Remembering Herself, Remembering the Nation: The Autobiographical Writings of Xie Bingying
Hans Kristoffer Andersen Graff
Master’s thesis in East Asian Culture and History EAST4591 – Master's Thesis in East Asian Culture and History (60 credits) Spring 2019
Department of Culture Studies and Oriental Languages (IKOS) UNIVERSITY OF OSLO
Remembering Herself, Remembering the Nation: The Autobiographical Writings of Xie Bingying
Hans Kristoffer Andersen Graff
© Hans Kristoffer Andersen Graff
2019
Remembering Herself, Remembering the Nation: The Autobiographical Writings of Xie Bingying
Hans Kristoffer Andersen Graff http://www.duo.uio.no/
Printed by: Webergs Printshop
Abstract This thesis deals with the autobiographical writings of the Chinese writer Xie Bingying (謝冰
瑩, 1906-2000). Xie rose to fame after she published her War Diaries (congjun riji 從軍日記) in 1929, a short series of letters Xie wrote while participating as one of the first Chinese women soldiers in the National Revolutionary Army (guomin gemingjun 國民革命軍) during the
Northern Expedition (beifa zhanzheng 北伐戰爭). This and later autobiographies assured her place in both history and scholarship as a representative of the May Fourth generation of radical women writers. However, this thesis shows that her later move to Taiwan has been completely neglected by western scholarship. In Taiwan, Xie significantly rewrote important parts of her life story, creating a narrative that downplayed or removed her early radicalism, and conformed to the national memory which was being constructed in post-war Taiwan under the Kuomintang’s rule. By looking at Xie’s writings through the lenses of autobiographical theory, the concept of national memory, and the question of personal agency, this thesis sets out to explore how Xie’s writing of her life story developed, and how it changed from the portrayal of a decidedly leftist self, to a nationalist self. This thesis finds that in Xie’s major rewriting of her life story, she switches gradually from a leftist discourse of the “masses” (qunzhong 群眾) and “society” (shehui 社會) to one of
“nation” (minzu 民族) and “country” (guojia 國家). However, equally important, the emphasis on revolution (geming 革命) and rejection of feudal society (fengjian shehui 封建社會) is present throughout Xie’s writings. This thesis argues that in contrast to the predominant image of the Kuomintang as primarily a conservative, traditionalist political force, through Xie Bingying’s writings, one can see the construction of a Kuomintang as a modernizing, and anti- feudal party which glorified revolutionary rhetoric, and fought for women’s liberation.
I
II Acknowledgments I was often told I was lucky to have professor Halvor Eifring as my supervisor, and now I know why. Those lucky enough to have him as their advisor after me will surely hear the same words from me. His always thoughtful comments and ideas, and his patience as supervisor is what made this thesis possible. I also have to extend my gratitude to professor Mei Chia-ling, who graciously accepted to help me during my five-month research stay in Taiwan while preparing to write this thesis. Her expertise in the subject has been extremely helpful. Additionally, the thesis, and especially its discussion on the question of historical contingency versus personal agency benefited hugely from comments and suggestions offered by professor David Der-wei Wang at the 2019 Harvard East Asian Society graduate student conference, where I was lucky enough to present parts of the work included in this thesis. Zhao Xuebing, in addition to friendship, helped me get access to Chinese books not available to me in Oslo. Tsai Sheng-chi helped me consult the overview of banned books in the Martial Law era, providing much help for my study. Our excellent librarian Øystein Johan Kleiven at the University of Oslo library has been extremely helpful in helping me get a hold of most other books I have needed. All my fellow students from IKOS deserve their own thanks, and will get so in person, but a few deserve special mention here. Guttorm Gundersen, in addition to being a constant inspiration, encouraged me to attend the aforementioned conference, for which I am very grateful. Henrik Nykvist provided valuable feedback to this paper, and has been a great friend and mentor since my very first semester as a student of Chinese. Rebekka Sagild has been a ceaseless source of inspiration, good conversation, and poor coffee. My family have been a constant reassuring presence throughout all my (now many) years in university. The support they have offered, and their unwavering confidence in me, even when I have been in complete lack of it myself, has been more valuable than I can express here. Although I have had the privilege of the support and help from the above, I acknowledge the possibility of faults and errors in the following pages. For these I take the sole responsibility.
III
IV Contents
Abstract ...... I
Acknowledgments ...... III
Contents ...... V
1: Introduction ...... 1
“Funü wenxue” and feminist politics in modern Chinese and Taiwanese history ...... 3
2: Autobiography, memory, agency ...... 9
Autobiography ...... 10
National memory ...... 15
Contingency vs agency: on forced choices ...... 23
3: The life and writings of Xie Bingying ...... 29
Biography ...... 29
Literature review ...... 36
Chinese-language scholarship and Xie’s substantial revisions ...... 38
Translations ...... 42
4: Writing the present, remembering the past: comparisons of events in early and later writings ...... 44
Growing up 1906-1926 ...... 45
The Northern Expedition 1926-1927 ...... 51
Drifting about 飄流: 1927-1936 ...... 65
War of resistance 1937-1938 ...... 80
5: Conclusion ...... 83
Appendix 1: Chronological biography of Xie Bingying ...... 85
Appendix 2: Bibliography of Xie Bingying ...... 90
Appendix 3: Comparison between the different editions of Autobiography of a Woman Soldier ...... 97
Bibliography ...... 157
V 1 1: Introduction Xie Bingying (謝冰瑩, 1906-2000) became famous and launched her career as a writer in 1927, when she wrote a series of diary entries during her time as a soldier in the Northern Expedition (beifa zhanzheng 北伐戰爭, 1926-1928). These diary entries were first published in the Wuhan newspaper Central Daily News (zhongyang ribao 中央日報) from May to June, 1927, and then collected and published as the book War Diaries (congjun riji 從軍日記) in 1929. In one of the letters collected in the book,1 A Gratifying and Funny Story (yi ge kexi er you haoxiao de gushi 一個可喜而又好笑的故事), Xie writes about some of the Hunan farmers she encountered:
When it comes to the local tyrants and evil gentry (tuhao lieshen 土豪劣紳), they care only about ‘beating them to death,’ ‘shooting them to death,’ or ‘stabbing them to death,’ every day we often hear voices calling for the killing of people (sharen de jiaohan sheng 殺人的叫喊聲), and the sounds
of guns firing, in our small village the worthless lives (gouming 狗命) of eight or nine local tyrants
have already been ended, how joyful (hao tongkuai ya 好痛快呀)! (Xie 1933a, 7-8) The leftist revolutionary spirit hardly needs pointing out, and as will become clear in my thesis, Xie remained committed to a decidedly leftist political project well into the 1930s. Having lived through some of the most tumultuous and volatile periods in modern Chinese history, in September 1948 Xie Bingying moved to Taiwan after having accepted a job offer at what is today National Taiwan Normal University, one year before the Kuomintang (Guomindang 國民黨; KMT) suffered defeat in the mainland against the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) and relocated their government to Taipei. She never returned to mainland China, and in Taiwan she continued to write and publish, and also involved herself in high levels of some of the KMT supported cultural associations. In the time immediately before 1949 and for some time after, more than a million people left the mainland and settled in Taiwan; in this sense her move there is hardly unique. What is unique is her earlier life as a committed leftist revolutionary, who still managed to maintain a place in the literary establishment of the highly anti-communist culture of post-war Taiwan. As I will show in my thesis, this aspect of her past is almost entirely cut from anything she publishes after arriving in Taiwan.
How does Xie Bingying write, and then rewrite and update the story of her life? How does she place her life stories within the grander memory of the nation? And to what extent does the national narrative control her individual one?
1 See chapter 3 for a discussion on the compilation and publication of War Diaries and other works.
1
By asking these questions, I will look at how Xie Bingying through her writings places her own life within that of the ever-changing one of the Chinese nation. The first question takes up the genre and form of arguably the most significant writings produced by Xie Bingying: the autobiography. As mentioned, it was her War Diaries2 which first gave her fame. Following this, she wrote and published her Autobiography of a Woman Soldier (yi ge nübing de zizhuan 一個女兵的自傳, hereafter just Autobiography) in 1936. This was subsequently updated, and significantly edited, and published again as Nübing zizhuan (女兵自傳) in Shanghai in 1948, before being reworked again and published under the same name in Taiwan in 1956. She further wrote several autobiographical essays and memoirs which she published in various collections in Taiwan. Based on this, I identify three main phases in Xie’s writing: (1) the pre-1937 phase, of which the representative works are War Diaries and the 1936 edition of Autobiography of a Woman Soldier, which is characterized by clear leftist sympathies; (2) the post-1945 phase, which is represented by the 1948 edition of her Autobiography, and is characterized by a significant distancing of the most radical elements of her earlier writing; and (3), the post-1949 phase, represented by the final edition of Autobiography, and a number of memoir collections, and characterized by a further distancing, and in some instances, outright rejection and denial of her earlier leftist radicalism. How does she use the autobiographical form to create new selves as time progresses? As I will show, in Xie’s various life stories, the self she presents can vary considerably depending on which piece of writing one reads. For whom is she creating these selves, and why? This question leads us to my second central question, that of the national memory vis- à-vis her individual one. What is the place for the individual’s memory in the grander national memory? How does Xie approach and appropriate the “orthodox national memory” in the recreation of her own? And what does this tell us about the kind of national memory which was being created first in Republican China, and then in post-war Taiwan? The crushing defeat in the Civil War, the questionable legitimacy of the KMT-led Republican government this led to, and the aim to retake the mainland and reinstate the Republic of China, meant that the establishment of precisely this orthodox national memory was an important task for the KMT regime. What role could Xie, whose decidedly unorthodox role (from the KMT’s point of view) in the Northern Expedition points out many of the contradictions in the KMT-Nationalist
2 See the section on autobiography in chapter 2 for a discussion of the definition of “autobiographical writing.”
2 narrative, play in the construction of this national memory? And, indeed, what role was it possible for her to play given her past? Which leaves us at my final question, in the face of the historical contingencies of modern Chinese history, what room was there for personal agency? When Xie rewrites her earlier writings, and removes significant leftist references, to what degree is this due to external imperatives, the result of censorship and/or pressure by the KMT government; or the result of a change of heart, the internal wish to forget certain experiences and remember others? Should we read the changes we discover as the proof of the oppressive political situation of post-war Taiwan? Or should we consider also the private lives and personal reasons that might continue to exist, no matter the externalities of this particularly tumultuous time in history? As I will argue, the case of Xie Bingying shows how both readings might give valid answers. These three questions, those of autobiography; of national memory versus personal memory; and of personal agency versus historical contingency, and the theoretical considerations they lead to form the second chapter of my thesis. In the third chapter I begin by providing a short biography and overview of Xie Bingying’s life and work, with an emphasis on her autobiographical writings, before I provide a literature review of the current scholarship on Xie. The fourth chapter explores and compares a selection of Xie Bingying’s autobiographical writings published from the 1920s until her death, focusing on the three questions above. The questions, and the case of Xie Bingying specifically, have significance for our understanding of the history, development, and ultimate fate of the so-called “women’s literature,” funü wenxue (婦女文學), of the May Fourth-era, of which Xie Bingying is often considered to be a part.
“Funü wenxue” and feminist politics in modern Chinese and Taiwanese history The early 1920s, and the time period surrounding the May Fourth-era and New Culture Movement, is still largely considered a watershed moment in the history of Modern China, especially in literary, cultural, and intellectual history. The period, referred to later by Hu Shi as the “Chinese Renaissance,” saw a huge rise in diversity in who was writing, what they were writing about, and the way in which they wrote. Classical and literary varieties of written Chinese, wenyan (文言), were replaced by what began as vernacular experiments, and then became the more and more standardized written vernacular, baihua (白話). Personal experience, often the experience of encountering this “modern age” and its political consequences, became
3 a popular topic for many. Modern literature production, while still largely dominated by sons of the literati, now also happened by the hands of people with different backgrounds, and of a different gender. Indeed, as the role of women in Chinese society saw increasing debate and change, many women writers were to publish their first works during the period. Works by women writers were often particularly concerned with the self, both as a person, and as a woman. Ever since, May Fourth-era women’s writing has become a label meant to describe a type of writing focused on women’s subjectivity, critique of patriarchal structures in Chinese society, coming to terms with new, liberal gender ideals and the trope of the “new woman” (xin nüxing 新女性), and the role of women at the intersection between the old and new China. It was precisely this practice of writing about the self and “feminine subjectivity” which eventually caused women writers to face criticism as the 1920s progressed, and literature became increasingly politicized. Often judged to be trivial, women’s literature was, just as it had started to establish itself, to be relegated to a place of less importance as China saw an increasingly violent divide between right and left, only to be briefly united by the even grander mission of national survival in the War of Resistance (kangri zhanzheng 抗日戰爭). Then, as the Civil War drew to a close and the KMT escaped to Taiwan, feminine writing was further proscribed, as the entire cultural field was mobilized to create the new proletarian dictatorship of the People’s Republic of China. With this, as famously argued by Wendy Larson, came “the end of funü wenxue” (Larson 1998, 1993). While the above generally holds true for the vast majority of people who remained on the mainland, this brief history of modern Chinese women’s writing ignores the still substantial amount who chose to leave for Taiwan. If the end of funü wenxue in the PRC is brought on by an “equal” gender ideology “that posits the equality between men and women by depriving the latter of their difference (and not the other way around)” (Liu 1993, 35, emphasis original), we should perhaps then ask what happened to those women writers who ended up in Taiwan. Where it is largely acknowledged that women writers in the People’s Republic had to drastically alter their writing, with Ding Ling being perhaps the most well-known and discussed example, how women writers adapted (or, failed to adapt) to the new reality of martial law Taiwan has received far less scholarly attention. What was the cultural policies of martial law Taiwan? While the imperative to write proletarian literature effectively marked the end of gender as an acceptable literary theme for writers in the PRC (unless subservient to the grand narrative of class struggle), how did cultural policy affect women writers in KMT Taiwan? What was their place in the nationalist cultural project led by the Kuomintang? Whereas the
4 consequences of Mao’s Yan-an Talks for cultural policy in the PRC are famous (Goldman 1967), less attention has been given to Chiang Kai-shek’s (Jiang Jieshi 蔣介石) ideas about a cultural policy based on the People’s Livelihood (minsheng zhuyi yule liang pian bushu 民生
主義育樂兩篇補述) (Chiang 1984). In perhaps surprisingly many ways similar to Mao’s, it was a call for arts to serve politics, and in the hands of Zhang Daofan (張道藩) it was made the basis for the subsequent period of KMT-led anti-Communist cultural production in Taiwan. In the anti-communist literary culture which established itself immediately following the KMT move to Taiwan, it is commonly argued that while a distinct women’s literature did emerge, it was also largely apolitical, or conservative. It is for this reason, Sung-sheng Yvonne Chang argues, that a writer like Zhang Ailing emerged as a popular model for some of the women writers in Taiwan (Chang 1993b, 217). However, as she shows, even in these writers’ works, there exist themes of women’s resistance against patriarchal society (ibid, 233). Fan Ming-ju has shown that even at the peak of the Anti-Communist literary movement, women writers often subtly undermined the dominating discourse of “retaking the mainland” by instead presenting Taiwan as a “new homeplace” (xin guxiang 新故鄉) (Fan 2002, 15-16). After democratization, as I will discuss below, feminist politics have been remarkably successful in Taiwan, and many of these later developments are traced to the democratization process. However, as I will show, in Xie Bingying’s works, calls for women’s liberation, and resistance against feudal and patriarchal values were not only present, but featured prominently in her writing, throughout the martial law era too. Probably due to the CCP’s infamous attacks on tradition and “old” culture during certain parts of PRC history, the KMT’s status as the traditionalist, conservative party has been emphasized in the writing of the history of modern China. Perhaps for this reason, the notion that Taiwan represents the “real, traditional China” is still prevalent among many, even (or perhaps especially) among China and Taiwan “watchers.” This view of the KMT as an unequivocally traditionalist force neglects the modernizing, and indeed revolutionary side of its double identity, which a look at recent developments in Taiwan should cause us to reconsider. Today, women are represented in Taiwanese government, including high-ranking positions (significantly, including the KMT), in numbers that far exceed the rest of East Asia, including China with its supposedly gender-revolutionary past (Huang 2016). While it used to be the case that it was the PRC that was seen as progressive in the question of gender politics, Taiwan has emerged as one of the most popular study destinations for the current generation of Chinese feminists (Fincher 2018, 110). With Li Ang as probably the most famous example,
5 feminist writers have long since carved out their place in Taiwan’s literary culture (Chung 2000, Sung 1994). In politics, Annette Lu (Lü Xiulian 呂秀蓮) – the “mother of Taiwanese feminism” – and the first DPP government did much to help the situation. But even before they began, elected women already occupied a significant portion of Taiwanese government: the 1946 ROC constitution – which the KMT introduced – stipulated that at least 10% of elected officials should be women (Clark 2000, 62). Where does this progressive tradition come from? Recently, Yang Rubin has suggested that the liberal/progressive legacy of Republican China has been largely overlooked (Yang 2015, 34-38).3 While gender politics and feminism is just one of many aspects that could and should be a part of a reevaluation of historical and political legacies in contemporary Taiwan, for the present purposes I limit my discussion to some central issues of gender and feminism in the history of the KMT. The women’s quota stipulated in the 1946 constitution was in no doubt brought about in no small part due to a number of wealthy, so-called socialite, women in Republican China, many of whom had studied in the US and been influenced by early 20th century American feminists. First Lady Song Meiling was chief among them, and was quick to organize and head many women’s groups after the KMT relocated to Taiwan: the support and political engagement of women was, at least on paper, important even in the years prior to the more comparatively liberal 1970s and 80s (Chang 2009, see especially chapter 2). Furthermore, women’s liberation occupies an important role in the official KMT historical narrative, like it indeed did in many of the emerging “liberatory” nationalisms in the 20th century (Jayawardena 1986). Qiu Jin, the famous female revolutionary martyr, continued to be revered by the KMT in Taiwan, and her bust is still found in the National Revolutionary Martyrs’ Shrine in Taipei. The women’s division trained at Whampoa and included in the nationalist Northern Expedition was an important signal that the Chinese nation, including its women, would stand up and fight together for a “new China.” Additionally, opposition to foot- binding, and eventually polygamy and other “feudal” gender practices were important parts of the gradual modernizing program of the KMT government prior to 1949.
3 I share the opinion that Republican legacy (especially the liberal and revolutionary aspects of the KMT) is overlooked in studies of modern and contemporary Taiwan. Nevertheless, I think Yang Rubin in his argument that it was the ROC government that brought over the largest cultural institutions (e.g. the university system, the National Palace Museum) and as such created “high culture” in Taiwan, almost completely neglects to ask and consider what these institutions replaced, and the kind of cultural institutions that could have arisen in their place. See Lin (2017a) for a more in-depth criticism.
6 Still, as I will show in my thesis, the issue of gender remained fraught with contradictions during KMT hegemony. While Taiwan today has women at all levels of government, women long remained outside positions of power at high levels, in spite of the 10% quota afforded to women (Clark 2000, Huang 2015, 2016). The National Assembly system and Martial Law (which limited democratic elections to the local level) co-worked to ensure that real power remained in the hands of the same group of (mostly) men. Qiu Jin’s role as national revolutionary outshone that of her role as revolutionary feminist (e.g. leaving her children and husband to go abroad to Japan to study). The New Life-movement helped cement the new traditionalist social ideology of the KMT (Diamond 1975, 6-8), and when the Anti- Japanese War broke out, women were now relegated to civilian support groups, helping with nursing and propaganda efforts, rather than actual fighting. Before and after relocating to Taiwan, KMT anti-communist propaganda often featured at the same time the “sexlessness” (i.e. the lack of distinct femininity), and sexuality (i.e. promiscuity) of women in CCP society (Croll 1978, 164, Gilmartin 1994, 224). Xie Bingying was one of the women writers who ended up in Taiwan. Her main claim to fame, and her status as “woman soldier” (nübing 女兵), was forged under political and historical circumstances which became problematic for the KMT as they attempted at the same time to claim status as the “free,” (i.e. modern) and “real” (i.e. traditional) China. Xie Bingying’s early writings showcase both radical, and reactionary (or conservative?) actions of the KMT, and are as such sympathetic neither simply to a traditionalist nor a revolutionary reading of Kuomintang history: They show a Kuomintang that both champions and fights against women’s movements. Xie herself became one of the first female soldiers of a (nominally) national army when the KMT established her division. She also had to flee when the KMT then reversed, and disbanded and persecuted those who had been part of this very division. With a personal story so tightly interlinked with that of the nation, what does her life and writings tell us about the legacy and development of the so-called May Fourth-era feminism of which she is often described as being an important figure? In the volatile period of Chinese and then Taiwanese history from the 1920s to the 1950s, how does Xie Bingying’s writing change and adapt to new political and historical circumstances? These questions shed light on one of the issues of modern Chinese intellectual, political, and feminist history, namely the fate of the dissidents (of any variety) in modern Chinese and Taiwanese history. They bring attention to those, like Xie Bingying, who had to continuously renegotiate their place in social and political, even national circumstances which seemingly
7 changed from day to day. As I will discuss in my thesis, Xie seems to have avoided the political persecution suffered by countless people on both sides of the Taiwan strait after 1949, but at significant emotional cost. Furthermore, these questions help us consider Chinese historical legacies in Taiwan, and they contribute to filling in the lacuna that exists in scholarship about the fate of the writers of the May Fourth funü wenxue in Taiwan, and martial law-era women’s writing and feminism, shedding light on what came after May Fourth and before Li Ang.
8 2: Autobiography, memory, agency What kind of questions should we ask, and what sort of considerations do we need to make when studying a life of writing? This chapter will focus on the three central issues outlined in my introduction. First is the issue of form or genre. What is autobiography and autobiographical writing, and how do we understand the process of writing autobiographically? Because this thesis concerns itself with Xie’s autobiographical writings, these questions very much form the basis of my undertaking. Below, I discuss the basic functions of autobiographical writing, first by looking at the notion of how autobiographies are used by authors to construct and make sense of one self, and whether the narrative process this requires means that autobiographical writing is essentially an exercise in fiction. Arguing that discerning between fact or fiction is not the main task of the study of autobiography, I suggest instead that one should rather look at how something is presented as fact, in order to build an understanding of how an author uses autobiography to make sense of and present life. Then I turn the object of my focus towards the author’s surroundings, and discuss how autobiographies should also be understood as a kind of social document in which writers not only makes sense of their lives for themselves, but also in front of their imagined audience. The question of the social aspect of autobiography leads me to my second central issue, that of national and personal memory. If autobiographies should be understood also as a social document, to what extent can we consider them as sites for the construction of national memory? What role do they play? What are the considerations writers have to make when they make a public display of their lives and memories? How does the national and the individual memory intersect, converge, and conflict? After discussing these questions, I consider some central questions that influenced and occupied writers in modern China and post-war Taiwan. What kind of national memory was being forged and contested while Xie was writing? How did the Chinese Civil War and the “national split” of 1949 engender and force new ways of remembering modern Chinese history? What is the place of the individual in the tsunami of history that unleashed itself at this point in time? The historical and political forces at play leaves me at my third and last issue, the question of individual agency versus historical contingency. How do we explain the actions and decisions made by the subject of my study? Indeed, what does it even mean to be a subject? How do we explain that Xie, who is still largely remembered as a representative of the radical, “new women” of the May Fourth-era, went to what is often thought of as “conservative” Taiwan? How do we study her change? Faced with the major rewriting of her life story, how do we
9 understand the difference between being forced by circumstance, and choosing freely, and can we even neatly separate the two?
Autobiography When Xie Bingying writes her autobiography, what kind of story-writing is she participating in? Do we understand autobiographies as the writing of history? What about when this history is changed? What does this tell us about the place of autobiographies in the writing of national history? Xie Bingying’s autobiographies feature heavily in studies on the lives of women during the Republican era (1911-1949), but, depending on which edition one reads, the life she has lived varies substantially, giving readers or researchers different answers to what her life, and the nation’s story, was “actually” like. My study of Xie Bingying is focused on a selection of her so-called “autobiographical” writings, in which I include diaries, memoirs, self-titled autobiographies, and even some letters. Autobiography has proven itself hard to define, but, while having endured much criticism, Philippe Lejeune’s “autobiographical contract” still seems to come close to a working definition (Lejeune 1989, 29). According to this “contract,” readers of an autobiography acknowledge that there is “identity between the author, the narrator, and the protagonist” (Anderson 2011, 2), a reading which enables the inclusion of the aforementioned categories. Such a reading lends itself not necessarily to take the autobiographer’s word as the whole truth, but rather see the autobiography as the writer’s “sincere effort to come to terms with and to understand his or her own life” (Eakin 1989, ix). This, however, is no easy task, and leads us to a central issue not only in the task of the autobiographer herself, but also – and no less so – in my task as the biographer of the autobiographer: the creation of the narrative of a human life. The autobiographer has to create and present a narrative which convincingly paints a picture of who they are, and how they came to be the very person whose name is now on the title page of the autobiography. As has been pointed out by Walter Benjamin, someone “who died at thirty-five will appear to remembrance at every point in his life as a man who dies at the age of thirty-five. In other words, the statement that makes no sense for real life becomes indisputable for remembered life” (Benjamin 1968a, 100, emphasis mine). In Xie Bingying’s case, when she writes her autobiography, she is always doing it from the point of view of someone who “knows where the story is going.” In real life, Xie only becomes “woman soldier” once she decides to enroll in the military. For the readers of Autobiography of a Woman Soldier, Xie appears instead from the first page, indeed the very title page, as someone who will become a woman soldier. Significantly, the Xie who then
10 rewrote her life in 1956, did so from the perspective of someone who knew the ultimate fate of the CCP-KMT struggle, who had at once been on one side, and now was on the other. In doing so, I will argue, she was creating a story in which she plausibly appears at every point in her life as someone who would end up in Taiwan. It is this that causes us to consider the – at least to a certain extent – fictionality inherent in the creation of autobiography. As Paul John Eakin remarks, the creation of the narrative “of the self and its history, poses the question whether the very idea of autobiography is not in its deepest sense a fiction, some wish or dream of a possible unity of personality underlying the apparent accidents of an individual life” (Eakin 1985, 36). This notion, that autobiographical writing is essentially a practice in fiction, “tends to make us uneasy, for we instinctively feel that autobiography is – or ought to be – precisely not-fiction” (ibid, 19). He is not alone in making such observations. Joan Scott notes that it is often precisely personal experience which tends to hold the most weight among many people, for, she writes, “what could be truer, after all, than a subject's own account of what he or she has lived through?” (Scott 1991, 777). Similarly, Xie herself was clear in her view of the demands placed upon the writer of (auto-) biographies, writing that “when it comes to biographical writing, it needs to be one hundred percent true for it to have any value; if not it becomes biographical fiction” (Xie 1966, 151). However, when the subject’s own account is subjected to scrutiny and questioning and found to be “less than true,” the status of autobiography as a genre anchored in truth becomes questionable. Are we then to dismiss the entire undertaking of the autobiography (or writings of experience in Scott’s terms) as “merely” fiction? Neither Scott nor Eakin really suggest so. Rather, Eakin writes that we should see autobiography as a “a ceaseless process of identity formation” (1985, 36), and suggests that we use this process to “approach knowledge of the self through scrutiny of its acts of self-expression” (ibid, 24), because “autobiography offers the individual an opportunity to reify, to constitute, to create an identity precisely because referentiality is the sine qua non of such texts” (ibid, 26). What the study of autobiography should do, then, is not the confirmation or disproving of the narrative presented by the autobiographer, but attempt to analyze the ways in which the author creates this narrative in order to present the self. On this note, Joan Scott tells us that The study of experience, therefore, must call into question its originary status in historical explanation. This will happen when historians take as their project not the reproduction and transmission of knowledge said to be arrived at through experience, but the analysis of the production of that knowledge itself. (Scott 1991, 797, my emphasis)
11 What I aim to do in my thesis, therefore, more than to discover what “actually” happened in Xie Bingying’s life, is the analysis of her continually changing presentation of what happened. In the discussion above, the understanding of autobiography, the “autobiographical act,” as Eakin terms it (1985, 6), seems to be primarily an internal undertaking; something which creates and negotiates the self vis-à-vis the self. What this neglects is who are the audience for whom the “act” of the autobiographical act is played? In other words, what is the social dimension of the autobiography, what role does the reader (as imagined by the writer) play in its construction? For this, I suggest that we might turn to and consider what Charlotte Linde has termed “life stories.” She writes Life stories express our sense of self: who we are and how we got that way. They are also one very important means by which we communicate this sense of self and negotiate it with others. Further, we use these stories to claim or negotiate group membership and to demonstrate that we are in fact worthy members of those groups, understanding and properly following their moral standards. Finally, life stories touch on the widest of social constructions, since they make presuppositions about what can be taken as expected, what the norms are, and what common or special belief systems can be used to establish coherence. (Linde 1993, 3) Because life stories according to Linde are continuously made and re-made, and do not appear as a single, constructed narrative, she writes that they are fundamentally different from autobiographies (ibid, 39). However, the case of Xie Bingying proves, as will become clear in my thesis, that this might as well also be the case for autobiographies, seeing as her autobiographical writings (including various memoirs) are numerous and completely new ones appear at different stages of her life. As noted by Linde, “in order to exist in the social world with a comfortable sense of being a good, socially proper, and stable person, an individual needs to have a coherent, acceptable, and constantly revised life story” (ibid, 3, my emphasis). The rapid and at times violent changes and breaks that happened in China from the May Fourth-era through the War of Resistance and the 1949 split, would certainly only serve to strengthen the need to maintain the “correct” life story at any given time. Autobiography in this sense offers both a solution and a complication: it allows the writer to craft a “correct” life story and broadcast it, but also leaves evidence which might be used against the autobiographer once what constitutes a “correct” life story has changed. The autobiographer then faces a choice, if the earlier life story significantly deviates from the later, they have to either rewrite their earlier story into one that is coherent with the later or explain the incongruence. An important part of my thesis will be to explore what Xie chooses to rewrite, and what she chooses to explain, and how this helped create coherence in her life stories.
12 It is important, however, also to note that while life stories are fundamentally social, an individual might very well have several life stories of more or less private nature. While Xie published an abundance of autobiographical writings, ranging from autobiography, to memoir, to diary, and even letters, we must also assume the existence of private versions of these stories, which may or may not differ from those published. They might be purely individual, as in the case of a private diary, or they might be shared with friends, with different versions “belonging” to different groups of friends. Significantly, Xie kept personal diaries, and frequently exchanged letters. Of these, at least two collections of letters have been published, in addition to some individual letters being included in various other publications. The first of these collections is The Letters of Bingying (Bingying shuxin 冰瑩書信) from 1991, which must be considered part of Xie’s “public life story.” Another collection has also been published, but it was done so posthumously, and by the recipient, Wei Zhongtian (魏中天) (Qin 2000). While these letters can be considered as part of a life story in Linde’s terms, they are not published by the author as autobiographical, and must therefore be treated differently in a study of Xie’s “public self- presentation.” Rather than show us what kind of public self Xie was trying to create and maintain, they give us clues as to how the maintaining of a public image might differ from that of the private.
As previous studies of the emergence of autobiographical writing in modern China have emphasized, autobiography began to develop at the same time as the Chinese intellectual world started to concern itself with the notion of the individual and of the self in society. While studies have shown autobiography to be present all throughout Chinese history (Bauer 1990), from Sima Qian’s famous Shiji (Larson 1991, 13-15), even hitting a “golden age” according to Wu Pei-yi around 1600 (Wu 1989, xii), and continuing to develop in the autobiographical fictions of the Qing (Huang 1995), it is in the period around the May Fourth era with its rise of “subjectivism and individualism” (Průšek 1980, 8) that autobiographical writing came to represent a significant part of the literary output. Autobiography, particularly for women writers who were often chastised by male writers for being overly self-obsessed, sentimental, and not concerned enough about society, allowed writers to write about their own personal experiences, and link these to the larger context of society (Ng 2003, 16, Wang 2008, 30-31, 40). Especially in the context of the Northern Expedition, women like Xie played an important role, because she along with her fellow female cadets symbolized to the world the modernity of China, liberating herself from the shackles of both imperialism and warlords. As has been remarked
13 by Nira Yuval-Davis, the military participation of women has been a common feature in many national struggles for liberation, and has granted legitimacy to the leaders of the army as modernizers, while allowing women to “establish for themselves new identities, skills and respectable social positions, as well as to struggle for causes they believe in” (Yuval-Davis 1997, 101-102). Autobiographical writing, or at least autobiography-inspired writing, has furthermore continued to be a significant part of how female writers have expressed themselves literarily in Taiwan. Chen Xue’s (陳雪) Letters of a Deplorable Woman (enü shu 惡女書) (Chen 2018),
Qiu Miaojin’s (邱妙津) Letters from Montmartre (Mengmate yishu 蒙馬特遺書) (Qiu 2006b), and Lin Yihan’s (林奕含) Fang Siqi’s First Love Paradise (Fang Siqi de Chulian Leyuan 房
思齊的初戀樂園) (Lin 2017b) have all been remarkable examples of strongly autobiographical writings which highlight the often precarious situation of women in Taiwanese society. We might do well to also consider Li Ang’s biography-as-fictional-autobiography Zizhuan no Xiaoshuo (自傳の小說) (Li 2000), in which the “disgraced” memory of Taiwanese communist and independence activist Xie Xuehong (謝雪紅) is re-membered and thus re-validated in the new era of a democratized Taiwan. In considering the legacy of Republican China, Lung Ying- tai’s part-biography of her mother, part-autobiographical Great River, Great Sea: 1949 (da jiang da hai yi jiu si jiu 大江大海 一九四九) is another example of autobiographical writing which deals fundamentally with the fate of individuals in a time of national upheaval (Lung 2009). Xie Bingying, having risen to fame after the so-called May Fourth-era ushered in subjectivism and individualism in modern Chinese writing, belongs to a generation preceding the Taiwanese writers above, but her significant output of autobiographical works might give future students of autobiographical writing in Taiwan an interesting and significant link between the eras represented by the May Fourth-generation, and that of democratizing and democratized Taiwan. While writing about the Northern Expedition thus lends Xie Bingying the opportunity to link her personal life story to the grander narrative of the nation, this then causes a problem when the Northern Expedition is mythologized, creating an orthodox place for it in national history, which might very well conflict with the way it is narrated by Xie Bingying. Looking back on her writing career, Xie once remarked that “I think the saying ‘the writing mirrors the writer’ is more or less correct. In my attitude towards life I follow only three words: ‘straightforward,’ ‘true,’ and ‘honest,’ and my writing is also like this” (Xie 1966, 11). This
14 insistence on writing “the truth,” which was an overwhelming trend in the literary culture in general (Chow 1991, 95-96, Lee 1993, 364), and certainly no less so in historical writing (Li 2013), creates a problem when there is disagreement about what this truth is really supposed to be. The creation of a national memory highlights the contradictions that show themselves in trying to create a seamless amalgam of national and personal memory.
National memory Above I make the case that we should not neglect that the “act of autobiography” is a kind of storytelling. Stories are, as I have also noted, social. Walter Benjamin aptly tells us that “the storyteller takes what he tells from experience – his own or that reported by others. And he in turn makes it the experience of those who are listening to his tale” (Benjamin 1968a, 87). This ability to transfer experience is precisely what might make the storyteller so useful in the creation of national memory, but only if their story does not conflict with that of the nation. As Pierre Nora has remarked, writing about his concept of “realms of memory” (lieux de mémoire), memoir writers (and by extension autobiographers) can serve as useful objects in the study of national memory. Nora writes that “The memoir writer must be aware of other memoirs. He must be a man [sic] of the pen as well as a man of action. He must find a way to identify his individual story with a more general story. And he must somehow make his personal rationale consonant with public rationality. Taken together, these characteristics of the genre compel us to think of its exemplars as lieux de mémoire.” (Nora 1996, 17) If, as Linde suggests, we can extrapolate from someone’s life story the more general state of social conditions, Nora’s “public rationality,” then a study of Xie’s writings might help us see and understand the contours of the national memory as it emerged and developed in post-war Taiwan. In Rescuing History From the Nation, Prasenjit Duara writes “that national history secures for the contested and contingent nation the false unity of a self-same, national subject evolving through time” (Duara 1995, 4, emphasis mine). Keeping in mind the notion of life stories as narratives that attempt to establish coherence out of the lives of individuals, Duara’s view of national historiography shares a fundamental similarity in how it is seen as essentially an attempt to create out of a series of events across time a coherent story of a subject. As I will attempt to show, both Xie Bingying and the KMT have to tackle with the issue of how to create
15 a “coherent,” or “self-same” subject in their attempt to establish their own (mutually connected and contradictory) legitimacies.4 There has in fact been, both in Chinese literature and in Chinese literary studies, many attempts and a general tendency to link the personal and the national in writing. Lu Xun, in what is almost as famous a story as any of his fictional writings, wrote in the preface to A Call to Arms (nahan 吶喊) that his reason for having become a writer was his conclusion that nothing would be better at “changing the spirit” of the nation than the literary arts (Lu 1967, 8). Lu Xun had come to this conclusion having seen his father suffer and die under the incompetence of a traditional Chinese doctor, and then having seen China seemingly without struggle succumb to the colonial and imperial powers of the West and Japan, illustrated most famously by the picture he allegedly saw while a medical student in Japan of a crowd of Chinese witnessing the beheading of one of their countrymen. In this way Lu Xun, often regarded as the “father” of modern Chinese literature, opens his first book by linking the self, writing, and the nation. Thus, as Jing Tsu has elegantly written, “the nation as a collective identity is accomplished by coalescing the individual’s trauma with the nation’s trauma” (Tsu 2005, 15).This identification of the (Chinese) individual with the (Chinese) nation would soon become a trend so widespread among writers that C.T. Hsia would famously argue that most Chinese authors for the following years suffered from an “obsession with China” (Hsia 1971). The tendency for Chinese writers themselves to explicitly devote themselves to the nation has probably been a contributing factor to the tendency to treat Chinese literature as national allegory. Most famous is Fredric Jameson’s concept of the national allegory of third world literature (Jameson 1986). In his response to this article, Aijaz Ahmad argues forcefully that even if one could easily identify a work as belonging to a “third world literature,” such a blanket-treatment of works as national allegories inevitably leads to us neglecting other aspects and themes that might be just as important (Ahmad 1987). I argue that in reading Xie Bingying’s life stories, we should not adopt fully as our method the “national allegory” of Jameson, nor reject it wholly. Indeed, as we shall see in my analysis below, a significant part of the shift in Xie’s writings is an increasing tendency to speak in terms of nation (minzu 民族) and country (guojia 國家). Nevertheless, as Ahmad points out, to treat her works as simply “national allegories” neglects the perhaps equally significant theme in her life writings, which is her relationship with her family and home, especially her mother. Indeed, a significant theme
4 For Xie, “female soldier”; for the KMT, “unifiers and (thus) legitimate government of the whole of China.”
16 in Xie’s writings from the very beginning is her navigation between her desire for freedom, her love for her parents, and her sense of duty towards the nation.
