Sima Qian

Author: Gao Guang
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-06-01
Features: Sima Qian was a great historian and a great litterateur. He and his timeless masterpiece, Records of the Grand Historian (Shiji), represent a monumental presence, standing tall on the grand avenues of Chinese history and literature. No one could bypass him, and no other work could replace his. His monumental achievements, his unparalleled literary talent, his irreplaceable contributions to Chinese history and culture, and the unparalleled humiliation he endured as a man—these aspects of his life evoke both admiration, reverence, and awe, as well as deep pity. To traverse over a thousand years of time and enter his era, to delve into his vast, profound, yet confused and tormented inner world, is a monumental test for any scholar or writer. To write about Sima Qian after he endured such profound disgrace and still sought to rectify history—writing about Sima Qian also requires a rectified attitude. Simplicity, clarity, sharpness—facing the pain and weight of life, driving the meager dignity of Chinese literati to the brink of despair—this must be established first. Without purity, without unbridled passion, without full commitment, one cannot avoid complexity, triviality, darkness, and obscurity. To be grand, to be vigorous, to relentlessly pursue the theme of life, to bear genuine grief and indignation, and to bravely embrace the role of a martyr for history and literature—yet at the same time, to move skillfully between sorrow and whispers, like a hero howling in the wind and weeping, strumming the lute in song. When facing the bloody devastation, one must neither lack cruelty nor be excessively cruel—both are unacceptable. Since ancient times, who has not faced death? But death is not the same; some are heavy as Mount Tai, while others are light as feathers. This is one of Sima Qian’s most widely and deeply quoted sayings. Yet, when he spoke these words, he was likely far from the calm and ease we imagine. Because he had to struggle with his own vibrant life between Mount Tai and feathers. This struggle was, in fact, a process of increasingly severe self-harm. The greatness of Sima Qian lies in his enduring the unimaginable humiliation he suffered as a man, time and again gritting his teeth, to complete the monumental Records of the Grand Historian, which weighed as heavily as Mount Tai. But literati are still literati. After completing Shiji, Sima Qian believed his death was as heavy as Mount Tai. Yet in the eyes of Emperor Wu of the Han Dynasty, it remained as light as feathers. Thus, Emperor Wu left the task of executing Sima Qian to his grandson, as if gifting it to posterity. In the work, one can read not only Sima Qian’s immense genius and towering character but also the author’s own reflections. Although from an artistic perspective, this novel has many flaws—such as being too realistic, too dense, too overt, with no restraint in its brushwork, and lacking necessary control in its lyricism and commentary—it is filled with passion, pulsating with life, and brimming with vitality.