrest, and economic instability are also represented in Chang’s depiction of an animated world where one’s private space is constantly intruded by outside forces. The author has invented a new sense of interiority in her attempt to come to terms with the topography of urban life during wartime. The essay gives textual testimonies to two most important categories of experience in occupied Shanghai – the urban and the war; and these two categories converge precisely within the constructed space of a modern apartment.

Qu Miao 瞿淼

See Chapter 2 for a discussion of the society-wide promotion of the two women and the women’s attempt in self-fashioning. Su and Chang were often showcased together with famous singers, dancers, and movie actresses at the time. See, for instance, ”Cui Chengxi wudao zuotan” (A Roundtable Discussion of Cui Chengxi’s Dance), where women writers were presented together with the Korean Dancer Cui Chengxi and a Chinese dancer named Wang Yuan. Published in The Miscellany Monthly 12. 2 (November, 1943). Another example is ”Nalianghui ji” (A Summer Gathering), where Eileen Chang was showcased together with the singer/movie actress Li Xianglan. In The Miscellany Monthly 15. 5 (August, 1945).

Originally published in Heaven and Earth Monthly 3 (December, 1943).

These are the lines in the Song dynasty poet Su Shi’s famous song lyric written to the tune ”Shuidiao getou” (Song for the Water Tune).

Quan Meixin 全美欣

This is the first time in the history of modern Chinese literature that the literary world of a woman author is so tenaciously associated with an urban life style characterized by routines in and out of a modern apartment. In other words, the spatial specificities of a modern apartment are essential to the construction of a vision of life in wartime in Eileen Chang’s writing. City offers many transitional territories such as hotels, stations, theaters, and cafes, which are spaces beyond the rigid categorization of inside or outside, private or public. In Chang’s writing, the space of an apartment is presented as such a transitional site. It is a self-contained private space, which enables a city dweller to escape the intensity of life outside the apartment when necessary. But more importantly, an apartment is also a locus point from which one can enter into various aspects of urban culture.

Sagara Seydou

For Eileen Chang, who, between 1942 and 1945, spent most of her time in a flat on the top floor of a six-story apartment building not too far away from the Jing’an Temple, the modern interior space is like a picture frame, encircling the nights and days of an urban dweller who constantly looks out, from her own apartment windows, that is, a new vantage point, at the kaleidoscopic world of metropolitan Shanghai. Living in an apartment seems to have changed ways of seeing, hearing, smelling, and feeling: not only the cityscape is presented differently – now from a new height (the windows of an apartment on the sixth floor), even sounds in the city become more vivid with the elevation of height:

I am often amazed at how street noises can be heard so clearly from the sixth floor, as if it was all happening right beneath one’s ears. The older we get, the farther we are separated from our childhood, and yet the memories of it and its many trivial details have gradually become more sweet and vivid.

Shi Diwen 石迪文

Just like our present bears imprints of the past, an interior space is constantly permeated and reshaped by the every-changing outside world. This is a world (un)marked by blurred boundaries; liminality characterizes one’s own positioning within such an obscure realm. And yet senses simply become more acute, and thoughts are given fresh new patterns. Here, we are witnessing the formation a new metaphysics of the everyday:

I like to listen to street sounds. Those who have more refined taste would rest on their pillows and listen to wind whistling in a pine grove or the roar of ocean waves. But it is the sound of a trolley that I must hear in order to fall asleep. On the hills in Hong Kong, only in winter when the north wind blew on the evergreens all night would it remind me of the charming sound of a trolley. People who have lived in an exciting city for many years do not realize what they must have in life until they have left the place. The thoughts of a city dweller are set against a curtain of striped pattern; the light-colored stripes are running trolleys. Like neatly paralleled currents of sounds, they continuously flow into our subconscious.

Shi Haiyao 石海瑶

For Eileen Chang, an apartment is truly the center of urban life. Like a train station, it serves as an initial starting point, always ready to transport one’s senses into many different directions. Chang’s aesthetics of life is then attributed with a concrete spatial form that is deeply rooted in the soil of the everyday of wartime. If the production of popular journals in occupied Shanghai symbolizes the shaping of an imagined space, the modern apartment is another important site on the mental map of a city under siege. The aggression of wartime occupation has disrupted cycles of life, routines in and out of one’s own home, but new urban spaces and experiences were also created. Here the presence of war intensifies one’s experience of the urban, crystallized in the shaping of a particular spatial form, that is, the modern apartment.

Si Yu 司妤

Many feminist scholars have suggested the importance of studying spatial constructions. They argue that by giving the inner world a form of concreteness, spatial symbols in literature are most illuminating in showing how personal experience intersects with specific cultural categories. The study of spatial construction is then important since it is the key point in understanding women’s literature: space often serves as a vehicle by which the female protagonists attempt to launch a journey of self-discovery, which constitutes the most important part of the female experience. See, for instance, Jessica Benjamin, ”A Desire of One’s Own: Psychoanalytic Feminism and Intersubjective Space,” in Feminist Studies/Critical Studies, edited by Teresa de Lauretis (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1986).

For a discussion of other kinds of spatial constructions in 1940s Shanghai, see Wei Shaochang, ”Jiu Shanghai de tingzijian” (The Garret in Old Shanghai), published in Haishang wentan (March, 1994). Also see a photographic history in Tang Zhenchang, ed., Jindai Shanghai fanhua lu (Modern Shanghai: The Splendor) (Hong Kong: Shangwu yinshuguan 1993.)

In ”Interesting Moments in Apartment Life.”

Ibid.

See Nicole Huang, Written In the Ruins.

Song Jianru 宋建茹

In Chang’s vision, this spatial experience is also gendered. The image of an apartment dweller is gendered, and often female. “It seems like only women can fully understand the advantages of life in an apartment,” Chang writes, since the household duties in an apartment are much more simplified. Therefore, a woman can much better appreciate the numerous trivial details in life; she can even start to appreciate the gorgeous colors of fresh vegetables displayed at morning markets, and enjoy the pleasures of cooking and cleaning. Chang’s reinvention of these daily trips is most forcefully presented in one essay entitled “Zhongguo de riye” (China: Days and Nights).

In Chuanqi (extended edition) (Shanghai: Shanhe tushu gongsi, 1946).（注释）

Su Lin 苏琳

In Chang’s own account, morning errands to the vegetable market seem to be her own tour through the part of the city that she is most attached to. Every morning she would take the elevator down from her sixth floor apartment, emerge onto the awakening streets, mingle with the morning crowd, and progress toward the world of the magnificent colors of the early market. Daily routines are not just bound duties that confine the everyday experiences of women; instead, they become forms of life choreographed in accordance with the distinctive rhythm of the city. Women can finally look at them as opportunities to explore a life that is wider, brighter, and more open to a variety of new possibilities.

Tan Xingyue 谭星越

Life in apartment is then presented with many layers in Chang’s essay writing. In “Daolu yi mu” (Views from the Streets), Eileen Chang also reminds the reader of the many levels of urban culture taking shape outside of the apartment, that is, on the streets. On one level, the street scene of Shanghai is most distinctively characterized by the window displays and neon lights on Avenue Joffre:

Designing shop windows is a fascinating job, since there is motionless drama in each display. ……… [I remember] a mid-winter night four or five years ago when my cousin and I were strolling down the Avenue Joffre, looking at shop window displays.

Tan Xinjie 谭鑫洁

Under neon lights, the slanted faces of those wooden beauties under slanted hats, with feathers slanting down from atop the hats. I did not wear western suits, had no need of a hat, and did not want to buy one. And yet I still looked at them with admiring eyes……

This fascination with window displays and neon lights is staged at a moment that belongs to the past – “four of five years ago.” At the present time within the essay, a different layer of images are highlighted. We see various street corners scattered in less prestigious neighborhoods of the metropolis. Chang’s impressionistic depiction of the city of Shanghai contains numerous crisscrosses of small lanes and faces of ordinary people:

”Views from the Streets,” in Heaven and Earth Monthly 4 (January, 1944). （注释）

Tan Yuanyuan 谭媛媛

There are many scenes on the streets that are worth another glance. At dusk, a rickshaw is parked by the roadside, a woman is leaning against the seat, a sack in her hand, some persimmons in the sack. The rickshaw man is squatting down on the ground, trying to light up an oil lamp. It is getting dark, and the lamp by the woman’s feet slowly brightens.

