‘Since her destiny is already dust / What need has she for a face like jade?’ wrote Meng Shuqing in her poem ‘Facing the Mirror’. Produced against all odds, the writings collected in this anthology are unique because, as the editors point out in the preface, they had no utility, career value or prestige.
Poetry in China has always held a special position no self-respecting candidate to the vast bureaucratic apparatus of traditional China could afford to ignore it. Indeed, the only hope of succeeding when all else failed was for one’s ability to compose verse to come to the attention of the emperor. Even Mao Zedong, who strove to force literature away from traditional models, continued to write expert classical-style poetry.
Since women were excluded from public life, they had little or no encouragement to write and much of their output is irretrievably lost. What does survive is handsomely represented in the present selection which, in nearly 700 pages, gathers the work of some 130 poets from ancient times to the early twentieth century. The concise biographies that precede each poet’s work, along with the brief notes that accompany the poems where needed, and the additional 150 odd pages of prose writing by both female and male poet-critics on and about their art, frames and makes our understanding of the poetry richer. There can be no doubt that this anthology will become an essential tool in academic circles, but this is a book that deserves a far greater readership.
It is a sad irony that traditional Chinese criticism of women’s poetry as being too personal; should be one of the qualities that gives it lasting value. Be it the Tang dynasty courtesan Zhao Luanluan’s ‘Five Lyric Outcries from the Boudoir’, a sensuous and erotic description of her body; Wang Jiaoluan’s ‘Song of Everlasting Resentment’, written over her lover’s heartless behaviour and as an explanation of her own suicide; or Chen Susu’s ‘Burning My Poems’ that closes with: ‘Because the words ‘love-sickness’ are hard to understand, / I don’t want to leave my bitterness to the word of men.’ The poetry presented in this anthology reveals a long-neglected facet of Chinese literature; one that counterbalances the long tradition of male poetry with which the West has become familiar. In doing so it will challenge established assumptions about Chinese poetry.
Chinese literature [the editors point out] can boast of an exceptional number of women writers before the twentieth century, and that, of course, deserves bringing to notice; it is also interesting and important that these women were read, discussed, and ranked by intelligent people of both sexes. Women writers are very much a part of Chinese literature. Though their place has been contested, though they have encountered the usual sorts of peremptory dismissal and trivialisation, and though the benefits of a literary reputation typically eluded them, they did participate in that vast conversation.
The critical apparatus offered by the notes and the generous selection of criticism by and about women writers reveal the extent to which much of the poetry in this anthology is engaged in a deep interaction and dialogue with established poetry. As the editors point out in their introduction, the women poets both revived and challenged worn out metaphors and allusions, by juxtaposing feminine metaphors with conventional masculine themes. The resulting tension between metaphorical and literal throws into sharp relief the dialogue that women poets brought to poetry in general. The theme of distance from the loved one, for example, recurs innumerable times in Chinese poetry; often it is a set metaphor for the scholar who seeks to be in the service of the emperor. Jing Pianpian, in her ‘Poem of Resentment’, burst the languid theme with her opening lines: ‘How can you complain that the distance is great / When it is your hesitation that keeps you away?’ After proclaiming her steadfastness she concludes: ‘Your heart is like a blossom of the poplar tree, / Drifting in the breeze with no set track.’ But perhaps it is Hou Cheng’en’s ‘Venting Feeling’ that best illustrates the extent to which poetic diction could be challenged; precisely because her poetry had no utility, career value or prestige, the illusion of poetic decorum could be shattered to create such a memorable couplet as: ‘I don’t like all this blossoming – / Stay out of my dreams!’
