Genghis Khan: The Most Revered Mongol King in the World

Author: (French) Omichik
Publisher:
Publishing Date: 2006-12-01
Features: The Blue Wolf is a historically-based novel with a global impact, centered on Genghis Khan as its main character. The book has won the prestigious French literary award, the Médicis Prize. Through the mouth of Boro, a subordinate of Temüjin, the novel narrates how the son of the Blue Wolf, Genghis Khan, led his descendants, generals, and people into battle and ultimately established a vast empire spanning Europe, Asia, and Africa. The author follows the trajectory of history, incorporating the customs, beliefs, and myths of the Mongols, as well as animals, to add drama and tension to the novel, vividly presenting the great empire built on the Mongolian grasslands to the readers. The majority of the characters in the book are derived from real historical figures, and many events are based on historical records. The ambitions, passion, and ambition of this once-great leader are stirring and deeply moving, demonstrating a high degree of artistic and historical authenticity. The author Omichik inherits the French tradition of exploring history and human nature, combining his superb writing skills with a wealth of historical facts and descriptions of Mongolian customs, beliefs, and myths, earning unanimous praise from both Western historians and literary critics.
Another Expression of the Epic of the Grasslands: Writer Hong Ke
This is a book about Genghis Khan and the epic of the grasslands, and it is the most interesting book I have read about Genghis Khan and the Mongolian grasslands to date. During my sophomore year of college, I read The Conqueror's History by the ancient Persian Juvayni, and I was deeply moved. I even imitated Juvayni's tone to write an unsuccessful middle-length story titled The Rider and the Rose. From my junior to senior years, I immersed myself in historical and literary materials about Central Asia, the Western Regions, and the Mongolian grasslands, which was also the main reason why I later left Guanzhong and moved to Xinjiang. As the saying goes, "read ten thousand books and travel ten thousand miles," and I lived in the deserts of the Western Regions for ten years. Within my limited reading, historical books about Genghis Khan and the Mongolian grasslands include Juvayni's The Conqueror's History, Rashid al-Din's Jami' al-Tawarikh, Vladimir Bartold's The Social System of the Mongols, Grusin's The Empire of the Steppes, The History of the Mongol Empire, and Genghis Khan from France, as well as travelogues by European missionaries in the 12th and 13th centuries. Excluding Chinese historical materials from the Song, Yuan, Ming, and Republican periods, there are only two novels purely about Genghis Khan: Genghis Khan by the Japanese Iwao and Genghis Khan by the Soviet Vasily Yandov, the latter of which won the Stalin Prize. The French author Omichik's The Blue Wolf is the third novel about Genghis Khan with global influence and is also the closest to us. It won the French Médicis Prize in 1998. Mr. Iwao's Genghis Khan is similar to Romance of the Three Kingdoms, with seven parts history and three parts fiction, characterized by its simplicity. Vasily Yandov's fictional ability is stronger, and the readability of his novel is also stronger, written during the Great Patriotic War, permeated with national sentiment. Recently, I read a book by an American scholar about Genghis Khan, whiched that during the Great Patriotic War, the Soviet Red Army executed the descendant of the Golden Family of Genghis Khan in the dense forests of Kente Mountain in Outer Mongolia. Vasily Yandov's portrayal of Genghis Khan and his descendants is too distorted. The Blue Wolf is much more detached, and distance creates art and beauty. This is also the greatest difference between "history" and "literature." The greatest contribution of The Golden Lotus was extracting a section from Water Margin, marking the beginning of the true creative stage of Chinese classical novels, completely breaking free from the constraints of "history" and "fact." The French have studied the East and Central Asia through figures like Hebei and Grusin, while the Mongols themselves have The Secret History of the Mongols, The Origin of the Mongols, and The Golden History; Omichik has absorbed these achievements and successfully completed artistic creation. He only extracted the clue that Genghis Khan tracked down the horse thief, received help from Boro, and formed an "anda" from The Secret History of the Mongols, and it rose to life, tearing open the hidden part of history and unleashing his immense imagination. The entire novel is written in the voice of Boro, depicting the life of Genghis Khan. Boro is both the narrator and the participant, his imagination and passion constrained within this framework, where art is restraint. This is also where Omichik surpasses Iwao and Yandov. The second feature of this book is detail. At first glance, this seems redundant, as detail is the basic element of a novel. However, the key is that this is also a book about the grasslands, concerning wolf packs, horse thieves, and the customs of leaving footprints and slaughtering livestock. Without field research, it would be impossible to write it. Imagination also has its limits. In this regard, Omichik is on par with Vasily Yandov. To know that the Russians lived on the ruins of the Golden Horde, how many Tatar elements are preserved in the Russian language! This real-life experience forms the indelible charm of Vasily Yandov's novel. Now, a Frenchman has entered the grasslands, detailing the life of the nomadic people. It