Here, within the space of one essay, the images of a rickshaw man and a housewife on a small street are juxtaposed with the memory of two young women window-shopping on the extravagant Avenue Joffre. The subtle light of an oil lamp is placed against the bright and luring rays of neon signs.

Tang Bei 汤蓓

And the warmth and intimacy of the present set off the coldness and vastness of a moment in the past. Here, even though there is no direct reference to the turbulent events taking place in the background of occupied Shanghai, we can nonetheless sense the presence of war in this contrast between the two time frames and the switch back and forth between different layers of urban space. Rapid movements, swift changes, drastic transformations, and the transience of a given moment, these themes of war are represented in a most subtle and yet vivid fashion.

Tang Ming 唐铭

To carry the argument further, Chang’s sense of modernity has extended from a modernist high culture to a culture of wartime quotidian life. The author is more interested in representing the tension between the ‘old’ and the ‘new’ surfacing in everyday routines of ordinary men and women in her city. The intrusion of war seems to have pushed the brilliance of Avenue Joffre back into one’s dusty memory. Here we can perceive how the experience of war and occupation has systematically changed the spatialization of modernity: modernity as a body of new urban sensibilities is now located somewhere between the grand avenue and the back alley.

Tang Yiran 汤伊然

– Fashion talk – To illustrate how material imagination is essential to Chang’s aesthetics of the everyday, I will now turn to her conceptualization of fashion as an invented form of life. Chang’s discussions of fashion demonstrate her fascination with an inner vision. By depicting a world of light, brilliant colors, unique lines and shapes, Chang has also suggested that literary writing can be the beginning of a cultural history of things.

In Chang’s fictional writing, colors, lines, surfaces, and words are often combined to form a network of intricate meanings. Her writing is known for its meticulous attention to details, particularly clothes.

Tao Ye 陶冶

For instance, in her novella “Jinsuo ji” (Chronicle of Gilded Fetters), through the clothes of female servants, a portrait of this old-style family is introduced. Clothes with bright colors are set in contrast to neutral tones of modern fashion; the former becomes a symbol of the ‘past,’ which gradually recedes into the background, gorgeous, amorous, dazzling, but helplessly decaying. Temporality of fashion serves to punctuate narrative rhythm in Chang’s fictional writing.

It is in Chang’s essay writing that a discourse of fashion is passionately elaborated. Chang’s most important essay on fashion is entitled “Gengyi ji” (A Chronicle of Changing Clothes), in which one hundred years of Chinese history is acted out in Chang’s dramatic display of clothes in movements.

In Chuanqi (Romances) (Shanghai: Za¬zhishe, 1944).（注释）

In Past and Present Bi-weekly 34 (December, 1943). Originally written in English and published in the English language journal XXth Century.（注释）

Wang Meiling 王美玲

In this world, the transformation of modern clothes can be read as a history of mentality that centers on a constant redefinition of notions such as femaleness, female beauty, and female proper conducts:

Men have more freedom in their life than women do. Yet I do not want to become a man, only because they do not have freedom [in having a variety of clothing].

Chang goes on to tease out the absurdity of gendered assumptions in cultural discourses:

Clothes seem trivial and not worth mentioning. Liu Bei once said: “Brothers are [important to each other] like hands to feet whereas their wives and children are [insignificant] like clothes.” But for women, it is much easier to cherish their clothes than their husbands.

From ”A Chronicle of Changing Clothes.”

Back in the 1920s, Zhang Jingsheng already highlighted the significance of the changes of clothes/fashion, which, according to him, reflects and shapes the present state of mentalities. See Zhang’s 1925 book entitled Mei de renshengguan (An Outlook on a Life of Beauty) as quoted in Peng Hsiao-yen, ”Sexual Enlightenment: ‘Dr. Sex’ Zhang Jingsheng and May Fourth First-Person （注释）

Wang Xuan 王轩

There was a Western writer (is it Bernard Shaw?) who once complained that when most women chose their husbands, they were not nearly as attentive and cautious as when they were selecting a hat for themselves. The most heartless woman would lament passionately when she began to talk about “that silk gown I had last year.”

Never mind whether it was Bernard Shaw or some other Western writer who made these bizarre comments about women’s apparent “lack” of judgment in choosing their own destinies and their partiality for clothes and other seemingly trivial accessories in life, for Eileen Chang, these male voices were all spelling out the similarly absurd and “ancient” logic by Liu Bei of the Three Kingdoms era (third century A.D.).

Narrative Fiction.” For Zhang Jingsheng, clothes are the extension of a female body and therefore are crucial elements in exploring female sexuality and inner psyche. This may serve as a mediation to explain the fascination with the female clothed bodies expressed in Eileen Chang’s writing of the 1940s.（注释）

For a discussion of the correlation between clothes, gender discourses, and performance culture during the first two decades of the century, see an essay by Zhou Huiling (Katharine Hui-ling Chou) entitled ”Nü yanyuan, xieshi zhuyi, ‘xin nüxing’ lunshu: Wanqing dao Wusi shiqi Zhongguo xiandai juchang zhong de xingbie biaoyan” (Actresses, Realism, and Discourse of ”New Woman”: Gendered Performances in Modern Chinese Theater from Late Qing to the May Fourth), published in Jindai Zhongguo funüshi yanjiu (Studies of Women’s History of Modern China) 4 (August, 1996). Also see her dissertation entitled Staging Revolution: Actresses, Realism, and the New Woman Movement in Chinese Spoken Drama and Film, 1919-1949 (New York University, 1997).（注释）

Wang Yu 王煜

But the essay “A Chronicle of Changing Clothes” does much more than merely tease out the gendered categories embedded in fashion discourses. “We cannot really imagine the world of the past generations, so idle, so quiet, and so organized,” writes Eileen Chang, “during the three hundred years of Manchurian ruling of Qing dynasty, there was not even (jing) such a thing called women’s fashion!” The use of the adverb “jing” implies an astonishment: women did not even have fashion for three hundred years, and how could anyone have endured such a misfortune! The emphasis placed on women’s clothes seem to be a landmark that separates the modern era from the antiquated worlds.

Wang Yuan 王源

From the point of view of Eileen Chang, the lack of changes in three hundred years of China’s fashion history forms a sharp contrast to the thirty or forty years of the most recent history which, for Chang, can be read as a fascinating narrative put together by rapidly shifting patterns of women’s fashion.

Chang’s account then turns history into a stage presentation. Her impressionistic view of modern history highlights colors, lines, shapes, and moods, which are all crystallized in the changing faces of women’s clothes. Chang’s representation of modern history through the transformation of women’s clothes has the effect of a modern museum of human fantasies, or a gallery of artifacts constantly in motion.

Wei Honglang 韦洪朗

History is turned into a fictional narrative. More interestingly, there is no real human being moving in this narrative; shapes, colors, lines, and circles occupy the space. Through a personification of clothes, Chang has created an animation effect in her world of changing fashion. Clothes replace human voices; clothes become language itself.

In “Views from the Streets,” Eileen Chang also describes fashion display as “motionless drama,” a notion that highlights the correlation between literature, performance art, and material culture. By using the notion of drama as a trope, Eileen Chang has indicated that fashion, like forms of fictional narrative, is a dramatization of life, a life presented on stage.

Wei Yafei 魏亚菲

A fashion image is a frozen historical moment, that is, a close-up of a historical moment intersecting with moments in one’s personal history. The clothed body of a modern urban woman thereby carries the burden of history, as well as the marks of our present time.

