My Harvard Years

Author: Li Ou-fan
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2005-05-01
Features: The inspiration for writing this small book came entirely from an offhand self-deprecation. Six months ago, during a conference in Taipei, I gathered with my friend Jiao Tong and his wife during my free time. After a good meal and some drinks, we couldn’t help but talk about their new cultural venture—Eryu Publishing House—and the publishing industry across the Taiwan Strait and mainland China. Xie Xili just returned from mainland China and mentioned that the publishing industry there was still thriving, with many bestsellers, including a few books named after Harvard, which were quite popular. The best-selling one was The Harvard Girl Liu Yiting, written by her mother, and a sequel had recently been published. I mentioned that this girl had once been a student in my class and couldn’t resist adding, “Since even the mother of a Harvard girl can write a book, why can’t an old man like me, a genuine Harvard professor, do the same?” Next to me, my wife, Yu Ying, immediately seized the opportunity and encouraged me to write a book about my own Harvard experiences. I was still hesitant, considering that self-praise might seem like bragging. Over the years, I had always kept my personal and professional lives separate in my essays, rarely mentioning my academic life at Harvard, just to avoid suspicion. Maybe I should think about it again. But the next day, Xili—Jiao Tong’s wife, also an experienced editor—handed me the publishing contract. I had no choice but to sign. The rice was cooked instantly, and I had to find some excuses for myself: First, of course, I am now retired and no longer officially affiliated with Harvard, so I have more freedom to speak my mind without restraint (in reality, Harvard has never cared about what professors say outside the university). Second, I’ve noticed that the number of Taiwanese students studying abroad is decreasing (mainland China and Hong Kong seem to have no such issue), which is affecting their increasingly narrow knowledge horizons. Currently, relevant parties are seeking solutions to encourage more students to study abroad. Therefore, this small book might be of help, at least sparking interest among a few students to go abroad. Conversely, it could also serve as a caution against mainland China’s frenzied rush to America for financial gain. Third, there are personal reasons. After turning 60, people start to reminisce, and studying abroad was certainly a highlight in my personal memories. Especially the years I spent studying at Harvard—those “eight years of war”——are unforgettable. I often recount them to my wife, and sometimes even boast to my students: “Back then, when I was a student, I listened to lectures and read books from morning till night. Unlike you, who are so lazy? In my time, there were no computers, and copying costs were high, so I didn’t want to spend too much. I took notes while reading. Of course, I never missed a lecture. Every semester, in addition to the four required courses, I attended five or six courses from other disciplines. I rushed from one classroom to another on campus every day just to make sure I didn’t miss a single word from the masters.” As I spoke, I couldn’t help but feel proud of myself. “Heroes don’t talk about their past glories”——it seems I’m no hero, but I still believe that my experiences as a student can offer some inspiration to the younger generation. The second part of this book seems heavier than the first, showing that my insights into my own academic experiences far exceed my teaching experiences. About my “first half of life” at Harvard, I discussed it in a book co-authored with Chen Jianhua titled Hesitating Between Modernity and Postmodernity. That book was commissioned by the late Mr. Fu Weixun, who asked me to share my personal academic experiences. I wrote it in a dialogue format with Jianhua, but due to my teaching duties, he took on the writing. His literary talent and knowledge added much to the book. This book, however, is written entirely by myself, but it’s still written in a conversational, straightforward style. The “dialogue” became a “monologue,” and because I wrote it so quickly, the text might seem “roughly done.” But I believe this narrative style at least preserves authenticity, without adornment. The advantage of this approach is that it adds no color to my past, achieving my goal of recalling it in a plain and sincere manner. However, when I wrote the second part—my teaching experiences—I began to feel impatient. Not only did I think the content was lacking, but I also realized my own contradictions. Among the Harvard faculty, I’m no celebrity. I even feel burdened by the “brand” and, after finallyging it, don’t want to promote this prestigious university anymore. As a result, my writing often felt inadequate, neither offering a deep analysis nor a comprehensive critique of Harvard’s academic status. Fortunately, this isn’t an academic work but a personal reflective record, drawing on my experiences to depict the life and spirit of Harvard. For this renowned institution—both where I taught for ten years and my alma mater—I am naturally grateful and cannot critique it unfairly. Yet, being part of it, I’m not easily swayed. Over the years, I’ve lost any sense of mystery about my alma mater. Perhaps this “disenchantment” isn’t entirely bad. At least, it no longer treats the “brand effect” as inevitable and discourages young students from blindly admiring Harvard, a mindset especially prevalent in mainland China and Hong Kong. Maybe this book will even have an adverse effect on Harvard’s reputation, but I don’t mind that either.
Whatever the case, these two “Harvard experiences” are precious to me. Unfortunately, when recalling my own journey, I couldn’t use Proust’s elegant and delicate prose to vividly recount every detail. Instead, I had to settle for adding a slightly self-reflective conclusion at the end, serving as a small testament to my generation of Harvard students. I also felt the book was still too short, so I added two previously published essays in the appendix: one about my colleague at Harvard, Han Nan, and another about the Czech sinologist, Jaroslav Pr??ek, my mentor during my time at Harvard. Additionally, I obtained permission from my former student Chen Jianhua to include an article he wrote about me, which also praised me excessively.
My wife, Yu Ying, was actually the one who pushed me to write this book, so of course, she couldn’t refuse to contribute. She wrote an article for it, describing my teaching life in Chicago and Harvard with her (sensitive) and emotional pen. Like all my works written after my marriage, this book is dedicated to her. Some say I don’t love “the” (Harvard) but love “the beauty” (her), which may be an exaggeration, but it’s also half true.