Hello Mr. Daniel! I am just writing this comment to say that I am incredibly grateful and excited to come across your blog and project. I only recently got into Dream of the Red Chamber, haven’t got my hands on a copy of either translated versions mentioned here since I only read up summaries, papers, and watched a documentary alongside an adaptation to enrich my knowledge of the overall plot (due to a game that piqued my interest towards the book). Instead, it caught my interests! Your passionate and educated commentary is really insightful, and your analysis really shines. So I will definitely try to follow along your project! I am Gen Z and not the most literate but I want to practice reading as I can now—while connecting with my Chinese side of family’s cultures, so I really appreciate this blog and what you do. Apologies for any mistakes I made in this comment. I am simply very grateful and refreshed to access the insights shared.
Yeah, I've noticed on Reddit that there are a ton of posts related to Dream of the Red Chamber over on /r/limbuscompany — not sure if that's what got you into it or not.
At any rate, you're more than welcome here! Don't worry about getting lost, too. Let me know if you have any questions!
Hi Daniel. Congratulations for this blog. It is great you are translating the Dream, and sharing your analytical research and artistic insights with the world.
I think David Hawkes deemed the introductory paragraph you discuss in this post as written by a commentator, not by Cao Xueqin himself. Hawkes identified the commentator as Xueqin's younger brother. Although in it the commentator quotes Xueqin, it remains commentary. If I recall correctly, the Yangs later agreed with Hawkes' assessment on this point.
Knowing that Hawkins was not following any one edition of the Chinese text, his omitting the commentary and relegating it to his own introduction is acceptable in my view -- akin to the poet John Dryden's rejection of the supposed opening lines of the Aeneid in his translation of that Roman epic poem; Dryden also translated them only in his preface to the translation.
I have a question for you concerning the opening paragraph. Do you think Xueqin saying in that introductory comment that he regrets not having listened to and followed the advice from his father, viz. that he should study to have a worldly career, goes against the character of Baoyu (a free spirit struggling to remain pure in this world of red dust) and thus arguably clashes with the whole book's true message? I have been told the Chinese may be more comfortable with contradictions than Westerners such as myself are, but this still perplexes me. If I had to venture a guess, I would say that comment was written in part to fool the censors.
I respectfully disagree with the assertion that it was written by Cao Xueqin's younger brother. I believe that there is strong evidence in the text itself that Cao Xueqin is the author. For example:
- You've got evidence of not only the authorial voice, but a self-deprecating voice filled with regrets (phrases like "今風塵碌碌，一事無成" (in the hustle and bustle of this world I've accomplished nothing) and "半生潦倒之罪" (the sin of a life half-lived in ruin), for example) that gives off a strong autobiographical tone. There are also direct mentions of the author's motive ("可使閨閣昭傳，復可破一時之悶，醒同人之目，不亦宜乎," or "it would convey the stories of those girls, help break apart moments of boredom, and might help others like me to wake up; isn't that fitting) that fit in perfectly with the novel that follows. A later author would have had to not only understand the author's sentiment, but would have also had to match his writing style, which is something that Chang Weiyuan and Gao E never quite accomplished in the concluding 40 chapters. I'm also not convinced that later authors would dare to write about the author of this work using such condemnatory language, even if they were related to him.
- The wordplay in the paragraph very strongly hints at Cao Xueqin's use of names, and would have been extremely difficult to fabricate. 甄士隐 (Zhen Shiyin), for example, is a pun on the phrase 真事隐 (Hiding true things), which itself is actually a poignant commentary on the nature of Zhen Shiyin as a character (we'll get to that in a few weeks when we hit the end of the first chapter). It's not just that Cao Xueqin is playing with words: he's also using homophonic tricks to describe the nature of the characters, something that we see come up again and again. A secondary author coming after the fact would have likely used a different name to establish this than Zhen Shiyin and Jia Yucun, two minor characters that disappear soon after the introduction.
- Cao Xueqin's literary style is clearly on display in that paragraph. He coined a number of phrases that were not common in the literature of his time, and remain today confined mostly only to his book — such as "假語村言" (false words and country phrases). In fact, you can usually tell that it's Cao Xueqin doing the writing when you find yourself reaching for the dictionary in vain, knowing that whatever you're trying to find isn't going to be there.
The Yangs translate the opening paragraph as part of the proper text (though, as usual, they skip a few sentences here and there). I don't recall any commentary on its authorship in their publication of the book.
Hawkes actually states in the introduction to the first volume that this was written by the author. He claims that the beginning was "written by the author's younger brother," but then goes on to quote the bulk of the paragraph "by quoting Cao Xueqin's own words." I should also note that Hawkes leaves out the play on words caused by the names Zhen Shiyin and Jia Yucun.