In his essay on fashion and modernity written back in 1904, Georg Simmel has already theorized the cultural and social significance of fashion in modern life. He views fashion as a signifier of modernity and a theatricalization of social transformations. For Simmel, fashion consciousness is vital to our conceptualization of the modern and the urban.

Georg Simmel, ”Fashion” (1904), in On Individuality and Social Forms: Selected Writings, edited and with an introduction by Donald N. Levine (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1971) 294-323.（注释）

Wen Sixing 文偲荇

Simmel’s essay on fashion should be read side by side with his another crucial essay written a year earlier in 1903 entitled “The Metropolis and Mental Life,” which describes the heightened level of sensory stimulation associated with the construction of modern metropolis. Fashion responds most directly and instantaneously to these changes. Following is a frequently quoted passage from “The Metropolis and Mental Life,” which describes the essence of modern life from a physiological as well as psychological perspective:

The psychological foundation, upon which the metropolitan individuality is erected, is the intensification of emotional life due to the swift and continuous shift of external and internal stimuli.

西美尔那篇关于时尚的文章应该和他在1903年写的另一篇重要的文章并列阅读，那篇文章题为《大都市与精神生活》，描述了随着现代大都市的建设而提高的感官刺激水平。时尚界对这些变化的反应是最直接和即时的。下面是《都市与心理生活》中经常引用的一段话，它从生理和心理的角度描述了现代生活的本质: 都市个性赖以建立的心理基础，是由于外部和内部刺激的迅速、持续的转移而强化的情感生活。--Wensixing (talk) 09:10, 3 December 2020 (UTC)

Wen Xiaoyi 文晓艺

Man is a creature whose existence is dependent on differences, i.e., his mind is stimulated by the difference between present impressions and those which have preceded. Lasting impressions, the slightness in their differences, the habituated regularity of their course and contrasts between them, consume, so to speak, less mental energy than the rapid telescoping of changing images, pronounced differences within what is grasped at a single glance, and the unexpectedness of violent stimuli.

Wu Kai 吴恺

To the extent that the metropolis creates these psychological conditions – with every crossing of the street, with the tempo and multiplicity of economic, occupational and social life – it creates in the sensory foundations of mental life, and in the degree of awareness necessitated by our organization as creatures dependent on differences, a deep contrast with the slower, more habitual, more smoothly flowing rhythm of the sensory-mental phase of small town and rural existence.

Simmel’s remarks can help illustrate how the discourse of fashion is situated at the center of Eileen Chang’s aesthetic vision. But Chang has gone well beyond Simmel. She incorporates urbanism, modernity, and femininity in her creation of fashion as a new cultural paradigm.

See Simmel, ”The Metropolis and Mental Life” (1903), in On Individuality and Social Forms: Selected Writings, 325.（注释）

Wu Qi 吴琪

The fact that the power of designing such a new paradigm is in the hands of a woman makes it even more unique for her time. More importantly, Chang’s fashion stories can also be read as parables of war. Designing fashion and then writing about fashion are her ways to come to terms with the world at war and the city under siege. In a world where nothing is fixed, and scenes of the present are swiftly disappearing at the very next moment, the ever-changing women’s fashion ironically becomes something that is most stable and lucid, something that can be held on to.

Wu Qiong 吴琼

In Chang’s account of wartime Hong Kong in an essay entitled “Jinyu lu” (Stories from the Ashes), she describes individual attentions to details of clothes at a critical moment when one’s own life can be smashed to pieces in no time:

In Hong Kong, when we first heard the news that the war had broken out, a girl classmate in my dormitory started panicking. “What am I going to do? I have nothing appropriate to wear!” she cried. Her family were wealthy overseas Chinese. She had a different wardrobe for every social occasion. From a dance party on a yacht to a formal dinner, she was always sufficiently equipped. But she never imagined that there would be a war.

Wu Xiang 邬香

She finally managed to get hold of a big black quilted jacket which probably would not attract any attention from the air force circling above. When it was time to flee we all went our separate ways. I saw her again when the war was over. She cut her hair short in the masculine Filipino style – the trend in Hong Kong at the time because a woman with that hair style could pass for a man.

Indeed our different responses to the war are reflected in our choice of clothes. Take Suleika for example. A beauty from a remote town on the Malay peninsula, she was petite and dark, with dreamy eyes and slightly protruding teeth.

Wu Yilu 吴一露

Like most girls who had a convent education, she was naive to an embarrassing degree. She chose to major in medicine, which means that she had to learn to dissect human bodies. But did the corpses have clothes on or not? The question bothered her, so she was asking people about it. This had become quite a joke around our school.

A bomb landed next to our dorm, so the warden had to convince us to flee down the hill. Even in such emergency, Suleika did not forget to pack up her most lavish clothes. Against the well meaning advice of many wise people, she somehow managed to transport, in the midst of the gunfire, a big heavy leather trunk of clothes down the hill.

Wu Zijia 吴子佳

Suleika then joined the defense force, working as a substitute nurse for the Red Cross. She was often seen squatting on the ground, hacking firewood to light up a fire, wearing her copper red and dark green silk gown embroidered with the character “shou” (longevity). What a waste, but for her it was all worth it. This smart outfit endowed her with an unprecedented confidence; without that she would not have blended so well with her male colleagues. ……

Here, Chang’s war stories are interwoven with talks of fashion.

“Stories from the Ashes,” in Heaven and Earth Monthly 5 (February, 1944).

Xiao Shuangling 肖双玲

Fashion is no longer a form of creative life that only occupies the space of leisure; rather, it becomes an essential medium through which an individual could finally comprehend the world that is otherwise incomprehensible, name the surroundings that are otherwise unnamable, and determine her own gender and ethnic identities that are otherwise indeterminate.

The ending of the essay “A Chronicle of Changing Clothes” also consists of a parable:

……an autumnal chill in approaching dusk as vendors at a vegetable market prepare to pack up and go home. Fish scraps and pale green corn husks litter the ground.

Xiao Ting 肖婷

A child dashes over on his bike just to show off. He gives out a shout, lets go of the handlebars, and shoots away effortlessly, swaying back and forth all the while. At that split second, everyone on the street watches him with an indefinable admiration. Perhaps in this life that moment of letting go is the very loveliest?

This scene seems detached from Chang’s detailed descriptions of the transformation of fashion trends, but it can be read a parable of how fashion actually functions in everyday life. It is exactly that moment of “letting go,” that is, the moment that one gains the power and freedom to go beyond immediate material and political conditions, that captures the essence of fashion in Chang’s world.

Translated by Andrew F. Jones.（注释）

Xiao Xi 肖茜

Here the essay genre not only becomes an open-ended and ongoing process for women writers in their entry into the existing order of the literary world, it also becomes the testing ground where the boundaries between the literary world and the larger social realm become unstable and ever-shifting. Not only life styles can be read as texts, women writers as individuals can become concrete historical subjects within the space allowed by the modern essay. Life is woven together with work, the boundaries between the private and the public are further blurred, and biographical contingencies become important textual devices in constructing a legend of a new era.

Xiao Yining 肖伊宁

Perspectives on Ideology in the Essay

Zhu Ziqing, Frantz Fanon, and the Fierce White Children

Daniel A. Fried

Abstract

All genres contain political possibilities, but the essay seems entitled to a particularly strong claim on politics. In the Chinese modernist context, it should be clear that one cannot understand the development of nationalism without reference to the huge body of political essays published in decades of periodicals, and equally clear that one must take stock of nationalist writings in trying to understand the generic qualities of the essay. And within our international scholarly dialogue, it seems necessary to locate the modern Chinese essay with regard to the various postulates of postcolonial theory.

Xie Fan 解帆

This is not easy--the relation of Chinese materials to theory has of course been debated at length, with wide disagreements over the applicability of the standard models. Indeed, the applicability of postcolonialism to several literatures has been questioned as critiques of essentialized difference have been turned against the general conclusions of postcolonial discourse itself. While theoretical contextualization of Chinese political essays seems necessary, there is no critical consensus on what theories to apply.

