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Author: Eileen Chang
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2005-04-01
Features: This book collects articles published by Eileen Chang overseas after she left Shanghai in 1952, which were not included in her previous works, titled Continuation. It includes the film script Return to a World of Sorrow, the essay Talking About Food and Filling the Void with Empty Talk, and other works long neglected by readers. For those who love Eileen Chang, this book is a must-read, and for scholars, it holds immense value.
Author's Self-Reflection: The title Continuation signifies continuing to write. Although I have not stopped, I have written less recently, and often people miss seeing the list, thinking I have abandoned writing. Recently, someone unearthed my long-forgotten old work Xiao Ai and published it separately in Taiwan and Hong Kong without my knowledge beforehand. This reversed the saying, "Forcing a horse to the river and then taking away its reins to drink." Only the horse knows whether the water is warm or cold. I heard that Xiao Ai was published as a standalone book in Hong Kong, using my real name instead of my pen name Liang Jing, boldly appropriating it without the boldness of the person who published Laughter and Tears under my name. I once studied at the University of Hong Kong but did not complete my studies due to the Pearl Harbor Incident. I returned to Hong Kong in 1952 and lived there for three years, all documented. I really don’t want to go to great lengths to "rectify" this. The publisher believes many people harbor ulterior motives regarding Xiao Ai and advised me not to waste time, as it would only lead to further trouble. In fact, I did receive advance royalties and contracts from several publishers, but I had to return them. First, I strongly dislike this novel and even more so the idea of it appearing alone under the name Xiao Ai. Second, my books have always been published by Crown, and I’m sure most people know this. I only regret that I’ve been preoccupied lately and haven’t been on the field for a long time, making others think they have a chance to take advantage of it, but in reality, it’s all nonsense. This makes me think that while I’m living well, I’ve been writing less, yet others have treated my works as public property, publishing them freely and even blaming me for not publishing my old works, claiming they’ve been infringed upon. I can only imagine how humorously inclined Shaw or the masculine Hemingway would have handled such brazen piracy. They won the Nobel Prize in Literature in the UK and US and received the copyright protection they deserved in life and death. After Pygmalion by Shaw was performed on stage, it was adapted into a black-and-white film, then into a light musical My Fair Lady, and later into a color widescreen film, all earning royalties. Hemingway’s unfinished posthumous works were published after being edited, and his heirs still enjoy substantial royalties. If they had faced my situation, I believe Shaw would not have lived so long, and Hemingway’s hunting rifle would have gone off early.
I think since old works are being published, I might as well select some of my works left in Shanghai into a collection titled Echoes, and compile the articles I published overseas after leaving Shanghai in 1952 into a collection titled Continuation, to avoid future disputes like the "hidden" scandal in Dream of the Red Chamber. Talking About Food and Filling the Void with Empty Talk is written in more detail, causing much discussion. Most people think I eat little and casually, as if I’m not part of the mortal world, and after reading it, they are surprised, even believing I have "another skill." I’ve always paid more attention to clothing and food, but even this slight preference is now considered luxurious. At least this article can satisfy the curiosity of some visitors and those who "observe Eileen" under a microscope. This self-reflective writing is just a glimpse, though a rather long one. I am a fan of the actress Garbo, who, for decades, lived in seclusion in New York, rarely exposed, because she always believed in the principle of "I want to live alone." I remember a cartoon depicting Garbo as a green meadow, with the caption: "Private Property, No Trespassing."
Authors use books and magazines to communicate indirectly with readers, but actors must face the audience directly. Why shouldn’t writers enjoy the same privacy? The Wool Comes from the Sheep was written under duress. Many readers cannot distinguish between the author and the characters in their works, often confusing the two. Dream of the Red Chamber by Cao Xueqin is either an autobiography, a biography of him, or a tale about him, yet no one reads it as a novel. Recently, someone claimed that the heroine of A Smell of Honey was real, proving I had a basis for it, while the report he mentioned was only recently published as a memoir. How could ordinary people like us know the inner workings of enemy and puppet spy struggles? I remember Oscar Wilde saying, "Art does not imitate life; life imitates art." I’m glad that the short story I began in 1953 has finally found its place in life. Return to a World of Sorrow (tentative title) was my last script for the Shaw Brothers Studio, but it was never handed over to the director before the studio closed. Thank you, Ms. Qin Yu, for finding it and returning it to its rightful place. Stale Mates (Old Companions) was published in the U.S. weekly The Reporter, and thanks to Song Qi, it was found and published alongside my Chinese rewrite of Remnants of May, giving me a sense of familiarity. The story is the same, but the style differs slightly, as I had to adapt to readers’ tastes—it’s not a translation.
Recently, I’ve seen many things said about me that are not entirely accurate, and I’m reluctant to clarify them in writing. I even thought of asking Song Qi to write a correction article. Later, I realized that writers are naturally misunderstood, and explanations would never end, especially since Song Qi and Wen Mei have their own worries. I’ve been concerned about their health and always write in letters, "I’m sure you’ve recovered," unaware that over the past year (the period of Echoes), they were struggling in a dim tunnel. Now they’ve reached the end and seen the light, which is the time for Continuation to be published. I think the timing couldn’t be better. What makes me particularly happy is the opportunity to tell readers: I’m still writing.