It's kind of hard to figure out precisely what Hawkes did and did not think because of the nature of his translation. He used only the barest of footnotes, and seems to have been much more interested in playing around with possible English translations than in really diving into the meaning behind the book. The more I read the original, the more frustrated I become with his version. As I said in this post, my biggest beef with Hawkes is the "slips of girls" translation, which is not only not faithful to the original, but actually works against Cao Xueqin's intention (this becomes more obvious later in the first chapter).
There's a deeper irony to the author's statement about not following the advice of his parents. The problem is that the characters in the novel who are ambitious (such as Jia Yucun and Jia Zheng) are portrayed as deeply corrupt and spiritually empty. It's possible that this is a performative lament, as you suggest. In fact, Cao Xueqin's life story looks a lot more like Zhen Shiyin than Jia Yucun.
At the end of the first chapter, Zhen Shiyin rhetorically agrees with the Taoist priest that he ought to withdraw from the things of the world in his poetic response to the priest's mocking chant towards him. However, Zhen Shiyin sticks in a really interesting reference: "都是為他人作嫁衣裳" (it's all just making a wedding dress for some other girl), a direct quotation of the poem 貧女 (Poor Girl) by Tang poet 秦韜玉 (Qin Taoyu). The original poem is a biting and almost furious attack on the norms of society and the empty place following them brings you — demonstrating the cynical side of Zhen Shiyin's agreement. It also fits in with the "hiding true things" nature of Zhen Shiyin's name: he agrees on the surface and even runs off with the priest, but it's clear that he's filled with pent-up rage.
Long story short — I think you're onto something with the "fool the censors" idea. A lot of this nuance, however, winds up being lost in translation, unless we take the time to look for it and really parse it out. I've learned that a lot of the things I kind of glossed over when I first read this novel are actually really important.
Another thing to keep in mind is that Dream of the Red Chamber at its core is a subversive novel — far more so than most people realize. Every story, every character, and almost every page is filled with something that is designed to subvert societal expectations. That's why it begins with such a strange phrase (此開卷第一回也, or "this is the first chapter), why we have all these confusing dream sequences from the beginning, why the timeline in the first half of the first chapter is so hard to understand, why there's a side note in the first chapter in which the author lashes out at the popular literature of his day, why there's a bizarre sequence in which the history of the name of the book is discussed, and why the two main characters are only alluded to in the first chapter. This stuff isn't just strange from a modern, Western standpoint: it's also strange if you compare it to other novels and plays of its time. Cao Xueqin does all of this deliberately, I believe.
Anyway, thanks for the questions! Keep them coming!
Hello Mr. Daniel! I am just writing this comment to say that I am incredibly grateful and excited to come across your blog and project. I only recently got into Dream of the Red Chamber, haven’t got my hands on a copy of either translated versions mentioned here since I only read up summaries, papers, and watched a documentary alongside an adaptation to enrich my knowledge of the overall plot (due to a game that piqued my interest towards the book). Instead, it caught my interests! Your passionate and educated commentary is really insightful, and your analysis really shines. So I will definitely try to follow along your project! I am Gen Z and not the most literate but I want to practice reading as I can now—while connecting with my Chinese side of family’s cultures, so I really appreciate this blog and what you do. Apologies for any mistakes I made in this comment. I am simply very grateful and refreshed to access the insights shared.
I wish you nothing but wellness. Thank you!
Hey, thanks a ton!
Yeah, I've noticed on Reddit that there are a ton of posts related to Dream of the Red Chamber over on /r/limbuscompany — not sure if that's what got you into it or not.
At any rate, you're more than welcome here! Don't worry about getting lost, too. Let me know if you have any questions!
Hi Daniel. Congratulations for this blog. It is great you are translating the Dream, and sharing your analytical research and artistic insights with the world.
I think David Hawkes deemed the introductory paragraph you discuss in this post as written by a commentator, not by Cao Xueqin himself. Hawkes identified the commentator as Xueqin's younger brother. Although in it the commentator quotes Xueqin, it remains commentary. If I recall correctly, the Yangs later agreed with Hawkes' assessment on this point.
Knowing that Hawkins was not following any one edition of the Chinese text, his omitting the commentary and relegating it to his own introduction is acceptable in my view -- akin to the poet John Dryden's rejection of the supposed opening lines of the Aeneid in his translation of that Roman epic poem; Dryden also translated them only in his preface to the translation.
I have a question for you concerning the opening paragraph. Do you think Xueqin saying in that introductory comment that he regrets not having listened to and followed the advice from his father, viz. that he should study to have a worldly career, goes against the character of Baoyu (a free spirit struggling to remain pure in this world of red dust) and thus arguably clashes with the whole book's true message? I have been told the Chinese may be more comfortable with contradictions than Westerners such as myself are, but this still perplexes me. If I had to venture a guess, I would say that comment was written in part to fool the censors.