This paper will attempt to contextualize by ignoring the oversimplified question of whether postcolonial theory is or is not applicable to Chinese modernist essays.

Xie Ziyi 谢子熠

Instead, it seeks to perform a case study in theoretical analysis of a Chinese essay which goes beyond the simple importation of “foreign” theory, to suggest the outlines of dialogue between scholars of Chinese and other anticolonial nationalisms. Specifically, it compares Zhu Ziqing's experience of a white childs gaze in the essay, “White People--God's Proud Children!” to a similar experience of Frantz Fanon recorded in his canonical Black Skin, White Masks. Using the theme of the racial others gaze as a methodological allegory, it seeks to show how these two texts can be made to “gaze” at each other, to inform each other in ways which are theoretically suggestive while respecting local difference.

Xu Jia 徐佳

While Zhus essay seems in many ways to perfectly invoke the most familiar tropes of “Western” theory, Zhu's reaction to the gaze is ultimately opposite to Fanon's, and demonstrates how anticolonial writing is enmeshed both in internationa lpsychological constants and local historical variables.

Scholarly investigation of the modern Chinese essay as a genre demands some attention to the questions posed by postcolonial theories. The same could be said of all genres of the period, but the essay has a special claim on postcolonialism. All genres were used politically, but the essay was usually seen in high modern China as the prime vehicle for explicit politics, the forum best suited for debate and rebuttal, and explication of specific political programs.

Xu Jing 许晶

Of course, there is no scholarly consensus in the field as to the extent to which postcolonial theories can or cannot be applied to modern Chinese literature. For example, Rey Chow in her 1993 Writing Diaspora produced a well-known critique of the resistance to theory by scholars of Chinese literature, arguing that the claims of untheorizable Chinese particularity are merely reintroductions of an old Orientalist cultural essentialism. Last year, Leo Lee concluded his study of Shanghai urban culture by restating the very same arguments which Chow had dismissed, making the case that theory based on native internalization of the Western “othering” gaze was not directly applicable because the Western imperialist presence in China, even in the Shanghai concession zones, never gained the colonialist control over language and education that produced such psychic disruptions in other societies.

Rey Chow, Writing Diaspora: Tactics of Intervention in Contemporary Cultural Studies. (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1993).（注释）

Xu Jing 许静

We must stutter out some engagement with postcolonial theory, but how can one proceed without the safety of scholarly consensus? One could dive into polemics, but a decision that either theory is or isn't always applicable to Chinese literature assumes the existence of twin essentialized monoliths called “theory” and “Chinese literature.” We need more nuanced approaches. In fact, the terms of mainline postcolonial theory do furnish the conceptual tools with which one can derive one such approach. The very familiar discussions of the gaze of the imperial subject toward the colonized other can be employed as a metaphor for our own predicament.

Xu Mengdie 徐梦蝶

One of the major variations on this theme, deriving from the writings of Frantz Fanon, should be familiar: by their imperial gaze, aggressor cultures try to lock their colonized subjects into a perpetual Otherdom, with the aggressor National Subject claiming for itself a transcendent metaphysical Selfhood; colonized individuals must view themselves as Other and therefore are alienated from themselves. The solutions the discourse has found are ways in which those individuals can subvert that Otherdom in order to reclaim for themselves a new or reconstituted Selfhood. The goal is not to fall into nativist atavism and rejection of the metropole, but to eliminate dominance and blur the margins of identity, allowing a more healthful parity in the identification dialectic between colonizer and colonized.

Xu Pengfei 许鹏飞

If it is a common complaint that postcolonial theory is a creation of the metropole which should not be allowed to dominate local Chinese historical experience, the solution should not be nativist assertion of Chinese difference and superiority, with consequent ignoring of the varied experiences of imperialism from which the systems of theory have been derived. Rather, once we reject the notion that metropolitan theory has an omniscient gaze which alone possesses the right to define the meaning of Chinese texts, we are free to see how Chinese and non-Chinese experiences of imperialism can inform each other, through their mutual attractions and tensions which complicate questions of identity.

Yang Chenting 杨晨婷

As an example of how to do this sort of theoretical application, I propose in this paper to compare Frantz Fanon's “The Fact of Blackness” (a chapter of his canonical Black Skin, White Masks), with a little-known essay by Zhu Ziqing, “White People-God's Proud Children!” Both pieces focus on the narrators' experiences of meeting the gazes of white children, and thus invoke classic themes which allow easy access to theoretical considerations even in the midst of a particularistic analysis. And because both describe politicized experience, they avoid the old Orientalist dichotomy of Western theory vs. native experience. Both Fanon and Zhu are equally theoretical and experiential, and they inform each other.

作为如何进行这类理论应用的例子，我在本文中拟将弗朗茨·法农的《黑的事实》（他的典籍《黑皮肤，白面具》中的一章）与朱自清的一篇鲜为人知的文章《白种人，上帝的骄子！》进行比较。这两篇作品都聚焦于叙述者与白人儿童目光交汇的经历，因此引用了经典的主题，即使在特殊主义的分析中，也能很容易进行理论思考。而且由于两者都描述了政治化的经验，因此避免了西方理论的老东方主义与本土经验的抉择。弗朗茨和朱自清都同样具有理论性和经验性，且互相借鉴。--Yang chenting (talk) 08:35, 3 December 2020 (UTC)Yang Chenting

Yang Hairong 杨海容

“The Fact of Blackness” is Fanon's analysis of a black man's frustration in attempting to create a viable self-identity in the France of the 1950's. Analysis in the psychoanalytic sense, not the scientific-sociological one; or, better still, self-analysis, for the chapter is cast in the form of a first-person narrative. Fanon writes a sort of psychoanalytically fueled prose poem. There are few objective assertions made about “the way it is”; the problem is seen from what appears to be the inside of a black man's head, what he feels and how he reacts to the shiftingly solid front of White France arrayed against him..

Not necesssarily Fanon's. In his introduction, Fanon writes that in this chapter, “we observe the desperate struggles of a Negro who is driven to discover the meaning of black identity." Frantz Fanon, Black Skin, White Masks. Trans. Charles Lam Markmann (New York: Grove Press, 1967) 16. The wording here suggests a fictional narrator. Nonetheless, one guesses that it is a fictualized Fanon, and I will use “Fanon” as a convenience in place of “the narrator” for the remainder of this paper.（注释）

Yang Hui 阳慧

Some of the most striking and most quoted parts of this narrative are Fanon's attempts to deal with the intrusive voice of the white child who cries out in fear of him:

“Look, a Negro!” It was an external stimulus that flicked over me as I passed by. I made a tight smile.

“Look, a Negro!” It was true. It amused me.

“Look, a Negro!” The circle was drawing a bit tighter. I made no secret of my amusement.

“Mama, see the Negro! I'm frightened!” Frightened! Frightened! Now they were beginning to be afraid of me. I made up my mind to laugh myself to tears, but laughter had become impossible.

这段叙述中最引人注目和引用最多的部分是 Fanon 试图处理白人儿童因害怕他而大声呼喊的侵扰性声音：

“看，一个黑人！”当我经过时，一种外在的刺激掠过我的心头。我笑得很紧。

“看，一个黑人！”是真的。我很开心。

“看，一个黑人！”圆圈越来越紧了。我毫不掩饰我的乐趣。

“妈妈，看那黑鬼！我吓坏了！”害怕！害怕！现在他们开始害怕我了。我下定决心要笑得流泪，但笑已经变得不可能了。--YangHui (talk) 08:18, 3 December 2020 (UTC)

Yang Yi 杨逸

In this passage as elsewhere in the chapter, there are many voices accusing Fanon, yet the voice of the child has a special bluntness, one that hits Fanon harder. Beneath that voice, his attempt to defend himself through an ever-increasing amusement is undone; the child unmasks his anguish. He is for Fanon not just a historical boy, nor an empirical average of thousands of trembling boys, but a resonance of something deeper within Fanon's narrative. Fanon does not devote an inordinate amount of space to the child, and it would be an exaggeration to say that the appearances of this child constitute the thematic center of his chapter.

