VARIETIES OF SPY THRILLERS

Many are like crime or police/detective novels in that the plot involves some misdeed planned or committed and the prevention or retribution thereof.

Novels of this genre often appeal primarily to the sense of righteous indignation on the part the reader. Those novels that have incomplete control of this aspect often tend to become tedious and objectionable recreations of the school-yard quarrels—he/they started this, he/they hit me/us first, and therefore whatever we did or do in retaliation is somehow justified. If that is not sufficient, then the writer might resort to more or less overt appeals to patriotism/jingoism. But then the “spy” part tends to get lost and the story could just as well be some more or less cunning version of cowboys and Indians. There is too much of this sort of writing that deserves to be lumped together as pulp fiction.

John LeCarre is deservedly celebrated for rescuing this genre from the spirited but otherwise not very edifying adventures of James Bond. His prose was brooding and sometimes precious—“Smiley had bored him; he looked sulky and cheated; distressing downward folds had formed on the lower contours of his cheeks….” Or, as Smiley drove past “the unlovable fascades of the Edgeware Road, the wind had dropped, the sky was black with waiting rain, and all that remained of the sun was a lingering redness on the tarmac.”

But he wrote also of the gritty aspects of spy-craft, of following and watching a suspect; how in certain countries “the security forces knew next to nothing about” its subtle requirements, “probably because no administration in living memory had to feel shy about it.” He wrote of the motivation for betrayal, a hope “to advance the Russian cause ahead of the American” but not to injure any British interest until the Suez incident “finally persuaded him of the inanity of the British position” and “he became a committed, full-time Soviet mole with no holds barred.”

More recently, David Ignatius (see for example, Bloodmoney: a novel of espionage) has written with insight into the enemies (or victims?) of the American war in Af-Pak, how some were created by the actions of the Americans as the Taliban and al-Qaeda are said to believe, how ingeniously the enemy had copied what the CIA had done to such great effect in “following the money” to track down perpetrators of evil against them, how they are bound by their own values of hospitality, vengeance and perhaps of sanctuary.

The "spying" usually lifts the genre beyond the boundaries of a particular country and gives the opportunity for the writer to explore cultural differences. Does this mean that some work like “The Tale of Two Cities” might be reclassified as a spy thriller? Probably not and in any case, the plot of that novel could very well have been framed for a purely English situation. Mayhem in foreign countries does not necessarily result in a spy thriller. Problems and solutions that cross national boundaries, the threat of violence and the need for secrecy in action—I believe these are essential. It will surely not hurt if the characters are interesting though spy thrillers do not need to be psychological (Smiley versus Karla) and should certainly not be paranormal.

At least these are my preferences; I have no desire to see them enshrined by any Academy or Official Body!

China's Greatest Calligrapher

Wang Xizhi is regarded by all those with a classical East Asian (Chinese, Japanese or Korean) eduction to have been China's greatest calligrapher. This is an astounding statement; for calligraphy is not a dead art. It has been practised continuously for the last sixteen hundred years or so. Perhaps something comparable in Western Civilization would be to assert that Praxiteles (4th century B.C.) is its greatest sculptor - not Donatello, not Michelagelo, not Rodin, etc. Or to say that the "Winged Nike of Samathrace" 2nd century A. D. Hellenistic sculpture, rediscovered in the 19th century and now in the Louvre is the greatest work of sculpture. But there you are; ask any traditionally educated Chinese, Japanese or Korean--it is Wang Xizhi, who lived in the 4th century A. D., whose works are all lost and remain only in copies.

Undoubtedly it is due to the fact that Chinese civilization has survived continuously for nearly three thousand years (five thousand years over-states the case and includes the period that Chinese tradition has written about) as well as the fact that the bearers of this civilization has remained a self-perpetuating scholar-gentry class supported most of the time by the state. The second Tang emperor was said to have commissioned a search for Wang's most famous work--his preface to a collection of poems that celebrated a picnic at an Orchid Pavilion near modern-day Hangzhou (famous today partly because Henry Kissinger cattily recorded Nixon's philistine remark upon visiting it was that it was as pretty as a picture post-card). That emperor decreed that the original manuscript be buried with him and so it was but it appears that three copies were made that include even Wang's crossing out of his mistakes or imperfections. These survived as stone copies and have since then been faithfully copied and recopied. The text and pictures may be viewed on-line at http://www.chinapage.com/calligraphy/wangxizhi/wangxizhi.html.

It is not long, only a few over 400 characters or "graphs" long, introducing what became "nature poetry" in Chinese literature. The whole is reproduced in three panels that should be read from right to left, below. It is said that Wang was a calligrapher of such infinite variety that he wrote the word zhi (之) a common particle, that appears 21 times, such that no two instances are exactly the same. Each instance, the graph is ever so slightly different due to the the rhythms of its surrounding graphs. It is as if Jefferson had written the letter "e" differently each time it appeared in the Declaration of Independence, but of course, calligraphy in Chinese civilization is not to be equated with penmanship in the English language. The following pictures are from the website noted above.

Calligraphy in Chinese Culture

Why do the Chinese write on their paintings?

