Reflections on the Cultural Dimensions of the NZ- China Relationship – at Thirty-Five
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Reflections on the Cultural Dimensions of the NZ- China Relationship – At Thirty-five A presentation at the joint seminar in Wellington 21 May 2007 Duncan Campbell School of Asian and European Languages and Cultures Victoria University of Wellington When scholars abroad ask me which foreign authors have influenced me most, I answer as follows. A writer reads much as he plans his dinner: he wants greens and fat, starches and proteins, native foods and imported ones. (The staple food is his own experience.) They all turn into calories after they’re eaten and digested, but you can’t be sure which calorie was produced by which food. The first works by a modern author that I really got to know were those short tales by the delicate New Zealander, Katherine Mansfield. To me, they read like vignettes from the Song dynasty. The people in them were ordinary enough, and the plots were simple, but the underlying emotions were so deep and the pathos so intense that I was profoundly touched. Hsiao Ch’ien (1910-99), Traveller Without a Map, Jeffrey C. Kinkley, trans. (Stanford, California: Stanford University Press, 1990), 31. Remarkable and as unprecedented, historically, in terms of both scope and rapidity as has been the economic and social transformation of China over the course of the past two decades, as fundamental, perhaps, if far less remarked upon, have been the cultural reformulations that have taken place. The past and its various cultural and spiritual traditions, once considered firmly consigned to the dustbins of history, has made a quite extraordinary comeback in China and seems bound to assume an ever greater role within contemporary political and cultural discourses. And, in 1 keeping with China’s growing international presence and visibility, this past is now, increasingly, being re-packaged and exported; globally, for instance, we have the proliferation of Confucius Institutes (孔子學院), one explicit task of which is the promotion of “Chinese culture”; domestically, we about to see the reassembling in Dunedin of a garden recently constructed in Shanghai but modelled on a Suzhou garden that dates back to the Southern Song dynasty (127-1279), the Garden of the Master of the Fishing Nets” (網師園). “To go global”, read a article by the Editor of the Renmin ribao 人民日報 [People’s Daily], Li Fang 李舫, some years ago, “China must perfect its cultural policy and rebuild the image of Chinese culture” (中國要面向世界,必須 完善中國文化策略,重建中國文化形象). New Zealand too, has experienced significant cultural reformulations over this period, if on a far lesser scale and in response to a very different set of circumstances. We live presently, according to Stephen Wainwright, Chief Executive of Creative New Zealand, in “a vibrant, multicultural society built on a bicultural foundation” (one is almost tempted to call this “multiculturalism with New Zealand characteristics” 有新西蘭特色的多元文化主義). And we here too have begun to engage in forms of Cultural Diplomacy, as instanced, thinking of the flow the other way in our relationship, by the “New Zealand, New Thinking” (新西蘭新思維) Exhibition that was recently on display in the plazas of Beijing, Shanghai, Wuhan and Guangzhou. There are of course tremendous asymmetries of bulk and antiquity of the two partner cultural traditions involved in this particular exchange. But, as the political and economic relationships between the New Zealand and the China continue to develop and intensify, however, it must be hoped that so too will the level of cultural exchange become considerable enhanced. Unlike the Dunedin garden and, perhaps, the exhibition, however, it often seems to be the 2 rule of the usual flotsam and jetsam of official cultural exchange between nations that it is only the very lightest products of the one culture that travel furthest across the oceans before beaching themselves upon the distant shores of another, bleached of all colour and somewhat misshapen. Sadly, I suspect that it is still largely the case that for New Zealanders who have not been to China, the closest encounter with Chinese culture they have experienced is a visit to a local Chinese takeaway or the Chinese characters embossed on their clothing (or, increasingly, tattooed upon their skin): I think of this as the “dumplings and calligraphy” mode of cultural exchange. Briefly, however, and at something of a tangent one assumes to the bulk of the day’s discussion to come, I would like to sketch the outlines of something of an alternative history of this interaction, one that is both longer-term in its workings out and somewhat subterranean. I will do so with reference only to the verbals arts, although one could do so equally well through reference to the visual and/or performance arts. In all likelihood, the earliest published translation into Chinese of an item of New Zealand literature was that by the noted modern Chinese poet Xu Zhimo 徐志摩 (1897-1931) of Katherine Mansfield’s “An Ideal Family”, published in the influential Shanghai literary journal Xiaoshuo yuebao 小說月報 [The Short Story Monthly], 14, No. 5: 1923. 