Yang Yue 杨悦

Nonetheless, the white child does play a crucial role, as he is in fact a grotesque foil for Fanon's own exasperated narrative voice, which is a rewriting, for race, of narratives of developmental psychology. In particular, Jacques Lacan's famous theory of the “mirror stage” is clearly its primary inspiration. Even though Fanon never makes explicit reference to Lacan or “The Mirror Stage” in the chapter, such references are numerous in Black Skin, White Masks as a whole-there is no doubt that Fanon knew the paradigm well. And the structure of his narrative runs suspiciously parallel to Lacan's explications, so much that it might be fair to call “The Fact of Blackness” an ironic rewriting of “The Mirror Stage.”

Yang Ziling 杨子泠

Lacan's theory is complex, moving in unexpected directions and drawing different sets of conclusions. But all are sourced in the moment of a baby before a mirror, fascinated to discover itself for the first time. The stage at which this critical fascination can occur lasts from the age of six to eighteen months, according to Lacan, and its primary importance is in providing the infant with a temporary shortcut to mature subjectivity. In his words, the mirror “precipitates” the child's I in a “primordial form, before it is objectified in the dialectic of identification with the other, and before language restores to it, in the universal, its function as subject.”

Yao Cheng 姚诚

In contrast, Fanon only reaches his version of the mirror stage after passing through objectification and restoration to subjectivity. His “mirror stage” is precisely the quest for subjectivity narrated through the “plot” outlined above. But this plot is skewed¬-consider Lacan's discussion of the mirror stage itself:

The fact is that the total form of the body by which the subject anticipates in a mirage the maturation of his power is certainly more constituent than constituted, but in which it appears to him above all in a contrasting size (un relief de stature) that fixes it and in a symmetry that inverts it, in contrast with the turbulent movement that the subject feels are animating him.

Yao Jia 姚佳

Fanon's mirror is of course the White. In that mirror he is inverted, re-created as an image exactly opposite to his own reality, and it is only through that inversion, that perversion of his Self that he is allowed to know himself. And, moreover, that inversion is fixed in the mirror, as Fanon puts it, fixed as a chemical solution is fixed by a dye. No matter how Fanon questions, no matter what rhetorical tack he chooses to confront the mirror, it refuses to give back any other image. Does Fanon feel a universal, rational soul animating himself? Does he well up with the turbulence of an earth-poetry that takes him to the magic font of his humanity? It does not matter. The mirror is impervious and flat. His image is fixed.

Yi Huan 易欢

Lacan tells us that the function of the mirror stage “is to establish a relation between the organism and its reality - or, as they say, between the Innenwelt and the Umwelt.” For Lacan, it is the organism itself which determines and creates the relation, it creates its reality, but Fanon feels himself to be “overdetermined from without,” he is created by the White reality.

That relation is an average of many different species of dominance. But perhaps more than any other, it is the dominance of an adult over a child. Listen again to the voices which fix Fanon: “Understand, my dear boy, color prejudice is something I find entirely foreign.”

Yi Zichu 义子楚

“Gently, in the tone that one uses with a child, they introduced me to the existence of a certain view that was held by certain people.” “now and then when we are worn out by our lives in big buildings, we will turn to you as we do to our children-to the innocent, the ingenuous, the spontaneous. We will turn to you as to the childhood of the world.” (italics mine) The White mirror thus fixes Fanon as a perpetual infant, the Black “boy” who embodies youthful naiveté. He knows he is in the mirror stage, he is an infant who has already read Lacan, and he is desperate to find in the mirror the image which will allow him to realize his I, but the mirror always gives him back his infant inverse. He cannot realize himself, he can never leave the mirror stage, he is fixed.

You Yuting 游雨婷

The white child is thus a point of entry into the subsurface struggle of the text. The child is Fanon's parallel and his foil: “look, a nigger, it's cold, the nigger is shivering because he is cold, the little boy is trembling because he is afraid of the nigger, the nigger is shivering with cold, the cold that goes through your bones, the handsome little boy is trembling because he thinks that the nigger is quivering with rage, the little boy throws himself into his mother's arms: Mama, the nigger's going to eat me up.”[ Fanon, 114.] The boy mirrors Fanon, but ironically: his freedom to be afraid, his freedom even to see an Other that is not synonymous with the Self[ Fanon asserts thtat the black is not Other to the white, but his argument is that the white claims he does not need to go through identification with the black-as-Other in order to come to a realization of the Sel; on the contrary, White simply “is”; black is not-White. But though the white does not idenify through the black Other, this of course does not mean that Fanon is asserting that the white does not identify the black as Other.] is a mockery of the boyhood which Fanon cannot escape. One might even profitably read this mirroring as a form of mimicry.

Yu Ni 余妮

In standard postcolonial discourse, “mimicry” refers to either a pseudo-imitation forced on the colonized by the colonizer who wants the colonized to “be like” the colonizing cultural model, but not identical to it; or it can refer to deliberate ironization of such models by the colonized. Either case results in what Homi Bhabha calls a “double vision which in disclosing the ambivalence of colonial discourse also disrupts its authority.”[ Homi Bhabha, The Location of Culture (New York: Routledge, 1994) 88.] However, as Diana Fuss notes, “the mimicry of subversion can find itself reinforcing conventional power relations rather than eroding them.”[ Diana Fuss, Identification Papers (New York: Routledge, 195*) 147.] Fanon's experience is just such a case - the mimicry is the white boy's, not Fanon's, and its effect is not at all disruptive, but reinforces the conventional power relations.

Yuan Shiqi 袁诗琦

The boy thinks he is in danger of assault and trembles; in fact, it is Fanon who trembled first, who is the one really exposed to violence, and who is in fact being assaulted by the boy's unwitting mimicry of his weakness.

The white child is thus a cruel unwitting joker who offers Fanon seeming doors of rhetorical escape into maturity, then frustrates him, turns him back on himself, locks him into the image of “the childhood of the world.” And the most destructive part is that the child does not know he is the god's mask; he screams as an innocent and can leap to the mother's arms. Fanon screams, and the monstrous mirror stays silvery and cold: it inverts and it fixes, but it never recognizes.

“White People-God's Proud Children!” was written in direct response to (and less than three weeks after) the “May 30 Massacre.”

Yuan Tianyi 袁天翼

In mid-May of 1925, factory workers at a Japanese plant in Shanghai went on strike, and then stormed the factory grounds, demanding back wages. The Japanese managers shot and killed the strike leader and injured several others, prompting more general strikes at other Japanese factories by 20,000 workers. Students soon joined the workers in protest, and several were arrested inside the foreign concessionary zone. On May 30, the date scheduled for the trial of those arrested, 2,000 students marched on the concessionary zone demanding the release of the students and workers. In response, British troops arrested a hundred of those assembled. News of the new arrests spread rapidly, and by later that day, several thousand Shanghainese of different levels of society had surrounded the Nanjing Road jail where the protesters were being held, demanding their release. At this point, the British opened fire, killing a dozen or so Chinese and wounding several dozen.

Yuan Yuchen 袁雨晨

Nationwide protests of various sorts erupted immediately, including several literary protests, two by Zhu: “Blood Song,” an incendiary poem composed on June 10, and “White People,” written nine days later.

The essay never refers explicitly to the May 30 incident; rather, it is the narration and explication of an incident which Zhu experienced on a Shanghai city trolley. After boarding and going to the first-class seats, Zhu sits down across from two white people, apparently a father and son. Zhu marvels at the lovely features of the boy, who looks eleven or twelve, and then goes into an explanation of how he has been fascinated with children ever since a friendship in elementary school with a shy younger boy named Liu Jun. He admits that he loves to stare at young children, and that he stared therefore at the white child.