If, as Pierre Nora writes, “we speak so much of memory because there is so little of it left” (Nora 1989, 7), then certainly memory would have to be spoken of a lot in post-1949 Taiwan. While the issue of Taiwanese nationalism is getting more and more attention both in scholarship and in general, Chinese nationalism in Taiwan seems to rarely get treated. When Benedict Anderson’s Imagined Communities was translated into Chinese and published in Taiwan, it was done by anti-Kuomintang, Taiwanese nationalist Wu Rwei-ren (Wu Ruiren 吳叡人), with slight rewriting and repurposing for a Taiwanese context (Anderson 2006, 222). But, if any one case could be an ideal case study for the creation of an imagined community, perhaps it should rather be that of the Chinese nationalism of KMT in post-war Taiwan? Having lost the mainland, the KMT retreated to Taiwan, and now had the task of creating a national memory for the island’s inhabitants, most of whom had been disconnected from mainland Chinese history for most, if not all, of their lives: they had no “Chinese-national” memory. Since, as Walter Benjamin reminds us, “memory creates the chain of tradition which passes a happening on from generation to generation” (Benjamin 1968b, 98), the creation of a new national memory became top priority in Taiwan, where large parts of the population, on account of their colonial-induced historical amnesia, needed reminding of whose history they were supposed to be a part. Xie, one of only a handful of famous women writers who went to Taiwan during the civil war, could be one of the people whose personal memories could be made the basis of a new, national memory for all the people who lacked her experiences. To borrow the words of Jeffrey K. Olick, for the KMT in Taiwan, “memory is now a matter of explicit signs, not of implicit meanings. [Their] only recourse has been to represent and invent what [they] can no longer spontaneously experience” (Olick 2003, 3). Additionally, the ROC’s future on Taiwan was far from secure, at least until the outbreak of the Korean War led to military agreements between the ROC and the US (Lin 2016). Even in Taiwan, the ROC government were presented with several problems. Even if we ignore the Taiwanese independence activists, the KMT itself seemed to rip at the seams, with Chiang Kai-shek’s rule far from as certain as it might seem in most history books. Chiang, having lost the mainland to the Communists, had suffered also a terrible loss of face. It is interesting to note then, that when arguing for his place as leader of the army, he referenced his status as “revolutionary leader” when arguing for his place as national leader in a meeting in Taiwan in
17 1949 (ibid, 96), and even considered establishing the “China Democratic Revolutionary Party,” (emphasis mine) in order to consolidate his powers, safe from potential enemies within the old KMT (ibid, 135). The revolution to which he refers is the Northern Expedition (beifa zhanzheng 北伐戰
爭). After the failure of the Xinhai-revolution in producing a stable government, China had in reality been split into several more or less autonomous regions, each controlled by what has since been called “warlords” (junfa 軍閥). Sun Yat-sen, with Soviet support, began a military expedition from his base in Guangdong, aiming to unite the country under republican, KMT- led rule (Wilbur 1983, 1-4). By the end in 1928, China proper had ostensibly been united,5 Sun Yat-sen had died from cancer, and Chiang Kai-shek had risen as the new leading figure of the KMT. However, during the course of the expedition, the KMT had also suffered a violent internal split following the power-vacuum left by the death of Sun, and Chiang’s Nanjing-based government had begun a violent persecution of leftists all over China, leading to a split between the CCP and the KMT which would never truly mend, despite a temporary and problem-filled period of cooperation during the anti-Japanese war.6 Hans J. van de Ven in his study War and Nationalism in China 1925-1945 points out how the Northern Expedition was really a contingent product of the broader military situation in China, the Soviet Union’s geo-political strategy, the military and financial weakness of the Canton National Government, the rivalry between Chiang Kaishek, on the one hand, and Wang Jingwei and the Soviets, on the other, and last but not least, the initiatives of warlords … (van de Ven 2003, 129) Despite the dubious claim that the KMT in the Northern Expedition had truly united China under its government, it remained an important event to the KMT as a national unification myth. Especially so to Chiang Kai-shek, who was the leader of the National Revolutionary Army (guomin gemingjun 國民革命軍) during the expedition as it succeeded in retaking Beijing, and for whom it made possible the claim that the KMT was the rightful government of modern China. His invocation of this piece of history as proof of his legitimacy as leader proves its central importance. It is also the seminal event in Xie Bingying’s life, the event which launched her literary career and made possible her status as “woman soldier.” Xie, if her version of the
5 Areas outside the Yangzi-Nanjing area still remained largely in the control of regional warlords who pledged at least some allegiance to Chiang’s government, and Communist activities were still going on with varying strength around the country. Control over the “national territories” as designated by for example an official map by a single government, has happened only comparatively recently in the PRC, and even then with notable border issues, and still contentious off-shore disputes. 6 See Wilbur (1983) for an in-depth study on the Northern Expedition and the Nationalist revolution.
18 Northern Expedition corroborated Chiang’s, could therefore prove herself valuable to one of the most fundamental events in the KMT’s history. Eventually, Chiang was able to consolidate his power within the party, and as the Korean war ensured US support of Chiang’s government and thus made a Communist invasion unlikely, Chiang was able to begin reorganization efforts within the KMT that would further cement him as the unquestionable leader of the ROC (Lin 2016, 180). In their effort to build a strong party-state, the KMT also attempted to take a leading hand in cultural production to ensure that a “correct” and “healthy” culture would be formed. The Kuomintang, Yvonne Sung-sheng Chang argues, established itself in the early 50s as cultural hegemon: it “endorsed” anti-communist literature (fangong wenxue 反共文學), and “tolerated” apolitical literature, and, “in due course,” she writes, “the dominant culture’s pressures and limits were internalized by writers and ... a conservative literary culture was formed” (Chang 2004, 9). Fangong wenxue has since become almost “a synonym for 1950s literature,” and due to its perceived formulaic composition, has been dubbed “anti-communist eight-legged essays” (fangong bagu 反共八股) (Mei 2001, 36). The anti-communist literary movement, Cheng Ming-Lee argues, can in many ways be seen as an answer to Mao’s famous Talks at Yanan. But where Mao and the communists made the claim that the “source” of cultural production should be the “realities of those at the lowest level of society,”7 the Kuomintang gave the role of “instructor” (dao 導) to the party-state
(dangguo 黨國). Whereas the CCP ostensibly attempted to create proletarian arts and culture, the main architect behind the KMT’s cultural policy, Zhang Daofan, wanted to create a cultural policy capable of creating a “Three Principles of the People-culture” (sanmin zhuyi de wenyi 三民主義的文藝) (Cheng 1994, 13). Part of this attempt was the almost complete denouncement by the KMT of modern Chinese literature, leading to the common assumption of a major breach in Chinese literary history after 1949. Tang Xiaobing makes the point that during the literary debates surrounding the question of the “Chineseness” of Taiwan in the 1990s, an intellectual affinity with the modern Chinese literary heritage would become less obvious or acknowledged, and the assumed discontinuity between the May Fourth literature and Taiwan literature, a direct product of the Guomindang cultural policies, added ideological fuel to the discourse on literary originality or self-determination. The historical irony, as the critic Lü
7 The definition of whatever constituted the “lower level of society,” and what their “reality” was supposed to be, was of course up to the CCP to decide.
19 Zhenghui points out, lies in the fact that official suppression of the May Fourth literary tradition on Taiwan finally succeeded in reducing all mainland literature to an ‘alien’ and incoherent entity.” (Tang 2007, 56). Contemporaneous with these debates, in her study of Taiwanese Modernism, Sung-sheng Yvonne Chang nevertheless comments that “while the arbitrarily created breach in modern Chinese literary history is regrettable, placing too much weight on the apparent discontinuity between literature in Taiwan and pre-1949 traditions sometimes unduly lures our attention away from certain consistencies in Chinese intellectual attitudes” (Chang 1993a, 7). Locating the notion of such a “breach” or “divide” to a Cold War rhetoric of dichotomy, Wang Xiaojue forcefully argues that we should attempt to “imagine the nation across the 1949 divide.” She writes that the Cold War-influenced discourse of modern Chinese literary history regards the divide as bringing an abrupt end to the development of Chinese literary modernity and initiating an epoch of literary aberration brought about by political authoritarianism on both sides of the Taiwan Strait. Such a conceptualization not only writes off mainland and Taiwan writers of this transitional period as purely political victims but also consigns writers in Hong Kong and other Sinophone regions into complete oblivion. (Wang 2013, 5-6) In studying pre- and post-1949 writing, we should therefore perhaps follow the lead of scholarship on the May Fourth-era, which has recently led to the era being “dethroned from its position as the event that ushered in twentieth-century Chinese modernity” (Chow et al. 2008, 7). Remaining aware of the importance of 1949 both as a temporal event and as an important symbol in the years after, we would be wise to follow Wang Xiaojue in her attempt to “to bridge the 1949 divide in Chinese literary study” so that we can attempt to provide the “missing link in our understanding of Chinese literary modernity in terms of the relationship between poetics and politics, nation and narration” (Wang 2013, 6). To see the “1949 divide” as an event which separated Chinese and Taiwanese history into unbridgeable periods of pre- and post-1949, and thus to ignore the impact of the post-May Fourth literature on post-war Taiwan literature, is likely to hinder a better understanding of this era. David Der-wei Wang has argued that “mid-century literature in Taiwan, as in mainland China, cannot be appreciated without referring to the legacy of the May Fourth tradition” (Wang 2004, 152). After all, even though the majority of modern Chinese literature was banned in post-war Taiwan, in the years immediately following 1949, the majority of active writers were those who came from the mainland, benefitting both from their superior command of the new national language, as well as a personal understanding of the travesty that had just befallen the KMT government and the Chinese nation. Clearly, a post-war Anti-Communist literary
20 movement only makes sense if there was at one point a Communism to be against. A “Cultural Cleansing-movement” (wenhua qingjie yundong 文化清潔運動) only makes sense if it has been deemed that something has been “soiled.” In this sense, while the vast majority of pre-1949 writers might have been banned, they still occupy an important kind of negative space in post-war Taiwan literature. Thus, while Lu Xun, elevated to the “sage of Modern China” in the PRC (Davies 2013, 1), and the ultimate criminal in the eyes of the KMT, was banned and thus might not have been available as a source of direct inspiration, knowing to avoid Lu Xun-esque styles or themes would have been necessary. For while the works of Lu Xun and others like him were banned, their names were still public knowledge, and especially in the case of Lu Xun, functioned as a kind of symbol of what went wrong. For example, in the foreword to a collection of essays and opinion pieces published during the Lock of the Heart controversy, the publishers note that “twenty or thirty years ago, Lu Xun’s writings were seen by the majority of young people as holy scriptures … but today, we already know he was nothing but an instigator of hate between people” (Yu 1963, 1). Thus, in noting what is lacking in postwar Taiwanese writing, one does not discover the non-existence of lineage and legacy, but a sort of “reverse” legacy; the attempt at the creation of a kind of negative image of what had come before. Yomi Braester has noted how “During the dictatorial rule of Chiang Kai-shek in Taiwan, from the takeover by the Guomindang in the late 1940s, a Taiwanese identity has formed around silenced testimony and repressed memories. The official narrative glorified the battles fought by the GMD on the mainland before 1949, at the expensive of accounts of the former soldiers’ present plight, and censored references to Chiang’s policy of oppression on the island, especially the executions and arrests associated with the clashes on February 28, 1947, known as the White Terror. In both cases, neither mainlanders nor native Taiwanese were able to express their personal suffering.” (Braester 2007, 213, my emphasis) Modern Chinese literature of the 1920s to 1940s would arguably be an important example of these repressed memories. Significant to my thesis, in Xie Bingying’s (re-)writing, the editing and removal of certain sections often only makes sense and is only significant if compared to what was there before. Like how anti-Communist literature should arguably be seen in comparison to the supposed Communist literature, in Xie Bingying’s writings, the later re-membering of certain events, while also significant in itself, is opened to new and interesting interpretations when compared with earlier versions of that same memory. Xie Bingying had risen to fame during the era, and in the literary culture that was now deemed suspect by the KMT. Still, her presence
21 lent a certain amount of cultural capital to the KMT. One of very few women writers active in the 1930s who came to Taiwan, Xie could represent a kind of continuity through 1949 for the regime, but only if her writings adhered to a narrative close enough to the orthodox one being created and promoted by the KMT. Being in opposition to both communism and capitalism, as well as feudalism (Cheng 1994, 19), post-war KMT cultural policy in Taiwan, took aim at portraying a KMT-led, Three Principles-based government as both modernizing, and traditional. One area in which this, and the contradictions that come with it, is especially clear is in how gender roles are constructed in literary works and propaganda of the anti-communist heyday. In her study of the recipients of the “Chinese Literature Award” (CLA), an award given to anti-communist literary works, Mei Chia-Ling argues that in Anti-Communist (i.e. party- state endorsed) literature, there is a definite tendency for works to play up to traditional gender concepts such as “men are outside [of the home], women are inside” (nan wai nü nei 男外女
內), which characterize men as “valiant and strong” and women as “pure and tender” (Mei 2001, 57). Additionally, Christina Gilmartin writes that in general “the charge of sexual immorality was an extremely effective weapon for discrediting Communist party organizers, particularly women” (Gilmartin 1994, 224), and in the ROC, anxieties about “outspoken girl ‘agitators’” being communists were high (Croll 1978, 164). The perceived importance of the defense of the purity of women and the nation, and of “our women” as pure, and “their women” as deviant is indeed a common trait among many nationalisms (Mayer 2000b, 10). At the same time, the KMT also saw itself as a liberator of Chinese women, as well as the whole Chinese population, from feudal society: Despite the repression of the women’s, peasants’ and workers’ movements, the reputation of the Guomindang (Kuomintang) Party, as a nationalist revolutionary party dedicated to the rebuilding of a united China and the emancipation of women, largely remained intact. The Guomindang Party never ceased to talk about revolution and emancipation, it simply redefined the terms. (Croll 1978, 153) Xie Bingying definitely broke severely with the stereotypical image of a Chinese woman, and, remembering her life after arriving in Taiwan, gave much of the credit for her ability to do so, and the opportunity for other women to follow her example, to the KMT. Throughout Xie’s writings, from the earliest to the latest, one of the constants is her vehement rejection of so- called “feudal society” (fengjian shehui 封建社會). The emergence of a discourse on “feudalism” as the Other of modernity emerged, according to Murthy Viren, during the New Culture Movement (Murthy 2008, 171). The term then “merged with the Marxist concept of
22 feudalism,” and then came to be associated with the CCP and its supporters (ibid, 175). Given the prevalence of anti-feudal rhetoric throughout all of Xie’s writings as well as post-war Taiwan, a reevaluation of this term and its ambiguous status in CCP and KMT political language could help renew our understanding especially of the KMT. While such a reevaluation goes beyond the scope of this thesis, Xie’s writings nevertheless provides useful preliminary insight into this issue. Did the political-cultural context entail that writers were forced to “follow the party line” and thereby give up their agency? Certainly, the general tendency has been for scholarship, as Lydia Liu points out, to see for example Ding Ling’s changes in the mainland as conclusive proof that writers were unable to maintain real autonomy in their creative activities under an authoritarian state. Liu however asks us to instead “envision a departure from the practice of male-centered literary criticism in the past decades which they think patronizes women writers but refuses to grant them subject-position” (Liu 1993, 56). For Xie Bingying’s case, this involves then to look at the substantial editing of her life story not only as simply the execution of anti-communist imperatives, but to ask questions concerning her own involvement in the formation of these imperatives, and also to take seriously the possibility that her change was motivated by reasons beyond national politics.
Contingency vs agency: on forced choices What, then, does it mean to grant someone a subject-position? In David Der-wei Wang’s discussion of the poet Feng Zhi’s life before and after the Chinese Communist revolution, he asks the question “after History has been forced to a cul-de-sac of chaos and dissolution (fenran sanlie de juejing 紛然散裂的絕境),” what room is there for the continued existence of the self (Wang 2007, 15)? Not only those who lived through the Communist revolution in the mainland had experienced the massive forces of history constantly in shift in modern Chinese history. Individuals, regardless of their personal or political affiliations, were liable to find themselves at the receiving end of pressure ranging from their private family and friends, to social and cultural groups, to political formations, whether by political parties, regional warlords, or the national government. What these pressures force us to consider, is what choice one really has in the face of the massive forces of history? To what extent can individuals find themselves in a subject-position, and what does that mean? Louis Althusser has pointed out that the term “subject” is not only ambiguous, but that it in fact contains two, seemingly mutually exclusive and contradictory definitions:
23 In the ordinary use of the term, subject in fact means: (1) a free subjectivity, a center of initiatives, author of and responsible for its actions; (2) a subjected being who submits to a higher authority, and is therefore stripped of all freedom except that of freely accepting his submission. (Althusser 2004, 701) In the case of Xie Bingying, in trying to ascertain whether she is acting of her own free will, as a free agent, or is merely being subjected to the forces of history and politics, I suggest we can look at two factors. The first factor is the outside pressures (censorship, political, or social imperatives), and the second is the ways in which she herself ascribes her actions to influences beyond her control, or the result of her own, free volition. One very real and, in this case, very relevant force that would limit the agency of a writer like Xie, is that of censorship. As Tsi-an Hsia tells us, at the time of his writing, “nearly all the important creative works since the May Fourth Movement are inaccessible: either proscribed or out of print” (Hsia 1961, 509), the exceptions being the few who went to Taiwan or who otherwise avoided guilt by association by not remaining in the mainland beyond 1949 (Wang 2000, xvii). Yet, Hsia goes on to note that Writers in general and publishers, however, encounter little interference from the KMT Central Headquarters, the KMT Provincial Headquarters, the Pacification Command, the Ministry of Education, the Ministry of Internal Affairs, the Provincial Government, and various other bureaus, which all seem to have some say in the matter of censorship but which, wisely, seldom exercise their powers. If our writers have not produced many good works, they can at least be proud that they take no orders and that their artistic integrity is in their own hands.” (ibid, 521) Hsia, in what must be regarded as the relatively safe position of mainland émigré, and professor of National Taiwan University, might of course have a certain amount of bias. Native Taiwanese writers, for example, or any of the countless of writers who at one point entered jail due to their publications, might very well have disagreed with his statement. Still, Xie Bingying, on account of being in Taiwan, a mainland émigré herself, might have been considered safe. But, an overview of her publications shows that none of her pre-49 writings were republished in Taiwan, with the exception of Autobiography, and then only with, as will be discussed at length later, considerable revision. Are we then to conclude that her works were on the list of banned items? Was the editing of her Autobiography the result of the publisher or the government mandating certain changes be made? Or did she undertake to self- censor? Tsai Sheng-chi has in her study of the Catalogue of Banned Books (chajin tushu mulu 查禁圖書目錄) (Taiwan sheng zhengfu and Taiwan jingbei zongsiling bu 1982), shown that, as remarked above, the majority of the books banned in the post-war period was by authors
24 who had come to be associated with the Communist “bandits” in the PRC (fu fei 附匪, xian fei
陷匪), regardless of the actual contents of their writing (Tsai 2010). Xie Bingying’s works, despite their clear leftist sympathies, were never banned, 8 but of her earlier works, only Autobiography got reissued in Taiwan, and then only after Xie had gone through significant editing, and removed and/or rewrote substantial amounts of text. Why were her works not banned? It is possible that the KMT assumed her allegiance following her move to Taiwan, and that having any of her works on the list of banned publications would have entailed significant social stigma for Xie, so they did not add her works to the list. It is also possible, and indeed very likely, that Xie never attempted to re-issue any other of her earlier writings, and so the censors never had to confront their contents. While it is possible that in the process of re-issuing Autobiography, censors were involved, there is no evidence to suggest so. Rather, the little evidence that does exist, and which is discussed at length in chapter three below, suggests that Xie’s editing was the result of a mix of self-censorship and her own wish to forget certain parts of her life story. Government censorship, however, is not the only source of outside pressure on authors in the history of modern China. Sung-sheng Yvonne Chang has remarked that There is perhaps no need to elaborate on the illegitimate, coercive, and frequently violent political impositions on Chinese writers in the last half century. However, it must still be stressed that moralists have imposed no less pressure on the writers by frequently criticizing them for indulging in depictions of ‘immoral behavior’ or for failing to fulfill the ‘proper functions’ of literature. (Chang 1993a, 17) Indeed, in what is seen as probably one of the most famous cases of the effects of social and political pressure on a writer in modern Chinese literary history, the criticism by these so-called moralists is equally noteworthy as the official, “state criticism.” The writer Ding Ling,9 we are told, had continuously changed her writing style to fit the demands of increasingly leftist literary politics. First motivated by the criticism of likes of Mao Dun, then by the CCP, Ding Ling went through cycles of criticism and change until eventually the quality of her social-realist work was seemingly affirmed with her being awarded the Stalin literary prize in 1951, only to then again be denounced. When Ding Ling after all of this emerged seemingly even more committed to radical leftism, many seemed dumbfounded. Wang Xiaojue describes the situation well, writing that there was a
8 I am indebted to Tsai Sheng-chi for her kindness in helping me check the catalogue. 9 For an interesting, but much less well-known, case, see my discussion of the Lock of the Heart-controversy in chapter three, in which Xie Bingying appears as one of the moralists.
25 deep perplexity about how such a repressed literary dissident like Ding Ling could reemerge even more enchanted with the Maoist revolutionary discourse, the very ideology that had terminated her literary career and occasioned the most ardent experiences of disenchantment: detention, hard labor, public abuse, and humiliation. After all the ordeals, Ding Ling did not, much to the scholars disappointment, turn into a vanguard against the evil of communist authoritarianism, making testimonies to the historical monstrosity or at least composing some sentimental writings of regret or confession, as did many of her contemporaries.” (Wang 2013, 9) After all, Ding Ling had “lost everything” (Barlow 1989, 43), how could she still remain a convinced believer in the very system which had brought her such harm? Because we wish that people should be subjects in the sense of “free individuals,” the embrace of submission often engenders the kind of reaction seen above. We do not wish that Ding Ling should herself reject her early individualist, “petite bourgeoisie” brand of feminist writing, and subsume herself to the CCP endorsed brand of proletarian cultural production, because we hope to prove the totality of oppression under authoritarianism, and that with its passing, the individual again is free to choose a different path. However, by insisting on this, we ourselves rob these very individuals of the possibility of their agency within these systems of oppression, and make ourselves poorly equipped to understand why and how someone choose to do what they do. The “truth,” as it pertains to the question of agency, probably lies somewhere in the middle. Free subjects (of the first type listed by Althusser) might make a free choice, which might nevertheless cause them to on some level turn them into “subjected beings” (Althusser’s second type). In her study of women nationalists in early modern China, Joan Judge has pointed out that the “appropriation of nationalism does enable women to carve out new subjectivities and act on them in society and polities. While it sanctions the development of such subjectivities, however, it also yokes them to the demands of the larger national project” (Judge 2001, 765- 766). In other words, contingency and agency, or the “subjected being” and the “free subject,” are not as much a question of either/or, but perhaps rather best understood as a sliding scale. Seen this way, the “outside” forces of history, and the “interior” forces of psychology should arguably be understood as fundamentally linked processes. In the words of Hu Shi, “individuals create history, history creates individuals” (geren zaocheng lishi, lishi zaocheng geren 個人造
成歷史，歷史造成個人) (Hu 1928, 111). I argue that in order to understand how the subjects of our study are formed, and the circumstances under which they do so, we should therefore not only look at the supposedly
26 objective outside influences and imperatives like politics or censorship, but also focus how our subjects themselves explain their choices (or, lack thereof). In the words of Joan Scott Experience is … not the origin of our explanation, but that which we want to explain. This kind of approach does not undercut politics by denying the existence of subjects; it instead interrogates the processes of their creation and, in so doing, refigures history and the role of the historian and opens new ways for thinking about change. (Scott 1991, 797) For indeed, how should we frame “change” in the case of Xie Bingying’s writings? When does it occur, and why? The titles of two of the most significant studies of Xie Bingying and change, deserve pointing out. Chang Tang-chi’s article, “On Xie Bingying’s Leftist Beliefs and Later Transformation” (lun Xie Bingying de zuoyi sixiang ji qi zhuanbian 論謝冰瑩的左翼思想及
其轉變) (Chang 2015) and Li Fuze’s “A Female Soldier’s Depression: On Xie Bingying’s Change of Thinking and Its Causes” (Yi ge nübing de xiaochen: Xie Bingying qian hou qi sixiang bianhua ji qi chengyin 一个“女兵”的消沉：谢冰莹前后期思想变化及其成因) (Li 2003), both highlight the presence of change. Implicit in both their studies is that what needs or deserves to be explained is only the later transformation. Her early leftist beliefs are thus granted a kind of authenticity; a more natural condition which seemingly needs no explanation. But, if we are to consider seriously the question of changing beliefs, we should also concern ourselves with how these beliefs originated, the change inherent in acquiring any kind of set of beliefs to begin with (because we can probably be safe to assume we are not born leftists or nationalists). If we accept that post-war Taiwanese culture mandated a rewriting of her Autobiography, should we not ask if May Fourth-culture or Northern Expedition-culture in China mandated the first writing of it? By focusing on descriptions of certain key moments, this thesis will show how Xie frames and explains her actions in ways that suit the shifting political circumstances at the time of her writing any given narrative. To do so, my study of Xie Bingying writings continually places the texts in their contexts, and looks at how Xie herself frames her own actions, and whether she depicts a given happening as her own exercise of free will, or as being compelled by outer forces. By comparing earlier and later writings about a same or similar point in time, we can gain an understanding of how Xie’s life story evolves and changes, and how certain events are re-membered to fit ever-changing circumstances. Through forewords and postscripts, as well as the multitude of other times Xie references her own writing, all itself a part of Xie’s self-representation of herself as a writer, we might uncover how Xie saw her own writing and what influenced it.
27
Together, these three theoretical considerations in the end share a common thread for my thesis. In studying autobiography, my goal is not to treat Xie’s autobiographical writings as a source for the truth about her life, but rather to see how she constructs a story about herself; In studying national memory, my goal is not to try to ascertain certain truths or falsehoods in the memory creation process, but rather to see how this process develops and changes, as viewed through Xie’s writings; and in studying the question of agency, my goal is not to attempt to uncover every instance of outside control over Xie’s writings, but rather how Xie continuously negotiates and renegotiaties her life story as consisting of both willed and forced choices.
28 3: The life and writings of Xie Bingying Below I begin with a short biography of the most important events in Xie Bingying’s life. Then, I give a substantial overview of what is arguably the two most important works of Xie Bingying’s career, War Diaries and Autobiography of a Woman Soldier. I show how the latter has had a complicated, frequently misunderstood and misrepresented publication history, and the implications this has had for Xie’s representation of her life story. Turning then to a literature review, I show how Xie’s later life and move to Taiwan has been virtually ignored in English-language scholarship, and how Chinese-language scholarship has begun to uncover Xie’s early leftism, most significantly perhaps, the discovery of Xie’s connection to the Northern Division of League of Left-Wing Writers. This leads to the questions of how and why Xie Bingying came to move to Taiwan, and why she spent significant effort at “correcting” not only her Autobiography, but indeed her entire life story. Last, I give a brief overview of the translations of Xie’s works, and make some suggestions about their implication for future research.
Biography Xie Bingying, original name Xie Minggang (謝鳴岡), was born in Xietuoshan (謝鐸山),10
Xinhua county (新化縣), Hunan in 1906. Xie presents herself from an early age as a rebellious girl, who often clashes with her parents, especially her mother, in her struggle against the old, feudal world. In 1926, at the age of 20, she enlisted in the newly established women’s unit at Whampoa military academy in Wuhan (wuhan zhongyang junshi zhengzhi xuexiao 武漢中央
軍事政治學校). After her unit was disbanded, she drifted around China, intermittently pursuing studies, including twice in Japan, being expelled from the country both times because of participation in patriotic events organized by Chinese students. She had a strenuous marriage with the writer Fu Hao (符號, in her writings often referred to as Qi 奇), 11 with whom she had her first child, her daughter Fu Bing (符冰). Forced by economic hardship and finally persecution by the government, she left her daughter with Fu Hao’s mother, and except a later attempt at taking her daughter back, they were to be separated for the rest of their lives. Fu Bing,
10 The character 鐸 is normally read “duó,” but Xie’s hometown is consistently referred to as “Xietuoshan” in Xie, Brissman, and Brissman (2001). Since this translation is by Xie’s family members (and consistently uses correct Pinyin for all transcriptions) I have chosen to write it as such in this thesis on the assumption that it might be a special pronunciation used for this place name. This village no longer exists, and information about it is scant, except for its status as the birthplace of Xie. 11 For a study on Xie, her marriages, and her love affairs during the 1930s, see Ke (2009).
29 suffering as the daughter of someone who left for Taiwan, was persecuted into her death at the outbreak of the Cultural Revolution in Beijing in 1966 (Fu 2002, 19). At the outbreak of the Sino-Japanese war, she organized a volunteer aid group of Hunanese women, aiding soldiers at the front, as well as taking part in propaganda efforts run by the Chinese government. During the war, she also met, and eventually married, her second husband, Jia Yizhen (賈伊箴), head of training (xunlian zhuren 訓練主任) at All-China
Christian Association (jidujiao quanguo zonghui 基督教全國總會), with whom she had two sons and a daughter. After the war, she was eventually offered a position at what is today National Taiwan Normal University in Taipei, where she remained until she and her husband left for the United States in 1974. In the year 2000, she died in San Francisco. Throughout her life, she lived through and embodied many of the most often discussed questions regarding women in modern China: the fight against feudal customs (Murthy 2008) and for education (Bailey 2007); the struggle between (or fusing of) romance and revolution (Lee 2007, chapter seven); the question of what happens once Nora leaves home (Eide 1986, 125-127); as well as “solving” one of the ultimate questions which concerned every revolutionary writer: how to turn themselves into “truly useful persons:” by creating social literature, or becoming a soldier (Larson 1991, 8-9): Xie Bingying did both. Xie had originally rushed to fame after the Central Daily Supplement (zhongyang ribao fukan 中央日報副刊) began publishing letters Xie sent from the Northern Expedition to its editor, Sun Fuyuan (孫伏園) in May and June, 1927. The first letter, titled Xingjun riji (行軍
日記) was published in a supplement to the newspaper on May 24th 1927, and, telling of the political climate in which it appeared, immediately followed the fourth part of a text by Nikolai Bukharin, “The Road to Socialism and The Worker-Peasant Alliance” (shehui zhuyi zhi lu yu gongnong lianhe 社會主義之路與工農聯合) (Xie 1927).12 In the letters, later collected and published in 1929 as the book War Diaries (congjun riji 從軍日記),13 Xie writes about her experiences as one of the first female soldiers of a unit in the National Revolutionary Army. The importance of the Northern Expedition, and the unique and unprecedented perspective of Xie as a woman soldier, meant that public interest was large, and the book sold well in China,
12 For a study on the importance of the Central Daily in making Xie a famous writer, see Zhou (2011). 13 Jing M. Wang writes that six letters were published in the Central Daily Supplement (Wang 2008, 169). While six letters are included in the book, only five of the letters were originally published in the Central Daily Supplement.The letter “A Gratifying and Funny Story” (yi ge kexi er you haoxiao de gushi 一個可喜而又好笑 的故事) was added later.
30 and was even quickly translated into multiple languages, including Japanese, French, and English. The Northern Expedition is also what was to give her the name that she came to be known as, Xie Bingying. Having originally tested into the academy under her original name, Xie Minggang, Xie was expelled for protesting the academy’s demand that everyone repeat their tests. At first devastated, her older brother suggested that she test again, but change her name. Xie did so, writing the name Xie Bingying, which would turn out to be the name she has been remembered as in posterity (Xie 1936b, 150-151). In this way, the Northern Expedition came to be an identity-forming event for Xie on several fundamental levels; by affording her the status of “woman soldier” (nübing 女兵) and active participant in one of the most important and mythologized wars in modern Chinese history, and the new name of Bingying, a status and a name she would hold onto for the rest of her life. For indeed, while Xie wrote fiction as well,14 it was her autobiographical writings that caught the interest of most readers and continue to do so today, with Autobiography of a Woman Soldier being the most important work. This work has a somewhat complicated publication history, and the process of its writing, compilation, and various publications are, where it has been referred to, often misrepresented, an unfortunate fact which Xie herself has contributed to. I will therefore outline the publication history of this work below. The first volume of her Autobiography of a Woman Soldier (yi ge nübing de zizhuan 一
個女兵的自傳), was published in 1936 in Shanghai by Liangyou (良友), after a mister Zhao of said company had read some of Xie’s memoirs published in various magazines, and urged Xie to write a full autobiography (Xie 1958, 159). This volume details Xie’s life from her childhood, through her school years, her participation in the Northern Expedition, and up until her leaving for Shanghai in 1928. The second volume of her autobiography, Ten Years as a Woman Soldier (nübing shinian 女兵十年) was finished and published in 1946 by Honglan (紅藍).15 This picks up the story from the first volume, and then continues the narration, detailing her life up until the early periods after the breakout of the Anti-Japanese War in 1937. These two volumes were then combined, considerably rewritten, and published in Shanghai again in 1948 by Chenguang (晨
14 See appendix 2 for a bibliography of Xie’s publications. 15 Jing M. Wang also notes the existence of a “non-circulating copy in Beijing National Library’s a rare-book room” called Yige nübing de zizhuan (Autobiography of a Female Soldier, vol. 2) published in Shanghai by Youyi chubanshe (Wang 2008, 225n46). Unfortunately, access to this book has not been possible for this thesis.
31 光) as the more than 500 page Nübing zizhuan (女兵自傳) (Xie 1948). A final version was published by Lixing (力行) in Taipei in 1956 (Xie 1956). This version was even more substantially revised, with Xie writing that she cut some 140.000 characters out of a total of 360.000 (Xie 1958, 161). 16 The substantial editing of her Autobiography gives us the opportunity to compare how Xie rewrote and tried to re-present her life at various intervals in history. The perhaps two most significant misconceptions about her Autobiography is firstly that the first volume published in 1936 as Yi ge nübing de zizhuan is the same as either the 1948 or 1956 Nübing zizhuan. Some studies refer to her Autobiography as published in 1936 in the text, but then list Nübing zizhuan in their references (most commonly the 1948 edition on which many later Chinese republications is based, although studies in Taiwan will often refer to the 1956 Lixing edition). This should be considered wrong. The 1948 or the 1956 editions of Nübing zizhuan must be considered to be different works. Not only because the 1936 Autobiography is simply the first volume of her autobiography, but because even if just the first part of the 1948/1956 editions is used, there are significant differences between them, as I will discuss at length below. A study of Xie’s autobiographies should for all intents and purposes treat these three publications as separate products of significantly different circumstances. The second significant misconception, and that which Xie herself seems to be the cause of, is the virtual deletion of the existence of the 1948 edition. In the preface to the 1956 Taiwan edition of Nübing zizhuan, Xie writes: In the spring of 1936, the first volume of this book first met with its readers. … In addition to this, some publishers unknown to me published some Chinese and Chinese-English parallel versions in Hong Kong and Shanghai, [in which] they went ahead and changed the name of the book, changed the author, and published it with little regard for copyrights. With respect to the writing, there was inevitably many errors, [because] they mostly used the English version of the book, [but] even though the copyright was breached, the book still unexpectedly got many readers. These past few years, several friends–especially my young friends, have been hoping that I publish this book in Taiwan, but since I have had to take into consideration several difficulties (gudao xuduo kunnan 顧到許多困難), I have never mustered up the courage to have it reprinted;
After I had read several of these “unauthorized printings” (daiyin ben 代印本), I saw there were a multitude of errors in their content, at this I finally decided to straighten out this book, and
16 See appendix 3 for a comparison of the contents in all editions of her autobiography.
32 was willing to give readers a chance to meet with its original appearance (benlai mianmu 本來
面目) (Xie 1956, 女兵自傳台版序) Following this version of history, Barry and Lily Chia Brissman, Xie’s son-in-law and daughter, respectively, write of her autobiography that “the first volume was published in Shanghai in 1936; the second, in Hankou in 1946. Subsequently, the two volumes were combined and published in Taiwan” (Brissman and Brissman 2001, xiii).17 Why did Xie seemingly attempt to hide the 1948 edition of her autobiography? And what were the “unauthorized printings” to which she referred? The first question is only part of one of the larger questions this thesis will discuss, which is how and why Xie Bingying went to Taiwan, and why she spent considerable effort at “straightening out” not only this book, but indeed her entire life story. The 1948 edition of Autobiography, while perhaps less incriminating than the first volume, still contained a lot of content which Xie, and perhaps others, came to see as suspect. Her neglecting to mention the publication of this book might therefore be an attempt to write it off as one of the “unauthorized printings” she refers to. It is likely that what she means by unauthorized printings, is the existence of some books published as Nü pantu (女叛徒) in Chinese in the 1940s, based on the authorized English translation of her autobiography, Girl Rebel. Girl Rebel (1940) was a translation of the first volume of Autobiography, completed by Lin Yutang’s daughters, Adet Lin (Lin Fengru 林鳳
如, also known as Lin Rusi 林如斯) and Anor Lin (Lin Taiyi 林太乙, also known as Lin
Wushuang 林無雙). This book also included some early versions of chapters of what was to become Nübing Shinian, which Xie had given to Adet and Anor for their translation (Xie 1975). Thus, Girl Rebel is itself not what Xie called an “unauthorized printing,” but a translation which Xie herself actively facilitated. However, this book was then published in China as Nü pantu by Minguang (民光) later in 1940 with a Chinese-English parallel text (Xie 1940), then again in 1946 by Guoji (國際) but without the English text (Xie 1946a). In the Chinese text, the section of the book from the first volume simply uses the text from the 1936 Autobiography, although the structure is changed in places to correspond to the English. The additional chapters were translated back
17 Jing M. Wang’s study of Xie Bingying’s autobiographical writings also confuses the publication history of Xie’s Autobiography, writing that “in 1980 Xie Bingying brought her autobiographical project to a conclusion by merging both volumes of Autobiography of a Female Soldier while she resided in San Francisco” (Wang 2008, 187). It is possible that the book to which she refers is a mainland republication of either the 1948 or 1956 editions, but no reference is given for her claim.
