Floating life of a Qing Dynasty oddball

A puzzle of early 19th century Chinese literature is an autobiography written by an esoteric and libertine clerk, Shen Fu

There are few greater curios in classic Chinese literature than Shen Fu's Six Records of a Floating Life (浮生六记 fú shēng liù jì), a remarkable book that gently refuses to inhabit any particular genre, instead veering from memoir to gardening manual, to eulogy, to travelogue, through to Qing dynasty (1644-1911) social document, but it is perhaps best thought of as a moving, even mystical, love story.

The titular six records in question, which serve as an autobiography of Shen Fu, an unsuccessful private secretary in the office of a public official, are in fact merely four - parts five and six having never been discovered (faked versions were published in the 1930s).

Although Shen wrote the book around 1808-1811, it was not published until 1887, after the manuscript was found in a second-hand bookshop in Suzhou, Shen's birthplace. We are left with a very enigmatic work indeed. It is unclear if Shen thought it would be published (or if he finished it). Almost nothing is known about him beyond the book.

Six Records is an episodic and thematic, though nonchronological account of Shen's life, each of the records approaching from a differing angle and time. The Penguin Classics version (published 1983) translated by Leonard Pratt and Chiang Su-Hui lists the records as: The Joys of the Wedding Chamber, The Pleasure of Leisure, The Sorrows of Misfortune, The Delights of Roaming Afar, History of Life at Chungshan, and The Way of Living - the final two parts missing.

The book's unusual structure is such that the records overlap, and key events are later retold from a changed viewpoint. This layering effect adds intrigue; major plot points are suddenly parachuted in from nowhere, with seemingly innocent events given an almost sinister gloss many pages later.

A further puzzle is just how reliable a narrator Shen is. Shen certainly doesn't try to paint himself as particularly successful or a good family man, nor does he seem to be asking for sympathy.

But the fact the book still endures among both scholars and wider readers, some 200 years after it was written, attests to the fact that it is the work stands as one of the most original and outre pieces of writing in Chinese history.

Often cited as one of the most revealing documents to outline private life in the Qing dynasty, even here the book poses a challenge as Shen Fu and his wife (and cousin) Chen Yun are both deeply idiosyncratic, unrepresentative of the times, and would have been looked upon almost as outcasts. On more than one occasion they were more or less disowned by their family. Also, Shen wrote in a deeply confessional style almost unseen in classical Chinese literature.

There is almost nowhere Shen won't go, as he offers forthright insight: the courting of his wife, pawning clothes to fund drinking binges, breaking the hearts of prostitutes, his blase attitude to employment. Shen even gives the relatively racy details of consummating his marriage.

While not winning any awards in the soft-core porn stakes of today, for a Chinese autobiography some two centuries old it is shockingly risque. Yet, Shen thinks little of it. And it is no surprise - in today's language Shen would probably be called bohemian, perhaps even a libertine. By Confucian standards his was an open life, living hand to mouth, doing pretty much as he pleased. This meant that while for periods of his life he had money - with which he was very generous, usually spending it on boozing with friends - at other times he was near destitute.

On one of his numerous travels with friends, Shen says: "I became less inhibited, singing crazily from the back of a buffalo or dancing drunkenly on the beach. I did whatever my heart desired, and this was the most relaxed and happiest trip of my life."

It is perhaps because of this attitude that one of Shen's chief proselytizers is the great Chinese writer and lover of the idle life, Lin Yutang. It comes as no surprise that Lin was the first person to take on the task of translating Six Records into English.

Yet it was not just Shen that Lin admired, but his wife Yun, too, describing her as "one of the loveliest women in Chinese literature". In ancient China, a woman's domain was largely the home and she was expected to unquestioningly submit to her husband. But Yun was not that kind of chick. And Shen, a feminist of sorts, is accordingly very proud.

While Shen and Yun's devotion to each other is absolute, playing a large part in the book's enduring popularity, they are both independent and free-spirited. Early in the first record, Yun desires to visit a certain temple but is not able to as she is a woman. Shen's solution, a bold one, is that Yun simply dress as man and go anyway. Yun takes great delight in this, enjoying practicing her "manly gait" and wearing men's clothes.

This subtle nod to Yun's androgyny is the first of several. In the third record Shen claims: "Yun came into this world as a woman, but she had the feeling and abilities of a man", though it is probable he is just praising her ability at drinking games (a constant feature of the book), her outgoing attitude, and their, at times, almost brotherly relationship, as opposed to hinting that she is transgender.

Despite the book's multifaceted dazzle, Shen is often seen as something of a loser. He failed the imperial civil service examinations, had little success as a clerk, was unemployed for large periods, and often fell out with family. But Shen lived a full and joyous if somewhat esoteric life, traveled around most of China, found love of the very deepest kind, appreciated booze and beauty, and in Six Records of a Floating Life left behind something that is unlikely to ever be forgotten. Some might call that success.

Courtesy of The World of Chinese, www.theworldofchinese.com.

The World of Chinese