A peek at The Three Inch Golden Lotus

Michael reminded me that The Three Inch Golden Lotus was translated by someone we knew. Had I read it? Not yet. My Chinese friend Xiao Kairong, himself an expert on translation, encouraged me to read it--a book that had made a big splash in China when Feng Jicai first published it.

Here's a peek. It's well worth a longer look, reading the whole thing. The narrator opens with this in "Some Idle Talk Before the Story":

"Some people say that a portion of Chinese history lies concealed in the bound feet of Chinese women. That's preposterous! These stunted human feet, three inches long, a bit longer than a cigarette, eternally suffocated in bindings--what could be hidden there except for the smell?"

Only a few pages away, we witness Granny sitting down on a stool, getting ready for a big job.

"With red, swollen eyes Fragrant Lotus begged, 'Granny, just one more day. Tomorrow. I promise you you, tomorrow!'

"Granny did not hear a word. Sitting facing Fragrant Lotus, she pulled the two roosters to the ground between her and her granddaughter. She held the necks of the roosters together and stepped on them with one foot. With her other foot she stepped on the roosters' feet. Her hands quickly plucked several clumps of feathers from the roosters' breasts, and with the cleaver she sliced the breasts open. Before the blood could begin to flow, Granny grabbed Fragrant Lotus' feet and pressed them--first one, then the other--into the roosters' stomachs. The hot, burning, sticky sensations and convulsions of the dying roosters so shocked Fragrant Lotus that she tried to pull her feet back. But Granny screamed madly, 'Don't move!'

"Fragrant Lotus had never heard such a tone frm Granny, and she froze. She just watched as Granny pressed her feet into the roosters. Granny's own feet stood hard on the two roosters to hold them down. Fragrant Lotus shuddered; the roosters heaved; and granny's arms and legs shook from exhaustion. They all trembled as one. As she pressed even harder, Granny's hips rose from the stool, and Fragrant Lotus feared Granny could not hold this position and might fall forward and crash into her. In a short while Granny relaxed her grip and pulled out Fragrant Lotus' feet. The roosters' blood flowed freely and her feet were covered with it, scarlet and sticky. Granny flung the two roosters aside; one stiffed and died immediately, the other flapped weakly toward its death. She pulled over a wooden basin, washed and dried her granddaughter's feet, and placed them on her knees. The binding was to begin. Fragrant Lotus was so confused she wondered whether she should cry or beg or throw a fit, but all she did was watch Granny, who grabbed her feet--first the right and then the left. She left the big toe alone, and she pressed the other four toes downward and back, at a slight angle, toward the arch. With a muted crack, the bones in the toes broke and gave way. Fragrant Lotus cried out, mostly in surprise. Granny had already shaken loose a roll of bandage and tied the four toes securely down. Fragrant Lotus saw the new shape of her feet, and even before she felt the pain, she began to cry."

This is only the beginning. In the days and weeks to come, more happens to those little feet.

But that Granny! And Fragrant Lotus herself! And a whole parade of colorful characters--wits and dolts, clowns and bores. Such liars and scholars and humble servants. And what stories flew around and about those bound feet--but what should we believe? And whom? Feng Jicai makes us wonder.

Later, Fragrant Lotus amazes us with feats that no Olympic athlete could pull off, all on her cigarette-sized feet. Schooled by Aunt Pan, she'd studied Yuan-dynasty wood-block print tables like this one . . . describing the standard measurements for a 2.9 inch foot. But don't let Aunt Pan's numbers frighten you . . . this story is anything but tedious and dull.

I wish I had known David Wakefield better before his untimely death. What a masterpiece, this translation.