is said that the author is an expert in horseback riding, using the horse as a way to enter the grassland world, connecting with Vasily Yandov and the entire grassland world. The third feature is the great French literary tradition of portraying women. From the classical Hugo, Balzac, Mérimée, and Stendhal to the modern Moravia, Camus, Rob-Grièze, and Duras, they have created so many brilliant female images! Every nation has outstanding female figures, but the feminine sensibility of French art is more authentic. The four elements of the grassland epic are the Blue Wolf, war, fine horses, and women. Women like B?rte, Yesün, and Khulan from the grasslands appear only as fragmented fragments in The Secret History of the Mongols. Omichik makes the narrator Boro fall in love with Khulan and uses his weariness of war and his union with Khulan as the novel's ending. Here, the feminist consciousness of French literature and the rich vitality of grassland women also merge. The great Homer wrote both war and peace, and women are peace. Omichik's strength comes from the grasslands, close to Mérimée. My novel and the long story The Rider Going West also come from the deserts and grasslands. Here, I express my respect for Omichik.
The last thing to say is about Mr. Wang Ronghui's translation. Translation is a form of re-creation. In addition to foreign languages, the mastery of Chinese is extremely important. What is valuable about Mr. Wang is that his writing has the beauty of the Chinese language and the unique aroma of the nomadic world, especially in the descriptions of landscapes and character dialogues, which can only be appreciated by those who have lived in the deserts.
In the Mind of an Anda, the Once-Great Ruler
Professor Yao Dali of the History and Geography Department of Fudan University
The Chinese translation of the French novel The Blue Wolf was published in mainland China, and the publisher asked me to write a preface for it. To be honest, I hesitated for some time before agreeing. Genghis Khan is a historical figure I often encounter in my field of study. So, how would he appear in the hands of a literary creator? Driven by a strong curiosity, I was reluctant to miss this opportunity to get a first look. However, I also had some concerns, fearing that my own perspectives and thoughts, limited by my specialized knowledge, might lead me to be overly critical and hinder my reading of the book. To my surprise, as soon as I opened the book, The Blue Wolf effortlessly transported the reader's thoughts into the spiritual world of Boro, Genghis Khan's trusted aide, allowing us to approach and understand the once-great ruler who shook the entire old continent in the 13th century through Boro's open heart and his uniquely personal narrative context. Boro was not the one who solemnly swore brotherhood with Genghis Khan as an "anda" (translated as "close friend" or "brother-in-arms"), but he was certainly one of the earliest few andas of Genghis Khan. Over the 20 years of following Genghis Khan through thick and thin, he had many opportunities to get close to this legendary leader. Therefore, through his eyes, emotions, and thoughts, the novel successfully conveys to the readers the image of a full-fledged, complex, open-minded, and tension-filled grassland nomad hero. He has an extremely keen and profound insight, able to recognize those who would become lifelong companions at a glance; he is as cunning as a wolf, always winning on the battlefield, never allowing any weakness born of his natural heart to interfere with himself; the "people of the bow" bestowed upon him by nature made him love fine horses more than beautiful women; he could calculate the interests of reality with astonishing calmness, even to the extent of treating collective slaughter as a means to incite terror and break the enemy's will. Standing just a stone's throw away from Genghis Khan, Boro noticed the mediocre and dark side of this person. However, unable to escape the field of Genghis Khan's personal influence, Boro's heart was always filled with respect, love, and admiration for him. Even when he discovered that Genghis Khan had hidden his beloved to arrange a marriage between his sister and him, and even when Genghis Khan ruthlessly took away his other beloved and nearly executed him for unfounded suspicions of dishonesty, Boro never betrayed his anda. Just as the clouds follow the dragon and the wind follows the tiger, an image of a towering "I" thus increasingly highlights the supreme charm, authority, and grace of the overwhelming authority that transcends "I." Genghis Khan is the symbol of Mongolian culture of his time. In 840, the Uyghur Khanate collapsed, and a large number of nomads left the northern plateau of the Great Wall. The area became a power vacuum and sparsely populated. Over the next two hundred years, as the original Mongolian-speaking tribes in the Daxing'anling Mountains moved westward one after another, the population of the grasslands was once again "filled." Perhaps mainly for this reason, or perhaps also because of the survival pressure on nomads caused by periodic climate cooling, the situation in the grassland society in the 12th century, characterized by "chaos in the world, mutual attacks, people living in unrest," seemed to be calling for the arrival of some supreme authority. Violence, conspiracy, betrayal, the strong devouring the weak, and cunning tricks became the midwife of the new social order. However, it should not be seen as the entirety of the historical and cultural content of the time! The novel depicts the mountains constantly caressed by Tengri in the eyes of the Mongols, the Kerulen