Haun Saussy， The Making of Barbarians： Chinese Literature and Multilingual Asia

Haun Saussy,TheMakingofBarbarians:ChineseLiteratureand MultilingualAsia, Princeton: Princeton UP, 2022, 192 pp.

（美）苏源熙：《塑造蛮夷：中国文学与多语种亚洲》，普林斯顿：普林斯顿大学出版社，2022年版，192页。

Haun Saussy’s new bookTheMakingofBarbarians：ChineseLiteratureandMultilingualAsiais about “how cultural China has related to its outsides， before the modern period，”1Haun Saussy, The Making of Barbarians: Chinese Literature and Multilingual Asia (Princeton: Princeton UP, 2022), 11.or “the outside seen from the inside， as reconstructed by an outsider.”2Ibid., 1.As an “insider” of Chinese language and culture， I approached the text with great curiosity to find out how he handles the contrasts between Self and Other， Similar and Different， or even Truth and Fiction when he comes to talk about Chinese literature and multilingual Asia.

I was not disappointed. Saussy’s book is another perceptive exploration in “the eccentric discipline of comparative literature，”3Ibid., 4.and a brilliant demonstration of “analytic understanding”4Ibid., 12.about translation and identity. The author’s concluding remark that “Civilizations each manufacture their own barbarians”5Ibid., 136.is also an interesting point worth pondering over. Readers would be amazed at the extent and breadth of Saussy’s reading （Buddhist scriptures，TheCollectedDiscussionsintheWhite TigerHall，GardenofPersuasions，HistoryoftheSuiDynasty，JingShu，OldHistoryoftheTang，Su Shi and Ji Yun’s exile poetry， to name just a few） and he conducts insightful analyses of both the Chinese materials and the relevant studies in English， French， Korean and Japanese. This is indeed a “perceptive and informative exploration” which develops from “a deep and sustained engagement with premodern Chinese literary texts.”6See Anne Cheng, College de France, and Robert Ashmore, University of California, Berkeley, back cover blurb of the book being reviewed.

In the introduction， Saussy raises the question of “why some comparisons are always made and others are seemingly never made.”7Ibid., 7.This is actually an acute question for anyone who is engaged in our small field of comparative literature. Surely any chosen topic would be a consequence of “personal history， taste， intellectual loyalties， admirations， challenges， and so forth.”8Ibid., 8.But the question here is worth asking for anyone in the field， for that is the starting point of our journey.

When he mentions that “the dominance of leading examples leads…to repetition and sterility in a field，”9Ibid.Saussy is actually pointing out the danger of succumbing to accepted views and established theories. Yes， leading examples could be illuminating in one way or another， but in our niche of comparative literature or humanities studies， any dominating model or paradigm could become a mechanical weapon or steriliser of the field. In our field， there could hardly be a universally functional formula or a conventional category which could be applied to any topic or could be adopted by anyone without any modifications. Saussy’s comments such as “there are Others who are so Other that they are not even recognized as Others”10Ibid., 9.and “the reflexes of Eurocentrism could at least be questioned and tugged by those of Sinocentrism”11Ibid., 10.are a constant reminder for us of the need to jump out of the boxes that we so comfortably or unconsciously fit into. Or as Saussy puts it， the goal of comparative study “is finding counter-examples， edges and bits of texture that somewhat fall out of the frame.”12Ibid., 135.

When Saussy explains that the pre-1850 period “offers more opportunities for thinking differently about the present，”13Ibid., 11.I can see clearly the point he is making. My own research and reading ofTheStoryoftheStonedoes exactly the same thing； reading the English translation of a Chinese classic not only teaches me how to reread it from a new perspective， but also serves as a tour guide in the Western literary world where I am surely an “outsider.” This might sound a bit paradoxical， but it is indeed true.

A fair number of English classics are translations， but the key point for each of them is that “without local appeal， it was dead on arrival，”14Ibid., 18.for “a translation is always a negotiation.”15Ibid., 15.I am glad to see this reinforces Saussy’s other brilliant book，TranslationasCitation：Zhuangzi InsideOut， in which he argues that translation only works with elements of the language and culture in which it is translated into， or in Jean Francois Billeter’s words， only when it becomes “a text that rumbles with echoes and reminiscences.”16Jean Francois Billeter, Trois essais sur la traduction, quoted from Haun Saussy, Translation as Citation: Zhuangzhi Inside Out, Oxford University Press, 2017, 13.“Translation is certainly one name for the opening of a gap between what is said and what is meant， and without some such gap there is no rhetoric， no subjectivity， and no real dialogue.”17Ibid., 68.Indeed， real dialogue only happens during and after translation. As Saussy aptly puts it， “Failures to translate—whether absence of translations，nontranslations， or unsuccessful translations—instruct us about boundaries； they break the frame.”18Ibid., 137.Translation is indeed one feasible way of breaking the frame.