Is the writing part of the painting?

What if the writing is not by the painter?

In The Three Perfections, Michael Sullivan (1974, 1999 reprint) begins with an incident recorded in the xin tang shu (New Tang Chronicles) regarding the inscription of the Emperor on a gift from Zheng Qian, a noted poet, painter and calligrapher. He pronounced the gift “Zheng Qian san jue” (三 絶 ?) which Sullivan translated as Zheng Qian’s “three perfections”—the title of his book. This probably happened in the middle of the 8th century. Zheng Qian’s three perfections, alas, have not survived, but the anecdote provided the springboard for Sullivan’s reflections on the above related questions.

The example that Sullivan chose to demonstrate his answer, that the writing is part of the painting and even or especially if it is written by someone else, was a painting by Zhao Mengfu (趙孟頫), a scholar who served Kubilai Khan but never forgave himself for this act of “collaboration.” On his painting, dated 1295 and entitled Sheep and Goat, a later scholar had written that Zhao painted the animals that had clearly gone astray and were lost as if he grieved for them and that this was because he was in grief for his own action in serving the Mongols. It was also something he could not have written on the painting himself without incurring the swift and terrible retribution of the Mongols. (Sullivan, 1974. Perfections, pp. 42-44.) Sullivan points to Chinese legend that both writing and painting were of divine origin and also to Chinese conventional wisdom that the two activities had a “common body.” (Sullivan, pp. 12, 15.) By a happy coincidence that painting has not only survived but is on exhibit at the Freer Gallery (part of the Smithsonian in Washington D.C.) and following are three pictures of it.

I have downloaded the following three pictures of that painting from the Freer pages of the Smithsonian website:

This painting was done centuries after the tradition of calligraphy began (around the 4th century A.D. It is helpful to see this tradition of calligraphy as an important contribution to the standardization of the written form of the Chinese language that allowed it to remain in continuous use for over two thousand years. Chinese began to be written probably around 1400 B.C. but was not standardized until the unification of China around 221 B.C. Either the Emperor or his Chief Minister decreed that the written form of the language be made uniform. As with many of those who have actually or in myth unified nations, he also decreed various actions that aroused the opposition of the literate class, most famously by burning classics and other books that he deemed to be useless.

The development of a tradition of literary achievement in calligraphy therefore mitigated against any distaste for the standardization of the orthography/writing of Chinese. In the middle of the fourth century, Wang Xizhi (王羲之) composed the Lantingji Xu (蘭亭集序), a preface to several poems written to commemorate a picnic in the Orchid Pavilion park that gives the volume of poems its name. The poems and the preface are lost but Wang's calligraphy so impressed his contemporaries and successors that he has ever since been regarded to be China's greatest calligrapher. Nearly two centuries later, Emperor Wu (502-549 A.D.) of the Liang Dynasty (one of several during the Period of Fragmentation) commissioned the well-known scholar Zhou Xingsi to compose a poem using 1000 unique graphs so that the Crown Prince, Xiao Tong (蕭 統), might have something interesting with which to practice his calligraphy. This poem of a thousand characters became the primer for Chinese, Japanese and Korean men of letters as they began their study of writing and literature.

Without this embrace of the standardized orthography of the Chinese language, there might not have been such universal acceptance of the uniformity of writing imposed by the state. And without such universal acceptance, the Chinese language might not have become the political and cultural force of unity in Chinese history that it is said to have been [see Derk Bodde's assessment in the Cambridge History of China, vol. 1, pp. 57 and 58.]

A THING OF BEAUTY

I am sharing this beautiful picture of a dragon underneath the Chinese graph for dragon partly because it was cross-stitched by hand for a friend by his wife and partly because it is Chinese New Year. The biggest celebration for a Chinese family is the dinner on the eve of the New Year. Visits to each other's homes are usually done on the second day. The celebrations climax on the fifteenth day when young girls were allowed out (with chaperons) to cast their eyes on young men. In many cultures that share this lunar New Year, the young maidens were also allowed to cast oranges or orange peel or tennis balls at the object of their sighs.

Together with the twelve animals that make up the cycle of years, there are also the Five Elements--Earth, Water, Wood, Fire and Metal/Gold. This year is the Year of the Water Dragon. The Five Elements are a BIG DEAL in classical Chinese thought but the best analysis I know of this subject, B. Schwartz, The World of Thought in Ancient China, is a very difficult book. I confess I do not understand the many passages that deal with the Five Elements. Combined, the 12 animals and the 5 elements constitute the 60 year cycle, also a BIG DEAL in classical Chinese thinking but often used more popularly. Populist rebellions often talk of a New Cycle beginning, justifying the overthrow of the current kingdom or existing empire. In these cases, the 60 years are not to be taken literally; a long reign of incompetence, oppression, or bad harvests is about to be replace by something better, so the theory goes.

Beginning Life's Third Act

Blogging and writing are my preferred activities in Life's Third Act, as Jane Fonda so eloquently described it. For me it began when I retired; I needed something to keep myself from insanity or senility. I actually tried calculus first. That was a truly insane idea. Then I thought: I am Chinese but know next to nothing about China, its language, history or literature. Truth be told, I knew more about The Gilgamish Epic and the "Second Ecumenical Council at Nicea" than about Confucius' Analects or The Romance of the Three Kingdoms. I resolved to correct this and to succeed in the third attempt in my life to learn Mandarin--after all, new technologies had developed since my last failed attempt in 1985.

