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“Crowded Hours” Revisited: The Evocation of the Past in Taipei jen

Published online by Cambridge University Press:  23 March 2011

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As an epigraph to Taipei jen (Taipei residents), Pai Hsien-yung could not have chosen a better poem for effectively evoking the mood of sadness and that gripping sense of loss emanating from the “wild grasses” and the “slanting sun” of his stories, for dramatically bringing out the contrasts between the past and the present, between age and youth—one of the memorable features of this anthology. Inasmuch as “Black Coat Lane” can be read as a tiao-ku (mourning the past) poem, so can Taipei jen be read as an elegy on the final dissolution of an ancient culture. That Pai Hsien-yung should have chosen Taipei as “the center of paralysis” is only logical, since the very concept of life for so many of his Taipei jen depends on the observation of rituals. By rituals, I mean a practice or a pattern of behavior repeated in a prescribed manner. Understood in these terms, such a story as “State Funeral” could not have taken place anywhere other than in Taipei. Where else could the death of a Kuomintang general be honored in such a pompous manner? And where could Tou Fu-jen (in “Wandering in the Garden”) stage her k'un-ch'ü dinner party if not in Taipei? In Taipei, if she chooses to, she could still prepare a cup of tea with as-much loving care as Yün Niang did in Fousheng Lu-chi (Six Chapters of a Floating Life), even if it is no longer possible to serve it in the immaculate manner of a Miao Yü in Hung-lou meng (The Dream of the Red Chamber).

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Copyright © The Association for Asian Studies, Inc. 1975

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References

1 Liu Yü-hsi's “Wu-i hsiang” in Soame Jenyns' translation in A Further Selection from the 300 Poems of the T'ang Dynasty (London: John Murray, 1959), p. 81.

Jenyns rendered “chu-ch'üeh” as “Red Black”; I have changed it to “Vermilion Bird,” which happens to be the title of a book by Schafer, Edward H., The Vermilion Bird: Tang Images of the South (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1967)Google Scholar.

Line 3 refers to “the sons of the old aristocratic houses of Wang Tao and Hsieh An. Since they, wore black clothes [they] were nicknamed the swallows” (Jenkyns, p. 81).

2 (Taipei: Ch'en-chung ch'u-pan-she, 1971). Page numbers, for citations from this anthology are included parenthetically in the text. All the quotations are translated by the present writer.

3 In a letter to Grant Richard (1906), James Joyce worte: “My intention was to write a chapter of the moral history of my country, and I chose Dublin for the scene because that city seemed to me the center of paralysis.” See Ellmann, Richard, ed., Letters of James Joyce (London: Faber and Faber, 1966), p. 134Google Scholar.

4 “Tsui-hou ti kuei-tsu” is the title of a 1968 essay by” Wei T'ien-ts'ung on Pai Hsien-yung's short story collection Tse-hsin chi (Taipei: Wen-hsing shu-tien, 1968)Google Scholar. This essay is now included in Wei's Wenhsüeh cha-chi (Notes on Literature) (Taipei: Hsinfeng ch'u-pan-she), pp. 95–97.

8 The chang-kuan in “Reminiscence” is hidden in the background, whereas Li Hao-jan—the four-star general in “State Funeral”—lies in the coffin.

6 In Chinese, “Po-lo-men” (Paramount) is “Door to One Hundred Happiness,” serving as an obvious symbol of beatitude to Chin Chao-li and other like-minded Taipei jen. It is a dramatic contrast to “Yeh pa-li” (Nuit Parisienne), a symbol of the “slanting sun.”

7 Lau, Joseph S. M., “How Much Truth Can a Blade of Grass Carry?” in The Journal of Asian Studies, XXXII 4 (August 1973), p. 627Google Scholar.

8 See “Tzu-yu” (Self-containment), in Wenhsüeh cha-chi, pp. 27–28.

9 See “Tsui-hou ti kuei-tsu,” ibid., p. 96.

10 Scholes, Robert and Kellogg, Robert, The Nature of Narrative (New York: Oxford University Press, 1968), p. 164Google Scholar.

11 von Goethe, Johann Wolfgang, Faust: A Tragedy in Two Parts, tr., Taylor, Bayard (London: Oxford University Press, 1954). p. 373Google Scholar.

12 The Nature of Narrative, p. 169.

13 ibid.

14 ibid.,

15 ibid., p. 161.

16 See “Pai Hsien-yung lun” (On Pai Hsien-yung), in Hsien-tai wen-hsüeh (Modern Literature), No. 39 (Dec. 1969), p. 1.

17 “Pai Hsien-yung ti yü'-yen,” in Hsien-tai wenhsüeh, No. 39 (March 1969), p. 259. Also in this issue is an essay on Pai Hsien-yung's female characters: “Pai Hsien-yung pi-hsia ti nü-jen” by Yü Li-hua, pp. 146–152.

Readers particularly interested in “Wandering in the Garden” should consult: Yao I-wei, “Lun Pai Hsien-yung ti ‘Yu-yüan ching-meng’ “(On Pai Hsien-yung's “Wandering in the Garden”), in Wen-hsüeh chi-k'an (Literary Quarterly), Nos. 7 & 8 (Nov. 1968), pp. 84–90; and Lin Po-yen, “Lun ‘Yu-yüan ching-meng’” (On “Wandering in the Garden)”, in Wen-hsüeh tan-sob (Literary Investigations) (Taipei: Shu-ping shu-mu-she, Investigations) (Taipei: Shu-ping shu-mu-she 1973), pp. 31–52. For information on the major themes of Taipei jen, see Ou-yang Tzu, “Pai Hsien-yung ti hsiao-shuo shih-chieh” (The Fictional World of Pai Hsien-yung), in Chung-kuo shih-pao (China Times), 21–23 Aug. 1974.

