I made a terrible mistake. In my enthusiasm to get Mumei to read Wolf in White Van by John Darnielle (National Book Award nominee and all around great novel), I offered a swap: I would read one book of his choosing, in return for him moving Wolf in White Van up his reading list.
Honestly, I thought he'd sling some non-fiction about gender relations at me. Nope. Instead he dropped The Story of the Stone on me. A five-volume, 120 chapter Chinese novel of manners.
And it is killing me. So much that I am here and now, very publicly, defaulting. I'm trying to make my 50/50, and it caused my reading pace to drag to a crawl. It's not bad, it's just not my kind of thing, and it's hard to keep my enthusiasm up.
I'll still read it, but not until I break my 50, which is already going to be tricky since I'll be doing Nanowrimo and I'm also doing several musical collaborations with the second GAF Tape.
Mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa.
So, instead, I switched to Nancy Kress's Probability Series (Thanks Aidan!) which is much more likely to allow me to make my fifty.
I'm a bad man, Mumei. I know this.
Tsk, tsk!
I'm not really sure whether I'm surprised you aren't a fan (yet), since I realize now that I can't think of you talking about having read or enjoyed old classics. Or maybe it's just this one.
It's fantastic, though. I wouldn't worry too much about liking it or not initially. I still wasn't sure I had a grasp of the names until it shifted to the houses of the family, and I started having major characters (Daiyu, Grandmother Jia, Baoyu, Baochai, Wang Xi-Feng, etc.) who served as anchors for me to remember other characters by their relationships to those characters.
If anyone else is interesting reading it after besada's ringing endorsement, I'd suggest reading
this article by John Minford, one of the translators of the English edition, "China's Story of the Stone: the best book you’ve never heard of"
In its native land, The Story of the Stone, as the book is also known – Stone for short – enjoys a unique status, comparable to the plays of Shakespeare. Apart from its literary merits, Chinese readers recommend it as the best starting point for any understanding of Chinese psychology, culture and society.
[...]
What is so special about this work? Why does it continue to cast its spell on today’s Chinese readers? One has to try to imagine a book that combines the qualities of Jane Austen – brilliantly observed accounts of Chinese psychology and personality, meticulous depiction of an aristocratic Chinese/Manchu household – with the grand sweep of a novel such as Vanity Fair or the works of Balzac. Its mood is allegorical, lyrical and philosophical. It leaves the reader with a visionary experience of the human condition, comparable to that of Proust. It’s a blend of Zen Buddhism and Taoism with the underlying theme of “seeing through the Red Dust” beyond the illusion of earthly “reality”.
The Stone narrates the journey of a sensitive soul towards enlightenment. That “soul” is Jia Baoyu, the incarnation of the “stone” of the title, a delicate teenager, a dreamer, a pampered aesthete “in love with love”. In the fifth chapter he retires from a family afternoon gathering to take a nap in the boudoir of his cousin Jia Rong’s beautiful young wife. His visit, in a dream, to the Land of Illusion is described, where a fairy named Disenchantment reveals the predestined futures of many of his girl-cousins and maids, at the same time gently berating him for being such a lustful creature (in his case it is Lust of the Mind). She initiates him into the art of love with a beautiful girl, Two-in-One, so called because she combines the charms of his two favourite girl-cousins. After the dream, his maid, Aroma, proceeds to practice with him some of the “lessons” taught him by the Fairy in his “initiatory dream”. This intertwining of desire and enlightenment, of passion and disenchantment, lies at the heart of the novel.
And yet, despite its philosophical and allegorical dimension, Stone is no Pilgrim’s Progress. It is full of fun and games, describing the illusion of daily “reality” in loving detail. Its pages make up a veritable encyclopedia of Chinese life, from the making of tea with last year’s melted snow, to the eating of crabs, the performing of lyrical opera and the writing of classical verse in every possible metre. To offset the large cast of upper-class characters, there is also a wonderful assortment of low-life personalities, old village dames, garrulous matrons, drunken retainers, martial artists, sing-song girls and theatrical performers. It convincingly describes the corruption and other social ills that beset China’s society in the late traditional period (and in many ways still do).
Its rich social tapestry, and its pervading philosophical theme, take this novel far beyond the scope of the sentimental Chinese novel so popular in the 18th century. Written just before the onset of China’s 19th-century decline, Stone captures brilliantly the “glory that was China”, and the knife edge on which that glory balanced. This is what makes it such essential reading today.
I didn't read that until long after I'd read it myself;
Piecake sold me on it first. But it does describe how I feel about it quite well.
Never make a deal with Mumei.
Never make a deal with Mumei.
Hey, now. I amended the deal; he actually gets to name
three books since I went for something so disproportionately long, and I don't even know what the other two are yet!