Louis Cha (1924–2018)

"Behind her, on her dressing-table, he noticed a broken mirror, and in it he saw the fractured image of the two of them embracing.

"'Look,' he whispered. 'There are one thousand pieces of me, and each one of them is holding you.'"

*

What a trip down memory lane. I am unable to separate the experience of reading this from the formative experience of obsessively rewatching the Taiwanese television production from the 1990's, and I imagine this book could be difficult to follow without prior show more knowledge of the story, so take that as you will. That said, this is a bloody-minded, thoroughly old-fashioned adventure tale with a sprawling cast of characters, outsized emotions, dramatic set pieces, and kung fu duels that unfurl like so many war banners. It is entrenched in traditional notions of duty and hierarchy, which make the bursts of anarchic chaos that much more startling. Static it is not, but readerly imaginative participation is essential. The last 50 pages -- !!!!! show less

I forgot I've attempted to read this once before - it all comes back to me once I start listening to the first chapter.

tl;dr - it's hard to get through (I'm still trying to finish it). My mind might change when I finally finish the book, but for now, I highly doubt I'll get the second book in the series.

(I should probably also preface that I've watched many TV remakes of this story, so I remember the gist of the plot even before I started the book. I picked up the book because I wanted to show more read all the details that might have been skipped in the TV series.)

Unlike more modern wuxia novels, this one takes itself very seriously (maybe I should blame this on the translator), which grates on my nerves a little. The story was originally published as a serial in a newspaper for the general public; it was supposed to be light entertainment, but the introduction in this copy of the book makes this out to be some deep work of literature.
I feel this puts readers in the wrong frame of mind - especially when considering the nature of the characters (I'll get to this later).

For some reason, the translator has chosen to translate some of the character's names, so you'll have characters named "Charity", "Ironheart" and "Withered Wood" next to characters named "Guo Jing", "Yang Kang" and "Qiu Chuji". The reason behind when translations happen seems to be arbitrary.
It's never a good idea to translate Chinese names into their English meaning - it just sounds dumb. Just use the Pingyin and give the explanation in an Appendix. Readers of Chinese novels would get used to recognising names over time.
So when you're listening to the narrator solemnly say, "Withered Wood understood the extent of the Taoist's kung fu, so tried another tactic..." - it just sounds (again), dumb.

This is also very much a novel of its time, the characters are simple, straight-forward people and they fight each other at the drop of the hat. This results in a lot of misunderstandings that drive the plot of the story.
In fact, 90% of the "plot" in this book could be avoided if people "talked" to each other instead of communicating with their fists.
This plot device was originally supposed to show the "righteousness" of the characters - that they can not sit still when they see injustice in the world, regardless of whether injustice was actually being done or who the actual culprit is.

I can't help but feel that this is a reflection of a time when "jocks" were valued above "nerds". Action in the form of fighting was seen as honourable.
However, modern-day sensibilities lean towards characters who are "smart" and who think before they act.
As such, when reading this book, I couldn't help but feel that all the characters are just... well... stupid.

Maybe the original aim of the story was to get its audience riled up at the actions of the characters - kind of like horror moviegoers screaming, "Don't go up those stairs!" or reality TV fans saying, "Oh no, she didn't!"
But this leads back to the introduction at the start of the book. The translator makes this out to be a work of literature that delves into the geo-political structure of ancient China from the perspective of jianghu heroes.
It would probably serve the story better to introduce the book as a martial arts version of The Kardashians. show less

This is the first volume of one of the most popular Chinese martial arts novel series ever written, and it reads like an excellent novelization of a kung fu film, although of course it's really the other way around given how influential this series has been on depictions of martial arts in all forms of media ever since it was first published in the 50s. If you've ever seen a kung fu movie, chances are it borrows heavily from Yong's work in tone, setting, or spirit. Naturally wuxia/martial show more arts novels have had a long tradition dating back centuries before these books were written (in a pleasing fan-fiction-y touch it's revealed that the protagonist Guo Jing is a distant descendant of one of the characters in Water Margin, one of the Four Great Novels), but Yong's work is fully its own despite inhabiting the well-trodden, familiar universe of medieval China. Yong evidently didn't set out to reinvent the wheel in terms of wuxia tropes, but in much the same way that a genre classic like Harry Potter outshone a whole host of similar young wizard adventure novels by being the best version of that genre, Yong's work hits the optimal sweet spot of family drama, political turmoil, patriotism, and of course plenty of incredibly-named kung fu action.

Sometimes it occurs to me to describe novels as "comic-book-ish". Even the most resolutely naturalistic novels involve a certain amount of exaggeration and poetic license, but there's a particular way of simplifying the messiness of reality while simultaneously presenting complicated narratives with exaggerated human nature and (especially) physical traits that some authors use in their works which reminds me of comic books. Stories of noble, innocent heroes with mysterious dramatic backgrounds fighting sinister, irredeemable villains for life and death stakes while continuously threatened with various forms of supernatural peril will always be popular no matter the delivery format, and this fits that archetype to a T. Guo Jing is pure of heart but a little dim, naturally clumsy but willing to train hard, and as such practically the ideal protagonist, especially once the Seven Freaks begin to train him in the martial arts, each move more hilariously named than the last. The novel's setting during the Song Dynasty's struggles with the Jurchens on one hand and the Mongols on the other (a young, up-and-coming Genghis Khan is a major and sympathetic main character) also lends itself well to action, as the horrors unleashed by the collapse of central authority and the evils of foreign domination have been staples in Chinese fiction since forever. There's also plenty of humor, as the plot is full of farcical contrivances (everyone is related to someone else, there's tons of convenient coincidences, many scenes are done with a perfect comic sensibility). This volume ends on a cliffhanger, after Guo Jing has just discovered important details about his heritage, and even though I've seen some complaints about the translation, I found this a whole lot of fun. show less

I love wuxia in the movies, but I wasn't sure about in novels. Turns out I shouldn't have been worried. Cha's book is a lot of fun (though sometimes it pushes my secondhand embarrassment buttons). I enjoyed this novel and Trinket/Wei Xiaobao's adventures. I was also surprised how much fun it was to read about kungfu. I can't always visualize it correctly, but that doesn't matter, it's still a great time. I'm eager to get a copy of the second book, which will hopefully come from a library in show more the near future.

The first book of The Deer and The Cauldron is fast-paced and the changes to Trinket/Wei Xiaobao's life (from son of a prostitute to fake eunuch to Triad member) are building up toward something. There are a few moments when I thought everything would unravel, but Cha skillfully keeps us on edge. There is a cliffhanger at the end of the first book, but I don't feel cheated since I knew this was just the first book. Also, my favorite part of the book is when Trinket/Wei Xiaobao meets up with Chen Jinnan/Helmsman Chen.

I did read that Minford's translation left out a few things, but I didn't necessarily feel that I was missing anything, so whatever he left out must've been either minor or flawlessly removed from the novel. My biggest complaint about the translation, though, is calling the main character Trinket instead of Wei Xiaobao (the same for other characters throughout the novel). Otherwise, I don't find the novel hard to understand or complicated to follow. But overall, I've totally enjoyed the book. show less