River, like a huge golden snake under the setting sun, and the bright, shining grasslands surrounded by pine, fir, and white birch trees. The novel uses a long poem to praise the Altai Mountains and tells the story of people's loyalty and love, the moving friendship between people and horses, and even the close bond between horses, with extremely delicate and detailed descriptions. What the reader hears from this novel is always a duet of battle songs and pastoral songs. Thanks to the author's accurate grasp of the balance, the book never forgets to reflect the profound love of the ancient Mongols for nature, their simple and pure sincerity in dealing with others, their reverence for the sky, and their curiosity about the unknown world, so that our hearts are not completely depressed by the bloodshed and darkness of that era. Precisely for this reason, when we read that Genghis Khan asks Boro to "walk towards the sun and never turn back," we feel absolutely no petty and cunning schemes, only his magnificent and bright heart.
So, what does The Blue Wolf tell us? I think it is not a "true history." To say this in no way implies criticism of the book. The pursuit of "true history" is the task of historical research, and it is not the goal of historical fiction. Seeking "true history" from historical fiction is not as futile as looking for fish in a tree, but in any case, it is the wrong object! The creation of historical fiction and historical research are naturally different, but perhaps the difference between them is not as great as it seems at first glance. Even historical researchers have long abandoned the naive belief that one day they can reconstruct history absolutely objectively. The "true history" they pursue not only shows a variety of "true details" squeezed out of historical materials everywhere but also always inherently contains the subjective "imagination" component that is inevitably mixed in when they recall the past. No matter how many and complete the "true details" are, their sum cannot independently constitute what is called "true history." Creative imagination is so indispensable to historical research that even the doyen of the Annales School, Bloch, who was criticized by his detractors for selling history to the "sacrificial altar of social sciences," advocated retaining the poetic element in the discipline of history, retaining "that which can make people wonder and blush." Therefore, the difference between historical research and literary creation does not lie in whether they reject or accept creative imagination, but in the different ways and degrees in which they express it. The imagination within the field of history must be fully accepted by the verification and examination of materials. Among the countless potential historical possibilities or accidents from ancient to modern times, only the small group that ultimately evolves into historical reality is worthy of the of history. Following the strict constraint of "speak only as much as the material allows," the imagination of history is not allowed to create characters, dialogues, plots, and events without material basis, nor is it allowed to add anything beyond the content mentioned in the existing materials. Unlike this highly constrained "controlled imagination," the creation of historical fiction is similar to other types of literary creation and can have a much larger space for free imagination. It can engage in various fictions within the range that cannot be "falsified," that is, without contradicting existing materials. Moreover, it has every right to break through these boundaries and indulge in fantasy along the lines of unfulfilled historical possibilities, making very different arrangements for the fate of the protagonists or the outcome of events compared to real history. Of course, the historical imagination embodied in historical fiction also has its own merits and demerits. But its standard does not lie in whether the work tells a "true history" but in whether it can accurately capture the historical sense of the era it describes, that is, whether it can generally approach the natural, material, and social environment of human existence in that era, as well as the spiritual temperament and cultural style of the time. In The Blue Wolf, the majority of the characters are derived from real historical figures. It can be seen that in the creative process, the author has conducted extensive and thorough research and reflection on the history of the Mongols during that period. Many vivid and beautiful dialogues in the novel are directly derived from the earliest epic of the Mongols, The Secret History of the Mongols, but the special form of "alliterative verse" at the beginning of each sentence has been changed into prose. The author's understanding of certain key historical moments is also extremely insightful. In his youth, Genghis Khan once conspired with his younger brother Hasar to cruelly murder their half-brother Bukteer. According to The Secret History of the Mongols, this was because Bukteer stole a bird and a fish that Genghis Khan had captured. But this explanation is really hard to believe. Ancient Mongolians had the custom of "inheritance marriage," where after the death of a father or elder brother, his eldest son or younger brother could inherit the concubines and younger wives of the deceased. An American anthropologist therefore proposed that the real reason for the tragedy was Genghis Khan's anxiety that his mother would be inherited by Bukteer. This view has one weakness: Bukteer was far too young to inherit his stepmother at that time. However, it immediately led us to think of another old custom of