Winter 2007
 
 

CONTENTS

 
  THE HSING-LUNG GROCERY STORE 興隆雜貨店
   By Syaman RAPONGAN 夏曼‧藍波安
   Translated by May Li-ming TANG 湯麗明
 
  THE STORY OF BEGGAR’S COTTAGE 乞食寮舊事
   By Ah Sheng 阿盛
   Translated by Karen Steffen CHUNG 史嘉琳
 
  PRINCESS UP ALL NIGHT 公主徹夜未眠
   By CHENG Ying-shu 成英姝
   Translated by David van der Peet 范德培
 
  MEMORIES OF MY FATHER想念父親
STANDING WITH THE TREE AGAINST THE WIND
跟樹站在一起抵抗風

HIS MAJESTY MY FATHER 父王

WHEN THE NORTH WIND CAME 北風來的時候
   By Hsiao Hsiao 蕭蕭
   Translated by Patty Pei-Jung LEE 李佩蓉
 
  JOURNEY 旅程
   BY CHEN I-chih 陳義芝
   Translated by John J. S. BALCOM 陶忘機
 
  RETURN TO ANGKOR 回到吳哥
   By Hsu Hui-chih 許悔之
   Translated by Karen Steffen CHUNG 史嘉琳
 
  NEON LIGHTS 霓虹燈
   By CHEN Yu-hong 陳育虹
   Translated by Karen Steffen CHUNG 史嘉琳
 
  THE GRAND TUTOR’S ARMCHAIR 太師椅
   By Hsiang Ming 向明
   Translated by John J. S. BALCOM 陶忘機
 
  INTERIOR DRAWING 室內繪
   By Hsiang Ming 向明
   Translated by John J. S. BALCOM 陶忘機
 
  CHEN CHIN’S ARTWORK IN THE 1930s: Beginning with Leisurely from the TFAM Collection 1930 年代的陳進-從北美館所藏1935 年 〈悠閒〉談起
By Yu-chun LIN 林育淳
   Translated by Mark I. HAMMONS 何邁
 
  NEWS & EVENTS 文化活動
   Compiled by Sarah Jen-hui HSIANG 項人慧
 
  NOTES ON AUTHORS AND TRANSLATORS
作者與譯者簡介
 
  APPENDIX : CHINESE ORIGINALS 附錄 :中文原著
 
  CATTLEYA 洋蘭,
gouache on silk,72 × 90 cm, 1985 ...............COVER
 
  MATERNAL LOVE 母愛,
gouache on silk,72 × 53 cm, 1984.....BACK COVER
   By CHEN Chin 陳進

 

Hsiao Hsiao 蕭蕭

WHEN THE NORTH WIND CAME
北風來的時候*

Translated by Patty Pei-Jung LEE 李佩蓉


Dear Eldest Brother:

Recently His Majesty our Father has been getting frequent dizzy spells, but the doctors have not told us why. Now that he is on medication, there are signs of improvement. His Majesty tells you all not to worry.

Late last night His Majesty obtained for you the God Hsuen Tien protective charm that you requested. Once it has been sewn up in a scented pouch, Mei Juan will bring it to you. These are His Majesty’s instructions: you must hang it at a clearly visible place in the car, and must not take it into the washroom or any other uncleanly place, so please do take care.

Respectfully,

Your Youngest Brother

*******************

     My brother’s letters have generally run along these lines in the past ten-odd years: “kidnapping the Emperor to command the vassals.” He always referred to our father as “His Majesty Our Father” whenever he wrote. As Sun Yat-Sen had said: creation of the republic is to make all four hundred and fifty million compatriots of our nation emperors in their own right! So “we” believe that there is no better way to refer to our Father than the way “our” brother has chosen.
     In our “palace,” Father really was the emperor. Ever since we were young we had all been scared of Father, as if we were mice in the vicinity of a cat. When I was little, I had at least some sort of a safe harbor to shield me from the storms, as Grandmother had always protected me; but by the time my younger brothers were grown up, Her Majesty Our Grandmother had passed away and we completely lost our source of indulgent support. It was also from that year, however, that we felt Father had also lost a certain pillar from his emotional strength, and there were times when even he seemed lost and silent.
     I did not know why I was so afraid of Father, until I came to teach at the Girls’ School and the students asked me to always keep a smile on my face; they said that they were afraid to see my unsmiling face. Then I remembered that Father’s face was also like that: “mighty without fury.” No wonder a girl remarked a few days ago that my face is very “grand.” It was another “grand” face like mine that had kept us always “standing straight” when saying “yes, sir” to our Father when we were young.
     We rarely saw Father smile, although Father had a very deep dimple in his cheek, so that it seemed as if a blossom had stirred up ripples in a pond.
     We rarely saw Father smile, although Father had a set of pearly white teeth that made him look like a model for the Blackie Toothpaste advertisement when he smiled.
     However, we often heard him laugh resoundingly as he chatted to our neighbors. His laugh had resonated like the enormous bells from a mountain shrine.
     Actually we were not the only ones who were afraid of him; all kids in the neighborhood were afraid of him. Crying children would suddenly choke back their tears when they saw Father walk past. If Father then threw a grin in his direction, the child would be at a complete loss, and only when Father had strolled far far away would the child suddenly seem to recall himself, at which point he would let out a piercing shriek as if the sky had fallen!
     Father had never shown his stern face to anyone other than my brothers and me. When Father got angry, his words would be clipped, and his scolds were always brief. A simple command: “stand up straight!” was enough to keep us well reprimanded for a long time. Once we were playing with a group of children, and Father happened to see me aim a blow at my younger brother. He was furious and called out: “Come here!” In addition to my brother and me, three other pale-faced children also ran over to stand straight before him!
     One bellow and the sky becomes overcast!
     Nonetheless, the lion does not always roar. Father said:“He who yaps a lot must not be a lion. A lion treads deeply within the forests; knowledge is deep in the heart.” These words are said in Hokkien, and I recall them clearly as I really liked them. The lion would not roar all the time, and true “knowledge” is not always bantered about. What is frequently being boasted of is not true knowledge, not real wisdom. Father was my sky when I was little; I did not know exactly how high or how wide the sky was, because Father’s “knowledge” was deeply hidden in his heart. The occasional drop of information was to me an entire forest. Even now I often make reference in my classes to things he had said, and I treasure every tree, every blade of grass in that forest.
     I am the eldest son, and therefore whenever Father made the routine offerings to our ancestors, he would require me to stand by his side to learn how to burn the incense sticks and paper money correctly,...

From Hsiao Hsiao’s 蕭蕭 Fu-wang pien-tan lai-shih-lu 《父王‧扁擔‧來時 路》[His majesty my father, shouldering poles, and the way we came], Taipei: Elite Publishing, 2001, pp. 18-21.


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