33 into Chinese, and probably not given by Xie herself. Close comparison of the Chinese text of these later chapters with either Nübing shinian, or the 1948 or 1956 editions of Autobiography, reveals that while some of the sections are the same line by line in terms of content, the language differs enough that it is very unlikely that they were written by Xie herself. In addition to this, of the unauthorized books which had their names changed, I have found one Chinese-English parallel text book published as The Struggle of a Girl (Yi ge nüxing de fendou 一個女性的奮鬥) published by Shijie wenhua chubanshe (世界文化出版社) (Xie No year given). The book does not include Xie’s name on the title page, but lists Adet and Anor Lin as the English translators, and Lin Yutang as “inspector” (jiaoyue 校閱). Aside from obvious errors in the “centens” (sic, muci 目次) pages, the text itself is the same as the 1940 Minguang edition. There is no information available as to who translated it back into Chinese and whether or not Xie herself was somehow involved in the process, although she clearly denies that. What is probably the case is that Xie, wanting to distance herself from what she increasingly came to see as her problematic past, simply uses the existence of these “unauthorized” publications, to give herself plausible denial in the case of being confronted with an earlier version of her autobiography. The question to be asked then, is why would she seem to have such a strong wish to distance herself from the past? As I have discussed above, the KMT in Taiwan attempted to establish a literary culture that was explicitly Anti-Communist, and as I will show in chapter 4, in Xie Bingying’s pre-Taiwan writings, there is ample evidence of a young Xie engaging in decidedly leftist activities. This contrasts heavily with the kind of activities she engaged herself in while in Taiwan, where she took her place in a decidedly conservative literary establishment. In Taiwan, Xie became a founding member of the The Chinese Women Writers’ Association (zhongguo funü xiezuo xiehui 中國婦女寫作協會, originally established as
Taiwan Provincial Women Writers’ Association Taiwan sheng funü xiezuo xiehui 台灣省婦
女寫作協會). This association had as one of its leading principles to create an Anti- Communist/Three Principles-based literature (Zhongguo funü xiezuo xiehui 2011, 3-4). Their political stance meant that when Guo Lianghui (郭良蕙) published the novel The Lock of the
Heart (xin suo 心鎖) she was not only publicly (and viciously) criticized, but eventually expelled, in a controversy that quickly became one of the most discussed affairs in literary Taiwan (Yu 1963, Lancashire 1985, Ying 2010). The story is centered around a protagonist
34 who becomes involved in a love affair with both her husband’s younger brother, and the husband of her brother’s wife. This “semi-incestuous” relationship eventually leads to the death of both her brothers-in-law, and in the final moment of the book, the protagonist seeks forgiveness in the church (Guo 1985). While the book raised some eyebrows upon its publication, it was only when a couple of other authors publicly attacked the book’s contents that it became one of the hottest topics of the day. And indeed, it was Xie Bingying herself who threw one of the first stones and brought attention to the book’s contents. In a public letter to Guo Lianghui, Xie wrote that Guo “wants a revolution, wants to oppose tradition”18 and that Therefore you [Guo Lianghui] promote incest (tichang luanlun 提倡亂倫), and by borrowing
the voice of the male main character say that humans are just like animals in their need for a sex life, the entirety of The Lock of the Heart describes sexual acts, and thus you get rich. The more this book sells, the more [your] feeling of guilt will grow, do you have the heart to use this kind of dirty money that you have made from sacrificing the futures of numberless amounts of young men and women? (Xie 1963, 3) Guo Lianghui was subsequently expelled from the Women Writers’ Association, on the charge that her writing was “yellow,” i.e. pornographic (黃色) (Lancashire 1985, 485). Yellow was just one of the three colors of yellow, black, and red (huang hei hong 黃黑紅) which came to be symbols of all that the Anti-Communist, Three Principles-based conservative Cultural Cleansing movement opposed. Yellow referred to pornography and decadence; red to the “poison of Communism;” and black to anything deemed immoral or “harmful to the citizens’ mental health” (Cheng 1994, 30-32), often referring to opposition to the government, criminality, or the “underworld.” The events surrounding the controversy might help explain why some women writers in Taiwan chose less controversial paths (while still maintaining some autonomy) until political and social liberalization brought a new era in the late 70s and 80s (Chang 1993). It further provides evidence in support of Sung-sheng Yvonne Chang’s statement that a kind of “autonomously conservative” literary culture had formed, as the events and Guo Lianghui’s expulsion was entirely driven by the literary associations and the members themselves: Her book had passed government inspections, and was banned on the demand of the associations after its publication. Fan Ming-Ju is clear in her judgment of the affair
18 The use of the term “revolution” is here obviously negative, and possible evidence of the ambiguous status of the term at the time. In Xie’s own writings from the same period, revolution is often glorified, but then invariably referring to the Nationalist revolution.
35 Guo Lianghui had lost sight of the fact that, no matter if we are talking about the forgiveness of western religion or the benevolent way of Chinese moral principles (xifang zongjiao de kuanshu huo zhongguo lunli daode de rendao 西方宗教的寬恕或中國倫理道德的仁道), none of them
will tolerate female subjectivity (nüxing zhutixing 女性主體性); no matter if we are talking
about the father above or below, none will pardon divergence from the patriarchy (dui fuquan de guaili 對父權的乖離). (Fan 2002, 61) The extremely harsh reaction from her fellow members in the Association is similar to the type of behavior noted by Yuval-Davis as being typical of older establishment women in conservative cultures, where they often are “empowered to rule what is ‘appropriate’ behavior,” and that because “this is the main source of social power allowed to women, they might become fully engaged in it” (Yuval-Davis 1997, 37). While facing a significant amount of public backlash for its decision to revoke Guo’s membership, the Association itself claimed it was merely following its own ambitions as an association committed to the Cultural Cleansing- movement and fighting decadent literature (Lancashire 1985, 485). Xie Bingying’s involvement in this case is probably the clearest and most striking evidence of her change, and is hard to reconcile with the dominant image of her as a representative of the “May Fourth-generation” and/or radical revolutionary women writers, which is prevalent in most scholarship. Her role in this affair is not mentioned in any English language studies of Xie Bingying,19 where indeed her post-49 life in general has been almost completely neglected.
Literature review As mentioned, Xie Bingying, in particular her autobiographical writings, have been the object of several English-language studies, but none of them give anything more than basic biographical data about her life after she went to Taiwan, if mentioning it at all. Dooling and Torgeson (1998) includes an excerpt from the Lin Yutang translation of War Diaries, and while it does note her early radicalism, they include only one sentence about her life in Taiwan, saying only that she researched Buddhism and Chinese literature. Dooling’s second anthology of Chinese women writers (Dooling 2005b), this time focusing on the time period 1936-1976, includes the short story “The Girl Umeko” (meizi guniang 梅子姑娘), but only says that Xie led a “relatively quiet life” in Taiwan before moving to San Francisco (ibid, 97). It does not
19 Edel Lancashire’s article is the obvious exception, but hers is not a study of Xie Bingying as such, but one where Xie Bingying only appear as one of many actors (Lancashire 1985).
36 mention that The Girl Umeko, the shorty story-collection in which the eponymous short story appeared, was one of the writings she burned after arriving in Taiwan (Chang 2015, 298, Xie 1958, 180). Dooling’s study Women’s Literary Feminism in Twentieth-Century China similarly only treat her pre-Taiwan writings (Dooling 2005a). Li (1992) includes an excerpt from Girl Rebel, and in the introduction notes only that she was a professor at Taiwan Normal University from 1948 to 1971 and collaborated in translating ancient books into modern colloquial Chinese. Some studies on autobiography in modern China feature her (Croll 1995, Ng 2003, Wang 2008), but are again concerned only with her earlier years. Even when considering Xie’s process of “autobiography by installment,” Jing M. Wang does not consider the later editions or “installments” of her autobiography, in which she makes several noteworthy changes. Yip and Tam both use her autobiographical writings in their studies of the self and gender in modern Chinese literature, but only her pre-49 writings (Yip 2010, Tam 2010). Her writings constitute a part of the source material for Christina Gilmartin’s (1995) excellent study on women in the Nationalist revolution, but Gilmartin overlooks the fact that part of that very material was edited or deleted entirely when she republished her works in Taiwan. Louise P. Edwards’ Women Warriors and Wartime Spies of China is currently the only English-language study which utilizes some materials from Xie’s post-49 career, and makes a point out of Xie’s move to Taiwan. However, she does not compare her earlier and later writings, does not discover the major revision of her Autobiography, and in doing so makes a significant mistake. Commenting on Xie’s politics, Edwards writes that “the split in the United Front between the Nationalist Party and the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) that occurred in 1927 would see her placed on the side of the Nationalists despite her disdain for party politics and refusal to belong to any specific party” (Edwards 2016, 73). This is verifiably not true, at least in the immediate context of the breakdown of the first United Front.20 At the same time, it is useful proof of Xie’s success in painting herself as always on the side of the KMT in her later writings. As I will make abundantly clear below, Xie continued to commit herself to a leftist political project at least up until the beginning of the Anti-Japanese War, a full decade after the breakdown of the first United Front which Edwards identifies as the beginning of her allegiance to the KMT.
20 The first United Front (tongyi zhanxian 統一戰線) was a part of Soviet geo-political strategy aimed at uniting different political actors towards the common goal of completing national revolution in China. For a study on Soviet involvement in the first United Front, see Elleman (1995).
37 From the above, it should be clear that there exists a major lacuna in the scholarship on Xie Bingying in the English-language academe. For scholarship on Xie’s later years, and the change in her politics and literature, we have to turn to Chinese-language scholars.
Chinese-language scholarship and Xie’s substantial revisions Chinese scholar Li Fuze should take credit for much of the basis on which later Chinese- language scholarship on Xie Bingying has been made. Since his first article outlining the life of Xie Bingying in 1999 (Li 1999a), he has gone on to write several more articles, most significantly uncovering Xie’s relationship with the Northern Division of the League of Left- Wing Writers (beifang zhongguo zuoyi zuojia lianmeng 北方中國左翼作家聯盟; Beifang
Zuolian 北方左聯) (Li 1999b), and discovering the turn in Xie’s writing in the latter half of her life (Li 2003). The discovery of Xie’s relationship with the Beifang Zuolian bases itself on several memoirs by other writers active in the league, in which Xie is repeatedly mentioned as being one of the founding members.21 In addition to identifying Xie as an important member of the Beifang Zuolian, the question of her status as member of the CCP is also raised, as Yang Qianru writes that “in the beginning of 1931, Xie Bingying participated in a meeting at the Beiping Xinshi Preparatory Office organized by an extraordinary committee (feichang weiyuanhui lingdao xia de Beiping xinshi choubeichu 非常委员会领导下的北平新市筹备处) and was expelled from the party for being [part of the] preparatory clique (choubei fenzi 筹备份子)” (Yang 2009, 413). While her involvement in the Beifang Zuolian is explicitly mentioned by multiple people, there is however currently no other information available concerning her “party” (CCP) membership, and so confirming this has as of yet been not been possible. Another issue Li raises is Xie’s connection to the Fujian People’s Government Government (People’s Revolutionary Government of the Republic of China; zhonghua gongheguo renmin geming zhengfu 中華共和國人民革命政府; 1933-1934). Xie had been in Fujian during its short existence and had personal connections to some of its important higher members. After its fall, the Shen Bao (申報) had carried a list of suspects wanted for involvement in the People’s Government, and Xie Bingying’s name was included on the list
21 The memoirs to which Li refers are collected in Zhongguo shehui kexueyuan wenxue yanjiusuo and “Zhongguo huiyi lu” bianjizu (1982), and Zhongguo zuoyi zuojia lianmeng chengli dahui huizhi jinianguan and Shanghai Lu Xun jinianguan (1990).
38 (Li 1999b, 45). Xie would later both deny her involvement, as well as try to hide some of her activities in Fujian. Using letters between Xie and Wei Zhongtian,22 Li has shown how Xie continued to deny her early leftism, such as participation in the League of Left-Wing Writers and the Fujian People’s Government even in her “private” exchanges with Wei (Li 2003, 79). Notwithstanding the significance of these findings, in 2004, Li wrote that due to the lack of available material from after Xie’s move to Taiwan (Li himself was only able to make use of Chinese republications of Xie’s later writings), there was still much to be done for later scholars (article later collected in Li 2014, 344-345). Zhu Xuchen in her doctoral thesis then utilized the later 1956 edition of Nübing zizhuan, and began to uncover parts of Xie’s substantial rewriting of her autobiography (selection from the thesis included in Zhu 2014). Researchers interested Xie Bingying have since benefitted greatly from the publication of a number on Xie Bingying in the National Museum of Taiwan Literature’s series Compilations of Research Material on Modern and Contemporary Writers in Taiwan in 2014 (Zhou 2014). This volume includes a selection of essays on Xie Bingying, and provides an extensive record of Xie’s publications and studies on her up until 2014. In her master’s thesis from 2014, Lin Mengjun continues Zhu Xuchen’s work by including several works by Xie published in Taiwan. In her thesis, Lin documents more substantially the major changes Xie made to her Autobiography before republishing in Taiwan. Lin argues that a theme that always remains (albeit in some ways turning more conservative) in Xie’s writing, even after her multiple revisions and edits, is a distinctly female consciousness (Lin 2014). Building largely on Lin’s thesis as well as Li Fuze’s earlier research, Chang Tang-chi then published his article “On Xie Bingying’s Leftist Beliefs and Later Transformation” (lun Xie Bingying de zuoyi sixiang ji qi zhuanbian 論謝冰瑩的左翼思想及其轉變) (Chang 2015). In his article, Chang Tang-chi is concerned with presenting the changes Xie made in various editions of her Autobiography, as well as, on the basis of mainland Chinese scholarship, discussing her connection with the League of Left-Wing Writers, and her possible membership in the CCP and her involvement in the Fujian People’s Government. After her move to Taiwan, Chang writes, Xie “gradually moved from radical to moderate (wenhe 溫 和 ), from the
22 Wei Zhongtian (魏中天, 1908-2010) had been friends with Xie since their time in the Wuhan Whampoa academy, both also being students at Shanghai University of Art, and going to Japan at the same time. He was active in the Communist party and in leftist politics since the Northern Expedition, and participated in the establishment of the Fujian People’s Government. After 1949, he occupied various positions in the government, until being sent to Hong Kong in 1980 by the Guangdong Provincial United Front (Qin 2000, "Wei Zhongtian xiaozhuan" 魏中天小传).
39 revolutionary left-wing to the conservative right-wing” (ibid, 296). But is this a fair assessment? What is meant by “moderate” and “conservative” here? As I have argued above, the view of the KMT as exclusively “conservative” should be reassessed. And, as I will show below, while Xie indeed seems to distance herself from the left, equally interesting and important is the continued glorifying of revolution and the rejection of old society as represented by “feudalism.” Thus, the emphasis on “change” and uncritical use of the term “conservative” in Chang’s article arguably neglects the perhaps equally important and interesting continuities.
In considering the reasons for Xie’s substantial rewriting, we can roughly outline three main hypotheses. The first is that the political situation on Taiwan forced Xie to rewrite her life story so as to conform to a KMT-orthodox version of national history. The second is that Xie harbored bitter feelings towards the left, especially the League of Left-Wing Writers, after having been kicked out. The third is that her husband was an ardent Anti-Communist, and Xie attempted to hide her leftist past from him. While all of these are important factors which probably influenced Xie, as simple explanations they all contain certain problems. First, Xie began her rewriting prior to moving to Taiwan, and even if this was occasioned by a closer relationship with the KMT following the War of Resistance, her writings published between 1945 and 1949 still contain much which was eventually removed once she got to Taiwan. Why did she not remove this earlier? Second, Xie remained on the left for several years after she was expelled from the northern chapter of the League of Left-Wing Writers in 1931. While Xie definitely came to publicly reject leftism at some point, it was much later than what would have been the case had it been primarily about bitterness towards the League. Third, Xie and her husband Jia Yizhen met and married during the War of Resistance. Her publications after this, but prior to her moving to Taiwan, still have significant references to her leftist activities. If Jia Yizhen came to exercise a certain control over Xie’s writings, then something must have changed significantly in their relationship after the move to Taiwan. Xie Bingying does address the topic of her substantial revision of her autobiography, but is at best unclear about the exact reason for many of her changes. In “How I Sorted Out Autobiography” (wo zenyang zhengli nübing zizhuan 我怎樣整理女兵自傳), Xie begins by writing I think, after having read this book, there’s bound to be a lot of people calling me a rebel (pantu 叛徒), an oddball (guaiwu 怪物), or say that I’m an improper girl (bu anfen de nühaizi 不安分
的女孩子); certainly there will be a lot of pedants and conservative scholars (daoxue xiansheng
40 道學先生) calling me all sorts of bad names. This makes me extremely sad, but I’m not at all scared. I think: if an innocent and naïve young country girl is going to make battle with more than five thousand years of feudal thought, how could she not transgress some taboos, and meet with criticism from the public? (Xie 1958, 159) Still, Xie thinks her original had many structural problems, so she should “sort some things out.” In total, she writes that she cut 40 thousand characters from an original total of 360 thousand. Some of what she cut, Xie writes, she cut because “affairs have passed, and the situation has changed” (shi guo jing qian 事過境遷), but does not specify exactly what has changed. She does however write that she removed the chapter “A Homosexual Love Dispute” (tongxingai de jiufen 同性愛的糾紛), a fairly innocent chapter appearing in the original version of Autobiography, dealing with love affairs between students at the school she went, because it “carries no benefit for women” (ibid, 160-161). Seemingly the closest we get to Xie admitting she had to edit her works at least partially because of political concerns, is in the introduction to the final “official edition” of her autobiography, the 2001 English translation completed by Xie Bingying’s daughter and son-in- law, Lily Chia and Barry Brissman. They write that Autobiography was eventually published in Taiwan, but the Taiwan edition omitted a number of passages that appeared in the original editions. Evidently, some passages were dropped because of aesthetic imperfections, others because they did not suit the political or moral climate in Taiwan. In our translation we have retained nearly all the original material, excluding only passages that seemed to us (and to the author) to be cumbersome. Ours is the first English translation of the entire autobiography and the last version in any language to authorized by Xie Bingying. (Xie, Brissman, and Brissman 2001, xiii-xiv, my emphasis) Unfortunately, this edition does not help in answering any of the other questions raised, such as Xie’s relationship with the CCP or the Fujian People’s Government. Moving beyond the scholarship above, in chapter four I will cover not only those parts of Xie’s Autobiography which she has edited, but also reread and compare a larger selection of other, so far unnoticed autobiographical writings written throughout her life, and look at how similar events and themes are covered at different points in time. By also utilizing English translations of Xie’s writings, I additionally shed light on so far ignored points in the story of Xie’s life. In doing so, I locate not only the breaks, but also the continuities and contradictions that reveal themselves in her attempt at the creation of a coherent life story.
41 Translations The popularity of Xie Bingying’s autobiographical writings reached audiences in other East Asian countries, as well as in the West. Some interesting questions are raised because of this, for example, her book about her stay in a Japanese jail, and participation in the War of Resistance was quickly translated into Japanese and published in Japan. How did it escape censorship, or how was it changed to suit the censors’ demands? Who was the audience? Its Korean success raises other questions, such as feelings of solidarity between Chinese and Koreans with regards to Second World War trauma and war memory, but also the question of leftist legacy under right-wing authoritarian governments. Was a similar kind of editing process part of its Korean publication? Unfortunately, these questions go beyond the scope of this thesis, but are potentially interesting questions for future researchers interested not only in Xie Bingying, but also inter-East Asian literary culture and practice in general. The various English translations also raise interesting questions. Lin Yutang famously translated her first war diaries into English, as Letters of a Chinese Amazon and War-Time Essays (Lin 1930). The invocation of the mythical race of women warriors is in itself interesting, and telling of the interest that amassed around Xie Bingying as breaker of gender stereotypes par excellence. Then, during the Second World War, her Autobiography was translated into English as Girl Rebel by Lin Yutang’s daughters, Adet and Anor Lin, and published in the US (Xie 1975). It was additionally translated by a mister Tsui Chi and published in the UK as The Autobiography of a Chinese Girl (Xie 1943). These translations joined other translations of Chinese works undertaken during the second world war, that depict the at the time Chinese Allies at war (see for example Xiao Jun’s Village in August). The last translation, and the last published book with which Xie Bingying was personally involved, was also of her Autobiography, and completed by her daughter and son-in-law as A Woman Soldier’s Own Story (Xie, Brissman, and Brissman 2001). This work is interesting for being the first new publication of her Autobiography that uses the original 1936 Autobiography and the 1946 Nübing shinian as its starting points. Of these, Girl Rebel and A Woman Soldier’s Own Story are particularly interesting for this thesis. Girl Rebel contains early versions of chapters later included in Nübing shinian which provides some new information thus far not noted by any previous scholarship on Xie, especially concerning Xie’s relationship with leftist writing, and the fate of her daughter, Fu Bing. A Woman Soldier’s Own Story, on account of being the last authorized version of Xie’s autobiographical project, lead us furthermore to consider what it means for a life story to be “authorized.” Why did a republication of the original versions of volumes one and two of her
42 autobiography only appear in an English translation? Does Xie’s willingness to display the original version of her autobiography which she earlier had spent considerable time revising mean that in her final years she was finally ready come to terms with the entirety of her past? Or did it just seem safer to do so in a foreign language, less likely to be read by those who knew her in Taiwan? The answers to these questions would be speculative, but the questions themselves are important for how we understand the act of self-representation, and how it changes throughout life, and the different functions of a life story after the protagonist’s passing.
43 4: Writing the present, remembering the past: comparisons of events in early and later writings Below, I focus on Xie’s writings about four key periods in her life. Beginning with her childhood and adolescence, I move to her participation in the Northern Expedition, then to her period of “drifting around” following the breakdown of the United Front, and finally the brief, early period of the War of Resistance. By focusing on certain events, places, and people from a wide selection of Xie’s autobiographical writings, I investigate how Xie writes and rewrites, remembers and re-members these, and in doing so reconstructs her life story. My investigation ends with the breakout of the War of Resistance for one important reason. Because the aim of my thesis is to investigate changes and continuities in Xie’s writing, I have chosen this period equivalent to roughly the first thirty years of her life because it is overwhelmingly this period of life which Xie has returned to time and time again in her writing throughout her entire life. Additionally, it is these years which are included in her main autobiographical project, the Autobiography of a Woman Soldier. Constituting arguably the most significant period of identity-formation for both Xie and the KMT, this period moves from the formation of the first United Front and the Northern Expedition, to its breakdown and the subsequent rise of Chiang Kai-shek’s Nanjing faction as the government of the Republic of China. This marked the end of the era in which the KMT was characterized by internal division on the question of whether or not they were open to cooperation with leftist political forces, and the rise of Chiang as unquestioned leader and the KMT as a violently anti-communist force. Xie, as we will see, had to evade the persecution of the KMT government several times on account of their suspicions about her being a leftist. Xie’s activities in the period is thus what cause us to question how she ended up on their side later. In her War Diaries, we are shown quite explicitly her dedication to leftist projects while a soldier in the Northern Expedition. Subsequently, Xie’s participation in the League of Left-Wing Writers, and the writings she produced at this time, show that Xie, in contrast to Louise Edwards statement that she “would see her placed on the side of the Nationalists” following the breakdown of the first United Front (Edwards 2016, 76), was a committed leftist also after the Northern Expedition. Significantly, this commitment did not end after she was kicked out of the League, which is evidenced not only by her writings written in the mid-1930s, but also by how Xie writes about the period in the 1946 Nübing shinian and the 1948 Nübing zizhuan.
44 Additionally, this thesis brings up a so-far relatively neglected aspect of Xie’s life story, that of her relationship with her mother, and with her first daughter, Fu Bing. The thesis shows that Xie, in her descriptions and remembrances of the two, appears increasingly guilt-ridden by how her commitment to independence, writing, and freedom affected her relationship with the two, as she becomes disillusioned about the real prospects of attaining the kind of freedom she wishes for. Xie’s connecting of her “rebellion” and the loss of a real relationship with her mother and first daughter, might be an important part of understanding why Xie became so ardent in her rejection of leftism later in life. Significant events occurred later during the war, where Xie met and eventually married Jia Yizhen, and Xie worked in the national government, meeting people like Zhang Daofan, the architect of the Anti-Communist literary policy in post-war Taiwan. Further investigation into Xie’s life story after the period covered in this thesis would probably also yield interesting findings and is a worthwhile pursuit for later studies. However, because it was her youth which gave Xie her identity to begin with, it was subsequently also the period to which Xie would return when she then tried to reconfigure it later, thus yielding the most interesting site for comparison in the present thesis.
Growing up 1906-1926 Early relationship with family The atmosphere of early autumn seemed even hotter than that of summer, and although the evening’s gentle breeze was blowing in through the paper windows, Fengbaobao (my childhood name) lay in the bosom of her grandmother, covered in sweat. Her skin, which had been beaten with a stick by her mother, was now covered in welts, and her face, illuminated by the silvery white moonlight, was deathly pale and melancholy. (Xie 1936b, 3) Thus begins the story of a young and rebellious Xie who would spend much of her childhood years at conflict with her mother. Switching from this point on into a first-person narrative, the following pages write of Xie’s grandmother telling her about all the sacrifices Xie’s mother went through for Xie, insisting that she loves Xie dearly. Reflecting on this, Xie writes If my mother loves me, why would she then repeatedly beat me? Is her child not a person? Does she not have her own ideas? Should she follow any and all words uttered by adults? These questions continuously lingered in my mind. It is true, I was a mischievous child, I often made my mother angry. My mother could control many people, she could even control the entirety of Xietuoshan’s men and women, young and old, but she could never control me, this mischievous oddball. (ibid, 7-8)
45 Her mother’s controlling personality was in fact so great that Xie writes that “she was the Mussolini (mosuolini 莫索理尼) of Xietuoshan, no matter if we are talking about in our family or in society, she completely belonged to the ruling class” (ibid, 12). This image of her mother contrasts heavily with that of her father, about whom Xie writes that “he was much more loving and caring than our mother” (ibid, 11-12). While Xie’s descriptions of her mother as a stern, controlling figure, and her father as a caring, nurturing one, remain throughout her writing, Xie would gradually come to reappraise her mother’s actions. This development is clear if we compare how Xie wrote about one of the seminal events in her young life, the binding of her feet. In the 1936 Autobiography, Xie writes about how she was terrified of having her feet bound, and begged her mother to please not hurt her, to which her mother responded “I bind your feet because I love you, it is in fact not binding them which would be hurting you. Can you imagine how hard it would be for a girl with large feet to be married?” (ibid, 31). This line of reasoning does not sit well with Xie, who writes that when her mother started to bind her feet, the other women there “were all staring at me smirking, but there was not a single one who sympathized with me, or was moved by the sound of my cries. Alas! They were all in the same group as my mother, they were all my executioners (guizishou 劊子手)” (ibid, 32).
Later, in her autobiography My youth (wo de shaonian shidai 我的少年時代),23 Xie looked back at this moment with ambivalence. She writes about how even though her feet were unbound relatively quickly after she left her home to attend school, her feet still bore the marks of having once been bound: All the way to today, I still feel pain in this pair of feet which my mother once bound…. This pain was given to me by my mother. When I was young, I blamed her, I thought she was too cruel in taking my natural and healthy feet and binding them into deformity. Today, I nevertheless like my small feet, and the reason for this is that because of them, I can daily think about my now passed away mother (Xie 1955, 32). Despite it giving her a physical reminder of a mother who she now missed terribly, Xie still unequivocally denounced the practice. From the day she had her feet bound, Xie continues, she “lost the freedom to walk around barefoot, and started to get a taste of the suffering handed down by the feudal era” (ibid, 34).
23 This was an autobiography of Xie’s life from childhood until the Northern Expedition written primarily for a younger audience.
46 Dorothy Ko has pointed out the importance in understanding footbinding as a woman- to-woman phenomenon, which is corroborated by Xie’s description. Nowhere in her narrative of having her feet bound do we ever hear a man’s voice. Rather, the binder is Xie’s mother, and the spectators are also all women. Xie’s mother presents footbinding as something positive done for Xie, not to her. For women like Xie’s mother, footbinding represented in fact “their agency as individuals,” as bound feet was “the most important aspect of a woman’s beauty that she could have control over” (Ko 1994, 171). Xie herself would reject this argument, along with the marriage system upon which it was based. While the upkeep of neatly bound feet might indeed secure her a “good marriage,” Xie’s quest for agency went beyond the confines of the home. She wanted true freedom, but it was also the quest for this which would eventually completely alienate her from her mother, and for which Xie would end up guilt-ridden for the rest of her life.
Boarding school Part of Xie’s quest for freedom, was her struggle to be allowed an education. When Xie asked to be allowed to go to Datong Girl’s School (Datong nüxiao 大同女校), her mother was opposed to the idea, and it took Xie attempting suicide by refusing food and drink for three days, before her mother finally gave in (1936b, 50-53). Two years later, Xie entered the Norwegian missionary school Yiyang Xinyi Girls’ Middle School (Yiyang Xinyi nüzi zhongxue 益陽信義女子中學) where Xie got her first taste of patriotic struggle. In her Autobiography, Xie writes that she was generally happy with the school, except for one thing, it demanded that the students read the bible and participate in prayer. In the 1936 edition, Xie writes that she “thought this God-thing (shangdi zhe dongxi 上帝這東西) was immaterial (xuwu 虛無), and the idea that ‘all who believe in God will be able to obtain salvation’ was truly a joke!” (1936b, 72). In the 1956 edition, married to the Christian Jia Yizhen, and living under a Christian president in Taiwan, she is far less direct in her criticism, writing instead “I often harbored doubts about the idea that ‘all who believe in God will be able to obtain salvation’” (1956, 32). These private doubts and criticisms of Christianity might not have led to trouble, but soon enough something else would. In May of 1920, Xie and her fellow students wanted to
47 hold a commemoration for the “National Humiliation day” (guochi ri 國恥日) of May 7th.24 They ended up holding a demonstration, shouting the slogans: “Down with imperialism!” “Oppose Christianity (fandui jidujiao 反對基督教)!” “Fight for freedom of expression!” “Join the students’ union!” “Pledge to wipe clean the national humiliation (shi xue guochi 誓雪國恥)!” (Xie 1936b, 75-76) In the 1948 edition, Xie removes the slogan of “Oppose Christianity” (Xie 1948, 58), and in the 1956 edition, she additionally removes the slogan of “Fight for freedom of expression,” but adds the slogan of “Down with the warlords” (Xie 1956, 34). In this way, Xie makes what was a patriotic demonstration which also included other and more general aims, into a purely patriotic one. This re-membering of the demonstration is even clearer in My Youth, where the protest becomes entirely about patriotism, and the slogans are all concerned with “national shame” and anti-imperialism (Xie 1955, 79). Because of the protest, Xie was kicked out of the school, but she remained completely unapologetic, writing I think that standing in for the Chinese people in venting our anger was a good thing. I wanted to let them know that not every single Chinese person would become a flunky of the Westerners (yangnu 洋奴), … I would treasure my human dignity, and even more I would treasure our country! (ibid, 80) While the first instance of this event is characterized both by Xie’s personal opposition to the school’s Christian mission as well as her sense of patriotic duty, her later rendition of the event as seen above makes the conflict purely one of nationalist struggle. The role of the school as a tool of Christian missionary activity is downplayed, indeed almost entirely removed, and instead it becomes representative of imperialist encroachment, and Xie’s and her fellow students’ actions become representatives of the downtrodden Chinese nation, ready to rise against its enemies.
Lesbian love “The word ‘homosexual love’ (tongxing ai 同性愛) was at the time still not a word we knew how to use. But strangely enough, everyone made friends in pairs, and both sitting and standing did not leave each other’s sides, and thus from mutual acquaintance came mutual love, and from
24 National Humilitation day refers to Japan’s forcing of Yuan Shikai’s government to accept a list of thirteen demands on May 7th, 1915. For more on this event, see Luo (1993).
48 mutual love came ‘marriage’. (When they slept in the same bed, we called it marriage) (1936b, 95). So begins the chapter “A homosexual love dispute” in Xie’s Autobiography, a fairly innocent chapter in which Xie tells about how the young girls at school would occasionally fall in love with one another, often leading to jealousy. Xie herself, she writes, was pursued by a miss Sun, writing that at first she felt annoyed, but slowly she warmed and eventually began to have a fondness (haogan 好感) for her (ibid, 96). However, many other girls also “love” her, leading to much jealousy among her suitors. One night, some students forced Xie to sleep in the same bed as a miss Chen (Chen misi 陳密司). Xie did not want to, and spends the entire night wishing to get out, but is also sympathetic to this girl who is in love with her, when Xie herself is not able to reciprocate her feelings (103-107). This chapter deserves pointing out, because it is one of the only chapters whose reasons for removal in the 1956 edition Xie is explicit about. In the essay “How I Sorted Out Autobiography” (wo zenyang zhengli nübing zizhuan 我怎樣整理女兵自傳), Xie writes that she decided to remove it because it “carries no benefit for women” (Xie 1958, 161). As shown by the Lock of the Heart-controversy discussed above, tensions were quite high concerning the “proper” sexual behavior of women, with Xie herself taking the lead in calling out the supposed sexual depravity depicted in the book. Furthermore, as discussed by Wendy Larson, the depiction of “love affairs” between young, female students had long been a topic of concern in modern Chinese literary history, and these anxieties about the nature of female-female love had resulted in “insistent claims that love between women was pure and nonsexual” (Larson 1998, 89). While Xie’s deletion of this chapter happened many years after the outbreak of this debate, we might do well in considering the perhaps still existing anxieties surrounding girl students in post-war Taiwan. Xie, herself a professor at National Taiwan Normal University, might not wish to further fuel any anxieties parents might have about sending their daughters to study, and live, at a school in which they would live together with other young girls.25
25 Qiu Miaojin’s semi-autobiographical novel Notes of a Crocodile (eyu shouji 鱷魚手記), published some four decades later, also dealt with love between female students, and garnered significant public interest and no small amount of controversy after its publication, proof of the time required for this aspect of society to change (Qiu 2006a).
49 Problematic/patriotic student movements If the above chapter got removed for its references that might upset social morals, another chapter that also got removed, points to perhaps even deeper anxieties surrounding the activities of students. A relatively small chapter – “The Beginning of a Life of Struggle” (douzheng shenghuo de kaishi 鬥爭生活的開始) – in the original 1936 edition of
Autobiography is dedicated to Xie Bingying’s “sudden awakening” (jingxing 驚醒) (Xie 1936b, 120): her participation in the student protests following the events of May 30th, or “six-one massacre” (liu yi can’an 六一慘案), on June 1st, 1925. Better known as the “May Thirtieth movement,” it was occasioned by the killing of students by British police during a protest in Shanghai.26 Xie, along with other students, marched to the provincial government’s office, shouting slogans such as “Down with XX imperialism!” (dadao XX diguo zhuyi 打倒 XX 帝國主義)
(ibid, 118).27 “The ‘six-one’ massacre,” Xie writes, “seemed almost as if a bomb (zhadan 炸
彈): it awakened the boiling blood of countless young men and women, and certainly awakened me, a blockhead (hutuchong 糊塗蟲) who only spent her time hiding in the library reading ‘The Sorrows of Young Werther.’” Had it not been for this event, she continues, she might have become “a second Werther” (ibid, 119-120). The invocation of Werther is interesting, and was indeed a common trope among writers of the era. Leo Lee in his study of Romanticism among the May Fourth-generation of Chinese writers has shown how Werther had come to be a symbol of the melancholy and passive individual, whose brooding over their inner life often disconnected them from the world around (Lee 1973, 280). Here, Xie explicitly credits the fervor of the student’s movement in saving her from such a fate, awakening her to the grander struggles of both society and the nation. This chapter is deleted from the subsequent editions of her Autobiography. While the chapter is free from any overtly leftist imagery, the May Thirtieth-movement itself was quickly capitalized on by the left to organize strikes, and became an important event in CCP historiography (van de Ven 2003, 114),28 probably leading to Xie’s removal of this potentially sensitive event in both later editions.
26 Xie’s reason for referring to it as the “six-one massacre” rather than the much more well-known “May Thirtieth-movement” was probably due to the fact that the protests only reached Changsha on June 1st. See Xie, Brissman, and Brissman (2001, 46). 27 Two characters are replaced with Xs in the text itself, probably evidence of censorship in the Shanghai press at the time of its publishing. There is no information on what got censored. 28 Note however also Hung-Ting Ku’s study of the movement which focuses on the KMT’s involvement in the affair (Ku 1979).