1 Xu had met the ailing Mansfield in London in late August of the previous year and, upon hearing of her death in January 1923, he 1 In a note appended to his translation of Katherine Mansfield’s short story “Late at Night”, published in 1925, Xu Zhimo 徐志摩 noted that: “…upon reading a Mansfield short story, one finds oneself incapable of distinguishing form from substance and all one is left with is an impression, an impression of both verisimilitude and beauty, akin to catching sight of the reflections cast upon a limpid brook by an overhanging branch of flowering apricot: precise, subtle and beautiful” (我們看曼殊斐兒的小說就分 不清哪裡是式,哪裡是質,我們所得的只是一個印象,一個真的,美的印象,仿佛是在冷靜的 溪水裡看橫斜的梅花的影子,清切,神妙,美), for which, see Zhao Xiaqiu 趙遐秋, Zeng Qingrui 曾慶瑞 and Pan Baisheng 潘百生, eds., Xu Zhimo quanji 徐志摩全集) [The Complete Works of Xu Zhimo] (Nanning: Guangxi minzu chubanshe, 1991), 2: 167. 3 commemorated his “eternal twenty minutes” with her with both an elegy and then an essay that was first published in the same issue of this journal.2 Xu seems to have been quite unaware of Mansfield’s New Zealandness; in China, this particular association awaited - in print anyway - a short review of John Middleton Murray’s edition of the Journal of Katherine Mansfield (1927) by the literary historian Zhao Jingshen 趙景深 (1902-85) (Xiaoshuo yuebao, 19, No. 1: 1927). Much has happened since that first moment of confused interaction, and I’d like to mention here simply some names and titles: Robin Hyde: Dragon Rampant (1939); her “China poetry”; “Singers Loneliness”, T’ian Hsia Rewi Alley & the major modern Chinese poet Feng Zhi 馮至 working together on translations of the greatest of Tang poets, Du Fu 杜甫 (Foreign Languages Press, 1964) James Bertram Capes of China Slide Away (1993) Anhui Oceanic Literature Centre ( 大洋洲文學叢書)/Shanghai NZ Studies Centre (complete translation of Ian Gordon’s collection of Mansfield’s NZ based short stories, Undiscovered Country, published (with help from the Ministry of Cultural Affairs, NZ) by the Shanghai Foreign Languages Education Press in 1991) Diana Bridge Landscape with Lines (AUP, 1996); Red Leaves (AUP, 2005) 2 For a translation of both the elegy and the essay to which it was later attached, and for a fuller treatment of the reception of Katherine Mansfield in China, see Shifen Gong, A Fine Pen: The Chinese View of Katherine Mansfield (Dunedin: University of Otago Press, 2001). 4 Alison Wong Cup (SteeleRoberts, 2006)/Eva Ng Shadow Man (1999); Chinatown Girl (2005) Yang Lian 楊煉 (Unreal City: A Chinese Poet in Auckland, Jacob Edmond & Hilary Chung, eds.) & Mike Johnson (The Vertical Harp: Selected Poems by Li He) Guo Nanyan’s 郭南燕 translation of Whale Rider (Qi jing ren 騎鯨人, published by Shanghai renmin chubanshe, 2006). Oddly enough, Mansfield seems also to have been the first New Zealand poet to have been translated into Chinese, for Xu Zhimo, again, published translations of three of Mansfield’s poems (“The Meeting”, “The Gulf”, and “Sleeping Together”) in the pages of the journal Changfeng 長風 on 15 August, 1930. That is, as the late Qian Zhongshu 錢鐘書 (1910-1999) might have put it: “Some bad poems by a minor poet who happened also to be a major short story writer, translated by a major poet who happened also to be a poor translator”. Qian, the last perhaps of China’s 20th century intellectual giants, had many wise things to say about the nature of cultural interactions between countries and traditions. In his marvelous study of some of the ironies associated with the first Chinese translation of an English poem, Longfellow’s “Psalm of Life”, he warns us of some of the pitfalls that await us. Over the course of history, the occurrence and development of things always creates difficulties for us, playing practical jokes on us and overturning all our most cast-iron judgements, besmirching our blueprints and tearing holes, both large and small, in all our most airtight, watertight densely argued theoretical systems. We often speak of “the lessons of history”, as if history was simply a demanding superior or a strict teacher. In actual fact, history is also like a mischievous and troublesome child who loves to joke and play tricks on people. To find both the opportunity and the wherewithal to teach us lessons and to ridicule us at the 5 same time, this is history’s real victory. It is history's defeat that so few of us either hear or understand its lessons, and almost nobody notices its ridicule. We need, therefore, I believe, to be mindful of the extent to which planned and programmed instances of cultural engagement will very often result in quite unanticipated outcomes, ever attentive to the alternative voices that provide something of a counterpoint to the mainstream discussions of the bilateral relationship between our two nations, to listen, that is, for the “tune that lies beyond the meaning” (意外之音).