Nan Guo You Sheng -- Selected Works of Zhang Zhongxing

Author: Ji Xianlin
Publisher:
Publishing Time: Not available
Features: Excerpt: Starting from the moment of birth. Whether it's a regret or not, I was not fortunate enough to be born into a scholarly family, so I couldn't write a book like Wang Yinzhi's Record of Interpretations of the Classics. Not only couldn't I hear of it, but even the people I knew, including my grandparents and parents, had never heard of it. My family was a peasant household between Beijing and Tianjin. Although we were not short of clothes or food, we didn't even have the Four Books or the Five Classics. By the time I was old enough to read, private schools like the Sanwei Study had almost disappeared, so I had to adapt to the times and enter the new-style school in the town. What I read was no longer the "Three, Three, and One Thousand," but the textbooks of the Republic. Chinese was a key subject, and the first thing you learned was "people, hands, feet, knives, and rulers, mountains, water, fields, dogs, oxen, and sheep"—much more rigid than the "big dog barks, small dog jumps" of the next generation. It is said that with the changing of times, things always get better. Whether it is truly worth being so optimistic, I don't know; but it is undeniable that things are different, and the biggest difference is that now there is constant calls, even orders, to reduce students' burdens, whereas back then, we suffered from having nothing to do. As a student, the proper way to pass the time was to read books. There was no library at school, nor in the town; nor was it like Jiangnan, where there were many book-loving families, and one could follow the path of Song Lian to borrow books. But in the countryside back then, there was an advantage: the so-called "novelists" were quite popular, for example, one family had The Legend of Jigong, and another had The Little Five Righteousness, and they could exchange and read them. Thus, according to the principle of biology, to survive, one must adapt or make do, and I borrowed from the east and exchanged with the west, reading a lot of old novels. Now, thinking back, apart from Dream of the Red Chamber and Golden Chamber of the Jade Emperor, the most common and widely known ones were historical, martial-arts, fantasy, detective, romantic heroes and heroines, and various kinds, both written and vernacular, mostly small, stone-printed books, and I read almost all of them. Some, like Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio, Romance of the Three Kingdoms, and Flowers in the Mirror, were particularly interesting, and I read them more than once. I read blindly, like a blind man riding a blind horse; for several years, if you ask now, what was the gain or loss? It's hard to say the loss, because "not being as good as this and that" is a fantasy, impossible, so let's not worry about it. What can be said (of course, as seen through the eyes of a bookworm) is that it can be summarized into three lessons. One is to initially cultivate the habit of reading, which later slightly developed into not finding reading a burden, and then further developed into feeling distressed when there were no books in sight. Another is to learn some of the language from the books, such as when you have something to express, whether in vernacular or classical Chinese, it seems to come naturally. The third is a lesson. The ancients said, "Poetry is refined when one is in poverty (often referring to not achieving success)." I think this can be extended to say that books are also read when one is poor (often referring to having little wealth). Speaking of my childhood, according to the traditional customs of a common peasant family, clothes were just enough to cover the body, food just enough to fill the belly. As for entertainment, I remember it very clearly, there were no toys at home, and during the winter idle season, the boys would gather together, playing games with broken tiles and broken branches. It was very monotonous, but with ample energy, I had to find ways to pass the time, so I turned to books. Why books? Because they allowed for mental wandering and lasted for a long time. In short, because of poverty, I read a lot. Now, this can also be considered one form of progress. Not to mention kindergartens, even in small families with children, there are now toys everywhere, it is said that some of them are electrically powered and can sing and make noise. I am old now, and my pace is slow, and I can't keep up with the times, always filled with the anxieties of a, wondering if such wealth and enjoyment will leave room for energy and interest in reading?—I won't go on further, otherwise I might reverse Han Wenyong's principle and write a Welcome to Poverty essay.
