From Lanshe to Modern: A Study of the Group Centered Around Shi Zhecun, Dai Wangshu, Du Heng, and Liu Naoou

Author: Jin Li
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-06-01
Features: Lu Xun's breakthrough, starting with a reimagining of "literature." Among figures like Lin Xijun, the so-called "literary production," the so-called "serious work," required "forms to have 'fixed structures,' to be bound by the 'constraints of literary production genres'; content had to be limited; and scope restricted. What was this "serious work"? It was the imperial examination system, commonly known as the "eight-legged essay." Lu Xun, however, believed that "compared to a grand astronomical observatory, 'satire' sometimes resembled the work of a small microscope—it examined filth, observed pus, sometimes studied gonorrhea, and sometimes dissected flies. To the eyes of the learned, it was insignificant, filthy, and even detestable. But to the laborer, it was also a 'serious work,' connected to life, and not entirely easy to do." Here, Lu Xun emphasized the rigor of satire's character and the seriousness of the satirist's creation. Behind the confrontation between the "small microscope" and the "grand astronomical observatory," Lu Xun was also using a deessentialized "literary" institution to deconstruct the monopoly of Lin Xijun and others in defining "literature" based on Western "literary theory." Shi Zhecun, Du Heng, and Lin Xijun, among others, regarded the "artistic value," "serious work," and "burdensome literary production" as self-evident, yet they were all products of historical construction. By dismantling the essential definition of literature, Lu Xun negated the hierarchical view of literary genres in "literary theory" that dismissed and overlooked satire: If you look up "literary theory" in the United States or lecture notes from any Chinese university, you will indeed never find a term called "Tsa-wen." This truly makes young aspiring literary giants lose heart upon encountering satire—it is not the ladder to climb into the lofty halls of literature. Did Tolstoy consult American "literary theory" or lecture notes from some Chinese university before writing, realizing that novels were the true essence of literature, before deciding to create great works like War and Peace? I don’t know. But I do know that in recent years, Chinese satirists have written without a single thought for the rules of "literary theory" or the desire for a place in literary history. They believed it was necessary to write this way, and so they did, because they knew that writing this way would benefit everyone. Lu Xun has always been critical of the solemn, elegant, and meticulous essentialist prescriptions of "literary theory" or "lecture notes from some university." Those who are more self-aware are terrified by these grand-sounding titles and strive to escape. To escape fame is actually to love fame; they escape this mess of fame and refuse to be trapped in it. This line of thinking, when applied to the confirmation of the satirical genre, is: I think if the palace of art has such troublesome regulations, it’s better not to enter. Instead, stand in the desert, watch the flying sand and stones, laugh heartily when joyful, scream when sad, curse wildly when angry—even if the sand and gravel roughen your body, leave you bleeding, and you often stroke your clotted blood, feeling that it may have patterns, it might not be as interesting as accompanying Chinese scholars to eat buttered bread with Shakespeare. Lu Xun’s exposure of "literary centrism" is meant to awaken people to the power system hidden behind phrases like "serious work" and "burdensome literary production," as well as the (mábì - numbness) caused by this pure literary "artistic value," leading to the forgetting of the "bloody path of survival," and even unintentionally becoming the lackeys of reactionaries. That mindset of "refusing to be trapped in it" and "better not to enter" carries Lu Xun’s reflection on the classicization and institutionalization of literature. Once any art or literature is "named," it often loses its original vitality. The value of satire lies in "immediately responding or resisting harmful things—it is the sensory nerve, the offensive and defensive limbs." As for Lu Xun’s self-awareness of his own life’s value and the intrinsic connection between this awareness and his satirical writing, Mr. Zhang Xinying has already made very incisive arguments: Lu Xun could not give up satire until the very end of his life. This satire, intertwined with others’ praise and criticism, consuming his blood and spirit, and deeply connected to the (píngyōng - mediocre), tedious, dirty, even infuriating, disgusting, and despairing reality, its fundamental inner motivation stems from a subject’s free responsibility to the real world. This free responsibility to reality is the core element of this subject, existing within it, and not an external force for the subject. P258-259