Genres of writing in high Tang culture (2)

The Tang Dynasty is seen as the birthgiver of some of China's best poets and statesmen (very often the two cannot be separated in Chinese culture, whereas it's strange these days to see a politician who professes to be a poet). What strikes me as even more important than the proliferation of so many important writers is the expansion of genres that was consciously crafted by collective circles of poets, ministers, historians, and novelists, even though the production of the literature within those genres was, like all historical developments in the world, organic.

Poetry is certainly the most famous of all bodies of Tang writing, and who could blame historians for their nostalgic recollection of poetry during this time? The poets Wang Wei, Li Bo, and Du Fu are universally recognized as China's best writers, but credit must also be given to people like Han Yu, Yuan Zhen, and more, who pioneered what Lu Xun argued were the first forms of self-conscious storytelling and prose in China: chuanqi or "transmissions of the remarkable", in other words, romantic fictions or short stories. The aftermath of the Anshi Rebellion marked not only this important development in Chinese literature, but it also led to the culmination of Tang writing: critical essays. In an ironic sense, the full maturation of high Tang intellectual culture could only come to fruition with the terminal, slow death of the dynasty's political glory. In this post I'll skim over almost criminally over the genre of fiction, and in two more following posts I'll discuss poetry and the classical prose essay respectively.

The mode of fiction was not, to be sure, as highly regarded or revered as poetry. Nor were authors setting out to write "fiction" in our modern sense of "there is fiction, and there is non-fiction." Also, although many tales offered certain morals and lessons as per most forms of Confucian-influenced literature, these romantic fictions were disarmingly sympathetic to its characters' experiences and emotions, allowing the fictional world to revolve around their personalities, actions, and happy or unhappy endings. In this sense Tang fiction was far less moralistic than many European pieces in the Elizabethan and Victorian periods.

• A range of lyrical techniques was developed to make otherwise simple plotlines engaging and suspenseful.
• Many of these short stories were once accounts of strange phenomena, and a reworking of the plot or the structure made it into what was a "consciously crafted work" - a story told for its own sake.
• Stories often involved the authors themselves or their associates, who were often officials or imperial examinees. Hence much romantic fiction centered on love affairs with courtesans at brothels. Mark, this also rendered the male protagonists of those stories, amusingly, insipid, weak, and helpless compared to the much more capable personalities of the prostitutes. 

Genres of writing in high Tang culture (1)

Over these few days we in London are celebrating the Diamond Jubilee of the Queen, Elizabeth II. But after watching the excellent movie Detective Dee and the Mystery of the Phantom Flame (I really wish Tsui Hark pushed more bravely the lesbian subtext between Empress Wu and Jing'er... sigh) I've decided to blog about my favourite activity - writing - during the Tang Dynasty. My post is split into two parts and today I'm asking why anyone should care about the consequences of some group of impoverished, hungry writers from a long-dead dynasty. In other words, who cares about Tang-era literature, seriously?

As China is still recovering from the repercussions of the Cultural Revolution (among them a distinct cultural amnesia or wilful ignorance), I've always argued that you can't recover cultural memory unless you understand writing and its history. Writing crafts narrative, and it's impossible to recover any kind of cultural memory without narrative. In turn, memory is so important and powerful that it forms the very heritage of a people. Narrative and memory are most certainly the lifeblood of any tradition's heritage. Everyone has narrative - from people as diverse as Quakers to British monarchists, from American conservatives to Sikhs or Hindus. No one escapes the magnetic power of narrative because it tells your story, your life, and your place in the world... and it is always being retold as history unfolds.

In other words, the historical understanding of writing, which facilitates the recovery of narrative and memory (and by implication, heritage) is one of the most urgent questions faced by not only Chinese people today, but by anyone interested in culture.

The inheritance of Modernism has not only resulted in republics, the rolling of aristocratic heads, and imperialism without use of the word "empire" (just look at today's USA and China). It also resulted, most dramatically in Central Eurasia and China during the Cultural Revolution, a vicious disowning of the past and time-honoured institutions, and along with these institutions went their ideas about Beauty and Art. As Beckwith pointed out, Modernism demands perpetual revolution, which means that nothing can be considered ideal, or the best, or worthy of emulation, except the narrative of "deposing the aristocrat, the emperor, or the priest". How could I, for example, look up to my Buddhist temple or its monks as the ones to serve if "religion is the opiate of the masses" and Religion, with all its Art, standards of Beauty, Good, and Writing, need to be destroyed?

Which is why art and music during Mao Zedong's rule was so pathetically homogenous in theme as well as morals. And where was the proliferation of genuinely influential authors, who, if they weren't being murdered or sent to a re-education camp, could match the standards of previous periods. Sure, Modernism most definitely has created good art. I'm a lover of cartoons, manga, and anime. I love digital animation (this whole blog is meant for creative media) and I'm unapologetic about some of the writing and music of our contemporary age. But until we understand what it meant to write well in historical periods of cultural productivity, we can never recover that sense of the Ideal.