50 The chapter is furthermore important because it marks the real beginning of a fundamental issue that remains throughout her autobiographical writings: her life as an individual, with romantic feelings and personal issues, versus her life in and for the nation or the revolution. For Xie, these are often constructed as being in opposition, with her often having to undertake personal sacrifice to further her revolutionary work, or vice versa. As mentioned briefly in my discussion on autobiography in China above, women writers were often criticized for being overly sentimental in their writing, and in this chapter we see how collective action becomes a tool for Xie to escape her “Wertherian melancholy.” This strategy becomes important when Xie eventually leaves school to join the national revolution and finally transform into a “woman soldier.”
The Northern Expedition 1926-1927 My youth was filled with suffering, poverty, depression, and hurt; but there was one period which made my outlook on life change greatly, which made my life filled with vitality and radiance, and that was my time in the military. 1926 was the year in which the Northern Expedition was to finish, it was an era in which all warlords were to encounter complete annihilation, and all the youths of the entire country were ready to throw themselves into the great furnace of the revolution, and give their lives for country and nation (xianshen guojia minzu 獻身國家民族). (Xie 1966, 40) So begins Xie’s description of her military days in the memoir collection My Memories. Her time in the military is indeed the one event in her life which Xie would return to the most throughout her writings, and which she would remember the most fondly. The experience allowed her to write War Diaries, which secured her lasting fame in the literary world, and gave her the eternal status of “woman soldier.” In Taiwan, it allowed her to claim a place in what became one of the most important nationalist myths of the KMT. However, it is also probably the event which Xie took the most care in rewriting, because, as her early writings show clearly, her participation in the Northern Expedition reveals some of the most fundamental issues in the KMT’s use of it in their party mythology, as well as Xie’s early dedication to what was now the arch-enemy of KMT ideology.
Awakening consciousness – Deciding to join the military I believe that of Xie’s motives for joining the army, two were the most important. The first is a growing radicalism, spurred on by her brothers and society at large, which gives Xie motivation to join the revolution (both for nationalist and leftist reasons). The second is to escape from her
51 arranged marriage. In general, (leftist) revolution is given more attention in the earlier writings, while nationalism and escaping arranged marriage are granted more importance in later memoirs (which without exception avoid overt references to leftist imagery altogether). In the 1936 edition of Autobiography, her entry into the army is covered in the appropriately named chapter “Going to Join the Army!” (dang bing qu 當兵去).29 In the chapter, Xie, again feeling dejected because of a love affair, is criticized by her brother, who suggests that rather than reading sentimental literature, she should be reading revolutionary literature instead, and thus He showed me The ABC of Communism (XX zhuyi XX 主義 ABC),30 Rudimentary Introduction
to Socialism (shehui zhuyi qianshuo 社會主義淺說), as well as some books about social science and revolutionary theory. As I began to show interest in these, the shadow that remained in my mind slowly faded, and the topics of my writing also changed. Because I lived in the countryside and had many opportunities to get close to farmers, I started writing about their lives, and their suffering, and published them in the Tongsu Ribao (通俗日報), which was edited by my third older brother. (Xie 1936b, 132) A comparison with the later 1948 and 1956 versions yields some interesting and significant findings. Exactly the same as in the 1936 edition, Xie is criticized for her reading sentimental literature, and her brother suggests that she instead read revolutionary literature in both the 1948 and 1956 editions. But, in the 1948 edition, she writes that he then showed her “some books about social science and revolutionary theory (shehui kexue, geming lilun fangmian de shu 社
會科學，革命理論方面的書)” (1948, 99). In the 1956 edition, Xie changes it even more, writing that He started to show me books related to new literature and art (xin wenyi fangmian de shu 新文
藝方面的書). As I began to show interest in these, the shadow that remained in my mind slowly
faded. I often wrote some simple pieces on those living in the mountains (shanju xiaopin 山居
小品) and published them in Tongsu Ribao which was edited by my third older brother, sometimes he would help me revise a few words, other times he didn’t even change one character. (Xie 1956, 48)
29 This chapter was first published in Lin Yutang’s magazine, Cosmic Wind (yuzhou feng 宇宙風) (Xie 1936a). It is identical to the chapter in the 1936 edition of her autobiography. 30 Censorship meant that the characters 共產 were removed. It is translated as “Communism” in both the explicitly authorized translations Girl Rebel (54), A Woman Soldier’s Own Story (51), as well as Tsui Chi’s translation The Autobiography of a Chinese Girl (92).
52 Most obviously, the references to leftist literature is drastically changed, but equally interesting is how she no longer writes that she wrote about the suffering of farmers for her brother’s newspaper, but rather, simply about “those living in the mountains.” Land reform and farmers were important to the KMT too, and land reform was quickly and relatively successfully undertaken in Taiwan (Lin 2016, 183), but Xie apparently thought that her original phrasing needed change nevertheless. This might be indicative of how the topic of farmers and rural life had become so politicized and identifiable with the CCP (who were busy creating their proletarian and rural literature in the PRC) by the time of Xie’s 1956 editions, that even the mere mention of writing with concern for the suffering of farmers had become potentially suspect.31 Instead of thus being about Xie’s political awakening, the event is turned into an important turning point in Xie’s life as a writer. And indeed, joining the military as a means to further her writing career was one of the reasons her second older brother had for suggesting that Xie enlist. Her second older brother was instrumental in convincing Xie to enlist in the army when the academy announced they were taking in girl cadets. Her third older brother was against Xie enlisting, saying that she would not be suited for military life. But her second older brother disagreed, saying that the army would not only change her for the better, but that it would provide material for her writing (Xie 1936b, 132-133, Xie 1966, 40). The connection between writing, revolution, and love was a topic of particular importance to many in the post-May Fourth era. Especially for women, dedication to revolution might not only make their writing “legitimate,”32 it might also save them from otherwise unsafe, broken, or unwanted love. Bai Wei (白薇), Xie’s contemporary, was also in Wuhan during the Northern Expedition, and she had come there to dedicate herself to revolution after being betrayed by her lover (Wang 2004, 96). For Xie, who had her romantic agency robbed by the hands of her parents who had arranged her marriage, this was a crucial motivator. Considering her motivation for joining the military, Xie writes As for myself, there’s no need to even say it, even if [my brothers] were both opposed to my going, I would still leave! This winter, my mother was going to force me to marry, and if I
31 See for example Sung-sheng Yvonne Chang’s description of the post-war literary culture. She writes that writers “consciously or unconsciously modified those realistic conventions that might have been offensive to the dominant culture of the post-1949 Taiwan: revolutionary and proletarian themes were taboo, and references to class-consciousness were also to be avoided” (Chang 1993a, 21, my emphasis). 32 I have already mentioned in my introduction the prevalent critique of women writers as being “too sensitive” or not concerned enough about the “outside” world. Compare also with Rey Chow’s apt summary of the typical male criticism of women writers: “In the ‘public’ realm of Chinese letters, the presence of guixiu qualities becomes regarded as the limitations of the woman writer: she does not write enough about ‘important’ matters; she is too confined to the domestic world of feminine sorrow, etc” (Chow 1993, 92).
53 wanted to escape this crisis (nanguan 難關), I had no alternative but to leave Changsha! (1936b, 133) Xie continued to reflect on the opportunity granted to her by the military academy, and how she was sure she was not the only one who had similar motivations I believe, when it comes to the motives of the women who chose to join the military at that time, eight or nine out of ten did so in order to break away from the oppression of the feudal family system, and to search for their way out. However, when they put on their uniforms, when they got their hands on their rifles, their thinking changed. At that time, who did not take up the task of the liberation of the suffering of billions (shi er wan wu qian wan 二萬五千萬) of peoples in the world? (Xie 1936b, 134) So, while the original goal was the liberation of the self from the confines of the feudal family, this goal quickly became that of liberating not only China, but indeed the entire world from oppression. While this remains as in the original in the 1948 edition, in the 1956 edition, Xie no longer allows herself this kind of language. The last sentence instead becomes “at that time, who did not take up the task of completing the revolution, and creating a rich and strong Republic of China (fuqiang de zhonghua minguo 富強的中華民國)?” (Xie 1956, 49). Thus, while in the 1936 edition the Northern Expedition is painted as if a part of a much grander story of the liberation of the entire world (as the Comintern might have wished for),33 it becomes purely a national one in the 1956 edition, in accordance with the KMT’s preferred view of this crucial event.
(Inter)national Revolution Having decided to enlist in the army, Xie, along with her fellow potential cadets, take the train from Changsha. Aboard the train it is crowded, there are no seats, and no windows either. Feeling dejected, someone begins singing The Internationale, “Arise, ye prisoners of starvation! (起來，飢寒交迫的奴隸)
Arise, ye wretched of the earth!” (起來，全世界上的罪人) (Xie 1936, 135) The account of the train remains unchanged, but when it comes to the singing, in the 1948 and 1956 editions, Xie simply writes that they began singing (Xie 1956, 50, Xie 1948, 102).
33 I have already mentioned Hans van de Ven’s point that the Northern Expedition was influenced by Soviet geo- political strategy (van de Ven 2003, 129), but see also Alexander Pantsov’s study on the Bolsheviks’ efforts in the Chinese revolution Pantsov (2000).
54 Beginning her entry into the army by singing The Internationale signals the highly leftist atmosphere of the Wuhan-era, and is unsurprisingly removed. From the 1956 edition, she also removed another five-page chapter from her time in training camp, written under the title “Bloody May” (xie de wuyue 血的五月) in the 1936 edition. It is an account of the retaking of the British Concession at Hankou, which would perhaps not be problematic, except the fact that she writes that among those who had come to “the revolutionary centre of Hankou” were representatives of the International Workers Delegation (guoji gongren daibiaotuan 國際公認
代表團) and leaders of the Peasants’ Revolution, all happily shouting the slogan “Long Live the World Revolution” (Xie 1936b, 178). While Anti-Imperialism was an important core-tenet of KMT nationalist ideology, and Anti-Imperialist struggle would not be problematic in itself, as we saw above when discussing Xie’s staging of a demonstration while in missionary school, it does become problematic when it gets connected to a more leftist variety as described above.
Love and revolution Free from the confines of their feudal families, Xie and the other cadets found new romantic freedoms in the military, but instead of embracing these, Xie and her fellow cadets doubled down on their revolutionary goals, and set out to “destroy the dream of romantic love” (dapo lianai meng 打破戀愛夢), In the chapter thus titled, Xie opens with the song they were taught in the academy: Be quick to train, be quick to drill, and diligently become a pioneer of the people, Overthrow the feudal system, destroy the dream of romantic love, Complete the social revolution (shehui geming 社會革命), great womankind! (Xie 1936b, 165) On first glance, given that revolutionary imagery is present throughout Xie’s writing, we might not expect this to raise any eyebrows. Nevertheless, in both 1948 and 1956 editions, “social revolution” is rewritten to “people’s revolution” (guomin geming 國民革命). Indeed, the chapter is fraught with references to revolution, many of which Xie painstakingly rewrites so as to reframe the entire revolutionary atmosphere as one dedicated entirely to the nation, leaving no conceivable doubt as to where Xie’s allegiance belonged. Xie writes that during the spring, all sorts of romantic seeds were sprouting, but she and the other cadets did not act on this. Rather, “they rejected their previous narrow idea of love, and replaced it with the love of the suffering and oppressed masses (qunzhong 群眾), with the love of comrades!” The few who did form romantic relationships, did so on the basis of
55 “revolutionary comrade love” (geminghua de tongzhi ai 革命化的同志愛) (1936b, 166). In the 1948 and 1956 editions, the general idea is the same, but in terms of wording it is changed in some interesting ways. Now she writes instead that the cadets “rejected their previous narrow idea of love, and replaced it with the love of the country, and the love of the nation!” (1956, 66). This kind of discourse of the “masses,” and specifically the use of the Chinese word qunzhong (群眾) is one of the most notable and consistent changes between the 1936 edition of her Autobiography and the later editions. In both the 1948 and the 1956 editions, this word is almost always rewritten as minzhong (民眾), or in some cases like the above, “nation” (minzu
民族). While both qunzhong and minzhong would be translated as “the masses” or “the people” in English, it is obvious that for Xie the term qunzhong has become troublesome, or how else would we explain her persistent swapping of it for the term minzhong? We might instead ask whether it is qunzhong which has become troublesome, or rather minzhong which has become preferable. If it is the first, it is possible that the leftist discourse of the “masses” had come to overwhelmingly adopt the term qunzhong, making the term a suspect one. If it is the latter, it might be the case that the positive connotations of the character min (民; people) in a political discourse based on Sun Yat-sen’s Three Principles of the People
(san min zhuyi 三民主義) that Xie adopted the term to signal her allegiance. Of course, one might make the case that this is a relatively inconsequential word, and that it might not mean much at all, that it might be a simple stylistic difference. This might be the case, but seeing as how virtually every instance of qunzhong is replaced with minzhong, one is led to believe that these two terms had become important, even if for no one else than Xie herself, in negotiating a discourse which gave credence to, and sometimes even glorified, the “masses,” without risking coming across as leftist.
Women and the revolution For Xie, it is clear that women hold a special place in the revolution, and that her group of 200 women cadets have a special mission in front of them. In one of the chapters in War Diaries, titled “To my fellow women cadets” (gei nütongxue 給女同學), Xie addresses herself directly to all the women at the training camp. This chapter is significant not only because of its original contents, but because it is the only chapter from War Diaries which was ever reprinted in Taiwan, when it was included in The Letters of Bingying (1991) as “A Letter From Half a
56 Century Ago” (banshiji qian de yi feng xin 半世紀前的一封信).34 In the original, as it appeared in War Diaries, the letter opens by writing Dear comrades: Now we have officially put on our battle outfit, and we are ready to tread immediately upon the road of revolution, our lives will be given to the party and the masses, our red hot blood is prepared to be shed for the sake the countless tens of thousands of suffering masses! (Xie 1933a, 111, my emphasis). In The Letters of Bingying, it opens similarly, but with interesting rewriting Dear comrades: Now we have officially put on our battle outfit, and we are ready to tread immediately upon the road of revolution, our lives will be given to the country and the nation, our red hot blood is prepared to be shed for the sake the countless tens of thousands of suffering masses! (Xie 1991a, 3, my emphasis) Here we should notice at least two things: the mentioning of “the party” (dang 黨), and then the rewriting of this into “country and nation.” Who is the party to which Xie refers? Our suspicions might be raised when Xie chooses to delete this reference in the 1991 version of this letter, but, if we continue further with our investigation, the reference only becomes more intriguing. Mister Zhongshan (Zhongshan xiansheng 中山先生; Sun Yat-sen) has said that because the Chinese population cares only about individual liberty, and does not care about the group (bu guji tuanti 不顧及團體), foreigners say that China is like a sheet of loose sand. He has furthermore said that only when the group obtains freedom, the individual can also be free. Mister Moruo (Moruo xiansheng 沫若先生; Guo Moruo) has some wise words: ‘Each one of
us is like a scattered piece of metal, and we should take these scattered pieces and melt them together in a great furnace.’ (Note: the general idea is like this, I forgot the original text) [sic] What is meant by this is that we have to sacrifice our individual freedom, our individual aspirations, and seek freedom for the group, seek the unification of the entire group’s aspiration. Dear sisters, our lives have been given to the party, so we must follow party discipline, our academy was established at the command of the party, and so we have to follow all its strict rules. (Xie 1933a, 115) We note first the introduction of Sun Yat-sen, the most revered figure in the KMT. Then, the introduction of Guo Moruo complicates matters. Guo Moruo would be second perhaps only to Lu Xun in the list of literary figures despised by the KMT, and here they appear not only side
34 It is also possible that the “letter” had been reprinted earlier, as many of her memoir collections, and this letter collection in particular, contain content which had appeared before in magazines or newspapers in Taiwan. It is nevertheless to the best of my knowledge still the only portion of War Diaries made available to readers in Taiwan.
57 by side, but Guo Moruo’s words are praised by Xie Bingying. It should come as no surprise, then, that the version appearing in The Letters of Bingying is substantially rewritten: Our great leader, premier Sun Yat-sen35 has once said: because the Chinese population cares only about individual liberty, and does not care about the group, foreigners say that China is like a sheet of loose sand. He has furthermore said that only when the group obtains freedom, the individual can also be free. Dear sisters, our lives have been given to the party, so we must follow party discipline, our academy was established at the command of the party, and so we have to follow all its strict rules. (Xie 1991a, 5-6) Thus Sun Yat-sen becomes the “great leader,” and Guo Moruo is completely removed. However, equally interesting is that now the reference to the “party,” unlike earlier when it was presented without a clear referent, is allowed to stay. Now directly following the words of Sun Yat-sen, the “party” seems immediately and unquestionably to refer to the KMT. The letter then continues to outline what the goals of women’s participation in the revolution is. In both versions, Xie criticizes the earlier women’s movement for their overemphasis on the single issue of political participation (canzheng yundong 婦女參政運動), writing that this movement was only by and for women who wanted to selfishly better their own positions. What should a real women’s movement base itself on? In War Diaries, Xie writes that “what we mean by ‘women’s liberation’ is that all oppressed women should break away from the vicious dictatorship of feudal and capitalist society (ziben zhuyi shehui 資本主
義社會” (Xie 1933a, 120). In The Letters of Bingying, this is modified, and she writes instead that “our revolution will save all oppressed women from feudal and imperialist society” (Xie, 1991a, 9). What I argue we should take particular notice of here, is not just the more obvious deletion of the reference to capitalism as something women needed to be saved from. Rather, the continued reference to feudal society as something which should be criticized, and the emphasis on the saving of women from its oppression is equally remarkable when keeping in mind the idea of the KMT as essentially concerned with conservatism and traditional society. The 1991 version of the letter only appears less radical when closely compared to the original, and still gives a clear view of a young woman’s revolutionary zeal. In ending the letter, the fundamental difference between leftist and nationalist revolution becomes even clearer. In War Diaries, Xie ends her letter by writing Sisters! Our academy has used the blood and sweat of the workers to give us all sorts of items, from large things like our quilts and clothes, to small things like needle and thread. Having been
35 In Xie’s post-49 writings, any reference to Sun or Chiang is always preceded by a double space, like this: 我們 偉大的 總理孫中山先生. The significance of this double-spacing convention is still unknown to me.
58 nurtured like this, we should strive hard so as to not be unworthy of the blood and tears of the toiling masses! We should strive, so as not to let down our grand mission of liberating women so they can participate in the revolution! (Xie, 1933a, 121) In The Letters of Bingying, we again become witness to Xie’s switch of discourse, and reframing of things in terms of the nation: Our academy has used the financial resources of our country (guojia de caili 國家的財力) to
foster us, everything from clothes, food, lodging to travel (xing 行) has been provided by the academy, from large things like our quilts, to small things like needle and thread, it has all come from the fat and wealth of the people (minzhi mingao 民脂民膏). We should strive not to let down the hopes of the people, and only then can we undertake the grand mission of participating in the people’s revolution (guomin geming 國民革命)! (Xie, 1991a, 9) To readers of Xie’s War Diaries, this letter is sure to have impressed upon them the image of a Xie Bingying dedicated wholeheartedly to a revolutionary project of a leftist nature. The denouncement of capitalism and the constant references to the suffering and toiling workers and masses are instrumental in creating such an aura. To readers in Taiwan, “A letter from half a century ago” is still striking for its revolutionary fervor and its glorifying of the struggle of women’s liberation, but the language in which the revolution is framed is now entirely one of the nation. Perhaps Xie’s own memory of the spirit of the letter is instructive in telling us how it had come to be remembered. In My Memories, she writes about the letter, saying that “I wrote a letter to my fellow women cadets before we were setting out, it was a letter filled with revolutionary zeal, and it urged everyone to weaponize their emotions (ba ganqing wuzhuang qilai 把感情武裝起來), and to sacrifice their lives for the country” (Xie 1966, 146). In this way, a past in which Xie and her fellow women cadets fought for the masses and the workers, has been re-membered as one in which their primary fight was for the sake of the nation. The discrepancy between the two becomes even clearer if we compare additional sections of her War Diaries to her later memoirs.
What is the revolution? One particular chapter of War Diaries provides sufficient evidence, if any more was needed, that the Northern Expedition as experienced by Xie and her fellow cadets at the academy, was of a fundamentally leftist character. In the chapter “A note at the end” (xie zai houmian 寫在
後面), Xie writes about one of the experiences she remembered the most fondly from her time in the military academy:
59 “It was when we greeted Leader Bao (bao lingxiu 鮑領袖) and the International Workers Conference [English in original]. With great banners filled with slogans flowing in the wind, and the majestic sounds of military music greeting the head of the Proletariat [English in original]. More than ten thousand brave, young revolutionary pioneers were standing orderly and sternly, listening respectfully to the voices coming from the speakers on the stage. Ah! The sound of clapping hands shook the ground like thunder, and the screaming of slogans made all the air in the universe revolutionary. At that time, each one of us were raising our hands high, shouting loudly: ‘Complete the World’s Revolution!’ ‘Down with the International Imperialism!’ ‘Down with white terror!’ ‘Down with all the counterrevolutionists of China, of the world!’ ‘Long live Proletariat!’ ‘Long live …!’ [Slogans all in English in original] Our pledges were so firm: ‘Our bodies and our souls are ell entrusted to the party and the masses’ ‘We have no home, Party is our home’ [English in original] ‘We have no brothers and friends, but the comrades, workers and farmers are our brothers and friends.’ [English in original] ‘We have no lives, our lives have already been given to the suffering masses. They need for us to go shed blood, to go sacrifice, we shoulder a great mission on our way forward!’ Friends! Do you still remember all this? (Xie 1933a, 71-73) From the above, which is but a short selection from War Diaries, it should be clear that as of Xie’s writing this, she was at the very least in the left faction of the KMT, but seeing as this had been almost annihilated by the time of the book’s publication, it is even more likely that Xie saw herself as belonging to an even more leftist opposition. How could Xie possibly reconcile this past with her move to Taiwan? How could she make sense of this event as part of the life story of someone who now pledged her allegiance to the KMT? How could she rewrite what was to the KMT so obviously a heretic personal history and role in one the foundational events in their party’s history? First, we must note, of course, that with the exception of the above “A Letter From Half a Century Ago,” no other part of War Diaries was ever republished in Taiwan. The rest of the book, which contains frequent references to leftist rhetoric, and multiple depictions of executions of landlords and other activities of the peasant revolution,36 would have to have been so fundamentally rewritten as to render it an entirely different book, should it ever be republished in Taiwan. Instead of the writing about the leftist celebrations of “Bloody May,” or the greeting of the International Workers Conference, in her later memoirs, the place of the KMT and Sun Yat- sen’s Three Principles of the People (sanmin zhuyi 三民主義) are given a much bigger place.
In the chapter “The First Lesson for a Woman Soldier” (nübing di yi ke 女兵第一課) from My
36 See for example the excerpt from War Diaries in my introduction.
60 Memories, a memoir from 1966, Xie recounts one of the songs they sung at the academy, except this time it was not The Internationale: The three principles of the people, steadfast to the end, the guide of the people’s revolution, overthrow monarchism (junzhuzhi 君主制), build the republic, unite the oppressed nation,
diligently support one another, complete the people’s revolution, great pioneers (xianzhi 先知)! (Xie 1966, 52) The importance of the party is then emphasized further. At one of the entrances to the academy hung a couplet which read “the blood of the martyrs” (xianlie zhi xue 先烈之血) and “the flowers of our doctrine” (zhuyi zhi hua 主義之花), forming the sentence “The blood of the martyrs become the flowers of our doctrine.” What is meant by doctrine, “does not need to be explained,” writes Xie, then immediately explaining that it is “the doctrine of the Three Principles of the People, as advocated by premier Sun [Yat-sen]” (ibid, 53). Xie even recounts how in their classes on the Three Principles of the People, everyone was extremely interested, and day and night in our minds we were looking forward to the realization of a society based on the Three Principles; just imagine, equal land ownership, the control of capital (jiezhi ziben 節制資本), the implementation of ‘land to the tiller’ (gengzhe you qi tian
耕者有其田), how ideal of a society would that be, everyone would have freedom, everyone would be able to be equal, men and women would all enjoy the joys of life, and no longer have the burden of feudal thought pushed upon them, how wondrous would that be! Pitiful women, in the past they had to lead inhuman lives, only the slaves or accessories of men. They did not have freedom, could not have economic independence, we really have to be thankful to the Father of the Republic (guofu 國父) [Sun Yat-sen], he opened a bright road for us women, and
ever since we can have independent personalities (renge duli 人格獨立) and free thought, we can do the same as men, and take all of our wisdom and talent, and contribute to our nation, and seek the welfare of society. (ibid, 55-56) So great was the invocation of the KMT revolution, that when one of her fellow cadets begun crying because she felt homesick, an instructor shouted at her that “revolutionaries only shed blood, not tears!” The cadet promptly dried away her tears, and joined Xie and the other cadets in song, “the Three Principles of the People, forever steadfast, the guide of the people’s revolution” (ibid, 56-57). As far as I can find, there is no mention of The Three Principles of the People in anything Xie wrote prior to arriving in Taiwan. Writing in March of 1976, almost a year after the passing of Chiang Kai-shek, Xie again remembers her time at the military academy. Thousands of male and female cadets were lined
61 up to listen to a lecture by the principal, none other than Chiang Kai-shek himself. Chiang said, according to Xie, that The revolution does not discriminate between man and woman or old and young, the purpose of the military academy recruiting women at this time, is firstly to awaken the half of our nation which is our women compatriots, and to together take part in the Northern Expedition; and secondly it is to put women to the test, to see whether in terms of physical strength and ability they are the same as men; and third and most importantly, to see if they possess the spirit to struggle and sacrifice, and to face bitterness and persevere. You have all read history, the women of the past who have made sacrifices for the nation, such as Qin Liangyu (秦良玉) of old, and
Qiu Jin (秋瑾) of recent times, their examples are many, I don’t need to mention more. You all have to recognize what the purpose of joining the army is, that it is not to be like the warlords, to be out for power and money (shengguan facai 升官發財), to occupy territory, and expand one’s private power. The Father of the Republic, mr. Sun Yat-sen has told us: The purpose of the people’s revolution, is to seek freedom and equality for China, to eliminate the warlords inside, to overthrow imperialism outside, and to unite the nations of the world who treat us as equals, and together struggle! (Xie 1991b, 1) Turning his attention to the female cadets specifically, Chiang admonished them, saying that as pioneers for women in the revolution, they were “models for China’s 200 million women,” and that the future of women’s liberation was their great responsibility. Xie writes that Chiang’s speech profoundly moved her, and that ever since there has not been a day where she has not remembered his words. “Had [Chiang Kai-shek] not had such an enlightened, special, and far-reaching vision by letting us participate in the Northern Expedition” Xie writes, women would not have been able to help the revolution, nor would they have “set international precedent for women’s military participation” (ibid, 2). Keeping this praise and admiration in mind, it is therefore interesting that just like with the Three Principles of the People, I am not able to find Chiang Kai-shek’s name in anything she published before arriving in Taiwan. What we should note in the veneration and praise of both Chiang Kai-shek and Sun Yat- sen above, is how the two are rewritten as the architects of Chinese women’s liberation from feudal society. Let us compare this depiction of the KMT with Chen Fangming’s statement that “the oppression of women under feudal patriarchy … became [a forbidden topic] during the height of the period of martial law” (Chen 2007, 45). Clearly, Xie’s writings is at odds with this statement. It should be noted that it is one thing for Xie to write what she did, and another entirely to take this to mean that the KMT was actually a great, feminist party, a claim I do not
62 make. Rather, what I think deserves pointing out here is that Xie’s attempt at painting the KMT as the liberators of Chinese women is fundamentally at odds with the dominant image of the KMT as conservative in the area of gender politics. In Xie’s remembering of the party they are depicted as anything but, which I argue is evidence for KMT’s view of itself as a force of modernization, an aspect of the party which has been neglected by the constant painting of it as the “traditionalist Other” of the radical CCP.
Getting disbanded The splendor of life in and for the (national) revolution was however to be short-lived. A week after returning from the front, Xie and the other cadets were called for assembly. In the 1936 edition of Autobiography, Xie writes how she and the other cadets listened, confused, as their company commander told them “because the reactionary forces (fandong shili 反動勢力) are too strong, because we need to preserve the strength of our revolution, the current circumstances force us, and we have no alternative but to temporarily disband.” Xie and her fellow cadets then listened, shocked, as he continued Of course, this is not because we are afraid, it is not that we are not resisting, no matter what we will always struggle until the end. Those of you whose bodies are fit, who are able to run, follow the Eleventh Army as they set out. If not, return to your homes, and endure temporarily, for in the not distant future, we might be leading much happier, much freer lives! Now, every person will receive ten yuan, tomorrow you should quickly use them on new clothes and makeup (huazhuang 化妝), you cannot wear your uniforms (lit. “grey clothes,” huiyi 灰衣). (Xie 1936b,
214) What had happened is that the first United Front had broken down, and the Wuhan government led by Wang Jingwei (汪精衛) which had cooperated most strongly with the CCP, was beginning to lose out to Chiang Kai-shek’s Nanjing-based government. The reader is left to infer who the “reactionary forces” are supposed to be, a reference that would be probably as clear to them as why it was suddenly imperative that they now dress in civilian clothing, and start wearing makeup: their fates under Chiang Kai-shek’s government would be far from secure. About the horrific treatment revolutionary women were in danger of falling victim to, Elisabeth Croll writes: Their most immediate problem was one of survival. In the ‘anti-Red’ reaction any girl with the tell-tale bobbed hair was under suspicion. It was regarded as an almost infallible evidence of radicalism and on this pretext alone thousands of girls were shot and otherwise killed after being subjected to gross indignities. That passions of the time ran high is evidenced by both the force
63 of the extremist reaction which set in and the forms of reprisals which were taken against young women activists. The newspaper, Ta Kung-pao, reported that the most common form of punishment for girl Communists in Canton was to wrap them up in cotton padded blankets soaked in gasoline and then burn them alive. Others who had worn boys’ clothes were stripped to the waist and exposed to public gaze so that ‘every man in town may see she is in reality a woman’ before being killed. (Croll 1978, 150-151) Given her later veneration of Chiang Kai-shek as described above, how did Xie then approach this when editing her autobiography? How could she make this turn of events into one sympathetic to KMT historiography? In the 1956 edition, Xie writes instead Because of a small number of saboteurs (daoluan fenzi 搗亂份子) have been making trouble inside [the academy], the upper echelons have ordered your disbandment; from tomorrow on, each of you are to return home, and temporarily endure a short period of suffering; now we will give every person a ten yuan disbandment allowance, you are to quickly use it on new clothing, your military uniform is not to be worn! (Xie 1956, 80, my emphasis) Thus Xie shifts the blame for their unit’s disbandment. Instead of painting it as a result of reactionary forces outside the academy (i.e. Chiang’s Nanjing faction), Xie places the blame inside, by the addition of the “saboteurs.” By doing so, Xie does not write the KMT out of the story, rather, she corroborates their claim that the rise of the Nanjing government was a necessary result of the presence of “saboteurs” in Wuhan. This shifting of the blame becomes even clearer in My Memories, in which she writes that Before the Northern Expedition was even over, a great change occurred, and that was the famous coup d’état – the Nanjing-Wuhan split. Ever since that point, the red devil’s clutches (hongse de mo 紅色的魔掌) perturbed the tranquility of the entire Chinese society. (Xie 1966, 70-71) Her success in repainting the turn of events, and of recasting this period of her life as one in almost perfect accordance with Chiang’s KMT, is evidenced by Louise Edwards writing that “the split in the United Front between the Nationalist Party and the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) that occurred in 1927 would see her placed on the side of the Nationalists despite her disdain for party politics and refusal to belong to any specific party” (Edwards 2016, 73). The incorrectness of this statement becomes even clearer when we look at Xie’s activities following the breakdown of the Northern Expedition.
64 Drifting about 飄流: 1927-1936 Returning home After disbanding, Xie, who is now marked as a woman revolutionary on account of her short hair, finds herself liable to be persecuted by KMT supported thugs. After buying new dresses and hats, she leaves Wuhan with some her friends, and after getting on a train, Xie describes the situation thus It was so dreary, an unspeakable and dreary indignancy (qiliang fenkai 淒涼憤慨) filled our chests, if it was not for our unwavering faith, and the fact that the red light of the new society dictated (zhuzai 主宰) us [to continue], and attracted us, how would we else wish to continue our cruel lives? (Xie 1936b, 221) In the 1956 edition, Xie writes instead that it was the “dawn of the New China which dictated us [to continue], and attracted us, how would we else wish to continue our cruel lives?” (Xie 1956, 82). The changes, however, become even more apparent as they reach Changsha. Once there, they had to figure out where to live. They attempt to go to one of Xie’s old classmates’ houses, but they are rejected, and Xie’s former classmate tells them Why did you have to return just now? This is a terrifying world, the killing of people exceeds that of the slaughtering of chickens and ducks, I cannot have you in our home. No matter what guests we have, they all have to have the guarantee of five families (wu jia chengren 五家承
認), do you understand? All the five families are responsible for each other (wu jia lianbao 五
家聯保), and the military police will search our homes several times a day. And especially you who have come home from Wuhan. (Xie 1936b, 222) The references to the period of White Terror following the breakdown of the United Front are clear. Interestingly, they remain, albeit in moderated form in the 1956 edition, where Xie writes instead that her former classmate told them: Why did you have to return just now? How horrifying! You cannot stay in our home, No matter what guests we have, they all have to have the guarantee of five families, do you understand? All the five families are responsible for each other! (Xie 1956, 82) I would like to call attention here to the significance of the rewriting of this particular point in Xie’s life story. What we must keep in mind, is that Xie was under the very real danger of being tortured and murdered by different gangs who pled various levels of allegiance to Chiang Kai- shek, a danger which Xie would have been very well aware of, as evidenced by her buying a dress and a hat as a disguise. Xie and others like her had only months earlier become agents in and of the revolution when they were accepted into the Wuhan academy, and now this very agency had been robbed
65 away by Chiang’s Nanjing government and their White Terror. Unsurprisingly, as we shall see, Xie for the following years would dedicate herself to activities which could hardly be considered as supportive of the KMT. Yet, she would eventually leave for Taiwan with them. How can we explain this shift? How could Xie make sense of this basic turn of events in her life story? How could Xie forgive and (at least in her writing) “forget” that the KMT at one point presented itself as a real danger to Xie’s life? I believe a much-neglected aspect of this shift, is Xie’s relationship with her family, which I discuss below.
In the family prison Almost as famous as Xie’s participation in the Northern Expedition, is her many attempts at escaping the marriage that Xie’s parents had arranged for her. Xie eventually returned home to Xietuoshan from Changsha, initially set on annulling her marriage contract to Xiao Ming, which her parents had arranged for her while Xie was still a child. Xie’s parents became furious at her suggestion that they annul the marriage contract, and her mother eventually sees to it that Xie is locked up in their home. While the general account of her escape remains mostly unchanged, through a close reading of some key passages, I argue that we find evidence of Xie’s later regret over the way her relationship with her parents, especially her mother, came to be irreversibly marked by Xie’s unwillingness to conform to their wishes. In the chapter “Locked up by my mother” (bei muqin guan qi lai le 被母親關起來了), Xie writes that the condition of her being locked up lead to her considering suicide. However, Xie decides against this, addressing herself and writing Even though you are so small and insignificant and killing yourself would not affect society in the slightest …, would you still be able to repay your responsibility (dui de qi 對得起) towards
society? What about the workers (laodong zhe 勞動者) who provided you with food to eat, clothes to wear, and an opportunity for an education? Think about it, you have been brought here by the baptism of revolution, you are a soldier with the mission of the reconstruction of society, you have been to the frontline, you have worked saving comrades under a hail of bullets, you have pledged to strive for the liberation of the billions of oppressed and toiling masses on this earth! You have claimed to not be a weak and incompetent (nuoruo wuneng 懦弱無能)
ordinary girl, but an unyielding and brave person with a strong willpower! You are a soldier who fights against all unreasonable and ancient systems. Do not tell me you have forgotten your task? To die, would be to signal your defeat, and the victory of Confucianism (lijiao 禮教). Feudal society, this people-eating demon, opens its mouth every day, and swallows all the youth
66 who do not have the courage to struggle against it, are you also willing to be swallowed by it? Moreover, you should go a step further and think, suicide is really an idiotic affair! You die, and thus feudal society loses one if its rebels, and saves one of its bullets. Even if you do not have the courage to pick up a gun and run to the battlefield and kill the enemy, you should at least do some work that would help the revolution. No matter what, being killed is greater and more valuable than killing yourself. (Xie 1936b, 246-247) Compare the above with the 1956 edition below:
Even though you are so small and insignificant and killing yourself would not affect society in the slightest …, would you still be able to repay your responsibility (dui de qi 對得起) towards the country? What about your parents who provided you with food to eat, clothes to wear, and an opportunity for an education? Think about it, you have been brought here by the baptism of revolution, your mission is to recreate society, you have been to the front, you have claimed to not be a weak and incompetent old style girl (jiushi nüzi 舊式女子), but an unyielding and brave new woman with a strong willpower! You are a soldier in the fight against all kinds of feudal society. Do not tell me you have forgotten your task? Feudal society, this people-eating demon, opens its mouth every day, and swallows all the youth who do not have the courage to struggle against it, are you also willing to be swallowed by it? Moreover, you should go a step further and think, suicide is really an idiotic affair! You die, and thus feudal society loses one if its rebels, and saves one of its bullets. Even if you do not have the courage to pick up a gun and run to the battlefield and kill the enemy, you should at least do some work that would help humankind. (Xie 1956, 95-96, my emphases) Here I would like to bring your attention again to two things: first is that while Xie in the original paints her primary responsibility as being towards society and workers, this is changed to country and parents. This is part of Xie’s increasing attempt at reconciling her past and her estrangement from her parents, especially her mother. The second thing I want to point out is that the thing that remains constant in both versions of the text, is Xie’s commitment to a new society, and the destruction of the old, feudal one. No matter the regret or guilt she might feel towards her mother, the feudal society to which she belonged, according to Xie, should be ended. Xie’s early attitude towards the (lack of) connection between parents and children in the “new society” becomes even more apparent if we take a look at a short section from another chapter, “A Secret Meeting” (mimi huiyi 秘密會議),” in which Xie writes about how even though she resents them for insisting on her arranged marriage, she still feels sorry about her disappointing them. Xie then continues,
67 But this, for this there is no solution. A person’s life belongs to society, and the old era of ‘children belonging to their parents’ (fumu de erzi 父母的兒子) has long since passed. [Because of] the progress of society, and the mighty torrents of time, the bond between father and son has already been separated. (Xie 1936b, 282) Thus, we see how Xie, writing in 1936, has rejected the fundamental idea of the family as the basic unit of society. This rejection, I argue, she would later come to regret terribly. The next time Xie returned home was after escaping her arranged marriage and having lived for a long time in Shanghai and Beiping, where she engaged in studies, married and had her first daughter, and participated in political activities which forced her to have to escape the government yet again.