In the field of comparative literature， it is important to maintain “a relativist’s awareness of different customs and different attitudes，”19Ibid., 20.and maybe that is both the challenge and charm of us choosing comparative literature to start with？ The point of learning a foreign language is not to become a foreigner， we cannot do that even if we want to. With outstanding examples in the field such as Saussy who can use Chinese， English， French， German equally fluently， I guess their awareness of differences among cultures can only be more acute and more thought-provoking.And that’s why he would say “Chinese writing itself will prove both a tremendous enabler and a tremendous obliterator of translation，”20Ibid., 23.and interestingly for some translation theorists， English is seen as “both enabling and repressing international communication.”21Ibid., 32.To a certain extent， pros and cons， yes and no， insiders and outsiders are all relative.

“To write was to adopt the enduring， resistant forms handed down from the past.”22Ibid., 49.Yes，indeed， we are all born after the language that we speak or use has been in existence for hundreds of years or even thousands of years. The way we use it inevitably will be restricted by the way it has been used in the past. But on the other hand， the charm of language and literature is that we all， each in our own way， contribute to its development and maturation. Therefore what has been restricting us， if adopted well and used in an innovative way， could be the turning point for sparking creativity as well.

When Saussy mentions the imaginary pair of siblings in sixteenth-century Korea talking in Korean about Cheng-Zhu’s interpretation of Mencius，23Ibid., 24.that is indeed an illuminating example of “translation outward” （Chinese into Korean） and “translation inward” （Korean into Chinese）. The flow of knowledge and interchange between different languages and cultures has never stopped between China and adjacent countries， or even within China itself， for the map and concept of “China” itself is constantly expanding， shrinking， and changing as well over thousands of years. As Saussy correctly observes， “The more we familiarize ourselves with the lived multiculturalism of Chinese history， the more we learn to distrust literary history.”24Ibid., 57.Literary history is never something to be trusted， and neither are literary theories or translation theories. I entirely agree when Saussy says，“We who read， love， and profess Chinese literature must resist the temptation to frame it as an infinitely expanding monoculture.”25Ibid., 132.The world of Chinese literature， or any other national literature，is not as simple as that. At the same time we need to be cautious， for “the vocation of Chinese literature to be a world literature is coeval with the universalistic tendency of Chinese political philosophy and the state expansions for which it provided intellectual justification.”26Ibid.

Throughout the examples and analyses in the book， readers would agree that the “literary self-sufficiency of China”27Ibid., 70.adopted by ancient Chinese literary men is indeed a dangerous concept. And if we temporarily move ourselves out of the Chinese character and cultural circle，“What letters you write define who you can communicate with （at a distance at least）， and your communicative networks define who you are.”28Ibid., 97.Therefore the more languages we know， the broader our networks will be， the more ready we are to “dissolve several existing frames，”29Ibid., 138.and hopefully the more successful cross-cultural communicators we will be.

Sometimes Saussy’s sense of humor makes me smile or laugh out aloud， such as “Sui dynasty’s bark was sufficient， without a bite”30Ibid., 29.and “There is no yi of yi.”31Ibid., 40.Or when in his imaginary world，the minorities might have described the Huaxia as “one of our national minorities， who live from grain cultivation and weaving.”32Ibid., 51.（This is indeed an interesting perception from an outsider！） Or when he talks about the Tang dynasty lacking television， and asks “Has anyone shown that premodern China might， could， or ought to have had epics？ Has anyone shown that any Chinese wanted one before the modern era made it seem that epics were essential equipment for developing a national identity？”33Ibid., 78.“Literary values in China， it seems， implied not a failure to compose epic but an actual rejection of it.”34Ibid., 80.Or when talking about the saga of King Gesar， the Tibetan epic， which is comprised of a daunting “some 120 volumes and about 20 million words （not necessarily a recommendation in my view），”35Ibid., 79.I can feel the fun， the vivacity， the perception and the confidence from a scholar who has deep knowledge of his topic， and the precious ability to be empathetic， putting himself into someone else’s shoes in order to better understand and communicate with them. I am sure that is exactly what a comparatist should be doing， an ideal which we all need to aim for， and a solid， necessary basis on which comparative literature can thrive.