Zeng Fangyuan 曾芳缘

Unlike most children, disturbed by his staring, the white child appears to take no notice, but then, when he and his father are about to get off the trolley, the child flashes a violent, mimicking stare back at Zhu. The author hears words in the stare: “There were words in his eyes: 'Hah! Yellow man, yellow chinaman, you-you go ahead and look! You are worthy of looking at me!” Zhu feels this stare as a physical assault, and feels first terrified, and then patriotically enraged. He then explains his desire for a nationality-trumping universalism, but also doubts its possibility, since such a young child had already been socialized into acceptance of racist categories. Yet he praises the child for exhibiting masculine forcefulness, and claims that this is “what makes whites white.” Finally, he declares himself conflicted on the subject of nationalism versus universalism, ending the essay unresolved.

Zeng Liang 曾良

Given the Fanon-inspired traditions of Western postcolonial invocations of the Other, one might from a Western perspective expect Zhu to react to the gaze of the child with a crisis of personal identity. This is, after all, Fanon's Odyssean quest in “The Fact of Blackness”: to negotiate or seize for himself a space for valued selfhood against the demeaning voices of White France which try to lock him into an Otherness to itself, to himself , to the possibility of humanity. Zhu's reaction certainly fits, in name, the Self-Other trope: he experiences the white child as very White and Other. And the incident deeply traumatic: “This sudden assault made me panic; my heart was void, on all sides there was a very heavy pressure, making me unable to breathe freely.” But the incident does not fit the mirror-stage model as transmitted by Fanon.

Zeng Xinyuan 曾心媛

There is no reference to psychical development, and therefore no hint that the quasi-colonialist aggression experienced through the gaze is constitutive, that it denies an authentic Chinese subjectivity to Zhu and replaces it with an ironclad Otherness to himself. Rather, it confirms Zhu's sense of self by provoking an immediate nationalistic response. After recovering from the shock of the gaze, he immediately “was filled with a pressing nationalistic feeling!” He then reflects on the child's face and action and straightaway abstracts them into a symptom of history:

That which made me panic and feel terrified, was that this one lording it over me, trampling me, was no one but...a ten year-old white “child”! I always have felt that children belong to the world, and ought not to be of a single race, country, town, or family...

Zeng Yanhu 曾雁湖

But this ten year-old white child...had already understood the situation well enough to use racial advantage and national power to assault me with a thrust of his face. This assault was actually the small shadow of multiple assaults, and his face was the small-print version of a history of Chinese foreign relations.[ Zhu Ziqing, Zhu Ziqing Quanji, Vol. 1 (Jiangsu, Jiangsu Educational Press) 45.]

Despite our Fanon-inspired suspicions about his psychology, Zhu insists that the shock he received, the pressure, the difficulty breathing, was the result of his theoretical realization that the child was not innocent but had already been corrupted into the fabric of violence from which Sino-Western relations had been cut. The normal, the psychological-these responses are leapt over, the incident is abstracted directly into a symptom of history. And, at least on the surface, this fact might seem to confirm the anti-theoretical position which claims that postcolonial criticism is irrelevant to China because China never sunk into full colonial status.

Zhang Hu 张虎

One could easily derive a trajectory from comparative history to the differences in the two men's encounters with white children, a trajectory whose terms are familiar but worth rehearsing. Fanon's Martinique was almost totally cut off from racial history, national language, and cultural identity. Any nationalism that arose from such soil would have had to have been as a reconstruction of African identity from zero, an almost impossible task. Therefore, Fanon's text has to start from the postcolonial present, analyzing the continuing damage of racism on subjugated black communities. Most of China, despite the extreme cultural upheavals which it experienced in reaction to Western aggression, never sunk into full-fledged colonial status; and therefore this aggression remained for the most part an influential and traumatic margin to the mainstream development of Chinese historical identity. There was no slavery, no tabula rasa, not even in Hong Kong and Macao, or Taiwan and “Manchuria.”

Zhang Hui 张慧

On the contrary, the experience of aggression undoubtedly strengthened national consciousness; and in modernist writings such as the one in question, it is rare to read a moment of experience of the Western Other as such which does not resort to some form of nationalism.

Up to a point, this sort of analysis is useful. Certainly, it would be dangerous to move directly from historical sketches to windy declarations about the differences between African and Chinese literature. But the standard history does happen to match the particulars of these two authors' educational trajectories. The surface, then, of “White People” is simple and obvious in comparison with Fanon's text, forgoing psychological brooding to go straight to the main course of national pride.

And yet, one wonders what lurks in the essay's depths, for this is a very unusual piece in Zhu's oeuvre.

Zhang Ling 张玲

Normally, Zhu Ziqing is one of the last authors one associates with fiery nationalism; rather, he is usually preoccupied with just the sort of psychological introspection which characterizes Fanon's text. Furthermore, the essay was written more than a year after the original trolley ride-could the strangely quick transition from individual experience to nationalist reflection be at least partly created under the influence to retell the story in the light of the May 30 incident?

If one willfully forgets about the May 30 context of the essay and focuses on the details of the incident as Zhu narrates them, then a second and separate level of interpretation opens in the essay, one much more pregnant with Fanon-like psychological trauma. The widest portal to the inside of this essay is also its obvious crux: i.e., the white child's stare. The key to this portal is that that stare, as it happened empirically, was complete unto itself.

Zhang Peiwen 张佩闻

It was an act, an aggressive act, unaccompanied by words. When Zhu tells us that “there were words in his eyes,” he wants us to believe that the words came from the child himself, and in fact we can certainly believe that that is how Zhu experienced the stare, that he felt the hate speech jabbing out at him from those astonishing eyes. But yet the language admits its paternity: not the child, but Zhu himself. Zhu creates the meaning around the act of the stare, and his entire explication of the problem of racism is based, not upon what he hears, but upon what his unconscious hermeneutic tells him that he hears. Whereas Fanon lives in a shadowy world of little but voices shouting, “look, a Negro!” to Zhu there are no voices at all, only a reality of trolleys and white skin and violent stares to which he himself has to supply the verbal accompaniment.

Zhang Qi 张琪

This is absolutely not to say that Zhu's experience of racism is imaginary, that he “shouldn't be so sensitive,” as racists say. No doubt, the child was acting racistly. But it is important to notice that the racism which Zhu attributes to the child is a simple one: the child is figured as a self-assured, mature, masculine aggressor; in fact all of these qualities which Zhu feels are surely exaggerated. He might have suspected that prepubescent white children are somehow super-matured macho-men, but hopefully we know better. For Zhu's stare was not the first the boy had received. Anyone who has had the experience of living as a racial minority in a non-pluralistic society knows what it is like to be stared at constantly; this is in fact the primary condition of Fanon's experience which makes “The Fact of Blackness” possible.

Zhang Weihong 张维虹

Thus, in this regard, Fanon is perhaps closer to the boy than to Zhu; or if this is too strong, we could say that Fanon is split between the boy and Zhu, that Zhu shares with Fanon the experience of being dissected by the gaze of the aggressor culture, but that the boy shares with him the constancy of being stared at for being a racial minority. The boy's position in China was obviously much higher than that of Fanon's in France, and therefore the stares he would have received much less negative; yet the mere fact of the constant stare itself can exert an intense psychical pressure, especially on a boy at an age at which deep doubts about his self-identity are forming. This is not at all to excuse the real racist content of the boy's angry glare; but it does suggest that the glare was a lashing-out from a position of weakness and insecurity, rather than from the heel-grinding arrogance which Zhu assumes.