the Mongols, that is, in the case where the head of the family died and his sons were still minors, the eldest wife of the deceased should take charge of the family. It seems that the core issue that intensified the conflict between Genghis Khan and his brothers was whether of the two wives left by his father, who should dominate the declining noble family and the tribal commoners they belonged to? The Mongol Origin written in the early Qing Dynasty, when recounting this story, deliberately placed a hat of "lateral concubine" on the mother of Bukteer, seemingly trying to cut off people's further thoughts in this direction. In the novel, this story is told in the form of a flashback, through the mouth of Genghis Khan. He specially points out that his mother always had the status of "main wife." This detail reveals that the author of the novel has actually guessed the real catalyst for the cruel internal conflict. From the time Boro first went on a mission to Jamukha's tribe, the novel sets up a long foreshadowing, depicting the gradual development of the conflict between Genghis Khan and his great sorcerer Kulkan in a subtle manner. After establishing the state, Genghis Khan finally confronts Kulkan, which therefore seems more reasonable. This shows that the author's historical perspective is very sharp. However, the author's imagination clearly did not stop at the boundary of "not being falsified." The creation of literary characters requires a diversity and richness of plot that may far exceed what historical records can provide. Therefore, the novel sometimes uses the method of "transplanting flowers to other trees," placing the deeds of others recorded in historical records onto the protagonists of the novel. The person who suckled the wound of the defeated Genghis Khan and stripped naked to find mare's milk in the enemy camp was named Chelmei; the novel, however, writes all of this into Boro's story. Boro originally had sons, but the novel still has him worrying about being "childless" until the very end. He should have participated in Genghis Khan's westward campaign, but the novel leaves him behind in the main camp ruled by Genghis Khan's younger brother Orda. This allows the author to avoid describing Genghis Khan's westward campaign directly and only briefly mentions it through various rumors recounted by Boro. In these aspects, there is no need to criticize the arrangement of the plot for sticking to "historical facts." However, there are some places where the author's historical sense of the early Mongolian society seems to fall short. Let me give a few examples. He names Boro's first lover "Peony." This name is indeed very romantic and beautiful, and it has indeed been used as a woman's name by modern Mongolians (such as the wife of the famous Gada Meilin, who is also named "Peony"). However, it is absolutely impossible for the Mongols of that time to adopt it. The Mongolian grasslands had no peonies. The Mongolian word for "Peony" is "Mandala," a Sanskrit loanword introduced through Tibetan Buddhism; its original meaning refers to the name of a celestial flower, and in Manchu, it is called "Mandala flower," meaning fig. This means that the word could not have appeared in Mongolian society during Genghis Khan's time, as the Mongolians at that time had almost no knowledge of Tibetan Buddhism. Moreover, the novel repeatedly calls Boro's nomadic camp his "ulus." This term, used in the Yuan Dynasty, referred to the vassals and fiefdoms that only those with the bloodline of the Genghis Khan family were qualified to receive; while Boro and his like, who were called "nairan" (translated as "officials"), did not have their own "ulus." For example, the novel expresses through Genghis Khan's words a strong aversion to canines. The basis for this plot may come from The Secret History of the Mongols. His father had once told his future father-in-law, "My son is afraid of dogs. Do not let the dogs startle him." However, was being afraid of dogs in childhood necessarily a sign that he would hold an extremely disdainful and hateful attitude towards dogs throughout his life? We know that in the nomadic society of the Mongols, dogs are the second most loyal companions and helpers of humans after horses and are one of the most closely related livestock to the Mongolians. Therefore, it is no wonder that the eight most brave soldiers under Genghis Khan were called "Four Horses" and "Four Dogs." The novel's handling of this detail seems somewhat off the mark in accurately understanding Mongolian culture. These examples tell us that historical imagination is not completely in the creation of historical fiction. However, compared to the profound impact that the novel has on today's readers in conveying the historical and cultural background of ancient Mongolians, such inaccuracies are at most minor flaws. Among the older Mongol-Yuan history experts I know, many highly praise's historical novels based on events and figures from the Jin and Yuan dynasties, thinking that despite the fiction, they quite accurately capture the historical sense of that period. The Blue Wolf is fascinating mainly for this reason. While reading this novel, I repeatedly felt that even if a historical researcher has a clear subjective intention and tries hard to "see" the past events they are pursuing, their efforts are at most twice as effective. Sometimes, reading a good historical novel is easier to truly "see" the past. To more deeply understand and appreciate the past, it is therefore necessary to rely on the interconnection, supplementation, and integration of history, literature, and even more disciplines to continuously achieve this.
