Six Records of a Floating Life (Penguin Classics)

I am constantly looking for classics of Asian literature to expand my knowledge of this area. Chinese literature, I will admit from the beginning, is not my forte. I have read Mo Yan, Gao Xingjian, Ma Jian, Bei Dao, Lao She, and Lu Xun. The first volume of Cao Xueqin’s _Story of the Stone_ awaits on one of my bookshelves. Penguin has never disappointed me, and so every volume of Asian literature they have published is automatically on my mental list of books to read. This translation of Shen Fu’s early eighteenth-century work _Six Records of a Floating Life_ was first published in 1983, but surprisingly I was not aware of it until I came across a copy at local bookstore. While the book was not exactly what I was expecting, I was pleasantly surprised by these memoirs of a flawed bureaucrat.So, what *was* I expecting? Judging by the title, which comes from a poem by Li Po, I assumed this was going to be a text of great philosophical depth, a series of meditations on the transitory nature of human life and the passing of things. _Six Records of a Floating Life_ is not contemplative, nor is it narrative. This is, for the most part, a descriptive work. Through the author’s comments on, for instance, the passing of one the people close to him, we get a sense of pathos, but I was expecting more meditative passages. I kept waiting for philosophical insight as I turned the pages. Eventually I stopped fighting the text and adapted to it. Here was a great opportunity, I told myself, to learn what life was like for an eighteen-century Chinese government-office secretary.Shen Fu does not present his life in chronological order. This may be a challenge or a refreshing variant. The memoirs are divided into four parts, which deal with the married life, leisure, misfortune, and travel, respectively. The complete text of _Six Records of a Floating Life_ has not survived, hence the four sections. As the translators point out in the introduction and the appendices, the two additional chapters “discovered” later and published in the 1930s are literary forgeries.Parts I and III, on the married life and misfortune, were my favorites. If one reads _Six Records of a Floating Life_ as Shen Fu and his wife Yün’s love story, the first section of the book is of course the most interesting. This is not, however, a typical (Western) romantic story. As the translators discuss in the introduction, Shen Fu was far from perfect as a husband/lover. That is all I will say, so as not to spoil the text for you. The third section is, not surprisingly, the most pathetic in the literal sense of the word: loss and mourning are its main themes. Part II, the shortest section, which begins with a lengthy description of flower arrangement, didn’t really touch me, and part IV is too descriptive for my taste, though the evocations of places are quite vivid.The introduction and notes by translators Leonard Pratt and Chiang Su-hui are incredibly valuable. I like my introductions brief and to the point. This book’s foreword is only 6 pages long, but it touches upon various topics: the text as a love story, the role of concubines, Shen Fu’s character and shortcomings, the work of the private secretary and specifically what type of secretary Shen Fu was, and the structure of the text. Regarding the notes, there are 101 of them (to a 120-page text), and they provide helpful cultural and historical detail for those who wish to deepen their understanding of the text. The book also includes a chronology, a note on weights and measures, two appendices (on the lost chapters), and four maps (of China, Shen Fu’s travels, and the place where he and Yün lived).I recommend Shen Fu’s book to those who appreciate descriptive texts, especially those dealing with everyday life in a different epoch, and with travel. When it comes to the latter, the final section of _Six Records of a Floating Life_ reads somewhat like Basho’s _The Narrow Road to the Deep North and Other Travel Sketches_ (a magnificent little volume, also published by Penguin) minus the poetry. One final suggestion: for best results, do not devour Shen Fu’s book, savor it instead.My next work of Chinese literature will be either Lao She’s _Mr. Ma and Son_ or Yu Hua’s _To Live_.Thanks for reading, and enjoy the book!

There are so many contradictions within this quirky memoir that it could only possibly be true.This is a memoir of life right around the start of the 19th century. It recounts the adult life of Shen Fu, a man who appears to have been ordinary in the extreme. Although educated, he did not pass the literary tests of the civil service. At best, his career could have been a secretary under one of the successful examinees, but his times weren't always the best. His positions never lasted, and his business attempts failed. Often, he sold his possessions and his wife's down to the clothes on their backs (or less). He fell out with his family, in a time when filial duty was enforced by law, and became outcast in almost every sense.But his life never wholly failed, either. Perhaps it was the glow of nostalgia, but his twenty-three years of marriage were always a joy to him, even when his wife's health failed, and even when she may have been the source of some of his problems. They had their times of poverty, but never to the point of starvation. He was honorable enough to quit a corrupt position when it offended his honor too deeply. He was devoted enough to heal the familial rifts. His joys and Yun's were simple - travel, each other, the beauty of the full moon, and maybe a little too much wine shared with happy company. Shen Fu and his devoted Yun never demanded much from their lives, and usually got enough to enjoy.The text wanders. The first three chapters chart the ups and downs of the marriage to his beloved wife. She died early, from some frightening disease. Still, she and he accepted it stoically, or mostly did. The fourth chapter collects a few decades of moments together, the sights and sounds of travel. With his wife and after her, Shun Fu visited temples, sacred caves, and pleasure districts, reported in some drifting collage of personal history. Despite the "six" promised in the title, we have only four. It's probably better that way, according to the appendices.I really think I would have liked Shun Fu. He was honest enough, loving enough, and devoted enough to his children. Even when his own situation deteriorated badly, he fostered his son as best he could and sheltered his daughter with people who could marry her well. He never wholly succeeded or failed, but muddled through the chances that appeared to him. He was no grand hero, nor villain, nor idle dreamer, nor driven workaholic. He was just a guy, living some guy's life pretty well. Maybe he dressed up his memories just a bit, but don't we all?//wiredweird