Zhang Xueyi 张雪仪

Moreover, it is Zhu who initiated this discomforting dialogue of stares. Zhu's boy, like Fanon's, is a mimic, although his mimicry is just as problematic. As Homi Bhabha says, “the look of surveillance returns as the displacing gaze of the disciplined, where the observer becomes the observed and 'partial representation rearticulates the whole notion of identity and alienates it from essence,”[ Bhabha, 89.] but in this case the mimic gaze is the colonizer's , and it returns precisely as the establishment of racial boundaries. Certainly, Zhu felt this mimicry as an example of colonial aggression; it is only the boy who might have thought of the stare in Bhabha's terms, as his defense mechanism against a racially-motivated intrusion into his privacy.

And Zhu's initiating stare is certainly racial (though not racist); he gloats over the boy's Caucasianness: “His white cheeks dashed with red and his long golden eyelashes revealed a peacefulness and elegance.”[ Zhu, 43.]

Zhang Yinliu 张银柳

Zhu, of course, tries to cover this fact; this is the prime rhetorical function of the discussion of Liu Jun. Without that mini-narrative, Zhu would have had to go directly from a description of the boy's whiteness into the boy's violent reaction, thus allowing the reader to assume that Zhu's racial gaze is what produced that reaction, complicating the question of the child's aggression. Instead, Zhu asserts a different reason why he is staring: he simply likes children, he has ever since he used to play with that little Liu Jun boy. Zhu wants to figure his own gaze as mostly aracial and entirely beneficent, a happy celebration of innocence which is met by abrupt, mature, racist aggression, shocking him out of his reveries into a disturbed reflection on nationalism and interracial strife.

Fine, so be it, Zhu's gaze is completely aracial, despite his gloating about pink cheeks and golden eyelashes. It is not therefore simple. Consider the bizarreness hidden in his self-justification:

Zhang Yu 张瑜

I have always had the sort of temperament whereby if I saw an amusing little child, I would always want to be on intimate terms with him...When I was in the upper grades of elementary school, in the attached building for the middle grades there was a boy named Liu Jun with raven-black Western-style hair, who was truly docile, like a bird....his face was always that undisturbed and earnest, though under his skin there must have burned the fires of intimacy. Several times I invited him to my home, but he was never willing to go; afterwards I didn't see him for two years, and then he died. I cannot forget him! I had held his little hand, and rubbed his round chin. If I meet a young child for the first time, I naturally can't do that, that would be a little awkward; nevertheless, that's unimportant, I can look at him- once, twice, ten times, dozens of times!

无论我在哪里看到天真的小孩，我总是有一点冲动，我总想与他们亲近一点。当我升入高年级时，

Zhang Yujie 张毓婕

Any given child probably won't pay much attention to people's eyes, so one can look at him with total freedom; it is not at all like furtive, covered glances at women. I have in the past stared at many children I had just met, and they never once protested, at most they pulled on the hand of their mother next to them, or leant on her knee, or looked at her once or twice. Therefore I was very bold. This time on the trolley my old temperament came back, and I looked again and again at that white child, that young Westerner![ Zhu, 43.]

Sexuality! is the obvious cry which rises at the description of Liu Jun: the docility, the meekness, the holding and rubbing, the “fires of intimacy”--these elements conspire to suggest a nascent homosexuality.

Zhang Yuxing 张宇星

Little Liu is dead, now, but there are substitutes swirling all around Zhu; he cannot touch them as he touched Liu, that would be socially impossible, but as a substitute he can stare with impunity, “dozens of times.” And the children do not protest his stares, they are docile-at most they squirm uncomfortably beneath Zhu's visual intrusion into their world. Zhu's relationship with children is therefore predicated by his dominance of them. He says at the opening of the paragraph that he wants to be intimate with children, but it is an intimacy of power forcing itself upon them.[ The evidence for Zhu's child-fetish is strongly corroborated by his other work. Apart from the focus on childhood in works like the famous, “Back Silhouette” (beiying), in another essay of his, “Children,” he goes so far as to explicitly admit to physical child abuse. ]

Given these strange admissions, one sees Zhu's reaction to the white child's stare as much more complicated. Zhu experiences the stare as racism, and probably rightly so; yet it seems clear that he is also shocked by the reversal of power involved.

Zhao Xi 赵茜

He normally enjoys the prerogative of a forced intimacy, dominating children through his gaze, and suddenly he finds, for the first time, a child that fights gaze with gaze, is able to dominate him and usurp Zhu's position as an adult, casting him down into the docility of the helpless child. When Zhu, flabbergasted, constructs a voice to put onto the child, he may be grabbing onto the real racism present in the situation to use as a defense mechanism, changing the subject to avoid the real source of the ego-crushing which is occurring. Zhu protests his amazement that he could be so disturbed by “just a ten year old white 'child'”; yet the entire scenario could never possibly have been played out with an adult.

Fanon's child is a mirror to him, highlighting the Lacanian crisis of identification which life in France causes him.

Zhao Xiaoyan 赵晓燕

If we in turn take Fanon as a mirror for Zhu Ziqing, his Lacanian analysis throws up interesting images of the incident on the Shanghai trolley. Zhu's white boy is visually even more of a mirror image to him than Fanon's was. The man and the boy gaze at each other across the solid divide; they mutually stare along a joint axis of domination. Of course, Zhu does not have Fanon's psychoanalytic training: he had read some empiricist psychology, but less Freud and of course no Lacan. He cannot wander between psychological theory and personal experience in the same fashion Fanon did.

But a reading of Fanon forces us to ask to what extent Zhu's trauma is a crisis of delayed issues of developmental psychology. This is obviously a complex field which belongs properly to specialists, and one hardly feels there is enough material in this brief essay to make definitive conclusions.

Zheng Huajun 郑华君

But the narrative is explicitly spun out of a story of childhood; Zhu himself derives his child-fetish from the loss of the intimate and passive Liu Jun. And Zhu's fascination with children and childhood in other essays should be an indication that something is up. Perhaps one could establish Zhu's relation to Fanon thus: that while Fanon's experience of racism is drawn into a network of theory that links his crisis of identity to an aborted mirror-stage, Zhu Ziqing sees in the mirror of his own white child a vision of himself as prematurely woven into the fabric of power. It is then only this sudden emergence of power in a half-nostalgic, half-sexual scopophilia which highlights the boy's whiteness and raises the questions of racial dominance and nationalist resistance.

What makes Zhu feel nationalistic pride? It is not the boy's reaction, but his race.

Zhou Luoping 周罗平

Given the way Zhu sets up his narrative, given the description of his frequent and unimpeded voyeurism of children in public spaces, one assumes that any child who stared back mockingly at Zhu would have shocked him-this child was the first to do so. Had the child been Chinese and stared back, Zhu's experience might have been more obviously psycho-sexual in his own recounting. The real importance of the child's whiteness is to Zhu's rational reflections over the significance of the incident. To Zhu's mind, it was not the child's whiteness but his resistance that was disturbing; but he locates the whiteness as the source of the child's ability to resist and to then turn resistance into domination. He essentializes the incident: force is what makes whites white. A gaze on a bus becomes an allegory for the sweep of modern history.

Zhou Shiqing 周诗卿

On reflection, the appearance of nationalism here is far more abrupt than it would have seemed in the Shanghai journal culture following the May 30 Massacre. Is it really a defense mechanism against the revelations of his own psychology? Is it both a defense mechanism and an expression of conscious and justified outrage over colonialist presence in Shanghai? Is it a fiction “remembered” back onto the incident in the heat of the violent summer of 1925? I do not mean by any of these questions to imply that somehow Zhu's nationalism is fake, or secondary, or subordinate; to do that would be to write a justification of the murder of the students on Nanjing Road. But of all the essays and poems and short fiction published along with Zhu's essay in the two Literary Association journals (Xiaoshuo yuebao and Wenxue zhoukan), none but his strays so far from the event of the massacre itself in order to support the national cause. It is legitimate to ask why.

