The Use of Popular Literature
The ability of popular literature and art to shape people's minds and feelings is well documented. English chapbooks in the seventeenth century and Russian lubki (popular prints) in the nineteenth century formed the staple of lower-class reading in those two countries and had an enormous impact on the peasants' literacy and attitudes.[6] These were commercial in intent, however, whereas Chinese wartime popular literature and art was strictly political. It was a common assumption among resistance intellectuals that no attempt to repel the enemy would succeed in the long run unless ordinary people were willing to act together. One effective way to galvanize the disparate individual groups was by means of "popular literature," an easily comprehensible and beloved cultural form deeply rooted in the life of all Chinese people.
The writer Wang Pingling described a familiar rural scene: in villages in southern China, whenever there was a temple fair or a festival,
scores of itinerant book peddlers would appear, touting a host of chapbooks for customers. Most of the books were slim volumes of small cost, ranging from popular songbooks to familiar tales such as The Story of Yue Fei (Yue zhuan). "For the great majority of people," Wang noted, "these books served as major sources of information about Chinese history. Villagers could be equally captivated [by these books as] by a story of bandit-heroes avenging cases of injustice told by a professional storyteller in a country teahouse."[7] Echoing Wang Pingling, Lao Xiang saw a bright future for popular literature in China's bitter struggle against the invaders. According to Lao, stories from popular novels such as The Romance of the Three Kingdoms, including accounts of the brilliant strategy of the wise man Zhuge Liang and the bravery of Guan Yu, not only remained enormously popular with Chinese readers but also continued to shape their worldview, and thus could be valuable for educating the public in the cause of the resistance. In fact, popular culture proved to be far more influential than its elite counterpart. As Lao Xiang put it, "There were more of Guandi's [Guan Yu] temples in China than of Confucius's."[8] But what exactly is "popular literature"? Does it refer only to popular novels like The Romance of the Three Kingdoms and The Story of Yue Fei? Or does it include something more? And what are the differences between "popular literature" and "elite literature"?
Ironically, although the term popular literature was widely used during the war, its contents and its underlying assumptions remained vague. The term defied simple definition in part because it was a catch all expression, diffuse and pluralistic in nature, and in part because its meaning changed over time. At the beginning of the war it referred loosely to anything that was not considered elitist—that is, literary forms other than such recognized genres as poetry and lyrics. Subsequently the term was often used interchangeably with folk literature (minjian wenyi), literature or art such as folk songs and legends believed to be orally transmitted and collectively composed by the common people.
The search for a definition of "popular literature and art" provoked heated debates within intellectual circles. Some rated the quality of popular literature quite low, especially the old genres. Zheng Boqi (1895–1979), a former member of the Creation Society, a May Fourth literary association, was one such critic. He argued that "popular literature" meant two types of literary products: first, "feudal relics" inherited from the past such as Setting Fire to the Red Lotus Temple (Huoshao Hongliansi) and tales of adventure, superheroes, and spec-
tacular sword fights; and second, shoddy and often shameless modern works scribbled by mediocre writers whose sole intent was financial gain. Detective novels, "Mandarin Duck-and-Butterfly fiction," and stories of romantic triangles and sadism fit into the latter category. Zheng denounced these as "poisonous products," intended to promote ideas of hedonism, espousing fantasy, and corrupting people's minds.[9]
The writer A Ying saw similar problems with popular songbooks produced in Shanghai. As a Communist, however, he adopted a more political outlook. A Ying observed a substantial increase in songbooks after the incident of 28 January 1932. Many of the songs bore patriotic titles, condemning foreign invasion and advancing nationalism. But in reality, A Ying said, they were crass commercial products that espoused "archaic ideas of fatalism and retribution." He attributed this phenomenon to the erroneous views of "feudalistic song writers" who, in his words, intended to "drug the laboring masses, leading them down the road of destruction."[10] A Ying's criticism clearly reflected his own political view: the booming popular songbook publishing industry represented a society marred by greed and exploitation. Marxist clichés notwithstanding, his criticism addressed a common concern of intellectuals: not all popular literature was useful. In fact, much of it was deemed harmful to the cause of the war.
The historian and folklorist Gu Jiegang (1893–1980), however, looked on Chinese popular literature with a more sympathetic eye, stressing its positive influences rather than its detrimental impact. Gu, a nationalist and a brilliant scholar whose monumental multivolume work Critical Discussions of Ancient History (Gushi bian, 1926–1941) had permanently reshaped Chinese historiography, enthusiastically embraced the theory of "pouring new wine into old bottles." His meticulous study of ancient Chinese history convinced him that it was the very presence of the past that determined China's present and future. The nation's enduring legacy should be carefully examined and accorded due respect, for anything that could remain virtually unchanged over thousands of years must have great intrinsic value. Hence, unlike Zheng Boqi, Gu affirmed a host of traditional cultural forms. In an important article from 1938, "How to Write Popular Literature," Gu argued that popular literature encompassed the following: novels such as The Water Margin, storytelling, drum singing, regional drama, folk songs, xiangsheng (comic dialogue), shuanghuang (a two-man act with one singing or speaking while the other acts out the story), la yangpian (a still-picture show viewed through a magnifying lens), New Year pictures (nianhua), and so on.[11] His list, which
covered a wide range of topics, was the most detailed and comprehensive one proposed during the war. Significantly, it combined works written by the educated (such as novels) and those produced by illiterate people (such as folk songs and New Year pictures). In this sense it thus underscores a significant development in wartime China: the merging of popular and folk literature in the campaign being waged by Chinese intellectuals against the Japanese.
