a magnificent little book. and strange.
the book tells the story of some ordinary people in a poor county in eastern/northeastern china around 1670: t’an-ch’eng county, in shantung province - a place full of suffering, ravaged by earthquake, floods, drought, locusts, famine, bandits, and war. (i’m using spence’s spellings of names.)
the book focuses on three stories:
- there’s a widow whose vicious and not-too-bright in-laws beat her young child to death based on a misunderstanding of the law, which they believe will cause them to inherit her property (“the widow”).
- there’s a feud among neighbors about land that results in some killings and a curious quest for justice (the victims’ family is afraid to bring a charge against the perpetrator, so they bring a charge against a third party, who is forced to implicate the perpetrator in order to clear his own name)(“the feud”).
- there’s woman wang, who is murdered in her home by her husband after she ran away with another man, was abandoned by that man, and lived for a while in a nearby temple (“the woman who ran away”). the husband says a neighbor did it.
spence provides a lot of historical detail with these stories - about taxes, crimes and punishments, rules of inheritance, farming practices, examination questions … you come away feeling immersed in that time and place. that’s good. but sometimes it’s a lot to digest. (many paragraphs are a full page long; some are longer.) still, sometimes it is very effective. by the middle of chapter 2 you have read so much about the various taxes these people are subject to - and payment methods and timing and related fees and scams - that you are a little worn out yourself, and can almost feel the weight of all those taxes pressing down on you.
spence has three main sources of written records as material - a local historian (feng), a local magistrate (huang), and a local fiction writer (p’u sung-ling, who today is famous throughout and beyond china and is wonderful).
some things that make the book strange:
- it’s a hybrid - a narrative that is so dense with facts as to feel at times like a textbook.
- many of p’u sung-ling’s short stories are included in the book, as illustrations or for context. several of these run to 6 or 8 pages. that’s a big chunk of a short book. (the stories are very good, and they provide good context.)
- spence includes a weird dream-sequence near the very end - it’s a collage of images, mostly taken from p’u sung-ling’s writings, a few from the magistrate’s report of the crime scene. the effect is eerie, as intended. it’s a bold and unusual choice, and mostly i like it. but it feels a little like spence himself intruding on the story.
- woman wang makes her appearance very late - on page 116.
some interesting facts from the book:
- when the magistrate prays for protection from the plague of locusts (1671), he does not pray to the lord of all; he prays to the city god - and asks him to petition the lord of all.
- the legal code of the ch’ing provided that if a widow remarried, her former husband’s property and her original dowry became the property of the former husband’s family. this was intended to discourage remarriage/encourage fidelity and chastity among widows. in practice it meant the former husband’s family would often force her to remarry against her will, so they could get back that property (and be relieved of responsibility for her upkeep).
- among the methods the magistrate used to determine the real murderer was pouring boiling water on a pile of dung found at the crime scene. the husband claimed it was donkey, but the scent from the steam proved it was human.
the preface does a good job of providing context and meaning to the book. here’s how it ends:
“for though feng and huang take us surprisingly far into the zones of private anger and misery that were so much a part of their community, they were not concerned with penetrating into the realms of loneliness, sensuality, and dreams that were also a part of t’an-cheng. whereas it was just those realms that obsessed p’u sung-ling, and i have accordingly drawn on him in three of his many dimensions: as a recorder of shantung memories; as a teller of tales; and as a molder of images, sometimes of astonishing grace or power. it was by combining some of these images in montage form, it seemed to me, that we might break out beyond the other sources from that lost world, and come near to expressing what might have been in the mind of woman wang as she slept before death.
“….i would guess there were many women like her, as there must have been many counties like t’an-ch’eng, passively suffering, paying their taxes, but receiving little in return.
“my reactions to woman wang have been ambiguous and profound. she has been to me like one of those stones that one sees shimmering through the water at low tide and picks up from the waves almost with regret, knowing that in a few moments the colors suffusing the stone will fade and disappear as the stone dries in the sun. but in this case the colors and veins did not fade; rather they grew sharper as they lay in my hand, and now and again i knew it was the stone itself that was passing on warmth to the living flesh that held it.”