Shanghai, Beiping, and leftist literature After escaping her “family prison,” Xie eventually leaves for Shanghai. Here, she enrolls in the Shanghai University of Art (Shanghai yishu daxue 上海藝術大學), and because of the school’s political profile, she has frequent near run-ins with the Shanghai police. While at the school, in the 1946 Nübing shinian, Xie writes that spent at least some of her time reading revolutionary theory (Xie 1946b, 42), which she subsequently removes from the 1956 edition. The school, where famous leftist writers like Feng Naichao (馮乃超) worked, was eventually shut down by the police in the French concession because of students’ involvement in arranging a strike among the tram workers in the concession. Seeing the rapidly devolving situation, Xie’s third older brother sends Xie a letter, asking her to go to Beiping to study instead (ibid, 52).
Xie spent considerable effort rewriting the chapters about her time in Shanghai before republishing Autobiography in Taiwan,37 no doubt influenced by what the Shanghai literary scene had come to signify in Taiwan. Looking back and reflecting on the impact of the 1930s literary scene, Xie writes in the essay “The Impact of 1930s Literature on Our Nation” (sanshi niandai wenxue dui woguo de yingxiang 三十年代文學對我國的影響) from 1973:
After the Northern Expedition, the literary scene in Shanghai had already started to have a leftist inclination. Articles published in many different magazines would all talk about things like the ‘liberation of peasants and workers,’ ‘class struggle,’ … There were also some writers who were patriotic and who wrote several works on loving the country and the nation. Because of this, the
37 See the chapters beginning with “來到了上海 (Arriving in Shanghai)” up to “偷飯吃 (Stealing food to eat)” in appendix 3 for a comparison of all the chapters.
68 literary scene was split into two factions: one was nationalist literature, and the other [was the leftist one]. (Xie 1973, 61) Continuing, she discusses her own writing during the thirties, writing that
At the time, I was still young, and at the beginning of my career (chuchu maolu 初出茅廬). I did not think my writing was very good, so I did not have much to do with any other writers. But on the other hand, many leftists wanted to use me, and wanted me to write something with leftist content. At the time, I took a firm standpoint, and refused to write any leftist works. I still remember that Qian Xingcun (錢杏邨) once told me ‘your writings are really popular among most young people, you shouldn’t write all these petit bourgeoise, tender-hearted (wenqing zhuyi 溫情主義) works, you should write some proletarian literature like Ding Ling.’ I answered him, ‘I won’t write that. I am me, and she is her.’ (ibid, 62) How true was Xie’s claim that she did not engage in leftist literature? Above, I have already shown the clear leftist tendencies present in War Diaries, but Xie herself has even at one point claimed her dedication to revolutionary literature specifically. In one of the chapters Xie provided for Adet and Anor Lin’s translation of Xie’s biography Girl Rebel, her dedication towards leftist literature is depicted as follows My articles were refused by leading newspapers because of my radical ideas. A friend who was the editor of one daily often said, ‘Why not write something gentler, something that has nothing to do with the revolution? Is it not possible?’ ‘Don’t make a joke of it,’ was my reply. ‘I cannot live without the revolution!’ (Xie 1975, 215, my emphasis) Clearly, this is almost the exact opposite of the exchange above. There are certain things we should keep in mind, however, when utilizing this portion of Girl Rebel. It is from a chapter which later became included in Nübing shinian and Nübing zizhuan as “Visiting Prison” (tan yu 探獄), but this exchange does not occur in any of these. These chapters were written sometime late in 1939 or early 1940, and given to Adet and Anor for their translation (Lin 1975, xv), and can thus be representative of either Xie’s view of herself as an author of leftist literature, or at the very least proof that she was willing to confront this aspect of her past, which she evidently was not later. Because of the nature of translation, we might do well in questioning whether or not the above is even an accurate rendition of what Xie originally wrote. It is my firm belief that it is. Not only is the rest of the book translated faithfully, Lin Yutang and his daughters, who hardly could be said to be Communist or even leftist sympathizers, would have no reason to make up such an exchange. Moreover, there is indeed so much evidence to suggest that Xie remained
69 committed to a leftist kind of literature in these years, that the above exchange hardly seems unlikely to be the writing of Xie.
Other sections of the essay “The Impact of 1930s Literature on Our Nation” also deserve pointing out. Xie spends a significant amount of the essay talking about Lu Xun and the League of Left-Wing Writers: To bring up Zuolian, really makes people pained! For example, at that time, Lu Xun became a leader in the Zuolian. To begin with, Lu Xun did not endorse the leftists, he thought that all leftists did was to shout slogans, play language games (huayan qiaoyu 花言巧語), and come with all sorts of extravagant descriptions, and these people, he really could not stand. (Xie 1973, 62) Still, Xie writes, through constant flattery, the leftists managed to manipulate Lu Xun, and he eventually became a part of their group. Of course, criticism of Lu Xun was hardly anything unusual in post-war Taiwan, but what makes the case of Xie Bingying noteworthy, is that Xie herself had been a long-time admirer of Lu Xun.38 At Lu Xun’s death in 1936, she even wrote an obituary for him. In it, she makes clear her admiration of him, and her own political feelings at the time of her writing: Mister Lu Xun, you have completed all your responsibilities and you can move on to your eternal rest. I cannot imagine how happy our enemies must be, now that there is one less ‘rebel’ to lead the young masses. But, the tens of thousands of brave and progressive cultural workers, are just at this very moment continuing your as of yet unfinished work, and are viciously fighting with our enemies, from knowing this, you can get some comfort now that you are under the Nine Springs (zai jiuquan xia ganzhe anwei de 在九泉之下感著安慰的). The eternal sadness that is in our hearts is indescribable. The only way of truly remembering you, is to get out of our current arduous circumstances, and cut out a bloody path (dachu yi tiao xuelu 打出一條血路), and then liberate the oppressed Chinese nation and all the slaves of human kind! (Xie 1936c, 366) The above excerpt from her obituary should make abundantly clear that Xie was an admirer of both Lu Xun and his political project. But what was Lu Xun’s political project as Xie perceived it? In the essay quoted above, we saw how Xie presented Lu Xun as the leader of the League of Left-Wing Writers, so we might turn again to her description of the ideology of the League:
38 Xie Bingying and Lu Xun had at one point also exchanged letters, although following Xie’s estrangement from the League of Left-Wing Writers, the two had little contact. For more on their relationship, and Lu’s view of Xie in particular, see Xu (2013).
70 The League of Left-Wing Writers desperately attacked the nationalist arts (minzu zhuyi de wenyi 民族主義的文藝), they would say that nationalism was simply a narrowminded kind of
patriotic thought (xiayi de aiguo sixiang 狹義的愛國思想), and that this thought was no good;
instead they would advocate for a great unity of the world (shijie datong 世界大同), and the use of the proletariat to eradicate all kinds of imperialism, capitalism, and nationalism. For the entire world there would only be one party, and that would be the Communist Party, and there would only be one ideology, and that would be Communism. (Xie 1973, 63) In this way, Xie paints the League of Left-Wing Writers as the enemies of the KMT on two basic levels; in their opposition to nationalism,39 the founding ideology of the KMT, and in their dedication to Communism, their primary enemy ideology. Perhaps her dedication to the “exposure” of the evil ways of leftist writers and leftism in general, was in fact a consequence of Xie’s desire to distance herself as much as possible from her own political ideas in the 1930s. Keeping the above denouncement of leftist internationalism in mind, we can look at what Xie answered when the magazine Eastern Miscellany (dongfang zazhi 東方雜誌) in a New Years- special from 1933 asked Xie to answer what the China of her dreams looked like. In her answer to the magazine, Xie wrote: I dream of a world of Great Unity (datong shijie 大同世界) where there are no borders, no nations, nor no difference between classes: All people no matter if they are men or women or old or young will all work, this work is done for the needs of themselves, their own class and the entirety of mankind. They lead happy, free, and equal lives: they have books to read, entertainment, a certain amount of free time, they enjoy the goods of everything they themselves produce. This place has no aggression, no exploitation, no envy (jidu 嫉妒) or lying, no war or slaughter, what it has is a life of common happiness, and a try-hard and forward-facing spirit! With mutual help, mutual love, the entire world becomes one organized system, and China is just one cell in this system, naturally this is precisely a socialist country without countries, without classes, with common production, and common consumption!40 (Xie 1933b, 2) The contrast (or similarity?) between the two quoted sections above are striking. Clearly, Xie had been guilty of precisely the kind of leftist ideology she denounced in the 1973 essay. Xie seems almost as if out to criticize anything that she herself had been doing in the 1930s. This leads us to the following question: why could she not admit her past mistakes, and use the
39 For more on leftist internationalism, see Leo Ou-fan Lee’s description of the “international brotherhood” which had formed in Shanghai in the 1930s (Lee 1999, 321-322). 40沒有國家，沒有階級，共同生產，共同消費的社會主義的國家.
71 opportunity to give an account of how she came to reject leftism? Why did she seemingly instead feel the need to explicitly deny that she had at any point been “on the other side”? The possibility of seeing the error of one’s ways and changing sides was not unheard of, Xie herself mentions the case of Yu Dafu (郁達夫). Yu had at one point himself been a committed leftist, until he clashed with other leftist writers, and started working with the KMT government.41 In Taiwan, he became one of few May Fourth-era writers whose writings were not banned by the government. About him, Xie writes that “later he became a patriotic writer, and furthermore went to Southeast Asia, and did a lot of patriotic work. It is a travesty he was assassinated by the Japanese” (1973, 62). If we are to judge by the case of Xie herself, perhaps it is precisely the travesty of his assassination which enabled his rehabilitation as a patriotic writer. One wonders if the regained status of Yu Dafu might not be the result of a certain tendency to valorize the martyr. Thus he was allowed the good reputation as “nationalist,” because his death left political ambiguities less likely to cause trouble in the present, and he was no longer around for anyone to question him about his past, unlike Xie. In the face of a past that needs explanation, any autobiographer is met with a choice, if the earlier life story significantly deviates from the later, they have to either rewrite their earlier story into one that is coherent with the later, and in doing so hide whatever might be problematic; or explain the incongruence, and show how they had come to change. Instead of openly confronting and explaining her past and the change in her way of thinking, in Taiwan, Xie continuously emphasized that her stance had always been the same. In the chapter “A record of burnt manuscripts” (mie gao lu 滅稿錄) from another memoir collection of hers, Xie writes about her short-story collection The Road Ahead (qianlu 前路). Xie chooses to burn this book, because she no longer liked its contents, which she said was just full of slogans, then continuing In that period after the Northern Expedition, I was not the only one who was like this. A lot of writers would not shut up about revolution and transformation (gaizao 改造), but would not even mention country or nation. A couple of the chapters in the book was seen by some people as containing problems in ideology, but actually, my thought, ever since the Northern
41 For a study of Yu Dafu’s life, see chapter 5 in Lee (1973). Yu Dafu, who was also famous for his autobiographical writings, like Xie had also spent large portions of his youth drifting around, and they both went to Japan for studies, where they experienced similar feelings of alienation and indignation due to their being Chinese. A study of representations of the self in Xie’s and Yu’s writings could very well be a worthwhile pursuit for future research on modern Chinese literature.
72 Expedition until today has always been consistent, it has been correct.42 (Xie 1958, 180, my emphasis) One wonders if Xie might not have taken the inspiration for this last line from the afterword of that very book where she writes that “my thought has always been consistent, correct, and progressive” (Xie 1934, 240).43
Xie and the League of Left-Wing Writers So far I have not directly approached the topic of Xie Bingying’s participation in the League of Left-Wing Writers. The already existing scholarship and various memoirs of previous members of the league has shown clearly that Xie had participated in the Northern Division of the league.44 I would, however, like to bring our attention to one piece of so far overlooked material, which I believe is the closest Xie ever comes to publicly referencing her participation in the League. The text to which I refer is Xie’s “Settling affairs” (qingsuan 清算), a text from 1931 and written as an open letter to her first husband Fu Hao (referred to as Qi 奇 in the text), explaining her reasons for leaving him. I will go through this text more substantially further below, but for the time being, what I would like to point out is a small reference in the text, but which might have larger implications. In the letter, Xie writes that after giving birth to her daughter Fu Bing, she had struggled to participate in all the meetings with different groups (tuanti 團體) she usually went to (Xie 1931, 1412). Nevertheless, one day she managed to participate in a “preparatory meeting” (choubei hui 籌備會) in an unnamed association (ibid, 1415). If we look at the accounts of Xie Bingying’s participation in the League, what many of them have in common is that Xie was eventually kicked out of the league for precisely this activity. Yang Qianru writes that “in the beginning of 1931, Xie Bingying participated in a meeting at the Beiping Xinshi Preparatory Office organized by an extraordinary committee (feichang weiyuanhui lingdao xia de Beiping xinshi choubeichu 非常委员会领导下的北平新
市筹备处) and was expelled from the party for being [part of the] preparatory clique (choubei fenzi 筹备份子)” (Yang 2009, 413, my emphasis).
42 我的思想從北伐到現在，始終是一貫的，正確的. 43 思想則始終是一貫的正確而前進的. 44 See for example Li (1999b), Xu (2013), Yang (2009), Yang and 孙席珍 (2002), Zhongguo shehui kexueyuan wenxue yanjiusuo and “Zhongguo huiyi lu” bianjizu (1982), Zhongguo zuoyi zuojia lianmeng chengli dahui huizhi jinianguan and Shanghai Lu Xun jinianguan (1990), and Chang (2015).
73 What did it mean to be part of the so-called “preparatory clique”? The sources are at best vague about this, but Yang Qianru has previously referred to another clique as the “rightist preparatory clique” (youpai choubei fenzi 右派筹备处分子), who were expelled from the Shanghai division of the League in the spring of 1931 (quoted in Xu 2013, 93). Internal strife was far from unheard of in the League (Wong 2017, 372), and Xie seemed to have fallen victim to this. The rumor-mill Shehui xinwen (社會新聞) printed a short article in which the journalist Lin writes that Xie had broken her relationship with the League after Xie had become a Trotskyite (tuopai 托派) (Lin 1933, 36). Conclusive evidence is hard to come by, the League had been banned and its members risked arrest by 1930 (Wong 2017, 93) so writers were not likely to broadcast their allegiance to the group. On a closing note, we might however once again return to Xie’s 1973 essay on 1930s literature. In it, she also briefly discusses the League’s tendency for infighting, writing that “some people said that Wang Duqing (王獨清) was a Trotskyite, and thus they promptly kicked him out” (Xie 1973, 62). This reference might not be hugely significant, but given the above, it might also be a final way for Xie to vent her bitterness towards the League for the similar treatment she might have received in 1931.
Xie Bingying and her first daughter One question seldom brought up in studies of Xie Bingying is that of her first daughter, Fu Bing (符冰, also sometimes referred to as Xiao Haobing 小號兵 or Little Soldier). No doubt one of the reasons for this, is that Xie never seemed to explicitly mention her again after noting that she left her with Fu Hao’s mother in Nübing zizhuan (Xie 1956, 218). Why does her story stop here? If we turn again to Girl Rebel, we find another one of Xie’s chapters which never made it into any of the official Chinese-language editions of her autobiography. In Girl Rebel, her separation from her child gets an entire chapter, titled “Little Soldier” (Xie 1975, 225-228). In this chapter, Xie returns to Fu Hao’s mother to be reunited with her child. While her daughter is described as reluctant at first, she eventually warms to Xie, and asks to get to come with her. Fu Bing’s mother, however, wants Xie to come live with them and Fu Hao instead, and not take her daughter with her, a wish Xie was unable to grant. Telling Xie that she was taking her daughter out to the toilet, Xie occupies herself reading the letters Fu Hao had sent his mother from prison. However, the two never return, and after looking for them, Xie finishes the chapter writing With anger burning in my breast I left the house that night without my child.
74 When shall we, mother and child, meet again? (ibid, 228) Thus ends the last explicit mention of her daughter ever penned by Xie that I have been able to locate. Did Xie simply not care about her daughter enough to “finish the story” in her later writings? I argue that the evidence points to the opposite, and that in fact the separation from her daughter was so traumatizing to Xie, that she was unable to broach the topic again. For the conclusion of the story, we have to turn to Fu Hao, who in his memoir about his marriage with Xie writes the following: In 1942, Bingying came to Guilin from Chengdu, and said that she was coming to retrieve her daughter. How this went down, has been written about in her daughter’s diary: In March of 1942, Xie Bingying came to Guilin from Chengdu, and went through mister Liu Yazi (柳亚子) in order to meet me, she wanted to take me with her. When I was at Liu’s home, my attitude towards Xie was not very good, and I refused to go with her. Still my mind was conflicted, I figured if I went with her I could get close to many authors, and in that way start my ‘literary life.’ But then I thought about how Xie had already married someone else, and given birth to two more children, if I went with her, what would my status be in their family, and what would be my surname? How would I interact with Xie’s husband and children? Additionally, because I could not bear to leave my grandmother, so in the end I did not go. I felt all sorts of grievances about this, and thought that this was a kind of sacrifice. … In 1966, [Fu Bing] was persecuted to her death at the Central Academy of Theatre (Zhongyang xiju xueyuan 中央戏剧学院) because her mother was in Taiwan. (Fu 2002, 19) The only reference to her daughter that I have been able to locate in any of Xie’s later writings, is in a cryptical “letter” included in the memoir collection The Brilliance of Life (shengming de guanghui 生命的光輝). The letter is titled “A Mother’s Letter” (muqin de xin 母親的信). And in it, Xie writes to daughter about her terrible marriage with her father, and how much she misses her daughter. The bitter experiences of my life are simply too terrible. If we are to go by the Buddhist concept of karmic retribution, I must have been a bad person in my previous life, and so in this life I suffer hardship and torment, now I will tell you honestly what my suffering has been. (Xie 1973, 181) Xie continues writing about the breakdown of her marriage with her husband, the estrangement from her father this resulted in, and how she has been so depressed that she even considered suicide, only to be saved by her love for her daughter.
75 My daughter, now that your grandfather has already left the human realm, other than you, you alone, there is nothing else left that I am reluctant to leave behind (liulian 留戀). Even though I have many close friends, and many students who cherish me, but none of them can possess my entire heart, it is only you, my dear daughter, I love you too much! (ibid, 184-185) From the sentimentality of the text, we can clearly see how much the loss of her daughter has affected Xie. There are however several problems with reading this text as autobiography. Many of the details simply do not conform to the actual circumstances of her life. Xie writes for example that she and her daughter’s father had been married for fifteen years and that her daughter was born in their fifth year of marriage, when Xie and Fu Hao was married for no more than a total of two years. The “letter” as such presents itself as an enigma to us. The similarities in her description of the marriage in the letter, to that of her description of her marriage with Fu Hao in other writings, are however so notable that I choose to read this letter as Xie’s last public display of affection for her daughter. The letter is dated 1969, three years after the death of her daughter in the mainland, and Xie ends the letter by writing: “Daughter, I hope you sleep sweetly, and are dreaming a beautiful dream, I am kissing your photograph” (ibid, 187). Had Xie in 1969 learnt of her daughter’s death somehow? Is this Xie’s final farewell to her daughter? Unfortunately, the answers to these questions remain a mystery to us.
Another letter, however, give us some other clues as to how Xie’s early leftism became one of the reasons for her separation with her daughter. In the letter “Settling affairs” (qingsuan 清算), Xie writes that Several times I have been wishing that my child would silently die or to jump into the ocean carrying her with me, but then I got afraid thinking she might turn into a person with the stature of Ilyich (yiliqi 伊里奇; Vladimir Ilyich Lenin), and I was unable to do it. The ruthless Xiaozhang wanted me to use poison to kill her, [because] she said that ever since I had her, I hadn’t been as diligent in my work. I cursed at her, but actually, it was not an unfounded argument. Indeed, if I didn’t have her, I could go out for the entire day and never return, and nor would I cry and suffer because of her. Naturally, when we consider that the lives of us adults are all to be dedicated to the revolution (zuo geming de xianli 做革命的獻禮), what would the sacrifice of a small child matter? But I have never heard about a woman who killed her child to participate in the revolution. Not only has there never been anyone in China who has done so,
76 even if you look for it amongst the great revolutions of France and Russia, you probably wouldn’t find any such examples. (Xie 1931, 1415) If it was the case that Xie indeed did end up sacrificing her relationship with her daughter in order to do revolutionary work, we should consider the role this played in Xie’s later vehement rejection of leftist revolution once Xie learnt that the two would be separated forever. First when her daughter refused to leave with her in 1942, then when the end of the Civil War placed mother and daughter on opposite sides of the Taiwan strait, and then truly finally, when what was perhaps the most excessive display of leftist revolutionary fervor took the life of Fu Bing at the outbreak of the Cultural Revolution in 1966.
Reconciliation with her mother Xie’s disillusionment with her struggle for independence and its implications for her relationship with her family are present already in the chapter “A Mother’s Heart” in Nübing shinian, in which she writes I have struggled for so many years, but what have I gained? I have liberated myself from the old marriage system, only to fall into the bitter seas of romantic love. I wanted to tell [my mother] that for these past four years, I have suffered all the misery of human life, that I had suffered from the torment of destiny; I had been jailed, I had starved, and I had given birth to a child, and now I was leading a life wandering around, with my future hazy. Dear mother! When will I finally obtain real freedom and happiness? (Xie 1946b, 96-97) Her struggles for freedom had seen her relationship with her mother strained to its very limits, and as her mother lay at her death, Xie returned home, and described herself as guilt-ridden (Xie 1946b, 102-107). In the text “A Letter to the Faraway Yellow Springs” (yaoji huangquan 遙寄黃泉), Xie reflects on her relationship with her mother, and the large amounts of guilt which she continued to feel: “My child, you will surely not understand just how much I love, only when you yourself have your own children, will you understand the greatness of maternal love!” Mother, this what you told me, and I have kept it firmly inside my heart, but at the time I did not grasp the profound meaning of these words, and further still, I did not understand their deep sadness. (Xie 1973, 75) Xie then moves on to recount her “unfilial” (bu xiao 不孝) behavior towards her mother, writing that
77 I remember when I was studying in Changsha, and every time summer or winter vacation came around, I would always find some reason to stay inside the city, unwilling to return home; it was as if home was a prison, if I entered, then it would not be easy to get back out. Mother, do you still remember? In the winter of 1927, I saw you as some kind of judge, a guard, a prison warden … Oh! I have sinned! I have sinned! I really am guilty of a crime that deserves ten thousand deaths (zui gai wan si 罪該萬死)! Mother, can you forgive me? (ibid, 76) As if asking for penance, Xie then reveals how she has planned to make up for her past mistakes, and become closer to her memory of her mother: Mother, I still have one more thing, something which I should have told you a long time ago, something which will make you very happy, and that is that more than ten years ago, I converted to Buddhism, master Ci Hang is my teacher. Now I am like you, every morning I light incense and pray to Guanyin. It is only in this way I can show my love for you, my remembering you; at the same time, I can seek pardon from my crime of being unfilial toward you … (ibid, 77) Wang Lingzhen has remarked how feelings of guilt towards their mother was a common phenomenon among the May Fourth-generation of Chinese women (Wang 2004b, 79).45
Birthplace lyricism Whereas her hometown seems symbolic of the feudal society from which Xie so earnestly is trying to escape in her Autobiography, later, her view of her childhood is marked more by sentimental lyricism. In My Hometown, a collection of memoirs which Xie has grouped into sections, the first section is in fact titled “Lyrics” (shuqing 抒情), and one of the memoirs is called “Hometown” (guxiang 故鄉). In it, Xie opens by eulogizing her hometown, utilizing a decidedly lyrical mode: My hometown, like a gentle and affectionate young woman, My hometown, like a brave and healthy young man, My hometown, with a clear and bright moon, and glimmering stars, With flowers of all the four seasons, with the clear and melodious sounds of the birds; she seems like a painting, or even like a poem, she is the eternal love of my heart, the one I will never forget! (Xie 1958, 6)
45 See for example her discussion about the question of filial piety “the traditional Chinese categorical moral code of xiao (filial piety), deeply rooted in most young people despite May Fourth iconoclasm, also demanded a resignification in the new epoch. Guilt, then, combining personal, social, and cultural significations, prompted May Fourth daughters to renew their relationships with their mothers and to articulate at the discursive symbolic level a subjective, gendered, and historically renegotiated intersubjective love relationship between mothers and daughters” (Wang 2004b, 80).
78 Xie then goes on to describe the beauty of the nature surrounding her family home, and the elegance of her father’s well-kept flower garden. Yet, Xie is now far away, separated from her home by the tragedies of recent history. Ever since I floated away to a different place, not a day has passed where I have not thought about her. My hometown, like a gentle and affectionate young woman, My hometown, like a brave and healthy young man, But today, all around there are tigers, leopards, jackals, and wolves (hubao chailang 虎豹豺狼;
cruel and evil people), everywhere are the bodies of starving refugees (epiao aihong 餓殍哀鴻),
all that meets the eye are scenes of devastation (manmu chuangyi 滿目瘡痍), coldness and
despair! My hometown, my hometown, no matter if at dusk or at night, no matter if the skies are grey or blue, every time I think of you, how could I not be grieved? How could I not be sorrowful? (ibid, 8) David Der-wei Wang has pointed out how lyricism was an important vehicle for many Chinese authors “through the 1949 crisis” in their attempt to come to grips with the course of Chinese history (Wang 2015). Xie, separated from her hometown by precisely this crisis, here makes use of lyricism to give expression to her own feelings of sadness at being separated from her hometown.
Xie and the controversy surrounding the Fujian People’s Government Xie’s time in Fujian is covered over ten chapters in Nübing shinian, half of which are removed from the 1956 edition of Nübing zizhuan. The chapters which initially dealt explicitly with The Fujian People’s Government,46 are almost entirely gone from the 1956 edition, and in those which remain, Xie painstakingly removes any reference to the Fujian People’s government altogether. The first chapter dealing with her stay in Fujian is “A Journey With No Purpose” (meiyou mudi de lüxing 沒有目的底旅行). The chapter opens with the following:
I was yet again to begin my life of drifting around. After the Nineteenth Route Army retreated [from Shanghai] back to Fujian, they established a new society (xin de shehui 新的社會) in western Fujian. This was previously the base for the [Communist] army, who had been entrenched here for the past four years. Xiaohang and Hong wanted me to come have a look, so I agreed to go and went there with an aim of travelling. (Xie 1946b, 130)
46 For a study on the rise and fall of the Fujian People’s Government, see Dorrill (1969).
79 We notice immediately Xie stressing that this was simply her travelling (with even the title saying she had no particular aim in going there). Her reason for stressing that she was merely there travelling becomes apparent in the later chapter “An Unforeseen Disaster” (yiwai zhi zai 意外之災). Xie opens by writing about the tense political situation in China, of which she is critical, stressing that she had never participated in any party. Then, Xie writes about her reasons for going to Fujian: I went to Fujian only because I had been deeply upset, and I wanted to use the tranquil and beautiful environment [of Fujian] to regulate my life a little better, and when I had gotten a little better, I wanted to use the opportunity to do some writing. I originally had no particular reason to come to Fujian, it was purely for travelling. Only when I was approached by the Xiamen middle school to go work there, did I determine to temporarily stay there and take up again my writing career. Little did I know that some prejudiced people (daizhe youse yanjing de ren 帶
著有色眼鏡的人) were making up groundless lies about me, saying that I was a member of
some Socialist Democractic Party (shehui minzhu dang 社會民主黨), or head of the women’s department in the People’s Government. (Xie 1946b, 165) Because of the rumors surrounding her involvement with the Fujian People’s Government, Xie is then advised to leave Fujian for Shanghai (ibid, 168-169). However, immediately upon arriving in Shanghai, Xie finds out that warrant for her arrest based on her connection to the Fujian affair has been posted in the Shenbao, and Xie has to move again to Changsha. Here, Xie is able to relax, but writes that the rumor-mill press continued to write unfounded reports about her (ibid, 174).47
War of resistance 1937-1938 The breakout of the War of Resistance (kangri zhanzheng 抗日戰爭) is the last event which is covered in Xie’s Autobiography, and while the description of it is relatively short, the difference between the description of it in the 1946 Ten Years as a Woman Soldier, and in the 1956 edition of Nübing zizhuan contain several interesting changes, both showing Xie’s political affiliation during the breakout of the war, and how this quickly came to be seen as problematic. In 1937, the War of Resistance breaks out with the Marco Polo-incident (lugou qiao shibian 蘆溝橋事變). Almost immediately, Xie organizes the Hunan Women’s War Zone
Service Corps (Hunan funü zhandi fuwutuan 湖南婦女戰地服務團) and prepares to go to the
47 For examples of the kinds of rumors that were going around concerning Xie and the Fujian People’s Government, see Tu (1934) and Yu (1933).
80 frontline to help the war effort via volunteer nursing. Before she can do so, however, she gets a telegram from home, telling her that her father has gotten seriously ill, so Xie returns home first. After her father seems to have gotten better, Xie leaves, but in doing so she has to lie to her father, telling him she will be right back: Because loyalty [to the country] and filial piety cannot be equally fulfilled (zhong xiao bu neng liang quan 忠孝不能兩全), I had no alternative but to use the excuse of going to the city to grab my luggage to trick my father into believing me [in saying I would be back soon]. Who knew that from that point on I would never see my father again! (Because I worked at the front, for the next six years I did not return home, and my father passed away in the fall of 1942.) (Xie 1946b, 212). Back in Changsha, Xie assembled the volunteers for her service corps, and together they got ready for their journey to the frontline. Xie writes how she was in the front, “holding high the bright red flag of our group” (xianhong de tuanqi 鮮紅的團旗) Together, they shouted the slogans “Down with Japanese imperialism! Long live the liberation of the Chinese nation!” When they ran into the Fourth Army (di si jun 第四軍), they “raised their voices even higher and sung loudly together” (ibid, 213-214). In the 1956 edition of this event, Xie instead writes that she raised “the national flag” (guoqi 國旗), removes the reference to “liberation” (jiefang 解放), and does not write that they met with the Fourth Army, choosing instead to write that they met “troops of soldiers” (zhanshimen de da duiwu 戰士們的大隊伍). In fact, every subsequent mention of the Fourth Army is changed for a general term for military or troops. Why did she change this? The reason for this is highly likely that because the Fourth Army pledged their allegiance to the Communist Party, her involvement with them would probably be less than welcomed in Taiwan.48 In the very last chapter of Autobiography, “Touring the War Zones” (zhanqu xunli 戰
區巡禮) Xie sets us up for the journey ahead. Writing that she felt ill at ease back from the frontline, Xie was looking for a way to return to do more military work: At the time, my third older brother was working in the office of the Commander of the fifth war zone, and he called me to ask me to come there to work. Because I had become close acquaintances with general Li Delin (李德鄰)49 and vice minister Bai (Bai fuzongzhang 白副
48 For a study on the Fourth Army in the War of Resistance, see Benton (1999). 49 Better known as Li Zongren (李宗仁), Li at one point vied for the presidency of the ROC with Chiang, and after Chiang’s final ascension, Li became a committed critic of Chiang’s.
81 總長; Bai Chongxi 白崇禧) when I was teaching in Guangxi, so when I heard about the job offer I went straight to Xuzhou without even thinking about it. (Xie 1946b, 224-225) In the 1956 edition, the reference to Li Delin, now a known critic of Chiang Kai-shek is completely removed (Xie 1956, 276). In the remainder of the chapter, Xie recounts how her body falls victim to illness, forcing her to yet again leave the frontline. But Xie refuses to let this get her down, and the chapter ends with her pledge to continue on: Only with constant struggle, only by conquering each and every difficulty and struggling forwards can the individual find a way forward, and only then can the nation survive (shengcun 生存)! (Xie 1946b, 227)
My study of Xie Bingying’s life story ends here, in 1938, with a still young, 31-year-old Xie pledging to continue her fighting. Several questions are yet to be answered about how Xie’s life developed after 1938. How did she meet and fall in love with Jia Yizhen? What was it that made her finally reject leftism and move to the side of the KMT? What went into her decision to accept the job offer in Taiwan and move there, causing her to leave the mainland forever? My thesis has suggested several starting points to trying to figure out these questions. Xie might have felt bitter about her being kicked out of the League of Left-Wing Writers. The trauma of losing her mother, and then her daughter rejecting her, might have caused Xie to reconsider the choices she had made in her life, and her reasons for making those choices. Future research on the life and writings of Xie Bingying might pick up where I have left of, and gain further understanding of the enigma that was the life and person of Xie Bingying.
82 5: Conclusion This thesis has explored the autobiographical writings of Xie Bingying by looking at how Xie used the autobiographical form to continually write and rewrite her life story to suit the ever- changing circumstances of her life. Xie, famous for her writings published in the 1920s and 1930s, has occupied a significant place in the history of women’s writing in modern China, but her later life and shifting attitude towards her earlier writings have been completely ignored so far in English-language scholarship. This kind of writing and rewriting, my thesis has argued, happened both under the pressures of the nation, but also as a result of Xie’s own need to make sense of her own life and the loss and suffering she has endured. By showing the many concerns taken up in Xie’s writing, the thesis has argued that neither historical contingency nor personal agency can alone be used to explain her actions. In fact, we see a Xie who becomes not only more concerned with country and nation, but also a Xie who comes to question her very basic struggle for agency and freedom, in reflecting on how through this struggle she became alienated to her mother, and lost her first daughter. Furthermore, this thesis argues that a study of Xie Bingying furthers our understanding of a so far neglected and thus poorly understood part of modern Chinese and Taiwanese history. Specifically, first I have argued that the legacy of May Fourth-era funü wenxue and its associated writers who went to Taiwan leaves a gap in our understanding of the history of this important phenomenon of modern Chinese literary history. Second, I have argued that our understanding of KMT nationalist ideology is poor, and that the KMT’s current status as an essentially “conservative” political force in post-war Taiwan neglects the revolutionary and modernizing aspects of the party. Women writers are largely acknowledged to have appeared en masse during the May Fourth-era, leading to the rise of funü wenxue, only to then fall victim to the instrumentalization of literature that took place as Chinese society and culture in general became, often violently, politicized. The cultural sphere became polarized between an increasingly radical socialist platform in which all cultural expression was supposed to be subsumed to class struggle which to a large extent rejected “feminine expressions,” while still claiming to fight for gender equality; and a neo-conservative, nationalist platform which tolerated femininity, but only if it found its expression in something subservient to a gender-conservative idea of “family and nation.” According to the above understanding, when the KMT lost the Chinese Civil War in 1949, radical women stayed in the PRC, and conservative women went with the ROC to Taiwan.
83 The obvious and explicitly radical politics of the PRC meant that as its “other,” the ROC in turn often was labeled “conservative.” The attempts of the ROC government in Taiwan to instill traditional, Chinese values unto its populace by “reviving” Chinese civilization, or attempts at the “Cultural Purification-movement” help crystalize this image of the KMT government as essentially conservative. This view ignores the importance of one of the fundamental raison d'être of the KMT, namely to create a new and modern China. Not to say that the KMT was not conservative, but they had a vested interest in not only portraying themselves as the “carriers of tradition,” but also as modernizers and the creators of the new, anti-feudal, modern “Free China.” The thesis argues that this can help explain how Taiwan has become the country in East Asia with the highest participation rate of women in government. While the role of non-KMT forces in the Martial Law-era, and later developments during democratization have commonly been used to explain this phenomenon, this thesis has argued that this neglects the role the KMT might have played in creating a political culture that led to the increase of women’s political participation in recent decades. Xie Bingying, famous as the “female soldier-writer” of modern China, her activities in Taiwan, and the consistent focus on her role as female soldier, revolutionary, and champion of women’s struggles in her writings help us in reconsidering the above. Nevertheless, the significant rewriting of her own autobiographies, and subsequent memoirs, when compared to earlier writings, also show the contradictions inherent in the KMT’s ideal portrayal of itself as a liberal, modernizing party. Xie’s rewriting of her autobiography, and constant revision of her own life story, also show the gradual conservative turn of Xie, as she struggles to reconcile a past that is increasingly problematic not only politically, but also personally, with her hard-won self- identification with the label “woman soldier” (nübing 女兵). She often laments the hard times she went through as a result of her rebellious past, while at the same time glorifying and wishing for a return to her life as a soldier in service of the nation. National and personal memory intersect and contradict as Xie negotiates at the same time both with herself, and the nation. My reading of Xie’s (re)writing of her life story thus highlights problems in trying to neatly define events in terms of historical contingency vis-à-vis personal agency: Xie’s (re)writing show both the effects of external imperatives and internal impulses.
84
Appendix 1: Chronological biography of Xie Bingying50 Year Date 1906 22.10 Born in Xietuoshan 謝鐸山, Xinhua county 新化縣, Hunan. Childhood
name Fengying 鳳英, school name Minggang 鳴岡. Father named Xie
Yuzhi 謝玉芝, a Qing dynasty juren, mother named Liu Xigui 劉喜貴. She had three older brothers and one older sister. 1908 Promised to wed family friend, Xiao Ming 蕭明.