But why were these old and to some extent outmoded cultural forms such as storytelling and comic dialogue valuable? How could they be resurrected to serve present needs? Like the dramatist Ouyang Yuqian, Gu Jiegang believed that tradition was a vital part of China's wartime culture. His celebrated study of the legend of Lady Meng Jiang had already in the 1920s demonstrated how China's folk heritage continued to shape the hearts and minds of contemporary Chinese. But he was equally sensitive to the urgent needs of the time. Gu argued fervently that popular traditional forms should not be misinterpreted as the products of a merely conservative impulse. Rather, they were the accumulated wisdom of the folk, embodying the people's thoughts and feelings. Given their long historical roots and enduring popularity, they were potent weapons for rallying the masses.
To be sure, Gu Jiegang held a rather romantic view of the common people.[12] Even so, he was correct in stressing the potential use of folk and popular literature in a period of national crisis. The advantages of such forms were many: they used a rich array of common sayings drawn directly from the people's experience and thus would be familiar and understandable to the peasantry; their straightforwardness would allow intellectuals to reach the masses swiftly and sincerely; and if music were involved, because its tones were simple and easy to learn, an instant rapport could be established between intellectuals and the commoners.[13]
Lao Xiang echoed Gu Jiegang's views. Besides popular novels like The Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Lao Xiang argued, well-loved detective stories such as The Cases of Lord Peng (Penggong an) and The Cases of Lord Shi (Shigong an) could be placed under the same rubric of popular literature. They were works of great merit that should not be brushed aside as inelegant or unworthy. The mere fact that they were extremely popular attested to their importance in the life of the common people. Studying them would yield valuable information about the attitudes of the reading public.[14] In the past, such popular stories were usually considered too insignificant to warrant any attention. Lao Xiang, however, considered this censure to be pre-
sumptuous. Although popular works were predictably uneven in quality, they often exhibited a profound understanding of life, on top of being highly entertaining and rich in imagination. Popular literature, Lao Xiang warned, should not be confused with things "vulgar" or "shallow."[15]
What impressed Gu Jiegang and Lao Xiang most was the sense of realism inherent in popular literature and its simple and lively language, which seldom fell victim to embellishment and pretentious punditry. Often witty and down-to-earth, popular stories faithfully mirrored social reality and the people's life. Both folk and popular literature, Gu observed, used language naturally and effectively, and both expressed ideas with a sense of colloquialism. The writer Fang Bai agreed. Folk literature was a treasure trove of insights that could provide unlimited inspiration to resistance intellectuals. Illiteracy, Fang noted, was so widespread in China that it would be naive to think that sophisticated works such as Lu Xun's Call to Arms (Nahan, 1923) or Mao Dun's Midnight (Ziye, 1933), however well received by critics, would be comprehensible to the general public. The hidden symbols and rich allegories in these books were simply alien to most people's lives. Something simpler, though no less forceful, was needed. Folk literature such as common sayings and proverbs could help, Fang suggested,[16] thus reiterating a familiar proposal voiced earlier by Liu Fu and Zhou Zuoren during the May Fourth Movement. But now the argument was politicized, for it was the practical function, rather than the intrinsic value, of folk literature that drew these intellectuals' attention. And the argument was not used to reject traditional elite culture, as Liu Fu and Zhou Zuoren had done, but to spur the country to national consciousness.
Although Gu Jiegang and Lao Xiang stressed repeatedly the importance of popular and folk literature,[17] they did not overlook its less attractive aspects. These old cultural forms, they agreed, were full of violence and superstition, and many were the products of booksellers who cared not about cultural values but about profits.[18] But like the drama reformers Ouyang Yuqian and Tian Han, Gu and Lao proposed reform rather than complete rejection. Gu argued that an extensive review process was needed to select the useful works and discard the undesirable ones. The old forms must be transformed and given a new life. He suggested some fundamental changes: replacing "feudal mentality" with "national consciousness," and "lewd songs" with music that portrayed the reality of life.[19] In the writing and publishing of good popular literature, Gu recommended a wide range of topics:
national leaders' speeches, the mobilization of the people, conscription, wounded soldiers, guerrilla warfare, the atrocities of the Japanese troops, and national heroes. Since most people had little interest in theory, the ideas introduced must be simple and related to their life. Intellectuals, he said, should approach the subject of popular culture with understanding, sensitivity, and respect, not with condescension or abstraction. Their efforts to awaken the masses would yield results only if they paid sufficient attention to the people's practical needs and emotions. In these views Gu was supported by Lao She and Lao Xiang.