18 Stories with winter as background include “New Year's Eve,” “The Song of Liang-fu,” “Reminiscence,” “Winter Nights,” and “State Funeral”; with autumn, “Wandering in the Garden” and “Autumn Thoughts.”

19 As in “Star-dusted Night,” one of the more personal stories in Taipei jen with an elusive meaning.

20 Though the story refers to Cheng Yen-ch'ing by name only once, it is reasonably clear in the context that he was once Lan T'ien-yüs lover who was later snatched away by Yüeh-yüeh Hung, Lan T'ien-yü's own sister. It is the same with the Kuei Chih-hsiang-Jen Tzu-chiu relationship, a point to be taken up in the latter part of this paper.

It should also be noted that Ch'eng Ts'an-mou, whose surname and appearance bear such an unsettling resemblance to her former yüan-nieh, serves as a link between her past and present. For example, no sooner had Cheng Yen-ch'ing—in her reminiscence—proposed a toast to her, than the present Ch'eng Ts'an-mou at the dinner table stood up and said: “This should be my turn, Fu-jen” (p. 183).

21 Taken from Fu's, Lo “Death in the Stone Cell,” in Yip, Wai-lim (comp. & tr.), Modern Chinese Poetry, (Iowa City: University of Iowa Press, 1970), P. 34Google Scholar.

22 For instance, the untimely blooming of the begonia trees in Hung-lou meng (Chapter 94), which immediately precedes the downfall of the Chia House.

23 For his habitual disregard of Chinese idioms and syntax, Ch'i-teng sheng is perhaps the most violently unconventional Chinese writer on Taiwan. For more information on this subject, see Lau, Joseph S. M., “The Concepts of Time and Reality in Modern Chinese Fiction,” in Tamkang Review, IV, I (1973), pp. 2540Google Scholar.

24 First published in Hsien-tai wen-hsüeh (No. 1, 1960) under the pseudonym Pai Li, this story is reprinted in Tse-hsien chi, pp. 12–67.

25 Included in Tse-hsien-chi, pp. 129–138.

26 By “stream-of-consciousness writing” I mean the kind of technique that “is a mode of narration that undertakes to capture the full spectrum and flow of a character's mental process, in which sense perceptions mingle with conscious and half-conscious thoughts, memories, feelings, and random associations” (Abrams, M. H., A Glossary of Literary Terms, 3rd ed., New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston, 1971, pp. 164165Google Scholar).

27 In Tse-bsien chi, pp. 133–134. I have used Pai Hsien-yung's own translation in Literature East & West, IX 4 (1965), p. 365.

28 Some examples: Chen Jo-hsi's “Pa-li ti lu- ch'eng” (The Journey of Pa-li); Wai-lim Yip's “Yu-li-sai-ssu tsai tai-pei” (Ulysses in Taipei); and Tsung Su's “Yu-li-sai-ssu tsai hsin-ta-lu” (Ulysses in the Brave New World) in Hsien-tai wen-hsüeh, Nos. 2 (May 1960), 5 (Nov. 1960), and 8 (May 1961), respectively.

In addition to the above, Shui Ching's “Mei-yu-lien ti jen” (The Man without a Face) can also be considered as one of such examples. First printed in Chung-yang jih pao (Central Daily News, 13–14 May 1962), this story is now included in Ch'ing-se ti tse-meng (The Green Grass-hopper) (Hong Kong: Wen-i shu-wu, 1969), pp. 2338Google Scholar.

29 The Craft of Fiction (New York: The Viking Press, 1957), p. 40.Google Scholar

30 Mu-tan t'ing is a play by Tang Hsien-tsu (1550–1617). Excerpts of this play in English translation can be found in two recent anthologies: (1) Birch, Cyril, ed., Anthology of Chinese Literature, Vol. 2 (New York: Grove Press, 1972), pp. 87126Google Scholar; (2) Chang, H. C., ed. & tr., Chinese Literature: Popular Fiction and Drama (Edinburgh: University Press, 1973), pp. 263302Google Scholar.

31 Chinese Literature: Popular Fiction and Drama, p. 295.

32 Lan T'ien-yü's illicit love for Cheng Ts'an-mou is first hinted at in the reference to the play “Lo-shen,” which is about the frustrated passion between Ts'ao Chih (192–232) and the legendary Fu Fei, goddess of the Lo River.

33 Chinese Literature: Popular Fiction and Drama, p. 297.

34 ibid.

36 ibid.

36 “Liang-fu yin,” originally a Yüeh-fu title, is said to be Chu-ko Liang's favorite song (Chapter 37, San-kuo yen-i). In this connection, for readers who would like to look into the deeper meaning of the story, it may be appropriate to point out that the first scroll-couplet hanging on the wall of Liang P'u-yiian's study is the third and fourth lines of Tu Fu's poem “Teng-lou” (On Going Up a Tower). The ti-tie “Liang-fu yin” actually appears in the last line.