But "learn Mandarin" books like all learn this or that books are inherently boring, especially the exercises. So I tried to translate real books, starting with Lao She's "Tea House," which I eventually adapted into Heaven is High and the Emperor Far Away, a Play. There is more about this on another page of this blog. My next translation project was The Romance of the Three Kingdoms, and selections from it, retold, formed the Battle of Chibi and there's more about that on another page of this blog as well.

My attempt to "study up" on Chinese history and literature was not "scientific." I had always wanted to read Marco Polo but had never gotten around to doing so, hence I started out with that. But I was curious about what modern historians thought about his Travels, so I read up on those too, SOME of them anyway as these studies constitute almost an academic specialty. One observation struck me--Polo did not mention tea. Rereading the Travels confirmed this. My findings I have recorded in "Is it tea or chai?" as well as "Did Marco Polo go to China?"

There were other excursions, usually taken when something piqued my curiosity or disbelief. A historian claimed that a particular Chinese deity was a complete invention and that piqued my interest because I remembered my grandparents speaking about the deity in worshipful tones; hence "Toa Peh Kong." Another historian referred to Gibbon as 'the greatest historian," so I resolved to finish The Decline and Fall (started two or three times over the last thirty years) and determine for myself in "Reading Gibbon in the twenty-first century."

This memoir of my Third Act is not complete nor is the act itself over. It's just that I prefer these things to golf or fishing.

Holiday reading

Ten Thousand Miles Without a Cloud, by Sun Shuyun, 2003.

Without drama, Sun Shuyun tells of her journeys to the many places that Xuan Zang, the 7th century Chinese monk made to the "West"--Central Asia (the Silk Road) and India. His story was retold with much fantasy and "paranormal" incidents in the 15th century and is regarded as one of the Four great classic novels. It could rightly be called The Monkey King, after one of the superheroes who was chosen to protect the monk on his journey. (See post on “Journey to the West below.)

"Ten thousand miles" is the sober and sensible but fascinating story of a Chinese woman who grew up with Red Guards for parents and a grandmother was a devout Buddhist (who had bound feet). Much of her travels take her to parts of the Silk Road which conjures up images of the Orient Express; it is far from being such a luxurious ride. She makes a side trip as did Xuan Zang to Peshawar. This is today said to be the epicenter of "Islamofascists": well, it is the second most important site for Buddhists.

Buddhism was born in India around 600 B.C. but was much forgotten there by the 19th century until an English translation of Xuan Zang's “Great Tang Records on the Western Regions” (referred to by Sun as the "Buddhist Records of the Western World") helped British and Indian archaeologists uncover the sacred sites to which Burmese, Thai and Ceylonese Buddhists had come but failed to find. You will learn much from this book, not least about your own preconceptions about the meaning of life.

Five stars out of five.

The Uninvited, by Geling Yan, 2006.

Written by a Chinese journalist who left after the Tiananmen protest and crackdown, this is a fantastical novel, magical realism without the magic, highly imaginative. To say that it describes corruption and exploitation is like saying Moby Dick is about whaling. A good looking temporary (reserve) laborer finds a boondoggle attending banquets pretending to be a journalist. (This book is also published with the title The Banquet Bug.) He is married to the most worthy of women but finds sex and sex trade among his escapades, along with art and luxury with a neurotic artist and a corrupt developer, etc., etc. This is a fast-paced, well-written read into which one may impute lessons as one wishes.

Four stars out of five.

The Lords of the Bow, by Conn Iggulden, 2011.

This is the second book in a series. I found the first volume, Genghis, very absorbing with the descriptions of the young Temujin's struggles to survive and regain his birth-right--the "cold face," the will to power, the harrowing escapes. The Lords of the Bow, I think, over-reaches. It is a good story and well told. But it is thin: the characters of Temuge and his brothers, of Kokchu the new shaman and the non Mongols who chose to help Genghis, the reasons for Genghis' inability to love his oldest son, the descriptions of the layers of Chin society from the tong chief and slaves to the generals and imperial court. The scope demands Wagnerian treatment (while Genghis demanded and received something more like the Carmina Burana) and it does not get it.

Three stars out of five (volume one was Five stars out of five).

OPERATION KASHGAR (working title)

Since writing "Hand to Hand Combat" (previous post), in which Spymaster Wang spars against Sergeant Li, I have written three chapters of a spy thriller. This is a new departure and involves writing without a text to be translated ("The Battle of Chibi") or adapted ("Heaven is High"). This process has been engrossing and while writing it was hard to imagine doing anything else. I do not wish to clutter this blog with all of the writing, and all the re-writing, and so have taken advantage of the "preview" feature in Createspace and Authonomy, two websites of great help to writers.

The previews on Createspace have an upper limit on length

while those on Authonomy have a minimum length required


Both websites allow, indeed invite, comments.