1914 Has her feet bound by her mother. 1916 Was able to go to school after refusing food for three days. 1918 Went to Datong Girl’s school 大同女校, but was eventually forced to leave for participating in a student’s patriotic protest. Fall Starts at Xinhua Advanced Girls Elementary School 新化高等女子小學
校.
1920 Begins at Yiyang Xinyi girls’ middle school 益陽信義女子中學 (started by a Norwegian missionary), but is forced to leave for participating in a memorial for May Seventh, “national shame memorial day” 五七國恥紀
念日.
1921 Summer Tests into Hunan Provincial First Women’s Normal School 湖南省裡第
一女子師範學校.
Short story “A Moment’s Impression” 剎那的印象 is published in a
supplement to Dagongbao (大公報) under the pen name Idle Matters (xian
shi 閒事).
1926 Nov Tests into Central Military Political School, Wuhan division (中央軍事政
治學校武漢分校), but is expelled for protesting second turn of tests.
25.11 Adopts name Bingying 冰瑩 and tests in again, achieving first place. Starts three-month training period.
50 A larger chronological biography exists in (Zhou 2014, 79-113). A shorter one is in (Xie, Brissman, and Brissman 2001, xv-xvii) .
85 1927 May Xie and is selected to be part of a unit sent to participate in the Northern Expedition. Xie splits her work between propaganda, nursing, and organization of women’s groups. Writes diary, and sends it to Sun Fuyuan 孫伏園 of the Zhongyang Ribao 中央日報.
14.5 “Military Diary” (xingjun riji 行軍日記) is published in a Wuhan
supplement to Zhongyang Ribao under the name Bingying 冰瑩. A total of five letters are published over the course of a month. Lin Yutang translates and publishes them in the English version of the same paper. July Women’s group is dissolved, Xie returns to her home, and is grounded in her parents’ house for wanting to annul her marriage contract with Xiao Ming. 1928 Jan After three attempts at fleeing, eventually goes through with the marriage ceremony with Xiao Ming, but makes it clear with him that she wishes for an annulment of their marriage contract. Spring Is offered job at Datong Girls’ school, and leaves the Xiao family, and then convinces Xiao Ming to agree to a divorce. Teaches for three months at Hunan Provincial Elementary School instead of at Datong. Summer Goes to Shanghai, and ends up living in the same house as a criminal group, is jailed for five days after a police search on suspicion of also being a Communist, and then bailed out by Sun Fuyuan. Winter Tests into second grade of Chinese literature at the Shanghai University of Art 上海藝術大學.
1929 Jan Shanghai University of Art is dissolved. March Congjun Riji 從軍日記 is published by Shanghai Chunchao Shuju 上海
春潮書局.
May Leaves Shanghai for Beiping. June Edits Minguo Ribao 民國日報, two months later the paper is forced to stop publication by the authorities. Summer Enrolls in Beiping Girl’s Normal University (北平女子師範大學).
Marries Fu Hao (符號, original name Fu Yeqi 符業奇).
1930 Gives birth to first daughter, Fu Bing 符冰.
86 Aug Fu Hao is arrested. Sept Participates in the establishment of the northern division of the League of Left-Wing Writers. Oct Northern division of League of Left-Wing Writers is officially established. Letters of a Chinese Amazon and War Time Essays, Lin Yutang’s translation of Congjun Riji is published by Shanghai Commercial Press. 1931 March Graduates from Beiping Girls Normal, but hears from a friend that the police is looking for her, so she decides to leave Beiping for the south before she gets to receive her diploma. 11.7 Publishes “Settling accounts” (清算) in Fiction Montly (小說月報), announcing divorce with Fu Hao (Xie 1931). Sept Goes to Japan to study, but is sent back to Shanghai after participating in anti-Japanese meeting. Leaves daughter, Fu Bing, with Fu Hao’s mother. 1932 Jan First Shanghai war erupts, Xie joins Writers’ Resistance Association (著
作者抗敵協會) and medical assistance groups, promotes women to participate in frontline medical assistance work. Fall Goes to Xiamen, teaches at Fujian Provincial Xiamen Middle school. 1933 Stays in Fujian, working as a teacher, and possibly working in the cultural department of the Fujian People’s Government. 1934 Fall Goes to Japan to study at Waseda. 1935 Studies western literature at Waseda University. 1936 April Refuses to greet Puyi when he is visiting Tokyo and is labeled anti- Japanese, anti-Manchu and thrown in jail for three weeks. Summer Leaves Tokyo for Shanghai. July Autobiography of a Woman Soldier is published by Liangyou. 1937 Xie’s mother has a stroke, and Xie returns home. While Xie is home, her mother dies. July After the Marco Polo incident and the breakout of the War of Resistance, Xie decides to go to the frontline, assembles Hunan Women's War Zone Service Corps (湖南婦女戰地服務團), and acts as leader.
87 14.9 Goes with the Fourth Army to the eastern front, for medical and propaganda help 1938 Spring Goes to Chongqing, works for the Republican government. Publishes New War Diary WSOS says marries Jia Yizhen in Xian 1939 Meets Jia Yizhen 賈伊箴, head of training (訓練主任) at All-China
Christian Association (基督教全國總會).
1940 Feb Marries Jia Yizhen. Dec Girl Rebel, a translation of her Autobiography is published in New York. 1942 4.10 Father dies. 1943 Autobiography of a Chinese Girl is translated by Tsui Chi and published in London. 1946 Winter Works at Beiping North China Cultural College (北平華北文化學院) and
then Northwest Normal College (西北師範學院)
Nübing shinian is published in Chongqing by Honglan. 1948 Sept After being offered a job at Taiwan Provincial Normal University (臺灣
省立師範大學; today National Taiwan Normal University), leaves for Taiwan with daughter. Nübing zizhuan is published in Shanghai by Chenguang chuban gongsi. 1949 Jan Sons and husband arrive in Taiwan. 1950 5.4 The Chinese Writers and Artists Association ( 中國文藝協會) is established in Taipei, Xie becomes board member. 1954 February Xie goes to Xizhi Meditation Retreat (汐止靜修院), and eventually begins conversion to Buddhism. 1955 6.1 Takes part in the establishing Taiwan Provincial Women Writers Association (台灣省婦女寫作協會; today Chinese Women Writers’
Association 中國婦女寫作協會).
5.5 The above is officially established, Xie becomes supervisor. 1956 17.4 Nübing zizhuan is published again in Taiwan by Lixing Shuju. 1957 2.8 Goes together with husband to Malaysia to teach. 1960 29.8 Returns to Taiwan from Malaysia, returns to position at NTNU.
88 1963 1.5 Xie publishes “An open letter to miss Guo Lianghui” (給郭良蕙女士的
一封公開信) in Free Youth (自由青年), where she criticizes Guo’s novel
The Lock of the Heart (心鎖) for being obscene. Leads to public debate, and Guo Lianghui is eventually expelled from the Women Writers Association. 1971 31.8 Goes to the US, breaks her leg on the boat. 1973 Oct Returns to Taiwan to treat her leg. Retires from NTNU. 1974 Settles in San Francisco. Begins a section in Shijie Ribao (世界日報),
“Grandma Jia’s letterbox” (賈奶奶信箱) in which she responds to young readers questions about writing. 1978 Aug Returns to Taiwan for five months. Visits tomb of Chiang Kai-shek. 1988 28.7 Husband Jia Yizhen dies. 1990 21.11 Returns to Taiwan to visit, and accepts a literary price and certificate (實
踐獎章及證書) from the KMT.
27.11 The Taiwanese literary magazine Wenxun (文訊) holds a return to Taiwan celebration, almost 200 people show up. 3.12 Receives an honorary graduation diploma from Whampoa. 18.12 Returns to the US. 1994 7.3 Is made honorary chairperson of the Chinese Literature and Arts Association of America (美國華文文藝協會).
2000 5.1 Dies in San Francisco, has ashes spread in the pacific, so that she might with time return to her homeland.
89 Appendix 2: Bibliography of Xie Bingying This bibliography limits itself to editions published by Xie herself, during her lifetime. In the 1980s, several Chinese publishers began republishing Xie’s earlier publications. While far from complete, some of these are included in the bibliography in Zhou (2014).51 Year Title All editions Info 1st ed date:place:publisher 1929 從軍日記 1929/3: 上海：春潮書局 Based on letters published in May and June 1926, in the Central Daily News (中
央日報).
1929/9: 上海：春潮書局
1930: Shanghai: The Commercial Press Lin Yutang translation: “Letters of a Chinese Amazon and War Time Essays” 1930: Paris: Libraire Valois Wang Dehui French translation: “Une jeune chinoise à l’armée révolutionnaire” 1931/9: 上海：光明書店
1929 冰瑩女士小說 1929/7: 北平：郁文書局
集
1932 中學生小說 1932/4: 上海：中學生書局
1933/2: 上海：開華書局
1932 前路 1932/9: 上海：光明書局
2010/5: 臺中：文听閣圖書公司
1932 麓山集 1932/10: 上海：光明書店
51 Due to time constraints, a full overview of mainland republications of Xie’s works has not been possible, although such an investigation might yield interesting findings, particularly if accounting for which version of a given work the republications are based on.
90 1933 青年書信 1933/2: 上海：北新書局
1933 青年王國村 1933：上海：開華書店
1933 偉大的女性 1933: 上海：光華出版社
1933 血流 1933: 上海：光明書局
1933 我的學生生活 上海：光華出版社
1936 潮南的風 1936/5: 上海：北新書局
1936 一個女兵的自 1936/7: 上海：良友圖書印刷公司
傳 1939/6：東京：青年書房
1941/2：東京：大東出版社
1943: London: George Allen & Unwin Tsui Chi English Ltd translation: “Autobiography of a Chinese Girl: A Genuine Autobiography” 1986: London: Pandora Press Deleted Tsui Chi’s introduction and Gordon Bottomley’s preface, added introduction by Elisabeth Croll 1937 抗戰女兵手記 1937: 上海：明明書局
1938 軍中隨筆 1938/1: 廣州：抗戰出版部
1938 第五戰區巡禮 1938/9: 桂林：生路書店
（與黃維特合
著）
1938 在火線上 1938: 上海：生活書局
1938 新從軍日記 1938/7: 漢口：天馬書店
1940/2: 東京：三省堂
91 1940 Girl Rebel 1940: New York: John Day Company Translation of the 1936 (Adet and Autobiography, with Anor Lin additional chapters translation) given to the translators Adet and Anor Lin by Xie herself, and later published in Nübing shinian, and Xin congjun riji. 1940/12: 廣西：民光書局 This book was based on Girl Rebel excluding the chapters from Xin congjun riji, and published as a book with both English and Chinese text and published as Nü pantu 女叛徒, with the later additional chapters being translated back into Chinese (by someone unknown). 1945/3: 重慶：求知圖書社
1946/1: 國際書局 Same as the above, but excluding the English text. 1975: New York: Da Capo Press 1941 戰士手底 1941/4: 重慶：獨立出版社
1941 梅子姑娘 1941/6: 西安：新中國文化出版社
1941 冰瑩抗戰文選 1941/10: 西安：建國出版社
集
1942 1942/6: 西安：東大書局
92 寫給青年作家 1945/9: 重慶：大中國書局
的信
1943 在日本獄中 1942: 上海 : 耕耘出版社
1943/1: 華北新聞社出版部
1948/6: 上海：遠東圖書館公司
1953/4: 台北：遠東圖書館公司
1943 姊姊 1943/12: 西安：建國出版社
1946 女兵十年 1946/4: 漢口：自印
1946/8: 重慶：紅藍出版社
1947/1: 上海：北新書局
1954/2: 東京：河出書房
1946 生日 1946/6: 上海：北新書局
1946 離婚 1946: 上海：光明書店
1947 謝冰瑩佳作選 1947/2: 上海：新象書店
（巴雷、朱紹
之編選）
1948 女兵自傳 1948: 上海：晨光出版公司
1948: 東京：岩波書局
1956: 臺北：力行書局
1964/5: 首爾：乙酉文化社
1971/12: 首爾：學園社
1978/5: 臺北：力行書局
1980/10: 臺北：東大圖書公司
1985/3: 成都：四川文藝出版社
1985: Paris: Rochevignes 1994/9: 北京：中國華僑出版社
1954 聖潔的靈魂 1952/2: 香港：亞洲出版社
1955/10: 香港：亞洲出版社
93 1954 紅豆 1954/3: 臺北：虹橋書店
1976/9: 臺北：台灣時代書局
1981/7: 臺南：信宏出版社
1954 愛晚亭 1954/4: 臺北：暢流月刊社
1969/9: 臺北：三民書局
2006/6: 臺北：三民書局
1954 冰瑩遊記 1954: 臺北：勝利出版社
1959/5: 臺北：神州出版社
1961/1: 臺北：新陸書局
1966/5: 臺北：新陸書局
1971/7: 臺北：雲天出版社
1955 愛的故事 1955/1: 臺北：中正書局
1955 霧 1955/4: 臺南：大方書局
1959/10: 臺北：大方書局
1955 太子歷險記 1955/8: 臺北：中正書局
1988/7: 臺北：中正書局
1955 綠窗寄語 1955/10: 臺北：自印
1955 我的少年時代 1955/11: 臺北：中正書局
1957 碧瑤之戀 1957/2: 臺北：力行書局
1957 菲島記遊 1957/4: 臺北：力行書局
1958 故鄉 1958/10: 臺北：力行書局
1959 動物的故事 1959/3: 臺北：中正書局
1961 馬來亞遊記 1961/1: 臺北：海潮音月刊社
1961 我怎樣寫作 1961/10: 臺北：自印
1962/3: 臺北：自印
1963/8: 臺北：自印
1974/10: 臺北：學生出版社
94 1963 空谷幽蘭 1963/9: 臺北：廣文書局
1963 給小讀者 1963/9: 臺北：廣文書局
1963 仁慈的鹿王 1963/11: 臺中：慈明雜誌社
1964 南京與北平 1964/1: 臺北：財團法人全知少年文
庫董事會
1966 林琳/ 楊震夷 1966/9: 臺中：台灣省教育廳
圖
1966 小冬流浪記 1966/11: 臺北：國語日報社
1993: 臺北：國語日報社
1967 作家印象記 1967/1: 臺北：三民書局
1967 夢裡的微笑 1967/7: 臺中：光啟出版社
1967 我的回憶 1967/9: 臺北：三民書局
2004/9: 臺北：三民書局
1968 海天漫遊 1968/1: 臺北：自印
1968 在烽火中 1968/7: 臺北：中華文化復興出版社
1968 善光公主 1968/12: 臺北：慈航雜誌社
1971 綠窗寄語 1971/11: 臺北：三民書局
2008/3: 臺北：三民書局
1971 生命的光輝 1971/12: 臺北：三民書局
1972 給小讀者 1972/5: 臺北：蘭臺書局
1974 舊金山的霧 1974/4: 臺北：三民書局
1975 冰瑩書柬 1975/9: 臺北：力行書局
1987/2: 臺北：東大圖書公司
1976 觀音蓮 1976/6：南投：玄奘寺
1985/6: 臺北：大乘精舍印經會
1989/6: 臺北：慈心佛經流通處
2002/8: 臺北：大乘精舍印經會
1980 謝冰瑩自選集 1980/5: 黎明文化公司
95 1981 舊金山的四寶 1981/4: 臺北：國語日報附設出版部
1981 抗戰日記 1981/6: 臺北：東大圖書公司
1981 給青年朋友的 1981/12: 臺北：東大圖書公司
信（上、下）
1982 謝冰瑩散文集 1982/8: 臺北：金文圖書公司
（李德安主
編）
1984 我在日本 1984/9: 臺北：東大圖書公司
1984 小讀者與我 1984/11: 香港：文化互助社
1991 作家與作品 1991/5: 臺北：三民書局
1991 冰瑩書信 1991/5: 臺北：三民書局
1991 冰瑩遊記 1991/5: 臺北：三民書局
1991 冰瑩憶往 1991/5: 臺北：三民書局
1991 冰瑩懷舊 1991/5: 臺北：三民書局
2001 A Woman 2001: New York: Columbia University Translation by Lily Chia Soldier’s Own Press Brissman and Barry Story: The 2003: New York: Berkley Books Brissman, Xie’s Autobiography daughter, and son-in- of Xie law. Bases itself on the Bingying 1936 Yi ge nübing de zizhuan, and the 1946 Nübing shinian.
96 Appendix 3: Comparison between the different editions of Autobiography of a Woman Soldier52 All chapters with titles are given. While virtually all chapters contain some editing (ranging from changing punctuation, to word choice, to the deletion of entire sections), I have only listed the changes I deem of interest to my thesis, in addition to brief summaries of any chapters which have been added or removed in any given edition. When of particular significance, substantial summary and/or original text is given. The leftmost column changes to Nübing shi nian about midway.
一個女兵的自傳 (Xie 女兵自傳 (Xie 1948) 女兵自傳 (Xie 1956) 1936b) 祖母告訴我的故事 (A story 祖母告訴我的故事 祖母告訴我的故事 told to me by my grandmother) 我的家庭 (My family) 我的家庭 我的家庭
黃金的兒童時代 (The 黃金的兒童時代 黃金的兒童時代 golden years of childhood) 採茶女 (Tea picking girls) 採茶女 採茶女
紡紗的姑娘 (Weaving 紡紗的姑娘 紡紗的姑娘 women) 痛苦的第一聲 (The first 痛苦的第一聲 痛苦的第一聲 sound of pain) 我幼時的學校生活 (My 我幼時的學校生活 我進了私塾 childhood school life) 近視先生 (Mr. nearsighted) 近視眼先生 近視先生
未成功的自殺 (An 未成功的自殺 未成功的自殺 unsuccessful suicide)
52 Comparison tables are also included in Lin (2014, 136-145), and Chang (2015, 302-304) (Chang’s is largely based on Lin’s). The two tables are much less extensive, however, and does not include significant amounts of that which I have documented here.
97 小學時代的生活 小學時代的生活 小學時代的生活 (Elementary school life) 第一次鬧風潮 (The first 第一次鬧風潮 第一次鬧風潮 time of agitation) 開始與小說發生關係 開始與小說發生關係 開始與小說發生關係 (Beginning to connect with Same Removes reference to the fiction) story “The son who killed his Xie receives some books parents.” from her older brother, one of which is a short story collection which Xie really enjoys. One of the stories is entitled “The son who killed his parents,” about which Xie writes: 還有殺父母的兒子引起了
我很大的興趣，我佩服那
個兒子的勇敢，同時憎恨
那個母親的殘酷無情.
在樓上示威 (Holding a 在樓上示威 在樓上示威 demonstration upstairs) Removes slogan of “oppose Removes sentence about the Xie attends a missionary Christianity.” students being under the school in Yiyang. control of God.
Writes that here, all the Rewrites her questioning students were under the attitude towards Christianity: control of God: 我常常懷疑這句話：「凡信
上帝的人都能得救。」 大家都在「上帝」的統治
下生活著。 Rewrites “opposing God” to “not believing in God:”
98 Further writes that she is 不信上帝 critical of Christianity: 我只覺得上帝這東西是虛 Adds the slogan 無的，「凡信上帝的人都 打倒軍閥
能得救。」真是笑話！ Removes slogan of “oppose And then that she “opposed Christianity,” and “Fight for God:” freedom of expression.” 反對上帝
Xie and her fellow students wants to hold a commemoration for “National Humiliation day” (國恥日). They end up holding a demonstration, shouting the slogans:
「打倒帝國主義」
「反對基督教」
「爭取言論自由」
「加入學生聯合會」
「誓雪國恥」
中學時代的生活 (Middle 中學時代的生活 中學時代的生活 school life) 外婆校長 (Principal 外婆校長 外婆校長 Grandmother) 「剎那的印象」(“A 「剎那的印象」 Chapter removed. moment’s impression”) Same Having witnessed the lady shopkeeper at a local restaurant mistreating her
99 employee, Xie returns to school and writes what was her first work of fiction 剎
那的印象.
Then tells the story about a mentally ill man (瘋子) who would pace around outside her classroom window. The man had apparently broken down mentally after having studied in England, France, and Germany, and then suffered a failed love affair with a miss Liu. Xie and her fellow students take an interest in him, and like listening to some of his stories from abroad, despite his erratic behavior. 同性愛的糾紛 (A 同性愛的糾紛 Chapter removed. homosexual love dispute) Same About romantic relationships between students at the Women’s Normal school. Xie writes that a miss Sun falls in love with her. At first she feels annoyed, but slowly she warms and eventually begins to have a fondness (好感) for her. Then writes
100 that many other girls also “love” her. This leads to much jealousy among her suitors.
One night, some students force Xie to sleep in the same bed as a miss Chen (陳密司). Xie does not want to, and spends the entire night wishing to get out, but is also sympathetic to this girl who is in love with her, when Xie has no feelings for her. 1924 情書貼在佈告處 (A 情書貼在佈告處 Chapter removed. love letter posted to the Same bulletin board) The May Fourth wave of romantic love (戀愛的浪潮) has arrived in their school. Writes that girls are still too influenced by feudal thought to act on their love, but that boys would write love letters to anyone. Xie herself received two.
One day she spots a letter on a bulletin board and reads it aloud for those around. The letter had been received by a teacher Gao at
101 the school, from one of her friends’ husbands. She had apparently posted it as a way to prove her own chasteness. Xie calls her a pathetic follower of feudalism. 作文打零分 (A totally failed 作文打零分 作文打零分 composition) 鬥爭生活的開 始 (The Chapter removed. Chapter removed. beginning of a life of struggle) Details Xie and her fellow students’ participation in patriotic protest following the “six-one massacre” of Shanghai (better known as the May Thirtieth movement). Shouting slogans like “Down with imperialism!” the students marched in Changsha. Xie credits this event as having awakened her, and saved her from her tendency for Wertherian melancholy. 初戀 (First love) 初戀 初戀
當兵去！(Going to join 當兵去！(Going to join 當兵去！(Going to join the the military!) the military!) military!) This retells the moment of Xie removes reference to Xie further rewrites what her her decision of going to join Communist and Socialist brother gives her, and the military. Xie’s second literature. additionally rewrites the part
102 older brother complains that 他給我看幾本關於社會科 on the new direction of her
Xie is wasting her time on 學，革命理論方面的書。 writing. sentimental literature, and 他開始給我關於新文藝方面 當我對這些書發生了興趣 gives her new reading 的書。當我對這些書發生了 的時候，那個影子便在我 material. Below is the 興趣的時候，那個影子便在 original, see above for 的腦海裡，慢慢地淡了下 我的腦海裡，慢慢地淡了下 translation and discussion. 來，我寫文想的對象，也 來。我常常寫些山居小品在 他給我看 XX 主義 ABC， 轉了方向。因為住在鄉間 三哥主編的通俗日報上發 社 會主義淺說，以及其他 和農民接近的機會很多， 表，有時他替我修過幾個 幾本關於社會科學，革命 我開始描寫他們的生活， 字；有時一字不動。二哥説 理論的書。當我對這些書 他們的痛苦，在三哥主編 我的文章一篇比一篇進步， 發生了興趣的時候，那個 的通俗日報上發表了。 我真高興極了。 影子便在我的腦海裡，慢
慢地淡了下來，我寫文想 Section on motivations for joining the same. Section on motivations for 的對象，也轉了方向。因 我相信，那時女同學去當 joining rewritten, liberation 為住在鄉間和農民接近的 of “downtrodden peoples” is 兵的動機，十有八九是為 機會很多，我開始描寫他 changed to construction of a 了想脫離封建家庭的壓 們的生活，他們的痛苦， “rich and strong Republic of 迫，和尋找自己出路的。 在三哥主編的通俗日報上 China” 可是等到穿上軍服，拿著 我相信，那時女同學去當兵 發表了。 槍桿，思想又不同了。那 的動機，十有八九是為了想
Xie decides to enlist, at least 時誰不以全世界的十二萬 脫離封建家庭的壓迫，和找 partially because of fear that 五千萬的被壓迫民族民族 尋自己出路的；可是等到穿 if she returns home she will 解放的擔子放在自己的肩 上軍服，拿著槍桿，思想又 be forced to marry. Below is 上呢？ 不同了，那時誰不以完成革 original text discussing her 命，建立富強的中華民國的 thoughts on motivations for Reference to The joining: 擔子放在自己的肩上呢？ Internationale removed.
我們五十個女同學，擠在 我相信，那時女同學去當 Reference to The 一個車廂裡，沒有坐的地 Internationale removed. 兵的動機，十有八九是為
103 了想脫離封建家庭的壓 方，大家像逃難的人一 我們五十個女同學，擠在一
迫，和尋找自己出路的。 般，用箱子鋪蓋放在底下 個車廂裡，沒有坐的地方，
可是等到穿上軍服，拿著 當做座位。車廂是關馬裝 大家像逃難的人一般，用箱
槍桿，思想又不同了。那 貨的，所以除了兩扇鐵門 子鋪蓋放在底下當做座位。
時誰不以全世界的十二萬 外，連一個小窗都沒有， 車廂是關馬裝貨的，所以除
五千萬的被壓迫民族民族 大家被黑暗籠罩得太難受 了兩扇鐵門外，連一個小窗
解放的擔子放在自己的肩 了，於是就放開嗓子高聲 都沒有，大家被黑暗籠罩得
上呢？ 唱著歌。 太難受了，於是就放開嗓子
高聲唱起歌來。 She eventually gets on a train to Wuhan. Perhaps nervous, the hopeful cadets begin singing The Internationale. Original text below, see above for translation and discussion. 我們五十個女同學，擠在
一個車廂裡，沒有坐的地
方，大家像逃荒的人一
般，用箱子鋪蓋放在底下
當做座位。車廂是關馬裝
貨的，所以除了兩扇鐵門
外，連一個小窗戶都沒
有，大家被黑暗籠罩得太
難受了，於是就放開嗓子
高聲唱著：「起來，飢寒
交迫的努力，起來，全世
界上的罪人·····」
鄉飽姥追火車 (Bumpkins 鄉飽姥追火車 鄉包佬追火車 chasing a train)
104 被開除了 (Getting 被開除了 (Getting 被開除了 (Getting expelled) expelled) expelled) Li Renbo’s speech removed. The military school had Li Renbo’s speech kept. originally let too many recruits in, and required the Word for masses changed cadets to retest in order to get from qunzhong ( 群眾) to
in. Xie and the other hopeful minzhong (民眾).53 cadets are furious. One
cadet, Li Renbo 李任伯 gives a short speech:
「這簡直是個大笑話，革
命人材只嫌少，不怕多—
—越多越好，豈有限制多
少人革命的道理？這次湘
南的學生，投筆從戎的這
麼踴躍，是證明他們的思
想是前進的，他們有奮鬥
犧牲的精神，他們對革
命，有了深刻的認識，這
種現象是可喜的，樂觀
的，站在革命的立場上
說，應該特別愛護這班青
年，培植他們，鼓勵他們
為國家努力，為整千整萬
的勞苦大眾某解放；而現
在恰恰相反，政府卻要制
止他們革命，要他們仍然
53 With very few exceptions, all occurrences of qunzhong in Autobiography are changed to minzhong in the later editions.
105 會到學校去讀死書；名義
上是說平均發展革命的勢
力，實際是阻礙當有革命
性的青年前進，我們不能
被淘汰，無論如何，我們
應該全體入校的！」
“Big sister Tie” ( 鐵大姐) then holds another speech, in which she says that everyone has joined in orther to rescue “the masses” (群眾).
入伍 (Joining the troops) 入伍 入伍
「打破戀愛夢」(“Destroy 「打破戀愛夢」 「打破戀愛夢」 the dream of romantic Same as 1948: love) Song lyrics slightly changed, 快快學習，快快操練，努力
Chapter in which Xie writes swapping “social 為民先鋒。 about the female cadets’ revolution” for “people’s 推翻封建制，打破戀愛夢。 attitude towards love. Opens revolution:” 完成國民革命，偉大的女 with one of the songs they 快快學習，快快操練，努 性！ used to sing: 力為民先鋒。 快快學習，快快操練，努 推翻封建制， 打破戀愛 力為民先鋒。 春天的風是溫暖的，醉人 夢。 推翻封建制，打破戀愛 的；春之神帶來了甜蜜的愛 完成國民革命，偉大的女 夢。 情種子，撒在少男少女的心 性！ 完成社會革命，偉大的女 田，也帶來了生命的力量，
充滿在青年男女戰士的周 性！ Revolutionary “comrade love” rewritten to “nation’s 身。雄壯的衝鋒殺敵的號 Then describes how spring love.” 音，喚醒了他們的迷夢，一 brought romantic feelings 個個從粉紅色的宮殿裡跑出
106 into the military, where a 春天的風是溫暖的，醉人 來，走向充滿了血腥氣味， type of revolutionary love 的；春之神帶來了甜蜜的 橫陳著無數骷髏的社會戰場 developed: 愛情種子，撒在少男少女 上去了！他們把俠義的愛的 春天的風是溫暖的，醉人 的心田，也帶來了鮮紅的 觀念取消了，代替著的是國 的，春之神帶來了甜蜜的 血露，灑在青年男女戰士 家的愛，民族的愛！ 愛情種子，散在少男少女 的周身。雄壯的衝鋒殺敵 的心田，也帶來了鮮紅的 的號音，喚醒了他們的迷 「革命化的戀愛」 血露，灑在青年男女戰士 夢，一個個從粉紅色的宮 的周身。雄壯的衝鋒殺敵 Rewrites sentence about 殿裡跑出來，走向充滿了 的號音，喚醒了他們的迷 women placing their hopes of 血腥氣味，橫陳著無數骷 夢，一個個從粉紅色的宮 a better future and happiness, 髏的社會戰場上去了！他 removing reference to the 殿裡跑出來，走向充滿了 們把俠義的愛的觀念取消 need to the “fundamental 血腥氣味，橫陳著 了，代替著的是大眾的 overthrow of old society:” 無數骷髏的社會戰場上去 愛，民族的愛！ 她們把自己的前途和幸福， 了！他們把俠義的愛的觀 都寄託在革命的事業上面。 念取消了，代替著的是全 Removes reference to 社會被壓迫者的勞苦大眾 comrades: Slight rewriting of 1948 的愛，同志的愛！ 「革命化的戀愛」 edition in re rejection of romantic love: This type of love she Section on women’s hope in 大家在願把生命獻給國家民 referred to as revolutionary the revolution same as the 族的堅決信仰中，戀愛不過 love between comrades: 1936 edition: 是有閒階級的小姐少爺們的
「革命化的同志愛」 她們把自己的前途和幸 玩藝兒而已。 福，都寄託在革命的事業 Writes that women placed 上面。誰也知道整個的舊 Writes that she is willing to hopes of their future and 社會不根本推翻，女子永 sacrifice her life for the happiness in the revolution, 遠也沒有得到解放做人的 country: and that only with the 願意把生命獻給國家 overthrow of old society, 一天！
107 their liberation would be On rejecting romantic love, Xie’s friend tells her it is a possible: removes reference to shame she and her suitor have 她們把自己的前途和幸 masses, substitutes “nation:” different aspirations:
福，都寄託在革命的事業 大家在願把生命獻給民 「唉！可惜他的志向和你不
上面。誰也知道整個的舊 族，獻給社會的堅決信仰 一樣。」
社會不根本推翻，女子永 中，戀愛不過是有閒階級 Rewrites Xie’s decision with 遠也沒有得到解放做人的 的小姐少爺們的玩藝兒而 regards to her suitor, 一天！ 已。 removing references to their
different ideologies: Writes about rejection of Writes that she is now 我知道他那封信一定是被一 romantic love: committed to the country 時的情感衝動寫的，並不是 大家在願把生命獻給群 and society: 我沒有這種心情了，我的 他的能放下筆桿，拿起槍 眾，獻給社會的堅決信仰 生命已交給國家與社會 來，我不能和他戀愛，我要 中，戀愛不過是有閒階級 在腦海中消滅那個影子！ 的小姐少爺們玩的把戲而 Writes that she is willing to 已。 sacrifice her life for the nation: Receives letter from old 願意把生命獻給民族 love. Before, might appreciate it, but now she is Xie’s friend now instead committed to the masses and remarks that it is a shame society: their thinking is not the 我沒有這種心情了，我的 same: … 生命已交給群眾與社會 「唉！可惜他的思想和你
不一樣。」 Writes that she is willing to sacrifice her life for the Removes reference to Xie’s toiling masses: suitor not being a comrade: 願意把生命獻給勞苦大眾 我知道他那封信一定是被
一時的情感衝動寫的，並
108 Hearing about Xie’s love 不是他的思想有了新的轉 letter, a friend remarks that it 變，我不能和他戀愛，我 is a shame her suitor is not a 要在腦海中消滅那個影 “comrade:” 子！ 「唉！可惜他不是同志」
Xie writes that she definitely cannot be with her suitor, as their thought is too different, and that is a “non-comrade:” 我知道他那封信一定是被
一時的情感衝動寫下的，
並不是他的思想有了新的
轉變，我不能和一個非同
志戀愛，我要在腦海中消
滅那個影子！他是我敵
人，我應該以殘酷的手段
對待他，這年頭是不講情
感只重理智的，思想相同
的就是朋友同志，否則就
是敵人。
幾個不守紀律的男女兵 幾個不守紀律的男女兵 Chapter removed. (Some male and female (Some male and female soldiers who failed to keep soldiers who failed to keep discipline) discipline)
Writes about soldiers who Same, but her new reading failed to keep discipline, and material is slightly changed was held in detention for it. when she removes 農民革命
Notes that she was derided 問題. for being a literature student
109 who did not know how to do 每天和眼睛接觸的盡是 revolution. She then stopped 些 ， 世界革命史， 經濟 reading fiction, and started 學，政治學，軍事學······ reading other material. 等 ， 尤其是那本步兵操 175 每天和眼睛接觸的盡是些 典，幾乎有大半可以背得
農民革命問題，世界革命 出來！
史，經濟學，政治學，軍
事學······等，尤其是那本步
兵操典，幾乎有大半可以
背得出來！
血的五月 (Bloody may) 血的五月 (Bloody may) Chapter removed. Chapter about anti- Removes references to the imperialist struggle in color red, and replaces 群眾
Hankou in 1927: with 民眾. Compare the two 這鮮紅的，用革命先烈的 excerpts below with 1936 血染成的五月呵，只有在 version on the left for 一九二七年是這麼被我們 illustration.
熱烈地慶祝過 這用革命先烈的血染成的 五月呵，只有在一九二七 偉大的，不可抵禦的群眾 年是這麼被我們熱烈地慶
之力！ 祝過
Writes about the 偉大的，不可抵禦的民眾 revolutionary atmosphere, 之力！ how there are representatives from the Section on international international workers worker’s association has association there, who all been removed. The part celebrate the coming world about the women with bound revolution. Then writes feet is kept.
110 about women with bound feet who participate, but struggle because of their feet. 出發 (Setting out) 出發 出發
「從軍日記」(“War 「從軍日記」 從軍日記 diaries”) 三個老囚犯 (Three old Chapter removed. Chapter removed. prisoners) Three “local tyrants and evil gentry” ( 土豪劣紳) are captured by some villagers, and accused of oppressing them. They are imprisoned, and Xie keeps stern watch over them through the night. The next day, there is a public trial, and the three are sentenced to death and shot. 這該不是夢吧？(Is this a dream?) Xie recounts how one day a fellow soldier tells her that her writing has appeared in the English edition of Central Daily News. Xie at first does not believe him, but after looking at the paper, sees her name alongside Lin Yutang’s translation. Notes that she feels ashamed because of the quality of her writing.
111 夜間行車 (Night march) 夜間行車 夜間行車 Marching at night, Xie Motivation rewritten as: Slight further rewriting: thinks about her motivation 一想到為真理而戰，為光 一想到為真理而戰，為自由
for fighting: 明而戰，為全國父老兄弟 而戰，為全國父老兄弟姐妹 一想到為真理而戰，為光 姐妹而戰，就會精神百倍 而戰，就會精神百倍 明而戰，為全人類中的被 起來。 壓迫階級而戰，就會精神 Removes singing. 百倍起來 Keeps singing.
To lift the spirits of her fellow soldiers, Xie begins singing: 「走上前去呵，曙光在
前，同志們奮鬥！」54
我首先放開嗓子唱著，大
家都一齊唱了起來，雄壯
的歌聲，衝破了黑夜的沈
寂。
解散的前夜 (The night 解散的前夜 解散的前夜 before disbandment) Removes part about Removes part about Xie’s unit is disbanded, and reactionaries. reactionaries. they are told by their commanders that Keeps Yang’s admonition. Rewrites Company “reactionary forces are too Commander Yang’s strong:” Removes words of admonition 「因為反動勢力太大，為 encouragement. 「為了有少數搗亂份子在裡
了要保存我們革命的實 面作怪，上峯有命令要解散 Removes final exclamation 力，··········環境逼著我們， 你們；從明天起各人回到自 of hope for victory 不能不暫時解散·········」 己的家裡去，暫時忍受一點
54 This seems to be an early version of “Song of the Young Pioneers” (中國少年先鋒隊歌), see this memoir posted on the Dali Women’s Federation for a reference with complete lyrics: Anonymous (2009).