Zhou Shuyao 周书尧

The bifurcations in Zhu's essay between experience and historiography, practice and theory thus are constituted in an odd mix of clarity and confusion. Patriotic messages are deeply worked into the fabric of the narration of the incident, and any division between Zhu's lived experience and the big picture view of imperialism were surely invisible to any reader in the context of the essay's production. They are invisible to us, as informed readers, but only on our first readings. The deeper explorations of Zhu's gaze, by suggesting the possible distance of ideological historiography form the original event, merely highlight a structural division between narration and theory which splits the text at “I was filled with a pressing nationalistic feeling!” The structural split is perfectly obvious; yet it is only after some thought about the nature of Zhu's project that it becomes noteworthy.

Zhou Siqing 周思庆

This is the Zhu Ziqing who declares himself a contradiction, and he can talk back to Fanon. His own textual complexes find their affinities in Fanon's text and the Fanonian textual systems that grew from it. It is impossible to forget, with Fanon, the wiles of language-his flourishes are too extravagant. Yet Black Skin, White Masks is filled with partial autobiographies. One knows one is reading theory, but it seems to be a theory grown organically from “Antillean experience,” even when we all know better. Though our study of Chinese literature might convince us that theory fits or does not fit Chinese experience, we should not assume that theory has a more natural and wholesome relationship with African or Indian experience, that the postcolonial debates were “derived” from fully colonial experience. Psychoanalytic theory created Fanon's experience, and the body of theory “derived” from Fanon has even more dramatically recreated him.

Zhou Yiwen 周艺文

The point of which is not to reassert the very tired discovery that theory is not experience and words not things, but to point out that the Chinese modernist friction against theory is not unique. Insofar as we need to continue to talk about postcolonial contexts when addressing Chinese modern literature, it would be helpful to keep in perspective Chinese's non-uniqueness; to do so may help us avoid the trap of either-or questions. Tension is healthy. If we must dismiss with a wave our continuing urgent desire for comparison of unmediated experience, and cannot give ourselves over to the mere nodding affirmation of sloganized thought-systems, then at least the comparative and cross-cultural analysis of tension is still available to us.

The great frustration of the work of comparison is its inability to aspire to totalisms. However conscious we are of the danger of such aspirations, they are magnetic and insinuating.

这里的重点并不是要重申这个老生常谈的发现，即理论不是经验，文字也不是事物，而是要指出中国现代主义与理论的摩擦并不是唯一的。在探讨中国现代文学时，如果我们需要继续探讨后殖民语境，那么审视中国的非独特性是有帮助的。这样做可以帮助我们避免陷入非此即彼的困境。对立是有益的的。如果我们必须以一种浪潮来驱散我们对未经调解的经验的比较的持续的迫切愿望，不能让我们自己沉溺于仅仅是表面肯定的口号的思想体系，那么至少对立比较和跨文化的分析对我们仍然是可用的。

比较研究的不足在于它不能实现极权主义。虽然我们十分清楚这种想法的危险性，但还是会被吸引。--Zhou Yiwen (talk) 07:00, 3 December 2020 (UTC)

Zhou Yuanqu 周园曲

The leap from text to context is satisfying; even if one is aware of the necessity of multiple contexts, because one can choose one's school and plant one's feet and make an argument (or ignore the need for argument) that one's chosen context is the most appropriate. The comparison of individual works requires resignation to pettiness. Any other permutation of works will produce different, perhaps contradictory, lessons. For example, comparing Zhu's essay with other May 30 protest essays, such as those by Mao Dun or Zheng Zhenduo, would vastly alter our evaluation of it. Among an infinite number of permutations of comparison, the importance of any one comparison becomes infinitesimal, and its authority to define the reception of the work shrinks commensurably. The infinitesimal still has the potential for informing other research, but only by miracles of typological allegory.

Zhou Yujuan 周玉娟

Incongruous Lyricism: Liu Baiyu, Yang Shuo and sanwen in Chinese Socialist Culture Charles A. Laughlin

Abstract

The popularity of both Republican period and post-Mao sanwen in contemporary Chinese literary markets indicates the importance of this genre in twentieth century Chinese literature.

Less obvious, but no less significant, is its importance within the socialist cultural system of the Chinese Communist Party. Ever since Chinese cultural activists began to consciously promote specific literary practices as a way of contributing to “revolution” in the late 1920s, literary prose played an important role, but at first only in the form of reportage or baogao wenxue. Beginning in Yan’an during the War of Resistance Against Japan, however, young writers who received all or in part of their education or literary training in Communist institutions began to write prose texts that more closely resembled the xiaopin and suigan of the Republican period. Unlike reportage, these texts featured lyrical and humorous moments without being critical of the social environment, and they were not concerned with contemporary historical events and figures.

Zhu Meimei 祝美梅

Such writing achieved prominence in the first decade of the People’s Republic of China, and in this paper I examine three writers that exemplify the characteristic techniques and strategies of the socialist literary essay: Liu Baiyu, Qin Mu and Yang Shuo. Liu Baiyu exemplifies how the experience of war and revolution conditioned the emergence of lyricism in socialist culture, while Qin Mu and Yang Shuo embody the maturation of this socialist lyricism in a peacetime environment. Socialist sanwen differs from Republican period forms in its characteristically friendly yet didactic second-person rhetoric, and its tendency to build verbal monuments for national heroes. But traces of the conspicuous individuality of Republican period sanwen lived on in the essayists of the 1950s and 60s. This created a subtle dissonance in the texture of socialist culture that in my opinion contributed to the prominence and popularity of these writers, whose works were included in textbooks for later generations of mainland readers.

Zhu Suyao 朱素瑶

When we think of the Chinese essay we usually think of the works of Republican period liberal humanists drawing upon both Western ideas and premodern Chinese style and diction to produce a new genre that represented the artistic epitome of lyrical, colloquial prose. Perhaps just as commonly, when we think of revolutionary literature and of writing under the Chinese communist regime, we think of realism, social critique, polemic and propaganda. Indeed in my study of the development of reportage literature in the Republican and early PRC periods, I associate the procedures of reportage with the culture of leftism in such a way as to render the very notion of lyrical leftist nonfiction discordant if not outright absurd. The problem is, as I was aware at the time, there are prominent authors in the PRC – Yang Shuo, Liu Baiyu, and Qin Mu, to name only a few – who made their names almost entirely through the writing of essays (sanwen).

Zhu Xu 朱旭

At that time, I dismissed this phenomenon in the usual way: these were communist lackeys simply parroting the ruling ideology at the bidding of culture czars.

But even if they were, I could not account for the fact that such writing took on the form of sanwen, in many ways similar to the xiaopin wen popular the 1930s, while there was already in baogao wenxue a thriving literary nonfiction form that seemed to embody in its very form the communist vision of art and its place in society. To put it another way, there is nothing in the logic of socialist culture as I knew it that would call for the production of sanwen as written by these authors, and we know very well that authors under socialism are not at liberty to write what they please, so I had to attribute the persistence of the sanwen form in the PRC to something inherent about sanwen and Chinese literary modernity.

Zou Xinyu 邹鑫雨

My current project intends to approach this question by comparing Chinese literary nonfiction practice in a number of different historical and cultural scenarios from the late imperial period to the present, and this presentation concerns specifically the sanwen under Chinese socialism.

Socialist sanwen emerged from Communist base area writing practice

Usually in the form of reportage, literary prose of the Yan’an period was concerned with dramatizing the social and spiritual superiority of regimented, collectivized life under the leadership of the Communist Party. Such writing often relied on direct comparisons between aspects of life in ”the old society” and life in Yan’an, or the between checkered past of characters who had been rehabilitated by the Communists and their newfound belief in the socialist community and its leaders. Though often idealized, examples given are meant to be concrete and taken as factual, and names are often named of military leaders and model laborers depicted. In this respect reportage is the most direct precursor of the lyrical essays of the People’s Republic.[ The civil war of 1946-1949 so disrupted the socialist base areas that much less of this kind of writing was produced; war correspondence once again became the order of the day]