The book won the 1998 French Médicis Prize. The entire book is written in the first-person perspective, describing the life of the Mongolian emperor Genghis Khan through the mouth of a guard. The author often spends a large amount of space describing animals (especially horses and wolves), using them as metaphors. The author's descriptive skills are excellent, and with the addition of the exotic flavor of the nomadic world that the French enjoy, the book won the prize.
The twenty-third-generation descendant of the Blue Wolf and White Deer, Genghis Khan. In the Tiger Year (1206 AD), Temüjin ascended the throne as Khagan, known as "Genghis Khan," meaning "the ruler of the world." After that, he unified the Mongolian tribes and continued to campaign, achieving great success and finally making the country one of the greatest empires in history. The book tells through the mouth of Temüjin's subordinate—Boro—how the son of the Blue Wolf, Genghis Khan, led his descendants, generals, and people to fight on the battlefield and establish a vast empire spanning Europe, Asia, and Africa. The author follows the trajectory of history, incorporating the customs, beliefs, and myths of the Mongols, as well as animals, to add drama and tension to the novel, vividly presenting the great empire built on the Mongolian grasslands to the readers.
Chapter Four
At night, we crossed the Chifeng Mountains and valleys, Temüjin riding in the front, and I followed step by step behind him. B?l? and Qasar were behind me, followed by Khaidu. We snaked through the branches of the mountain ridges to avoid the piles of rocks that had collapsed. When the western peak of the Red Mountain turned pink and suddenly burned like a purple-red cloth in the wind, then the flat slopes covered with water were dyed gold, and this gold accelerated the speed of the horses racing through the half-dark, half-light, drowsy valley. My three companions were all silent, Temüjin only told me that the journey up the mountain was half a day faster than usual, and we had to reach the lower reaches of the Kerulen River as soon as possible. For most of the day, we were on the move, the horses suffering from the heat and struggling to climb the platforms covered with sharp ridges and high peaks, with and snow-white peaks between the platforms. When we stopped to rest and confirmed that the fire had been extinguished and no smoke was rising, night had fallen. The grass was fresh, the Kerulen River was in sight, and the scenery was very tranquil. On the other side of the steep riverbank, a mountain corner stood solitary and contemplative, gazing at the river. When Temüjin's brothers had tied their horses, he accompanied me to the riverbed full of willows, where the pebbles were hidden among the sand heaps. Small birds were squawking and arguing among the thin branches, and a pair of red-faced ducks were quacking and flapping their wings, flying away displeased in front of us. At that time, we could have shot them with an arrow, but we decided to first fill the goat-skin bags with water and then hide them separately, waiting for them to fly back to the other side. As our eyes followed the flight of the long-necked heron, the small grass had slowly begun to sprout. When the two ducks flew back to the strange bend in the river, our two arrows had pierced them. Each of us was supposed to get the one they had shot, but we all refused to take the one we had shot. Life is truly beautiful. A candle was lit, one after another, promising that the night would also be a good night. I was awakened by a buzzing fly, drying the dew on its wings as the sunline rose. I wanted to sleep for a while longer, but a crested pheasant somewhere on my head was making a judgment-like call, driving me out of my sleep. I first opened one eye, then the other. Some dreamlike shadows were floating in the grasslands in the distance. This charcoal-colored sunlight made the vision blurred, sometimes making sweat and soul, I saw countless straight lines, broken and continuous, as if there was only one line. A deer with red and red light spots on its body suddenly stopped. I walked towards it, but it was a large group of white-rumped antelopes and saiga antelopes, their light yellow skin easily blending with the withered yellow grass. They jumped lightly and nervously to higher ground. I predicted there were hundreds of them, but the heads of the sheep kept coming in, and the total number of sheep in this bare grassland was surprisingly close to a thousand. I had never seen so many antelopes. I had only seen them a few times lying on their fragile legs, with their butts facing the moon. It would have been a pity if Hasar couldn't travel with us. Temüjin had previously told me that among his five brothers, only he was the most accurate archer. At that time, we should have been able to stop the