Postscript: Postscript by Xu Xiushan: "Taking life philosophy as an example, being kind to others is better than harming them, why? The answer is because happiness is better than suffering. Most people stop here, but scholars like Professor Xue Zhwei will ask why. For example, if the answer is that happiness is better for life, those who are accustomed to digging deeper will ask why it is better for life. Or even more straightforwardly, they will ask why life is better than death. Clearly, this answer can only end with 'I don't know.'" This passage on the purpose of life is excerpted from Mr. Zhang Zhongxing's essay My Life with Books. It is a very significant article, and in Mr. Zhang's major work on life philosophy, The Theory of Living in Harmony with Nature, it serves as a preface and is placed at the beginning. In Mr. Zhang's view, in the ultimate context of life, discussing the purpose of life can only lead to "I don't know." But for humans to survive, individuals must also survive, and Mr. Zhang believes the solution is the old Chinese way: "Heaven's decree is called nature; following nature is called the way." In Mr. Zhang's words, "following nature" is also "living in harmony with nature," living according to the destiny decreed by heaven. Heaven's decree cannot be resisted; Confucius said, "Fear heaven's decree," and humans only have one path: "to follow." To follow without understanding why leads to being pitiful. From this perspective, human existence is quite pitiable. However, even so, Mr. Zhang believes that as individuals, life is only once, and even if the purpose of existence is pitiable, because it is only once, it must be cherished all the more. "When we have leisure to live in harmony with nature, we take a few steps, turn back, look at its face, and reflect on life." Based on this attitude toward life, Mr. Zhang's writings, especially those about people, are filled with a deep sense of compassion for humanity. It is easy to understand why the characters in Mr. Zhang's writings are always respected, sorrowful, and imbued with a distant philosophical depth and strength.
Again, excerpt: "Take another example of someone who is not yet toothless but still has some left—a book by Bertrand Russell published half a century ago (1938), Theories of Power, translated into Chinese by Wu Yousan and published by the Commercial Press in 1991. This book is not large, and its main points are simple: one, what power is and its various forms of manifestation; two, how easily it can be misused and how frightening it is; three, how to restrain it. Like The Spirit of the Laws, what is discussed may not be entirely believed, but it is always worth referencing. It is worth referencing because, first, what they discuss is not found in our Four Books or Five Classics, and it is also worth reading to broaden one's knowledge. Second, in the great issues of life and governance, we have always placed hope in good intentions, but the results have been like chasing shadows, and yet we still want to live and live well, so we should see how others who do not ask about good intentions handle power. Third, most of the suffering caused by human calamity comes from power. If we rely on good intentions but do not know how to deal with power, it is a fantasy. Others are practical—if what we think is right and we have a way to do it, we can turn chasing shadows into real bread and butter, tangible benefits, why not try?" This passage on society is excerpted from Mr. Zhang's The Moon is Different in a Foreign Land. Although Mr. Zhang was born under the imperial system, his thoughts were not stubborn or conventional, but rather aligned with the spirit of democracy and science promoted by the May Fourth Movement. This is a distinct tone in Mr. Zhang's way of life and writing. Under this tone, Mr. Zhang's pen is sharp, such as in his critique of social corruption, the vices of the Chinese people, the resurgence of contemporary superstitions, and the of various dregs. Mr. Zhang maintains a clear and uncompromising critical stance. The cold, scientific spirit and compassionate attitude toward life are the two fundamental principles for understanding Mr. Zhang Zhongxing and his works. Mastering these two principles, I believe, at least allows one to perceive the deeper layers in Mr. Zhang's writings.
About a year ago, representatives from Shandong Education Press came to discuss with Mr. Zhang the publication of a collection of his academic essays. Mr. Zhang refused, citing the simple reason of not wanting to rehash old material. Later, the press colleagues discussed it with me, and I thought it might be possible. The reason remains simple: the Chinese book market is so vast that it is hard to imagine in other countries. For those who have not read Mr. Zhang's works, "the sun rises every day as new," and with the press's sincere attitude, it was difficult to refuse. Based on this idea, I selected and compiled this collection of essays by Mr. Zhang, which he modestly titled The Voice of a Southwestern Bamboo Pole. Like the two principles I mentioned earlier, the selected essays are roughly divided into two parts: one related to knowledge, and the other to literature, particularly those about people and things. Reading this selected collection of Mr. Zhang, I believe that careful readers will sense the sharp critical power and compassionate philosophy. As the saying goes, "measuring the sea with a ladle." If through my modest efforts, readers can indeed gain some understanding of Mr. Zhang's spirit and works, I will be satisfied. Winter of 1997, Xibahe, Beijing