I respectfully disagree with the assertion that it was written by Cao Xueqin's younger brother. I believe that there is strong evidence in the text itself that Cao Xueqin is the author. For example:
- You've got evidence of not only the authorial voice, but a self-deprecating voice filled with regrets (phrases like "今風塵碌碌，一事無成" (in the hustle and bustle of this world I've accomplished nothing) and "半生潦倒之罪" (the sin of a life half-lived in ruin), for example) that gives off a strong autobiographical tone. There are also direct mentions of the author's motive ("可使閨閣昭傳，復可破一時之悶，醒同人之目，不亦宜乎," or "it would convey the stories of those girls, help break apart moments of boredom, and might help others like me to wake up; isn't that fitting) that fit in perfectly with the novel that follows. A later author would have had to not only understand the author's sentiment, but would have also had to match his writing style, which is something that Chang Weiyuan and Gao E never quite accomplished in the concluding 40 chapters. I'm also not convinced that later authors would dare to write about the author of this work using such condemnatory language, even if they were related to him.
- The wordplay in the paragraph very strongly hints at Cao Xueqin's use of names, and would have been extremely difficult to fabricate. 甄士隐 (Zhen Shiyin), for example, is a pun on the phrase 真事隐 (Hiding true things), which itself is actually a poignant commentary on the nature of Zhen Shiyin as a character (we'll get to that in a few weeks when we hit the end of the first chapter). It's not just that Cao Xueqin is playing with words: he's also using homophonic tricks to describe the nature of the characters, something that we see come up again and again. A secondary author coming after the fact would have likely used a different name to establish this than Zhen Shiyin and Jia Yucun, two minor characters that disappear soon after the introduction.
- Cao Xueqin's literary style is clearly on display in that paragraph. He coined a number of phrases that were not common in the literature of his time, and remain today confined mostly only to his book — such as "假語村言" (false words and country phrases). In fact, you can usually tell that it's Cao Xueqin doing the writing when you find yourself reaching for the dictionary in vain, knowing that whatever you're trying to find isn't going to be there.
The Yangs translate the opening paragraph as part of the proper text (though, as usual, they skip a few sentences here and there). I don't recall any commentary on its authorship in their publication of the book.
Hawkes actually states in the introduction to the first volume that this was written by the author. He claims that the beginning was "written by the author's younger brother," but then goes on to quote the bulk of the paragraph "by quoting Cao Xueqin's own words." I should also note that Hawkes leaves out the play on words caused by the names Zhen Shiyin and Jia Yucun.
It's kind of hard to figure out precisely what Hawkes did and did not think because of the nature of his translation. He used only the barest of footnotes, and seems to have been much more interested in playing around with possible English translations than in really diving into the meaning behind the book. The more I read the original, the more frustrated I become with his version. As I said in this post, my biggest beef with Hawkes is the "slips of girls" translation, which is not only not faithful to the original, but actually works against Cao Xueqin's intention (this becomes more obvious later in the first chapter).
There's a deeper irony to the author's statement about not following the advice of his parents. The problem is that the characters in the novel who are ambitious (such as Jia Yucun and Jia Zheng) are portrayed as deeply corrupt and spiritually empty. It's possible that this is a performative lament, as you suggest. In fact, Cao Xueqin's life story looks a lot more like Zhen Shiyin than Jia Yucun.
At the end of the first chapter, Zhen Shiyin rhetorically agrees with the Taoist priest that he ought to withdraw from the things of the world in his poetic response to the priest's mocking chant towards him. However, Zhen Shiyin sticks in a really interesting reference: "都是為他人作嫁衣裳" (it's all just making a wedding dress for some other girl), a direct quotation of the poem 貧女 (Poor Girl) by Tang poet 秦韜玉 (Qin Taoyu). The original poem is a biting and almost furious attack on the norms of society and the empty place following them brings you — demonstrating the cynical side of Zhen Shiyin's agreement. It also fits in with the "hiding true things" nature of Zhen Shiyin's name: he agrees on the surface and even runs off with the priest, but it's clear that he's filled with pent-up rage.
Long story short — I think you're onto something with the "fool the censors" idea. A lot of this nuance, however, winds up being lost in translation, unless we take the time to look for it and really parse it out. I've learned that a lot of the things I kind of glossed over when I first read this novel are actually really important.
Another thing to keep in mind is that Dream of the Red Chamber at its core is a subversive novel — far more so than most people realize. Every story, every character, and almost every page is filled with something that is designed to subvert societal expectations. That's why it begins with such a strange phrase (此開卷第一回也, or "this is the first chapter), why we have all these confusing dream sequences from the beginning, why the timeline in the first half of the first chapter is so hard to understand, why there's a side note in the first chapter in which the author lashes out at the popular literature of his day, why there's a bizarre sequence in which the history of the name of the book is discussed, and why the two main characters are only alluded to in the first chapter. This stuff isn't just strange from a modern, Western standpoint: it's also strange if you compare it to other novels and plays of its time. Cao Xueqin does all of this deliberately, I believe.
Anyway, thanks for the questions! Keep them coming!