112 痛苦；現在每個人發十元錢
Company Commander Yang 的遺散費，趕快拿去做衣 tells the cadets that they 服，軍裝不能穿了！」 should not get their hopes down, but that they need to Removes words of leave for now, and to encouragement. remember to put on makeup before they leave: Removes final exclamation of 「當然，這絕不是害怕， hope for victory. 絕不是不抵抗，我們無論
如何要做最後的掙扎！你
們身體好，能夠跑路的，
就跟著十一軍出發，否
則，各人回到自己的家裡
去，暫時忍受一點痛苦，
不久的將來，我們也需要
過比現在更痛快，更自由
的生活了！現在每人發十
元錢的遺散費，明天趕快
去做衣服化妝，灰衣是不
能穿的。」 Following Yang, someone else tells them to keep their spirits high, and not to forget what they are fighting for: 「只要你們的信仰始終不
變，只要你們時時刻刻都
想到為革命而犧牲，那
麼，在目前如果生活沒有
辦法時，就是去當軍閥的
113 姨太太也未嘗不可以，只
是你們千萬不要沉醉在物
質的享樂中，而忘了自己
的使命。你們總要有一天
刺死那萬惡的軍閥，才不
愧是一個受過革命洗禮，
受過軍訓政訓來的戰士，
方不愧是一個有志氣，有
思想的勇敢底女性！」
Xie ends by writing that even though they had been disbanded, the spirit of the women’s troop was still around: 這樣轟轟烈烈，開始接先
鋒的女生隊，雖然解散
了，但她的精神，是永遠
存在著的！一九二七年的
革命種子，散佈在中國的
每一個城市，每一個農
村，我永遠地堅信著：最
後的勝利，終久是歸我們
的！
歸來 (Returning home) 歸來 歸來 Getting on the train, Xie and Same First selection changed to: her companions are 淒涼呵！說不出的淒涼憤 depressed due to their 慨，填滿了我們的心胸，要 division’s disbandment. Xie 不是那堅強的信仰，和未來 writes:
114 新中國的曙光在主宰我們誘
淒涼， 說不出來的淒涼憤 惑我們，誰願意苟延殘命
慨，慎滿了我們的心胸， 呢？ 要不是那堅強的信仰，和 未來新社會的紅光在主宰 Second changed to:
我們，誘惑我們，誰願意 「你們為什麼在這個時候回
苟延殘命呢？ 來？太可怕了！我家裡不能 留你們，無論什麼客人來， In Changsha, Xie takes her 都要經過五家聯保，懂得 companions to an old 嗎？五家聯保！·······」 friend’s house, asking to stay there. Her friend refuses, saying: 「你們為什麼在這個時候
回來？這是個恐怖世界，
殺人比宰雞鴨還多，我家
裡不能留你們，無論什麼
客人來，都要經過五家承
認，懂得嗎？五家聯保，
警兵每天都要來查幾次，
何況你們又是從武漢回來
的······」
被母親關起來了 (Locked 被母親關起來了 被母親關起來了 up by mother) Description of house, Reference to imperalists Describing house as very argument with father about removed. well built, what constitutes a modern 如果帝國主義者不用炸彈 marriage the same. Slight rewriting of the purpose
大炮來毀滅，恐怕三千年 of modern marriage: Removes “dangerous 主要的在兩人同為國家服 過後， 他還是不會損壞 revolutionary thought:” 務，為社會工作···· 的。
115 「思想？女人要那麼多的
In argument with father, Xie 思想幹什麼？」 says one of the most Removes “dangerous important things in “modern revolutionary thought:” Rewrites her criticism of marriage” is 「思想？女人要那麼多的思 suicide, changing among 主要的在兩人同為社會服 others “workers” (勞動者) 想幹什麼？」 務，努力幹著創造新社會 for “parents” ( 父母), and 的工作。 Slight rewriting of 1948 removing reference to the version, removing reference to liberation of the oppressed “revolutionary work” at the Xie tells father that sixiang is masses: very end: an important thing in a 你雖然是這樣渺小，即使 romantic match, but her 你雖然是這樣渺小，即使真 真的自殺，於社會沒有絲 father disagrees: 的自殺，於社會沒有絲毫影 毫影響，它決不因你的 「思想！女人要那種危險 響，它決不因你的死，有什 死，有什麼損失；但你自 的革命思想幹什麼？」 麼損失；但你自己對得起國 己對得起國家嗎？對得起 家嗎？對得起供給你飯吃， Xie considers suicide to get 供給你飯吃，供給你衣 供給你衣穿，供給你受教育 out of her arranged marriage, 穿，供給你受教育的父母 的父母嗎？你不想想，你是 but is critical of suicide: 嗎？你不想想，你是受過 受過革命洗禮來的，你負有 你雖讓是這樣渺小，即使 革命洗禮來的，你是負有 改造社會的使命，你曾經上 真的自殺，於社會沒有絲 改造社會使命的戰士，你 過前方，你曾否認自己不是 毫影響，他絕不會因你的 曾經上過前方，你曾否認 個懦弱無能的舊式女子，而 死，而有什麼損失，但你 自己不是個懦弱無能的普 是個有血性，有勇氣，意志 自己對得起社會嗎？對得 通女子，而是個有血性， 堅強的新女性！你是反抗一 起供給你飯吃，供給你衣 有勇氣，意志堅強的人！ 切的封建制度底戰士······現 穿，供給你受教育的勞動 你是反抗一切不合理的封 在難道你真的忘記了自己的 者嗎？你不想想，你是受 建制度底戰士······現在難道 任務嗎？死，就是表示你的 過革命洗禮來的，你是負 你真的忘記了自己的任務 失敗，禮教的勝利。封建社 有改造社會使命的戰士， 嗎？死，就是表示你的失 會，這殺人不見血的惡魔， 你曾經上過火線，在槍林 敗，禮教的勝利。封建社 每天都張開著血嘴，在吞吃
116 彈雨中做過殺敵救同志的 會，這殺人不見血的惡 這些沒有勇氣奮鬥的青年，
工作，你曾經宣過誓，要 魔，每天都張開著血嘴， 你也甘願給它吞下去嗎？而
為全世界十二萬萬五千萬 在吞吃這些沒有勇氣奮鬥 且，你應該更進一步想想，
被壓迫的勞苦群眾底解放 的青年，你也甘願給它吞 自殺是多麼愚笨的事呵，你
而奮鬥；你曾否認自己不 下去嗎？而且，你應該更 死了，舊社會少了一個叛
是 個懦弱無能的普通女 進一步想想，自殺是多麼 徒，即使你沒有勇氣拿著
子，而是個有血性有勇 愚笨的事呵，你死了，舊 槍，跑上戰場去衝鋒殺敵，
氣，意志堅強的人！你是 社會少了一個叛徒，即使 也應該做一點於人類有益的
反抗一切不合理的舊制度 你沒有勇氣拿著槍，跑上 工作呀。
底戰士·····現在難道你真的 戰場去衝鋒殺敵，也應該
忘記了自己的任務嗎？ 做一點於人類有益的革命
死，就是表示你的失敗， 工作。
禮教的勝利。封建社會，
這殺人不見血的惡魔，每
天都張開著血嘴，在吞吃
這些沒有勇氣奮鬥的青
年，你也甘願給牠吞下嗎
去？而且，你應該更進一
步想想，自殺是多麼愚笨
的事呵，你死了，舊社會
少了一個叛徒，就省掉一
顆子彈，即使你沒有勇氣
拿著槍，跑上戰場去衝鋒
殺敵，也應該作一點給敵
人殺掉你的革命工作。無
論如何，「被殺」總比
「自殺」來得偉大，來得
有價值！
117 沒收信件 (Unreceived 沒收信件 沒收信件 letters) 朝南嶽 (Going to Heng 朝南嶽 Chapter removed. mountain) Same
Xie’s mother takes her to Heng mountain to offer incense, so that Xie’s feet might heal, Xie reluctantly agrees to what she sees as her mother’s superstition.
On the way, Xie meets a young woman surnamed Shi, who says she is with the Women’s Association (婦女
協會), and that they are fighting for the liberation of all oppressed women: 「所有加入過的女子，都
要放足，剪髮，不得迷信
菩薩。」 She goes to her house, but is soon found by her mother, who scolds her, having heard from others that this miss Shi is not to be trusted. 慘痛的惡耗 (Painful news) 慘痛的惡耗 慘痛的惡耗 Xie gets news that her Same Removes reference to the second older brother has Fourth Army. died from tuberculosis. Recounts the closeness of
118 their relationship, and the development of his illness. Writes that after having a lover leave him for someone else, her brother went to Wuchang to participate in the revolution, working for the Fourth Army: 他那時担任第四軍軍部的
秘書.
秘密會議 (A secret 秘密會議 秘密會議 meeting) Same Removes last sentence about In an attempt to convince her one’s life belonging to mother that she is going to society, not one’s parents. go along with her arranged marriage, Xie begins to pretend to go along with her mother’s arrangements. At the end, Xie feels sorry for her parents, knowing full well that she is going to try to escape, and thus disappoint them deeply. Xie finishes by writing: 不過這，是沒有辦法的，
人生來就是整個的屬於社
會的，「父母的兒子」底
時代早已過去了，社會的
進化，時代的洪流，已隔
開了父與子的關係，這絕
119 不是人類的感情起了什麼
變化。
第一次逃奔 (The first 第一次逃奔 第一次逃奔
escape) 「快活呀！離開了黑暗的 「快活呀！離開了黑暗的牢
During their escape attempt, 牢獄！永別了，美麗的故 獄！永別了，美麗的故 Xie, convinced of their 鄉！」 鄉！」 success, exclaims: 「快活呀！離開了黑暗的
牢獄！永別了，充滿了封
建臭氣的故鄉！」
第二次逃奔 (The second 第二次逃奔 第二次逃奔 escape) Same Rewrites her praying, Having again escaped, Xie removing her writing that she in the middle of running did not believe in God: away prays that she will get 天呵，救救我吧，生死存
away: 亡，就在今夜決定；如果再 上帝呵，救救我吧，生死 逃不脫，我這一生就這樣完 存亡，就在今夜決定，如 了！ 果在逃不脫，我這一生就 我對著茫茫的，黑暗的天 這樣完了！ 空，默默地坐在地上向蒼天 我並不信仰上帝，然而那 祈禱。 時我卻對著茫茫的，黑暗
的天空，默默地坐在地
上，祈禱著蒼天。
第三次逃奔 (The third 第三次逃奔 第三次逃奔 escape) 第四次逃奔 (The fourth escape)55
55 This chapter appears later in Nübing shinian and the 1948 edition of Nübing zizhuan.
120 On making personal sacrifices, she writes that she is not opposed to her mother, but feudal society, removing reference to revolution: ··我反對的並不是母親，而
是整個的封建社會，只要最
後的目的能夠達到，短時的
忍痛犧牲，是沒有什麼不可
以的。
Adds 解除婚約 (Annulling our marriage contract) Short chapter in which Xie recounts how she wrote letters to her “husband” Xiao Ming, asking that they publicly announce the annulment of their marriage. After some convincing, Xiao Ming relents, and they publish their announcement in the newspaper. Goes to live with her oldest brother and his wife. Her oldest brother criticizes her decision, and Xie begins to consider how she should find a job, so she can support herself without their help. 入獄 (Going to prison) 入獄 Chapter removed. Xie visits the house where Removes the part where she two of her friends from writes that they were
121 Wuhan lives, and is arrested arrested because of her without a reason when the books. police searches the place. During questioning, Xie is asked: 「你是什麼時候加入 XX
黨的？你們的機關在那
裡？你担任什麼工作？」 Xie responds that she does not know what they are talking about.
Xie is then threatened with torture, which she says has caused many young people to falsely admit they are members of the Communist Party so that they might avoid it.
Eventually, the police label Xie and her two friends “reactionaries” and say they will be executed. But, when asked about her family, it turns out the judicial officer in charge of their case had studied with Xie’s father, Xie is allowed to contact her older brother, who comes to help them.
122 Xie insists that her two friends also be released, because: 「他們是因了我那幾本書
而被捕的，實際上是我連
累他們，為什麼我能釋
放，而他們不能呢？」
Luckily, one of her friends’ friends also arrives to help them, and on the fourth day they are all released. 小學教員 (Elementary 小學教員 小學教員 school teacher) Removes reference to “red Removes reference to “red Xie says her students are May.” May” and mister Wang eager to hear about the understanding revolution, events of 1927, and that changes “進步” to “正確.” some during “red May” (紅
色的五月) had gone to Heng mountain to listen to speeches, and that the laobaixing had greeted them warmly. Another teacher, a mister Wang, was the only other teacher at school who had “progressive ( 進步) thought” and “understood revolution.” 恐怖之夜 (A terrifying 恐怖之夜 恐怖之夜 night) Slight rewriting to Removes references to Xie’s friend Aizhen has, like Aizhen’s political awakening. Xie, escaped her family’s
123 arranged marriage. 「···我要找他，我要獻身
Depressed that her love 社會！」 interest had left her, … Aizhen’s spirit is lifted once 她要加入那個革命集團··· she “awakens” to politics, and decides to follow both him and revolutionary politics: 「···總之，他是在都市或
者在鄉村，為創造未來光
明的社會而努力著，我如
果要找他，祇要往那些勞
動者聚合的地方找好
了。」 ··· 她要加入那個集團，共同
創造新的社會——全宇宙
的人都相愛都有美的，幸
福的，自由愉快的生活享
受底社會。她決心了！就
在那年的冬天，她實現了
自己的志願，開始新的生
活，新的人生！
奇遇 (A strange encounter) 奇異 奇遇 On the boat to Shanghai, Xie The waiter now calls her Entire exchange with the meets a waiter that turns out “Xie xiansheng” (謝先生). waiter rewritten to: to be an old acquaintance Removes reference to labor 他開始叫我先生，並說出他 from her time in the union organizing, and 在衡陽曾經見過我。 Northern Expedition, who, rewrites waiter’s account of once they are alone together, Xianning to:
124 calls her “comrade Xie”(謝 他說，我們走了之後，這 Account of small fight
同志). Initially scared that 些地方又被黑暗勢力統治 removed. he might be a “spy,” Xie 著了，許多革命性的青年 Description of dock workers eventually believes him, and 男女都被封建勢力斷送了 removed. he updates her on what has 前途。 happened in Xianning and in his life since her leaving the Account of small fight kept. military. Says he is currently working to organize a union Slight rewriting about the for seamen. Xie asks about dock workers, removing 吶 the current situation for the masses in Xianning. The 喊: waiter answers: 在碼頭上搬運東西的苦力 「當你們來到咸甯時，被 們唱著「唷嘿，唷哈」的
壓迫的民眾都以為救星到 歌聲，這歌聲，就是他們
了，每處在土、劣、貧、 的呻吟，他們的心之共
污、地主和軍閥的貼題下 鳴。 的民眾，都可得到解放，
永遠沒有痛苦了！誰知道
不到一個月，他們又恢復
了地獄生涯，而且比以前
更苦了！你們走後的第二
天，軍閥就退回來了，不
問青紅皂白，見到年輕人
和見了頭髮的婦女，就一
律槍斃。···」
Later, a small fight breaks out in which the other passengers on the boat curses the richer passengers
125 who receive better treatment in their section of the boat.
Arrived in Shanghai, Xie writes about the dock workers: 在碼頭上搬運東西的苦力
們唱著「唷嘿，唷哈」的
歌聲。這歌聲，就是他們
的呻吟，他們的吶喊，他
們的心之共鳴。
女兵十年 1946
第四次逃奔 (The fourth 第四次逃奔 escape) Same In order to escape, Xie has to temporarily go along with the wedding ceremony: ···革命不是擇手段的，只
要最後的目的能夠達到，
短時的忍痛犧牲，是沒有
什麼不可以的。
最緊張的一夜 (The most 最緊張的一夜 Removed because content is a nervous night) Same, even though the repeat of the contents in “奇遇 Shortened version of the chapter “ 奇遇 (A strange (A strange encounter)” above. chapter 奇遇 (A strange encounter)” above has much encounter) in the 1936 of the same information Autobiography. Introduces who Aizhen is, and briefly recounts the waiter’s story, including the fate of the residents of Xianning
126 following the Northern Expedition.
當我們的隊伍開到咸寗
時，他那時還是海員工會
的代表，他和我在一起開
過會，所以認識我，同時
告訴我許多關于我們走後
咸寗縣的民眾受到壓迫的
種種情形，最令我聽了難
受的是那位工作很努力很
負責的錢遠潔女士，也做
了 壯烈的犧牲。
來到了上海 (Arriving in 來到了上海 來到了上海 Shanghai) Same Reference to waiter altered: In Shanghai, Xie is brought 明知道我這猜疑，不應當放
by the waiter to Sun Fuyuan. 在一個好人身上··· On the way, Xie is still worried about the waiter actually tricking her: 在沒有看到孫先生以前，
我始終放不下心，明知道
我這猜疑，不應當用在一
個革命同志的身上··· Eventually is safely brought to Sun Fuyuan. 第二次入獄 (The second 第二次入獄 入獄 (Going to prison)56 time going to prison) Same Reference to politics removed:
56 Because her first instance of getting jailed has been deleted from 1956 edition, the title is changed.
127 Xie and her friend Ai Si are 「若是別的糾紛還不要緊，
jailed, but without being 綁匪這罪名，實在太可怕 given a reason. After being 了，這真是要命的事！」 released from jail via the help of Sun Fuyuan, he tells them they lived in the same place as kidnappers (綁匪). Sun tells them: 「如果是政治上的糾紛還
不至這麼嚴重，綁匪這罪
名實在太可怕了。」
開始和窮困鬥爭 開始和窮困鬥爭 開始和窮困鬥爭 (Beginning to struggle with Same Removes reference to Lin poverty) Yutang.57 Writes that at that time, there were only two people in Removes reference to the Shanghai who were able and people at Shanghai Arts willing to help her, Lin School being revolutionaries. Yutang and Sun Fuyuan, but since Lin Yutang had left for Reference to revolutionary Beiping, only Sun was left. literature removed: 正當我躺在床上看書的時候 A friend suggests she apply to Shanghai Arts School 上 References to Xie’s roommate 海藝大, saying their participating in revolutionary directors and several groups removed: professors 「可是我的思想是新的，進 「也都是文化界有名的革 了中學以後，就開始參加各
命者。」 種活動。我擔任過杭州婦女
57 I doubt this is significant. Lin Yutang and Xie remained friends in Taiwan, and his name occurs other places in the 1956 edition. It is likely it is rewritten because she originally wrote that the only people she knew in Shanghai were him and Sun Fuyuan, but then immediately writes that Lin Yutang was in Beiping.
128 會的總幹事，後來我悄悄地
Xie’s new roommate arrives 離開了家。」 just as she was in her bed reading about revolutionary theory: 正當我躺在床上看一本革
命理論的時候
Xie’s new roommate tells her about her political thought: 「但我的思想是前進的，
進了中學以後，就開始參
加革命團體。一九二六年
我擔任杭州婦女協會的總
幹事，後來政局變化，政
府要通輯我，這纔悄悄地
逃了出來。」
亭子間的悲劇 (A tragedy 亭子間的悲劇 亭子間的悲劇 of the garret) Same Removes reference to politics Xie’s friend Manman is in a and economics: love triangle, and describes 曼曼告訴我她最不高興看什 her boyfriend’s other 麼文藝一類的書··· girlfriend as not interested in economics or politics: Removes reference to 曼曼告訴我她最不高興看 Manman’s boyfriend being 什麼政治經濟一類的書， socialist: 也不喜歡參加任何文化活 「他是一個汎愛主義者。」
129 動，她是贊成賢妻良母主 Removes admonition to work
義的。 for the sake of revolution.
Cuts interest in social About her boyfriend, movements. Manman says he is a socialist, and thus a practice of universal love: 「他信仰社會主義，因此
他是一個汎愛者。」
Trying to comfort Manman, Xie tells her to 把感情寄托在學問上，在
未來的事業上，和為全人
類謀福利的的革命工作
上···
Xie is romantically pursued by her friend Qi, but writes that at the time 我那時的求學心和參加社
會活動的興趣非常濃厚 But in the end, she still falls in love with Qi. 破棉襖 (A worn-out 破棉襖 破棉襖 jacket) Same Removes reference to people Xie recounts her friendship joking Xie and Wang Keqin with a miss Wang Keqin: being in a homosexual 那時有許多人曾笑我們是 relationship.
同性戀愛
飢餓 (Hunger) 飢餓 飢餓
130 Many of her fellow students Same Removes reference to helping had been arrested, and Xie arrested students. writes that between helping them, and trying to maintain Rewrites the lesson learnt to her daily expenses, she led a her by hunger: very hard life. 飢餓只有加深我對現社會的
認識，只有加強我生的勇 Commenting on the lesson 氣。這是飢餓給我的寶貴的 learnt to her by hunger, Xie 教訓。 writes: 飢餓只有加深我對現社會
的認識，只有加強我生的
勇氣，從此我更要奮鬥，
為了自己，也為了萬萬千
千和我同樣在飢餓線上掙
扎著的青年男女。
解散之後 (After being 解散之後 Title changed to 學校被封了 dissolved) Same (Our school got closed) One of the people at Reference to “Broken-pants” Shanghai University of Arts, is rewritten, removing “Broken-pants” (破褲子) is reference to him being described as being involved involved in the social in the social sciences: sciences: 他是社會科學研究社的一 他是平民夜校的校長
位中堅人物 Removes reference to social
science-books: Xie is afraid that the people ···兩個人都不知道應如何處 shutting down the school will find and destroy her 理這些小說和文藝理論一類 books: 的書···
131 ···兩個人都不知道應如何 Removes names of Zheng
處理這些小說和文藝理論 Boqi and Feng Naichao: ···並且告訴他們被捕的並不 以及社會科學的書··· 是限於學生，還有幾位先
Several people connected to 生··· the university were arrested, including Zheng Boqi and Rewrites rhetorical question Feng Naichao: about China under ···並且告訴他們被捕的並 colonialism:
不是限於學生，還有鄭伯 中國人在自己的國土內，為
奇，馮乃超幾位先生··· 什麼連辦學校的自由都沒有 呢？ Asks rhetorically if China under colonialism can be Removes reference to often called a country: helping other arrested 中國人在自己的國土內連 students.
辦學校的自由都沒有，還
能算個國家嗎？
Writes that herself and others at the time often had to help each other when people got arrested: ···每次同學被捕，從來不
見有幸災樂禍的，大家都
像兄弟姊妹似的那麼關
心，互助···
偷飯吃 (Stealing food to 偷飯吃 偷飯吃 eat) Same Removes references to the Xie’s brother wants her to school being closed, and her leave Shanghai, because the fellow students being arrested.
132 situation in Shanghai was getting more and more Changes date of leaving to serious: May 31st: ···藝大同學被捕，學校被 記得很清楚，那天是五月三
帝國主義者解散，法租界 十日，送行的只有宋君一
電車仍然在繼續罷工的時 人。
候，他就要我立刻到南京
去··· Writes simply that the newspaper stopped
publishing: Writes that she left on May 誰知不到兩個月，報紙停刊 1st: 記得很清楚，那天是「五 了···
一」勞動節，送行的只有
一個好友宋君萍青。
Xie and a friend started editing a magazine, but it was banned after less than two months: 我和小鹿（即陸晶清）和
編副刊。誰知不到兩個
月，報又被禁止出版···
我愛作文 Chapter not originally in earlier versions. Recounts her being thrilled that their teacher at Beiping Normal Girls School allowed them to freely write whatever they felt like, and that she
133 liked writing lyrical works the best:
如果硬要有腦筋裡壓榨出一
些什麼空空洞洞的理論來，
不但文章寫不好，而且對於
這些學生，簡直是一種無形
的精神虐待！
Then writes that because 己所
不欲，勿施於人, when she herself became a teacher, she would also give the students freedom to write what they themselves wanted. 愛與恨的鬥爭 (The 愛與恨的鬥爭 愛與恨的鬥爭 struggle of love and hate) Same Removes reference to Hong’s martyrdom, him being her Writes that her friend Hong “revolutionary comrade,” and became a martyr for the his strong point being politics. liberation of the nation: ···他為了民族的自由解放 Removes reference to Hong
面做了壯烈犧牲。 pushing Xie to participate more in politics:
同時他的性格也和我不相 Hong had been together with Xie in the military: 同，他不喜歡我學文學，但 鴻是我二哥最好的朋友， 我絕對不能放棄文學，寧可
也是我在從軍時代的革命 犧牲愛情。
同志···
134 Hong’s strong point was politics: 雖然在大學時他是學的教
育，但政治是他的特長···
Xie and Hong were romantically interested in each other, but Hong wanted her to focus more on politics, less on literature: 同時他的性格也和我不相
同，他不喜歡我學文學，
極力贊成我研究政治。我
是最不喜歡政治的，更討
厭今天出席什麼團體演
說，明天開會做什麼主
席，我不能放棄我的文
學，寧可犧牲愛情。
做了母親 (Becoming a 做了母親 做了母親 mother) Same Writes that the child belongs Giving birth to a child puts a to the country: lot of pressure on Xie, 孩子，管她做什麼？橫豎她 especially after Fu Hao 是國家的人··· grows more and more annoyed at fatherhood. Xie considers suicide several times. Writes that at the time she thought that her child did not matter:
135 孩子，管她做什麼？橫豎
她是社會的人，生也好，
死也好
探獄 (Visiting prison) 探獄 探監 Describes Fu Hao as: Same Changes description of Fu 一個熱情的追求真理爭議 Hao to:
的青年 一個熱情好學活潑天真的青 年
慘苦生涯的一斷片 (A 慘苦生涯的一斷片 慘苦生涯的一斷片 fragment of a miserable Same Removes reference to Xie life) being a “new woman who Xie’s friends suggest they works for society.” foster her child while Xie goes to work. Xie initially agrees, but then redecides, feeling emotional about not being with her child. Her friend tells her to be less emotional: 「···應該把感情放冷靜
些，為社會工作的新女
性，是不應該感情重於理
智的。」
南歸 (Returning south) 南歸 南歸 Xie writes that she has to Same Deletes sections on her leave Beiping because her reasons for leaving Beiping. participation in some cultural groups had caused her to be labeled a criminal: 我就是這群青年中之一，
為了參加一個文化團體的
136 工作，參加機場戲劇的公
演，為了曾主編過一個婦
女月刊，這些竟都被視為
犯罪的主因，當一個朋友
秘密地告訴我這個消息，
要我立刻離開北平時，我
真有點不相信，好像在作
夢似的，不相信命運會有
這麼多的磨
不能由你考慮，遲疑，就
在丹田決定了晚上乘津浦
車南返，朋友們是太關心
我愛護我了，她們費盡了
力量為我籌備旅費，她們
再三主婦我保重身體，不
要灰心，繼續為未來光明
的前途而奮鬥，
我為什麼從北平逃亡出來
的消息，很快地傳到武
昌，友人勸我還是到鄉下
去住一個短時期，免得又
鬧出什麼麻煩，於是我有
含著憤恨和隱痛離開了武
昌，回到湘江對岸的嶽麓
山嶺了。
青楓峽裏憶當年 青楓峽裏憶當年 青楓峽裏憶當年 Same
137 Arriving south, Xie writes Removes reference her being that she felt as if she was as a “wanted criminal.” listed as wanted: 我像一個被通輯的逃犯
母親的心 (A mother’s 母親的心 慈母心 heart) Adds a dialogue with her friend, in which her friend laments that she has become victim of feudal society, but Xie tells her not to feel too bad, and that Xie herself had hardly become free: 「鳴叔，你是勝利了；只有
我完全做了封建社會的犧牲
品，我後悔沒有跟隨你走就
好了。」
「翔，不要後悔，人生不是
那麼簡單；我一直到今天，
還沒有獲得真正的自由，我
隨時都在艱苦、險惡的環境
裡掙扎；翔，忍耐著吧，只
要不灰心，總有出頭的一
天。」
黑宮之夏 (A summer at 黑宮之夏 黑宮之夏 Heigong) 驚人的新聞 (Shocking 驚人的新聞 驚人的新聞 news) Same Deletes description of In Japan, Xie’s friend tells Japanese people’s character. her to be wary of the character of Japanese
138 people, who he describes as bad: ···並且告訴我日本人是如
何小氣，如何想佔別人的
便宜，要我交日本朋友的
時候千萬要選擇，要謹
慎，否則，很容易上他們
的當的。
多情的米子 (The 多情的米子 多情的米子 affectionate Mizi) Same Deletes part about her closer Mizi seems to have relationship with Mizi. developed feelings for Xie, and when Xie leaves Japan, Mizi cries, cursing the war between the two countries for destroying their friendship.
Xie then recounts that they exchanged letters for a long time, but that when she returned to Japan years after, they did not meet, and after having been jailed in Japan, she writes ···對於日本人的感情又起
了變化，我連米子都討厭
起來···
不自由的淚 (Tears of 不自由的淚 不自由的淚 oppression)
139 一個壯烈的集會 (A heroic 一個壯烈的集會 一個壯烈的集會 assembly) 歸國 (Repatriation) 歸國 歸國
「一二八」的前夕 (The 「一二八」的前夕 「一二八」的前夕 evening before the January 28th incident) 文人也上了前線 (The 文人也上了前線 文人也上了前線 literati also goes to the Same Removes reference to persons front) being of different party Writes about writers and affiliation: others from the cultural 上海的文人也團結起來了， world of Shanghai who 組織了一個「上海著作人抗 united to fight the Japanese, 日救國會」··· across party lines:
上海的文人也團結起來 Removes reference to the 了，他們不分黨派地組織 sharpness of Bai Wei’s 了一個「上海著作人抗日 thought: 救國會」··· 我認識薇，也在這個時候。
她是五四時代的一位女作
Writes about her getting to 家，從封建家庭裡奮鬥出 know fellow Hunanese 來，她的意志很堅強，長於 writer, Bai Wei: 詩歌和小說··· 我認識白薇，也就是這個
時候，她是五四時代的一 Removes part about Liu Yazi 位女作家，從封建家庭奮 and Lin Gengbai. Writes 鬥出來，又和封建社會奮 instead about the different 鬥，她的意志很堅強，思 kinds of wenren she met:
想很敏銳··· 有真愛國的，他們不聲不響 地在埋頭苦幹；也有整天寫 Writes about her friendship 宣言，擬標語口號，開會當 with Liu Yazi 柳亞子 and
140 Lin Gengbai 林庚白, whose 主席的；更有一種人，唯恐 poetry and revolutionary 別人說他不勇敢，於是開口 spirit she admires. 到前線去，閉口文章入伍；
結果，一聽到大砲響，便嚇
得屁滾尿流，抱頭鼠竄了。
多難的「三八」(A 多難的「三八」 Chapter deleted. disastrous March 8th) Same
The people chongbai shijiulu jun, the army wants to fight, but the government had other plans.
Writes that many people believed the foreign concessions to be more free, but Xie writes that this is wrong, and uses their attempted celebration of March 8th as an example. Xie and a group of women were planning a march, only to have their office ransacked, with all the women there being arrested. Xie herself was ill, and not present, and avoided being jailed. 沒有目的底旅行 (A 沒有目的底旅行 Rewrites title to 閩西之行 journey with no purpose) Same (Travelling to west Min) Writes that she went to Deletes all references to the Fujian where the Nineteenth Nineteenth Route Army and Route Army was
141 “establishing a new society,” their establishment of a “new after being invited there by society.” her friend Hong: 十九路軍退回了復健之
後，他們在閩西建設了一
個新的社會，還是過去 X
軍的根據地，他們曾在這
兒盤踞了整整的四年，小
航和鴻來信邀我去參觀一
次，我抱著一個旅行的目
的答應了他們，就在這年
的四月旅行到了閩西一個
偏僻的縣城—龍岩。
In Longyan she reunites with Hong, and often goes to visit him and his wife. She then writes that one day Hong shows them a love letter Xie had written him during the Northern Expedition. Xie is mad that Hong displays this kind of unfaithful behavior in front of his wife, and she decides to go to Xiamen. 跛子校長 (The crippled 跛子校長 跛子校長 principal) Same Deletes references to her Writes that even before she being named section chief. arrived, she had been made “section chief” (科長).
142 Later writes that she barely did anything as “section chief,” but thankful for the position, as it allowed her to take the position as teacher at the “crippled principal’s” school. 土皇帝 (Local emperor) 土皇帝 Chapter removed. Writes about a local leader Same of a socialist ideology, who she says is deeply respected among the people: 他的思想是屬於社會主義
的，可是他並不主張用激
烈的手段來槍殺地主，沒
收土地，他是主張用和平
的手段來解決社會一切糾
紛的，有人說他是改良主
義者，更有人反對他這種
作風是做不通的，但奇怪
的是在他的鎮上，早已實
行了平均地權，耕者有其
田的主義··· Everybody liked him, so even when the Communist army was there, they did not interfere with him: X 軍在這裡時，也不敢攻
擊他
民眾大會 (A great meeting 民眾大會 Chapter removed. of the masses) Same
143 Commander Cai Yanxie 蔡
廷楷 convened a meeting in Gutian, where he encouraged people to fight against Japan. Xie holds a speech to the people who have gathered, also encouraging them to fight. 別矣古田 (Farewell to 別矣古田 Chapter removed. Gutian) Same Short chapter in which Xie first mentions her friends leaving Gutian to go back to Shanghai, and Xie herself leaving for Xiamen to go teach the week after. 海濱之戀 海濱之戀 海戀
粉筆生涯 粉筆生涯 粉筆生涯
海濱古人 海濱古人 海濱古人
意外之災 (An unforeseen 意外之災 Chapter removed. disaster) Same. Xie opens by writing about the tense political situation in China, of which she is critical, stressing that she had never participated in any party: 近二十年來中國變動得最
厲害的是政治。黨派一天
比一天增加，思想問題愈
來愈複雜。但我是個愛好
144 自由的人，我不願意參加
任何黨派，也不願意捲入
任何政治漩渦，更看不起
那些掛羊頭賣狗肉的官僚
政治家，和那些今天擁護
甲派，明天打到乙派的投
機革命家。記得在上海
時，曾為了左翼的問題，
鬧得天花亂墜。報紙上只
看到一些我打到你，你打
到我的內戰文章，而沒有
看到他們放棄成見共同為
國家民族前途努力的文
章，我悲哀，我痛苦，我
只有地下頭來悄悄地嘆
息，我始終沒有加入過他
們的陣線，沒有被任何人
利用過寫過一個字的幫閑
文章。
Xie then writes that many people had accused her of going to Fujian to join the Fujian People’s Government, which she vehemently denies: 到福建去，完全因為我過
去的刺激太深，想在這裡
利用幽美的環境，調劑一
145 下生活，把身體養好後，
以便從事寫作；而且來到
福建，原來沒有一定目
的，完全是旅行性質，及
到接受了廈門中學的聘約
以後，才下決心暫時在這
裡重度起粉筆生涯來。沒
想到一些帶著有色眼鏡的
人，竟造出無㮷之遙來，
說我是什麼社會民主黨，
人民政府的婦女部長。
是人民政府成立不久的那
年秋天，廈門各學校派了
代表去福州省府增加經
費，我也是被派的代表之
一。
Xie had been offered a job in Fuzhou by her friend Hong, but had refused, still, one day the papers reported otherwise. 堂堂皇皇的幾個字說我做
了婦女部長。
One day, she is given a letter from Hong by a soldier, and told that she needs to immediately leave Xiamen.
146 天！這是什麼嚴重的事？
今晚務必離開廈門？我沒
有參加任何政治工作，難
道我犯了什麼罪嗎？我是
個清清白白的教員，我為
什麼要被逼著離開廈門
呢？
Xie resists, and does not want to leave, but when going to talk to the principal of her school, he urges her to leave. Xie tells him if he’s scared about the school, she will go into hiding for a while, but the principal says it is not about the school: 「不是什麼學校不學校的
問題，而是為了你自己的
安全。」
已經到了不能由我作主的
地步，他們把我當作小偷
似的悄悄地送上了開往上
海的輪船。
謠 (Lies) 謠 Chapter removed. Writes about rumors of her Same participation in the Fujian People’s government had spread to Shanghai:
147 一到上海形勢更嚴重了，
我看到申報上一批通緝閩
變份子的名單裡面，有我
的名字在內，真是又好笑
又氣憤···
Liu Yazi advises her to leave, because despite her claim that she had not participated in the Fujian People’s Government, she had at one point helped the Nineteenth Route Army, and had been in Fujian at the time, and while it would be unjust, there is no one who are reasonable (講理) in the current climate. Xie listens to him, and goes back to Changsha.
In Changsha she lives peacefully, and starts writing her Autobiography. But, at the same time, the newspaper started writing about her: ···那些無聊的小報上，拼
命寫著攻擊我的文章 ···
再渡扶桑 (To Japan again)
148 Begins by shortly writing her reason for leaving Fujian: 在廈門中學只過了半年的安
定生活，又是一個意想不到
的風浪襲來了。我負著莫須
有的罪名，含著悲憤，離開
了使我留戀的廈門和三百多
個天真可愛的學生. She then plans to go to Japan to study at Waseda.
Reuses parts from the chapter 公開的秘密 (An open secret) from the 1948 edition and Nübing shinian: She writes how she came to deeply admire her professor, 本間久雄, who was always curteous to his Chinese students, saying that he did not support the Japanese invasion of the Chinese northeast: 「唉！這是不幸的事，希望
東北不久能歸還中國，侵略
主義是不能存在的！」
Deletes discussion of Pearl Buck’s The Good Earth.
Writes about her intention to improve her Japanese, so that
149 she might one day translate authors such as Dickens, Tolstoy, Balzac etc. 奧多摩的紅葉(The red 奧多麼的紅葉 Chapter removed. leaves of Okutama) Same Xie returns to Tokyo to study. Writes about her life in Tokyo, then describes the beauty of the red leaves in autumn, and how their arrival influences everyone in Japan. 公開的秘密 (An open 公開的秘密 Chapter removed. secret) Same Writes that as long as one has money, one could attend university in Japan, regardless of the proficiency of one’s Japanese, or general preparedness for university.
In addition to her other classes, Xie also attended the classes of a Chen Wenlan 陳
文 瀾 , who taught a book called Women de chengguo 我們的成果, which she says was a “short story collection by a left-wing writer” (左翼
作家的短篇小說集). Xie writes that his class became
150 so popular, that eventually people had to stand to listen.