Of course, no aristocrat or priest was ever perfect. I know my employer isn't (he's a monk). But it didn't matter - in the name of aristocrats and kings creative people, needing money and food and therefore higher society's patronage, wrote or made art or made music. And from understanding kingship/religion/nobility as the Ideal sprang true masterpieces, from the Homeric Epics to the Poetic Edda, from the various scriptures of world religions to Mozart and Handel. That's why we need to look back to the literature of the Tang and other imperial dynasties - if not to emulate their Ideal, then to craft a different Ideal for ourselves with the hindsight of their wisdom.

Lives of Spice Series

This is a preliminary story listing for my flash fiction series about the Silk Road, Lives of Spice. There isn't a fixed schedule for when I'm uploading each entry, but I'm confident that the current list will be able to showcase just how diverse the cultures of the Silk Road. More will come!

1. What the Caravanserai Does Best (Sogdiana)
2. Snow Meets Rime (Imperial Tibet)
3. Peony (Tang-era Chang'an)
4. Lost and Found (Abbasid Caliphate)
5. Drum, Lute, and Harp (Oasis kingdom of Kucha)
6. Starborn (Oasis kingdom of Khotan)

Lives of Spice

I'm not a professional novelist, although I love stories. I've enjoyed reading about myths and legends since my teens and writing has always been my hobby since I was a kid. After completing my MA at SOAS, one lasting thing I've taken away aside from my degree is a fascination about silk road history. 

The Silk Road is a generalised catchphrase given to the many, many landlocked routes that spanned Eurasia for thousands of years, reaching a decline with the rise of the littoral, naval powers in the 18th century and falling into its current impoverishment and cultural decimation at the hands of modernity. These silk routes were diverse - at the height of the Han Dynasty (206 BCE - 220 CE), Rome served as the western terminus of trade - a truly extraordinary distance, even if neither empire was really aware of each other's existence. By the Tang era (618 - 907), the eastern terminus shifted from Luoyang to Chang'an (Xi'an), and traded freely with Byzantium, Damascus, and Baghdad, centres of the Eastern Roman Empire, the Umayyad, and Abbasid Caliphates respectively. All the while, an extraordinary conglomeration of other powers, such as the Persian dynasties, the Indian kingdoms of South Asia, and the Tibetans contributed their arts, crafts, and cultures to the silk routes flowing between China and the rest of Eurasia.


Central to the survival of these routes were the Central Eurasians - a lamentably underrated and stereotyped people who have found expression in many different cultures, from the Jurchen peoples to the Huns, Sogdians, Mongols, Uighurs, Turks, and others who were "peripheral" to the great sedentary empires. They were the main facilitators of Eurasian history, having imparted not only the horse but also the wheel, writing, and many other inventions to the sedentary powers. They also survived by trade, and their activities in Eurasia ensured the survival of the silk routes for over two millennia.   


I'm starting a series of flash fiction (stories of less than one thousand words - it sounds short but it's actually very appropriate for online platforms) called Lives of Spice on this blog. This series is about people that lived along the timeless silk routes. From a Kuchean courtesan to a Chinese official, from a Tibetan soldier to an Arab writer astride his camels to a sculptor from the oasis kingdom of Khotan and a Turkic princess, Lives of Spice is my light exploration into the relationships, dramas, and affections of medieval Eurasia. If you happen to read some of this flash fiction, thank you for checking it out and I hope you enjoy it.

My workplace was taken over by the Japanese Army

Care about your workplace? Don't fret. If it can survive an occupation by the Imperial Japanese Army, you can probably be optimistic about its chances in most other situations.

The construction of Wang Fat Ching She was completed in 1938, and inaugurated as a Buddhist institute a year later - the same year World War II kicked off, according to Western writers. So it wasn't exactly the most stable time to start up a non-profit institution... 1937 anyone? Eurocentric historians still say the Second World War began in 1939, but 1937 was the year a colonial Asian power invaded a continental giant, with huge repercussions for both sides.

By 1940 the shadow of the Pacific War loomed high across the Buddhist world, with many clergy and laypeople alike fleeing their seminaries, temples, and monasteries. Wang Fat Ching She was one of the only Buddhist learning centres that was tenaciously occupied. During the Autumn, one of its lecturers, Ven. Bo Jing, fled to another temple, and then to Shanghai. By 1941, Imperial Japan’s military had crossed the border into Hong Kong, and Wang Fat Ching She was seized and converted into a logistics centre. All religious activities, of course, ceased for quite some time... until 1945, Wang Fat Ching She had remained unable to do what it was supposed to do as an institution.

After the departure of the Japanese army, laypeople with ties to Wang Fat Ching She turned to the philanthropic group Tung Lin Kok Yuen to form a committee to administrate and supervise the recovering temple. Eventually the temple itself would be donated to TLKY, in 1960 after the temple's owner, Mrs. Wong, immigrated to the States.

So that was a snapshot of modern Asian history, captured in a single temple on a small hill in quiet Tsuen Wan. It's difficult not to be more or less optimistic about its future. We didn't get blown to bits and we didn't suffer the tragedies that accompany wartime - massacres, rape, enslavement, mass bombing. The new century presents different challenges like red tape and funding, but compared to what Hong Kong and China were staring in the face over seventy years ago, it's probably not so bad.

We're also on top of a hill with a steep driveway, so we might survive global warming for a bit longer too.