She writes how she came to deeply admire her professor, 本間久雄, who was always curteous to his Chinese students, saying that he did not support the Japanese invasion of the Chinese northeast: 「唉！這是不幸的事，希
望東北不久能歸還中國，
侵略主義是不能存在
的！」
In a discussion, she critiques Pearl S. Buck’s The Good Earth for not being realisitic enough, using an example where the starved characters in the novel slaughter and eat a cow in a “very short amount of time” (幾個人怎
麼一下吃得完呢？). Then writes that writers should always only write about that which they have experienced themselves: 「···我覺得一個作家無論
對一件什麼事情，非親自
151 經歷或者親自觀察不
可。」
Writes about her intention to improve her Japanese, so that she might one day translate authors such as Dickens, Tolstoy, Balzac etc.
火山巡禮 (Tour to a 火山巡禮 Chapter removed. volcano) Same Writes about a visit to the active volcano at Mount Mihara (三原山), and their hike up to it. Writes that many people were known to have committed suicide by jumping into the volcano, and that from the top, they could see bones toward the bottom. 第三次入獄 (The third 第三次入獄 在日本獄中 (In Japanese time in jail) Same prison) Short chapter on Xie being Removes reference to thought arrested for refusing to greet crime. Puyi when he was visiting Tokyo. Xie writes that they accused her of thought crime (他們說我犯的十思想罪), and tortured her. 脫逃 (Fleeing) 脫逃 脫逃
152 Xie is eventually released Same Removes reference to her from jail, but the Japanese being accused of being an accused her of being an activist: international socialist ···日本帝國主義者···說我如 activist: 何如何。他不說我是為了愛 ···日本帝國主義者···說我如 國，故意加我一個反動的罪 何如何，是國際社會主義 名··· 者的活動份子··
Deletes reference to people Returning to Shanghai, she being suspicious of her. found that people there were also suspicious of her: 可是上海在當時，並不是
我可以久居之地，有一部
分人不但不同情我的遭
遇，不了解我的坐牢是為
了「愛國」，卻像日本軍
閥似的用一種敵視的眼光
加在我的身上···
桂林山水申天下 (Guilin's 桂林山水申天下 Chapter removed. mountains and waters are Same the best under heaven) Writes about the scenery of Guilin, and hiking with her third older brother and his wife. 暈倒 (Passing out) 暈倒 Chapter removed.
廣西的民眾是可愛的，， Same
廣西的婦女更是可愛的···
153 歸來 (Returning home) 歸來 Rewritten as 開始寫自傳 Writes about her return to Same (Starting to write my Changsha to recover from autobiography) illness. While there, she Keeps writing of finished the first volume of Autobiography, removes Autobiography. section about big sister Tie.
Also writes about her friend from when she first tried to enroll in the military, big sister Tie 鐵大姐, who had been released from prison, where she had a child. Back in Changsha, however, she was abused and abandoned by her husband. ···她的那個曾經做過社會
主義小領袖的丈夫再也不
唱什麼民主和解放的高調
了 ，他嫌鐵大姐太老太
醜，常常卷打腳踢···
母親的死 (Mother’s death) 母親的死 母親的死
出發 (Setting out) 出發 Chapter renamed 忠孝不能兩
The War of Resistance Same 全 (Loyalty and filial piety breaks out, and Xie cannot be equally fulfilled) organizes the Hunan Changes flag to the national Women's War Zone Service flag: Corps (湖南婦女戰地服務 我高舉著國旗 團), and carries their bright- red-flag: Removes “national liberation” 我高舉著鮮紅的團旗··· from their slogans:
154 「打到日本帝國主義，中華
Her group shouted slogans 民國萬 歲...... 」的口 號。 like:
「打到日本帝國主義，中 Removes reference to the 華民族解放萬歲...... 」的 Fourth Army: 口 號。 一會兒戰士們的大隊伍來
了，我們更加提高了嗓子唱
Writes that they encountered 著··· the Fourth Army: 一會兒第四軍的大隊伍來
了，我們更加提高了嗓子
唱著···
在野戰醫院 (In a field 在野戰醫院 在野戰醫院 hospital) Same Removes reference to the Writes that they followed the Fourth Army: Fourth Army: 當天晚上，軍隊就開上火線
當天晚上，第四軍就開上 作戰了··· 火線作戰了···
民眾工作 (Working with 民眾工作 民眾工作 the masses) Same. Removes part about Writes that the women took “revolutionaries do not shed their job seriously, and when tears, only blood.” they felt someone were not doing their job properly, they would be criticized, even to the point of them crying: 但我們並不因此而對這個
同志寬容；相反地，我們
還要責備她：「革命者是
只流血不流淚的！」
155 我們的生活 (Our lives) 我們的生活 我們的生活
戰區巡禮 (Touring the war 戰區巡禮 戰區巡禮 zones) Same. Removes reference to Li Writes that her third older Delin: brother told her to come 我的三哥那時正在第五戰 work in the fifth war zone, 區，他來電要我到那邊去工 because Li Delin (better 作，於是我毫不猶豫地直向 known as Li Zongren 李宗 徐州奔去。 仁) was there, who Xie knew from her time in Guangxi: 我的三哥那時在第五戰區
司令長官部任職，他來電
要我到那邊去工作，因為
李德鄰將軍和白副總長都
是在廣西教書的時候很熟
識的，聽了毫不猶豫地直
向徐州奔去。
156 Bibliography
Ahmad, Aijaz. 1987. "Jameson’s Rhetoric of Otherness and the “National Allegory”." Social Text 17:3-25. Althusser, Louis. 2004. "Ideology and Ideological State Apparatuses." In Literary Theory: An Anthology, edited by Julie Rivkin and Michael Ryan. Maiden: Blackwell. Anderson, Benedict. 2006. Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism. Revised ed. London and New York: Verso. Anderson, Linda. 2011. Autobiography. 2 ed. London: Routledge. Anonymous. 2009. "Daonian Zhao Qinxian tongzhi 悼念赵琴仙同志 [Remembering comrade
Zhao Qinxian]." Dali Women’s Federation, Last Modified 29.06.2009, accessed 24.3. http://www.daliwomen.gov.cn/index.php?m=content&c=index&a=show&catid=21&i d=3448. Bailey, Paul J. 2007. Gender and Education in China: Gender Discourses and Women’s Schooling in the Early Twentieth Century. London and New York: Routledge. Barlow, Tani E. 1989. "Introduction." In I Myself Am a Woman: Selected Writings of Ding Ling, edited by Tani E. Barlow and Gary J. Bjorge. Boston: Beacon Press. Bauer, Wolfgang. 1990. Das Antlitz Chinas: Die autobiographische Selbstdarstellung in der chinesischen Literatur von ihren Anfängen bis heute. München: Carl Hanser Verlag. Benjamin, Walter. 1968a. "The Storyteller: Reflections on the Works of Nikolai Leskov." In Illuminations, edited by Hannah Arendt. New York: Schocken Books. Benjamin, Walter. 1968b. "Theses on the Philosophy of History." In Illuminations, edited by Hannah Arendt. New York: Schocken Books. Benton, Gregor. 1999. New Fourth Army: Communist Resistance Along the Yangtze and the Huai, 1938-1941. Berkeley: University of California Press. Braester, Yomi. 2007. "Taiwanese Identity and the Crisis of Memory: Post-Chiang Mystery." In Writing Taiwan: A New Literary History, edited by David Der-wei Wang and Carlos Rojas. Durham: Duke University Press. Brissman, Barry, and Lily Chia Brissman. 2001. "Introduction." In A Woman Soldier’s Own Story: The Autobiography of Xie Bingying, edited by Barry Brissman and Lily Chia Brissman. New York: Berkley Books. Chang, Doris. 2009. Women's Movements in Twentieth-Century Taiwan. Chicago: University of Illinois Press.
157 Chang, Sung-sheng Yvonne. 1993a. Modernism and the Nativist Resistance: Contemporary Chinese Fiction from Taiwan. Durham: Duke University Press. Chang, Sung-sheng Yvonne. 1993b. "Yuan Qiongqiong and the Rage for Eileen Zhang among Taiwan’s Feminine Writers." In Gender Politics in Modern China: Writing and Feminism, edited by Tani E. Barlow. Durham and London: Duke University Press. Chang, Sung-sheng Yvonne. 2004. Literary Culture in Taiwan: Martial Law to Market Law. New York: Columbia University Press. Chang, Tang-chi 張堂錡. 2015. "Lun Xie Bingying de zuoyi sixiang ji qi zhuanbian 論謝冰瑩
的左翼思想及其轉變 [On Xie Bingying ’ s Leftist Beliefs and Later
Transformation]." Danjiang zhongwen xuebao 淡江中文學報 (32). Chen, Fangming. 2007. "Postmodern or Postcolonial? An Inquiry into Postwar Taiwanese Literary History." In Writing Taiwan: A New Literary History, edited by David Der-wei Wang and Carlos Rojas. Durham: Duke University Press. Chen, Xue 陳雪. 2018. Enü shu 惡女書. 二版.; Er ban. ed. Taibei: INK yinke wenxue shenghuo
zazhi chuban youxian gongsi; 臺北 INK 印刻文學生活雜誌出版有限公司.
Cheng, Ming-Lee 鄭明娳 1994. "Dangdai Taiwan wenyi zhengce de fazhan, yingxiang yu
jiantao 當代台灣文藝政策的發展、影像與檢討 [An Examination of the Development and Effects of Cultural Policies in Contemporary Taiwan]." In Dangdai Taiwan zhengzhi wenxue lun 當代台灣政治文學論, edited by Ming-Lee 鄭明娳
Cheng. Taipei 台北市: 時報文化.
Chiang, Kai-shek 蔣介石. 1984. "Minsheng zhuyi yule liang pian bushu 民生主義育樂兩篇
補述 [Two Supplementary Treatises to what of the People ’ s Livelihood]." In
Zongtong jiang gong sixiang yanlun zongji 總統蔣公思想言論總集 [Anthology of
President Chiang Kai-shek’s Thought and Speeches], edited by 秦孝儀. Taipei: Zhongguo Guomindang zhongyang weiyuanhui Chow, Kai-Wing, Tze-ki Hon, Hung-yok Ip, and Don C. Price. 2008. "Introduction." In Beyond the May Fourth Paradigm: In Search of Chinese Modernity, edited by Kai-Wing Chow, Tze-ki Hon, Hung-yok Ip and Don C. Price. Lanham: Lexington Books. Chow, Rey. 1991. Woman and Chinese Modernity: The Politics of Reading Between West and East. Vol. v. 75. Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press.
158 Chow, Rey. 1993. "Virtuous Transactions: A Reading of Three Stories by Ling Shuhua." In Gender Politics in Modern China: Writing and Feminism, edited by Tani E. Barlow, 90-105. Durham: Duke University Press. Chung, Ling. 2000. "Feminism and Female Taiwan Writers." In Chinese Literature in the Second Half of a Modern Century: A Critical Survey, edited by Pang-yuan Chi and David Der-wei Wang, 146-160. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Clark, Janet; Clark, Cal. 2000. "The Reserved Seats System in Taiwan." In Democracy & the Status of Women in East Asia, edited by Rose J. Lee; Cal Clark. Boulder, London: Lynne Rienner Croll, Elisabeth. 1978. Feminism and Socialism in China. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Croll, Elisabeth. 1995. Changing Identities of Chinese Women. Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press. Davies, Gloria. 2013. Lu Xun's Revolution: Writing in a Time of Violence. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press. Diamond, Norma. 1975. "Women Under Kuomintang Rule: Variations on the Feminine Mystique." Modern China 1 (1). Dooling, Amy D. 2005a. Women’s Literary Feminism in Twentieth-Century China. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Dooling, Amy D., ed. 2005b. Writing Women in Modern China: The Revolutionary Years, 1936-1976. New York: Columbia University Press. Dooling, Amy D., and Kristina M. Torgeson, eds. 1998. Writing Women in Modern China: An Anthology of Women’s Literature From the Early Twentieth Century. New York: Columbia University Press. Dorrill, William F. 1969. "The Fukien Rebellion and the CCP: A Case of Maoist Revisionism." The China Quarterly (37):31-53. Duara, Prasenjit. 1995. Rescuing History From the Nation: Questioning Narratives of Modern China. Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press. Eakin, Paul John. 1985. Fictions in Autobiography: Studies in the Art of Self-Invention. Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press. Eakin, Paul John. 1989. "Foreword." In On Autobiography, edited by Paul John Eakin. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Edwards, Louise P. 2016. Women Warriors and Wartime Spies of China. Cambridge, United Kingdom: Cambridge University Press. Eide, Elisabeth. 1986. "China’s Ibsen: From Ibsen to Ibsenism." PhD thesis, University of Oslo.
159 Elleman, Bruce A. 1995. "Soviet Diplomacy and the First United Front in China." Modern China 21 (4):450-480. Fan, Ming-Ju 范銘如. 2002. Zhongli xun ta 眾裏尋她：台灣女性小說縱論 [Chronological
Searches of Taiwanese Women’s Fiction]. Taipei 台北: Maitian chuban 麥田出版. Fincher, Leta Hong. 2018. Betraying Big Brother: The Feminist Awakening in China. London: Verso Books. Fu, Hao 符号. 2002. "Xie Bingying he wo de yi duan hunyin 谢冰莹和我的一段婚姻 [My
Marriage with Xie Bingying]." In Nübing Xie Bingying 女兵谢冰莹 [The Woman
Soldier Xie Bingying], edited by Yan Chunde 阎纯德 and Li Ruiteng 里瑞腾. Beijing: Renmin wenxue chubanshe. Gilmartin, Christina K. 1994. "Gender, Political Culture, and Women’s Mobilization in the Chinese Nationalist Revolution, 1924-1927." In Engendering China: Women, Culture, and the State, edited by Christina K. Gilmartin, Gail Hershatter, Lisa Rofel and Tyrene White. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press. Gilmartin, Christina K. 1995. Engendering the Chinese Revolution: Radical Women, Communist Politics, and Mass Movements in the 1920s: University of California Press. Goldman, Merle. 1967. Literary Dissent in Communist China. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press. Guo, Lianghui 郭良蕙 1985. 心鎖 Xin suo [Lock of the Heart]. Hong Kong 香港: Guo
Lianghui xin shiye youxian gongsi 郭良蕙新事業有限公司. Hsia, C. T. 1971. "Appendix 1: Obsession With China: The Moral Burden of Modern Chinese Literature." In A History of Modern Chinese Fiction, edited by C. T. Hsia, 533-554. New Haven: Yale University Press. Hsia, Tsi-an. 1961. "Appendix: Taiwan." In A History of Modern Chinese Fiction 1917-1957, edited by C.T. Hsia. New Haven: Yale University Press. Hu, Shi 胡適. 1928. "Bu xiu: Wo de zongjiao 不朽: 我的宗教 [Immortality: My Religion]." In
Hu Shi wen cun 胡適文存, edited by Shi 胡適 Hu. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai yadong
tushuguan 上海亞東圖書館. Huang, Chang-Ling. 2015. "Gender Quotas in Taiwan: The Impact of Global Diffusion." Politics & Gender 11 (1):207-217. doi: 10.1017/S1743923X14000634. Huang, Chang-Ling. 2016. "Reserved for Whom? The Electoral Impact of Gender Quotas in Taiwan." Pacific Affairs 89 (2):325-343. doi: 10.5509/2016892325.
160 Huang, Martin W. 1995. Literati and Self-Re/Presentation: Autobiographical Sensibility in the Eigteenth-Century Chinese Novel. Stanford, California: Stanford University Press. Jameson, Fredric. 1986. "Third-World Literature in the Era of Multinational Capitalism." Social Text 15:65-88. Jayawardena, Kumari. 1986. Feminism and Nationalism in the Third World. London: Zed Books Ltd. Judge, Joan. 2001. "Talent, Virtue, and the Nation: Chinese Nationalisms and Female Subjectivities in the Early Twentieth Century." American Historical Review 106 (3):765-803. doi: https://doi.org/10.1086/ahr/106.3.765. Ke, Wenpu 柯文溥. 2009. "Xie Bingying san ci hunlian dui qi chuangzuo de yingxiang 谢冰
莹三次婚恋对其创作的影响 (The Influence of Three Marriages on Xie Bingying’s
Writing)." Nanjing shifan daxue wenxueyuan xuebao 南京大学文学院学报 (Journal of School of Chinese Language and Culture Nanjing Normal University) (2):45-50. Ko, Dorothy. 1994. Teachers of the Inner Chambers: Women and Culture in Seventeenth- Century China. Stanford, California: Stanford University Press. Ku, Hung-Ting. 1979. "Urban Mass Movement: The May Thirtieth Movement in Shanghai." Modern Asian Studies 13 (2):197-216. Lancashire, Edel. 1985. "The Lock of the Heart Controversy in Taiwan, 1962-63: A Question of Artistic Freedom and a Writer's Social Responsibility." China Quarterly 103:462- 88. doi: https://doi.org/10.1017/S030574100003071X. Larson, Wendy. 1991. Literary Authority and the Modern Chinese Writer: Ambivalence and Autobiography. Durham: Duke University Press. Larson, Wendy. 1993. "The End of “Funü Wenxue”: Women’s Literature from 1925-1935." In Gender Politics in Modern China: Writing and Feminism, edited by Tani E. Barlow. Durham and London: Duke University Press. Larson, Wendy. 1998. Women and Writing in Modern China. Stanford, California: Stanford University Press. Lee, Haiyan. 2007. Revolution of the Heart: A Genealogy of Love in China, 1900-1950. Stanford, California: Stanford University Press. Lee, Leo Ou-fan. 1973. The Romantic Generation of Modern Chinese Writers. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press. Lee, Leo Ou-fan. 1993. "Afterword: Reflections on Change and Continuity in Modern Chinese Fiction." In From May Fourth to June Fourth: Fiction and Film in Twentieth Century
161 China, edited by Ellen Widmer and David Der-wei Wang, 361-383. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press. Lee, Leo Ou-fan. 1999. Shanghai Modern: The Flowering of a New Urban Culture in China, 1930-1945. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press. Lejeune, Philippe. 1989. "The Autobiographical Pact." In On Autobiography, edited by Paul John Eakin. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Li, Ang 李昂. 2000. Zizhuan no xiaoshuo 自傳の小說. Taipei: Huang guan.
Li, Fuze 李夫泽. 1999a. "Lijing kanke lu fendou yongbu xi: Xie Bingying shengping ji
chuangzuo jingli 历经坎坷路 奋斗永不息: 谢冰莹生平及创作经历 (Travelling on a
bumpy road, eternally struggling: Xie Bingying’s Life and Writing Experiences)."
Loudi shizhuan xuebao 娄底师专学报 (Journal of Loudi Teachers College) 1999 (1).
Li, Fuze 李夫泽. 2003. "Yi ge nübing de xiaochen: Xie Bingying qian hou qi sixiang bianhua
ji qi chengyin 一个“女兵”的消沉：谢冰莹前后期思想变化及其成因 [A Female
Soldier’s Depression: On Xie Bingying’s Change of Thinking and Its Causes]."
Anqing shifan xueyuan xuebao (shehui kexue ban) 安庆师范学院学报 (社会科学版) [Journal of Anqing Teachers College (Social Science Edition)] 22 (2). Li, Fuze 李夫泽. 2014. "Xie Bingying yanjiu zongshu." In Xie Bingying 謝冰瑩, edited by
Fenling 周芬伶 Zhou. Tainan: Taiwan wenxue guan.
Li, Fuze 李夫澤. 1999b. "Xie Bingying yu “zuolian” 謝冰瑩與「左聯」." Loudi shizhuan
xuebao 婁底師專學報 3. Li, Huaiyin. 2013. Reinventing Modern China: Imagination and Authenticity in Chinese Historical Writing. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press. Li, Yu-ning, ed. 1992. Chinese Women Through Chinese Eyes. Armonk, New York: M.E. Sharpe. Lin, Hsiao-ting. 2016. Accidental State: Chiang Kai-shek, The United States, and the Making of Taiwan. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press. Lin, Mengjun 林孟君. 2014. "Lun Xie Bingying de xingbie zhuti yu wenxue chuangzuo 論謝
冰瑩的性別主體與文學創作 [Xie Bing-Ying's sense of feminist and literary
creations]." Master of Arts, Taiwan wenxue yanjiusuo 台灣文學研究所, National
Chengchi University 國立政治大學.
162 Lin, Tongfa 林桶法. 2017a. "Lizan beihou de xingsi: ping Yang Rubin “1949 lizan” 禮讚
背後的省思: 評楊儒賓“1949 禮讚” [Reflecting after salutation: A review of Yang
Rubin’s “A salute to 1949”] " Er shi yi shiji yuekan 二十一世紀雙月刊 159 (2).
Lin, Yi-han 林奕含. 2017b. Fang Siqi de chulian leyuan 房思琪的初戀樂園. Taibei: Youji
wenhua gufen youxian gongsi; 臺北 游擊文化股份有限公司. Lin, Yutang. 1930. Letters of a Chinese Amazon and War-Time Essays. Shanghai: The Commercial Press. Lin, Yutang. 1975. "Introduction." In Girl Rebel: The Autobiography of Hsieh Pingying, edited by Xie Bingying [Hsieh Ping-ying]. New York: John Day Company. Lin, 琳. 1933. "Xie Bingying shizong 謝冰瑩失蹤 [Xie Bingying has gone missing]." Shehui
xinwen 社會新聞 3 (3):36. Linde, Charlotte. 1993. Life Stories: The Creation of Coherence. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Liu, Lydia H. 1993. "Invention and Intervention: The Female Tradition in Modern Chinese Literature." In Gender Politics in Modern China: Writing and Feminism, edited by Tani E. Barlow. Durham and London: Duke University Press. Lu, Xun 魯迅. 1967. Nahan 吶喊. Hong Kong 香港: 新藝出版社. Original edition, 1923. Reprint, 1967. Lung, Ying-tai 龍應台. 2009. Da jiang da hai yi jiu yi si 大江大海 1949 [Great River, Great Sea: 1949]. Taipei: Tianxia zazhi. Luo, Zhitian. 1993. "National Humiliation and National Assertion: The Chines Response to the Twenty-one Demands." Modern Asian Studies 27 (2):297-319. Mei, Chia-Ling 梅家玲. 2001. "Xingbie vs. guojia: wuling niandai de taiwan xiaoshuo-yi
“wenyi chuangzuo” yu wenjianghui dejiang xiaoshuo wei li 性別 vs.國家:五○年代
的台灣小說-以《文藝創作》與文獎會得獎小說為例 [Gender vs. Nation: Taiwan Fiction of the Fifties, Publications in "Literary Creation" and Winners of the "Chinese Literature Award"]." Taida wen shi zhe xuebao 臺大文史哲學報 [Humanitas Taiwanica ] 55. doi: http://dx.doi.org/10.6258/bcla.2001.55.02. Murthy, Viren. 2008. "The Politics of Fengjian in Late-Qing and Republican China." In Beyond the May Fourth Paradigm: In Search of Chinese Modernity, edited by Kai-Wing Chow, Tze-ki Hon, Hung-yok Ip and Don C. Price. Lanham: Lexington Books.
163 Ng, Janet. 2003. The Experience of Modernity: Chinese Autobiography of the Early Twentieth Century: University of Michigan Press. Nora, Pierre. 1989. "Between Memory and History: Les Lieux de Mémoire." Representations 26. Nora, Pierre. 1996. Realms of Memory: Rethinking the French Past. Translated by Arthur Goldhammer. New York: Columbia University Press. Olick, Jeffrey K. 2003. "Introduction." In States of Memory: Continuities, Conflicts, and Transformations in National Retrospection, edited by Jeffrey K. Olick. Durham and London: Duke University Press. Pantsov, Alexander. 2000. The Bolsheviks and the Chinese Revolution, 1919-1927. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. Průšek, Jaroslav. 1980. "Subjectivism and Individualism in Modern Chinese Literature." In The Lyrical and the Epic: Studies of Modern Chinese Literature, edited by Leo Ou-fan Lee. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Qin, Hong 钦鸿, ed. 2000. Yongheng de youyi: Xie Bingying zhi Wei Zhongtian shuxin ji 永恒
的友谊: 谢冰莹致魏中天书信集 [Eternal Friendship: Collection of letters from Xie Bingying to Wei Zhongtian] Beijing: Zhongguo sanxia chubanshe. Qiu, Miaojin 邱妙津. 2006a. Eyu shouji 鱷魚手記 [Notes of a Crocodile]. Taibei: INK yinke wenxue shenghuo zazhi. Qiu, Miaojin 邱妙津. 2006b. Mengmate yishu 蒙馬特遺書 [Letters from Montmartre]. Xinbei: Yinke wenxue shenghuo zazhi. Scott, Joan W. 1991. "The Evidence of Experience." Critical Inquiry 17 (4):773-797. Sung, Mei-hwa. 1994. "Feminist Consciousness in the Contemporary Fiction of Taiwan." In Cultural Change in Postwar Taiwan, edited by Stevan Harrell and Chün-chieh Huang, 275-293. Boulder, Colorado: Westview Press. Taiwan sheng zhengfu, 台灣省政府 [Taiwan Provincial Government], and 台灣警備總司令
部 [Taiwan Garrison Command] Taiwan jingbei zongsiling bu, eds. 1982. Chajin tushu
mulu 查禁圖書目錄 [Catalogue of banned books] Taipei: Taiwan Garrison Command. Tam, Kwok-kan. 2010. "Gender Construction, Stereotyping and Cross-Gender Writing." In Gender, Discourse and the Self in Literature: Issues in Mainland China, Taiwan and Hong Kong, edited by Kwok-kan Tam and Terry Siu-han Yip, 19-34. Hong Kong: The Chinese University Press.
164 Tang, Xiaobing. 2007. "On the Concept of Taiwan Literature." In Writing Taiwan: A New Literary History, edited by David Der-wei Wang and Carlos Rojas. Durham: Duke University Press. Tsai, Sheng-chi 蔡盛琦. 2010. "1950 niandai tushu chajin zhi yanjiu 1950 年代圖書查禁之研
究 [The Suppressed Publications in the 1950s]." Guoshiguan guankan 國史館館刊 26:75-130. Tsu, Jing. 2005. Failure, Nationalism, and Literature. Stanford, California: Stanford University Press. Tu, 凃. 1934. "Xie Bingying ren changwu mishu 謝冰瑩任常務秘書 [Xie Bingying appointed
standing secretary]." Shehui xinwen 社會新聞 6 (6):72-73. van de Ven, Hans J. 2003. War and Nationalism in China 1925-1945. London: Routledge. Wang, David Der-wei. 2000. "Introduction." In Chinese Literature in the Second Half of a Modern Century: A Critical Survey, edited by Pang-yuan Chi and David Der-wei Wang, xiii-xliii. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Wang, David Der-wei. 2004. The Monster That Is History: History, Violence, and Fictional Writing in Twentieth-Century China. Berkeley and Los Angeles, California: University of California Press. Wang, David Der-wei. 2015. The Lyrical in Epic Time: Modern Chinese Intellectuals and Artists Through the 1949 Crisis. New York: Columbia University Press. Wang, David Der-wei 王德威. 2007. "Lishi, jiyi, yu daxue zhi dao: si ze xinchuanzhe de gushi
歷史，記憶，與大學之道：四則薪傳者的故事 [History, Memory, and the Ways of
Learning]." Taida zhongwen xuebao 台大中文學報 [Bulletin of the Department of Chinese Literature, National Taiwan University] 26:1-46. doi: http://dx.doi.org/10.6281/NTUCL.2007.26.01. Wang, Jing M. 2008. When "I" was Born: Women's Autobiography in Modern China. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press. Wang, Xiaojue. 2013. Modernity with a Cold War Face: Reimagining the Nation in Chinese Literature Across the 1949 Divide. Cambridge, Massachussets: Harvard University Asia Center. Wilbur, C. Martin. 1983. The Nationalist Revolution in China, 1923-1928. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
165 Wong, Lawrence Wang-chi. 2017. "The Chinese Leage of Left-Wing Writers, 1930-1936." In A New Literary History of Modern China, edited by David Der-wei Wang, 371-376. Cambridge, Massachusetts: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. Wu, Pei-yi. 1989. The Confucian’s Progress: Autobiographical Writings in Traditional China. Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press. Xie, Bingying [Hsieh Ping-ying]. 1943. Autobiography of a Chinese Girl: A Genuine Autobiography. Translated by Tsui Chi. London: George Allen & Unwin Ltd. Xie, Bingying [Hsieh Ping-ying]. 1975. Girl Rebel: The Autobiography of Hsieh Pingying. Translated by Adet and Anor Lin. New York: John Day Company. Xie, Bingying, Lily Chia Brissman, and Barry Brissman. 2001. A Woman Soldier's Own Story: The Autobiography of Xie Bingying. New York: Berkley Books. Xie, Bingying 謝冰瑩. 1933a. Congjun riji 從軍日記 [War Diaries]. Shanghai 上海:
Guangming shuju 光明書局.
Xie, Bingying 謝冰瑩. 1933b. "Mengxiang de zhongguo 夢想的中國 [Dreaming China]."
Dongfang zazhi 東方雜誌 [Eastern Miscellany] 30 (1):2.
Xie, Bingying 謝冰瑩. 1936a. "Dang bing qu 當兵去 (Going to join the army)." Yuzhou feng
宇宙風 [Cosmic wind] 17:250-251.
Xie, Bingying 謝冰瑩. 1936b. Yi ge nübing de zizhuan 一個女兵的自傳 [Autobiography of a
Woman Soldier]. Shanghai 上海: Liangyou tushu yinshua gongsi yinhang 良友圖書印
刷公司印行.
Xie, Bingying 謝冰瑩. 1940. Nü pantu 女叛徒: Girl Rebel (han ying duizhao 漢英對照 [Chinese-English parallel text]). Guangxi: Minguang. Xie, Bingying 謝冰瑩. 1946a. Nü pantu 女叛徒 [Girl Rebel]. Shanghai: Shanghai Guoji chubanshe. Xie, Bingying 謝冰瑩. 1946b. Nübing shi nian 女兵十年 [Ten Years as Woman Soldier].
Chongqing 重慶: Hong lan chubanshe 紅藍出版社.
Xie, Bingying 謝冰瑩. 1948. Nübing zizhuan 女兵自傳 [Autobiography of a Woman Soldier].
Shanghai 上海: Chenguang chuban gongsi 晨光出版公司.
Xie, Bingying 謝冰瑩. 1955. Wo de shaonian shidai 我的少年時代 [My Youth]. Taipei:
Zhengzhong shuju 正中書局.
166 Xie, Bingying 謝冰瑩. 1956. Nübing zizhuan 女兵自傳 [Autobiography of a Woman Soldier].
Taipei 台北: Lixing shuju 力行書局.
Xie, Bingying 謝冰瑩. 1958. Guxiang 故鄉 [Hometown]. Taipei 台北: Lixing shuju 力行書
局.
Xie, Bingying 謝冰瑩. 1963. "Gei Guo Lianghui nüshe de yi feng gongkaixin 給郭良蕙女士
的一封公開信 (An open letter to miss Guo Lianghui)." In Xinsuo zhi lunzhan 心鎖之
論戰 [The Xinsuo Debate], edited by Zhiliang 余之良 Yu. Taipei: Wuzhou chubanshe.
Xie, Bingying 謝冰瑩. 1966. Wo de huiyi 我的回憶 [My Memories]. Taipei 台北: Sanmin
shuju yinhang 三民書局印行.
Xie, Bingying 謝冰瑩. 1973. Shengming de guanghui 生命的光輝 [The Brilliance of Life].
Taipei 台北: Sanmin shuju yinhang 三民書局印行.
Xie, Bingying 謝冰瑩. 1991a. "Ban shiji qian de yi feng xin 半世紀前的一封信 [A Letter
From Half a Century Ago]." In Bingying shuxin 冰瑩書信 [The Letters of Bingying],
edited by 謝冰瑩 Xie Bingying. Taipei 臺北: Sanmin shuju 三民書局.
Xie, Bingying 謝冰瑩. 1991b. Bingying huaijiu 冰瑩懷舊 [Bingying Remembers the Past].
Taipei 臺北: Sanmin shuju 三民書局.
Xie, Bingying 謝冰瑩 (冰瑩). 1934. Qianlu 前路 (The Road Ahead). 3 ed. Shanghai:
Guangming shuju 光明書局.
Xie, Bingying 謝冰瑩 [No author name originally given]. No year given. Yi ge nüxing de
fendou 一個女性的奮鬥 [The Struggle of a Girl]. Translated by Lin Rusi 林如斯 (Adet
Lin) and Lin Wushuang 林無雙 (Anor Lin), Shijie wenhua chubanshe 世界文化出版
社.
Xie, Bingying, 謝冰瑩 [冰瑩]. 1927. "Xingjun riji." Zhongyang ribao fukan 中央日報副刊 [Supplement to Central Daily News] 61. Xie, Bingying 謝冰瑩 [冰瑩]. 1931. "Qingsuan 清算 [Settling accounts]." Xiaoshuo yuebao
小說月報 [Fiction monthly] 22 (11):1403-1420.
Xie, Bingying 謝冰瑩 [冰瑩]. 1936c. "Jinian Lu Xun xiansheng 紀念魯迅先生 [Remembering
Lu Xun]." Zhong Liu 中流 1 (7):366.
167 Xu, Xuhong 徐续红. 2013. "Xie Bingying yu “zuolian”: cong Lu Xun zhi Wang Zhizhi de
liang feng xin tan qi 谢冰莹与“左联”: 从鲁迅致王志之的两封信谈起 [Xie Bingying and The League of Left-Wing Writers: On Two Letters Between Lu Xun and Wang Zhizhi]." Xin wenxue shiliao 新文学史料 3:92-101.
Yang, Qianru 杨纤如. 2009. "Beifang zuoyi zuojia lianmeng zayi 北方左翼作家联盟杂忆
[Some memories of the Beifang Zuolian]." In Zuolian huiyi lu 左联回忆录 [League of Left-Wing Writers memoir collection], edited by Zhongguo shehui kexueyuan wenxue yanjiusuo 中国社会科学院文学研究所 and “Zhongguo huiyi lu” bianjizu 《左联
回忆录》编辑组. Beijing: Zhishi chanquan chuban she 知识产权出版社.
Yang, Qianru 杨纤如, and Sun Xizhen 孙席珍. 2002. "Xie Bingying yu beifang zuolian 谢冰
莹与北方左联 [Xie Bingying and the Northern Leage of Left-Wing Writers]." In Nü
bing Xie Bingying 女兵謝冰瑩, edited by Yan Chunde 阎纯德 and Li Ruiteng 李瑞腾. Beijing: Renmin wenxue chubanshe. Yang, Rubin 楊儒賓. 2015. 1949 lizan 1949 禮讚 [A salute to 1949]. Taipei: Lianjing pinglun.
Ying, Feng-huang 應鳳凰. 2010. "Jiedu 1962 nian Taiwan wentan jinshu shijian - cong “xin
suo” tantao wenxueshi xushi moshi 解讀 1962 年臺灣文壇禁書事件 - 從《心鎖》
探討文學史敘事模式 [A Decipherment of a Book Banned at 1962 in the Literary Field of Taiwan-An Analysis of Literary History Writing through the "Xin Suo (Locked Heart)" Incident]." Wenshi Taiwan xuebao 文史台灣學報 2. doi: http://dx.doi.org/10.29511/TSLH.201012.0002. Yip, Terry Siu-han. 2010. "Women’s Self-Identity and Gender Relations in Twentieth-Century Chinese Fiction." In Gender, Discourse and the Self in Literature: Issues in Mainland China, Taiwan and Hong Kong, edited by Kwok-kan Tam and Terry Siu-han Yip, 1-18. Hong Kong: The Chinese University Press. Yu, Zhiliang 余之良. 1963. Xinsuo zhi lunzhan 心鎖之論戰 [The Xinsuo Debate]. Taipei 臺
北: Wuzhou chubanshe 五洲出版社.
Yu, 羽. 1933. "Xie Bingying Xiamen binan 謝冰瑩廈門避難 [Xie Bingying takes refuge in
Xiamen]." Shehui xinwen 社會新聞 4 (28):438. Yuval-Davis, Nira. 1997. Gender & Nation. London: SAGE Publications Ltd.
168 Zhongguo funü xiezuo xiehui, 中國婦女寫作協會. 2011. Juejue nü sheng: women de yi bai
nian 決決女聲: 我們的一百年. Taipei: Zhongguo funü xiezuo xiehui
Zhongguo shehui kexueyuan wenxue yanjiusuo, 中国社会科学院文学研究所, and 《左联回
忆录》编辑组 “Zhongguo huiyi lu” bianjizu, eds. 1982. Zuolian huiyi lu 左联回忆
录 [League of Left-Wing Writers memoir collection]. Beijing: Zhongguo shehui kexue
chubanshe 中国社会科学出版社.
Zhongguo zuoyi zuojia lianmeng chengli dahui huizhi jinianguan, 中国左翼作家联盟成立大
会会址纪念馆, and 上海鲁迅纪念馆 Shanghai Lu Xun jinianguan, eds. 1990.
“zuolian” jinian ji 1930-1990 “左联”纪念集 1930-1990 [League of Left-Wing
Writers Memoir Collection]. Shanghai: Baijia chuban 百家出版.
Zhou, Fenling 周芬伶, ed. 2014. Xie Bingying 謝冰瑩, Taiwan xiandangdai zuojia yanjiu ziliao
huibian 台灣現當代作家研究資料彙編 [Compilations of Research Material on
Modern and Contemporary Writers in Taiwan]. Tainan: Taiwan Wenxue guan 台灣文
學館.
Zhou, Jun 周军. 2011. "1927 nian Xie Bingying chengming yu baozhi zhi guanxi 1927 年谢冰
莹成名于报纸之关系 (Xie Bingying and Central Daily Supplement in 1927)." San xia
luntan 三峡论坛 234 (1):118-122.
Zhu, Xuchen 朱旭晨. 2014. "Cong zizhuan dao tazhuan: Xie Bingying zhuanji yanjiu 從自傳
到他傳: 謝冰瑩專輯研究 [From self-biography to other-biography: Research on Xie
Xie Bingying’s biographical writing]." In Xie Bingying 謝冰瑩, edited by Fenling 周
芬伶 Zhou. Tainan: Taiwan Wenxue guan.
169