Shanghai “Harbour” – Around 1905
Posted: January 17th, 2014 | No Comments »Here today (a rather busy weekend ahead) simply a postcard of Shanghai “Harbour” taken around 1905 and posted in 1907
All things old China - books, anecdotes, stories, podcasts, factoids & ramblings from the author Paul French
Here today (a rather busy weekend ahead) simply a postcard of Shanghai “Harbour” taken around 1905 and posted in 1907
I came across a quirky little post the other day on the China Car Times blog concerning Chinese wheelbarrows. Chinese one wheeled wheelbarrows are indeed different from western style barrows. However, that reminded me of the drawings of Chinese wheelbarrows with sails and then John Milton.
Blind John Milton (1608-74) was born into the height of the Protestant Reformation in England. He clearly found what little news came from China interesting and wrote “Chinese drive, with sails and wind, their cany waggons light” in Paradise Lost (1667) indicating that the West knew of the sail driven wheelbarrows of China that William Alexander was to paint over a century later (below) in the 1790s when he saw them while accompanying Lord McCartney s Mission to China. Milton also noted the spice trade as well as the greatness of Beijing in Paradise Lost:
“City of old or modern fame, the seat
Of mightiest empire, from the destined walls
Of Cambalu, seat of Cathaian Can”
 Milton later refers to Pequin without apparently realising that both Pequin and Cambalu are alternative names for Beijing. It seems Milton was excited by China as a vast market for English manufacturing but criticised what he saw as the country s absolutist government which, in his mind, paralleled the absolutism of Catholicism and the Divine Right of Kings.
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I blogged rather a lot last year about Lao She thanks to the publication of Anne Witchard’s Lao She in London and then Penguin China’s reissuing of Lao She’s great novel of 1920s London, Mr Ma and Son. Somehow along the way I also penned a piece for the Los Angeles Review of Books about why Lao She never won a Nobel Prize too. Of course the Lao She story never ends well, but rather ends in the Cultural Revolution with Mao’s madness, denunciations and suicide. So China Rhyming readers may well be interested in the fascinating article in a recent issue of The New Yorker by their (now I think former) Beijing correspondent Evan Osnos on Confucianism. The article centres on the temple in Beijing where Lao She was bullied and beaten by Maoist Red Guards and deals, in part, with this awful event and the legacy of it for the temple. It’s not all available on line so you’ll have to track down a copy somehow I’m afraid….
I’ve always loved Chinese pirates and have written about them myself and also wrote a foreword to the great reprint of Aleko Lilus’s 1930s memoir I Sailed with Chinese Pirates, so happy to see this study of Qing pirates, White Lotus Rebels and South China Pirates from Wang Wenshang available….
The reign of Emperor Jiaqing (1796-1820 CE) has occupied an awkward position in studies of China’s last dynasty, the Qing. Conveniently marking a watershed between the prosperous eighteenth century and the tragic post-Opium War era, this quarter century has nevertheless been glossed over as an unremarkable interlude separating two well-studied epochs of transformation. White Lotus Rebels and South China Pirates presents a major reassessment of this period by examining how the emperors, bureaucrats, and foreigners responded to the two crises that shaped the transition from the Qianlong to the Jiaqing reign.
Wensheng Wang argues that the dramatic combination of internal uprising and transnational piracy, rather than being a hallmark of inexorable dynastic decline, propelled the Manchu court to reorganize itself through modifications in policymaking and bureaucratic structure. The resulting Jiaqing reforms initiated a process of state retreat that pulled the Qing Empire out of a cycle of aggressive overextension and resistance, and back onto a more sustainable track of development. Although this pragmatic striving for political sustainability was unable to save the dynasty from ultimate collapse, it represented a durable and constructive approach to the compounding problems facing the late Qing regime and helped sustain it for another century.
I wrote a short piece the other day regarding the popularity of the BBC’s Sherlock in China for the Los Angeles Review of Books China blog. In the piece I mention the 1931 Shanghai movie The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes – a film, directed by Li Pingqian directed (who starred in it too) that wasn’t pure Conan Doyle by any means (it swapped London for Shanghai as a setting) but featured a lot of pensive thinking and logical deduction. In the 1920s and ‘30s Holmes was reinvented, copied, and adapted in various ways. The movie was a silent, so not sure there was much of that clever Holmes deducting going on. Anyway, for any Sherlockians out there – here’s the film poster from 1931….
Hopefully Simon Leys needs no introduction to China Rhyming regulars and The Hall of Uselessness is major collection of his essays that is, quite frankly, a must have. For me it’s almost the perfect book combining writing on China’s approach to history, the problematics of Zhou En-lai and westerners gullibility around Mao and Maoist myths of history (oh, if only I had a dollar for every one of those I meet!) combined with essays on a number of personal Gods of mine – Orwell, Waugh, Gide, Simenon. Other essays on Cambodia, Hugo as well as feuds with Barthes and Hitchens. Close to perfect reading…say no more, just go and get a copy…
Simon Leys is a Renaissance man for the era of globalization. A distinguished scholar of classical Chinese art and literature and one of the first Westerners to recognize the appalling toll of Mao’s Cultural Revolution, Leys also writes with unfailing intelligence, seriousness, and bite about European art, literature, history, and politics and is an unflinching observer of the way we live now.
The Hall of Uselessness is the most extensive collection of Leys’s essays to be published to date. In it, he addresses subjects ranging from the Chinese attitude to the past to the mysteries of Belgium and Belgitude; offers portraits of André Gide and Zhou Enlai; takes on Roland Barthes and Christopher Hitchens; broods on the Cambodian genocide; reflects on the spell of the sea; and writes with keen appreciation about writers as different as Victor Hugo, Evelyn Waugh, and Georges Simenon.Throughout, The Hall of Uselessness is marked with the deep knowledge, skeptical intelligence, and passionate conviction that have made Simon Leys one of the most powerful essayists of our time.
Adam Minter’s Junkyard Planet is a great read and the culmination of many years research and journalism (combined with a touch of obsession about rubbish). I’ve followed Adam’s writing from Shanghai for many years, where he’s based. I don’t think we ever actually met but anyway…his book tour is bringing him to London and here’s a few dates for your diary if you’re around in London or Cambridge….I’ve always wondered if his favourite book as a child was Stig of the Dump ?? Seems like the ideal present for Adam!
January 16, 2014, 6:30 PM
Young China Watchers hosts “The Trans-Pacific Trash Trade†with Adam Minter, Committee Room 20, House of Commons, Parliament, London, UK
Please contact Young China Watchers directly for registration.
January 17, 2014, 5:00 PM
A Gates Fireside on the Global Recycling Trade, University of Cambridge, Cambridge, UK, Location TBA.
January 20, 2014, 6:30 PM
The Royal Geographic Society, 1 Kensington Gore, London, UK
Junkyard Planet: Travels in the Secret Trash Trade (Open to RGS members and Fellows, only).
More on Junkyard Planet:
When you drop your Diet Coke can or yesterday’s newspaper in the recycling bin, where does it go? Probably halfway around the world, to people and places that clean up what you don’t want and turn it into something you can’t wait to buy. In Junkyard Planet, Adam Minter-veteran journalist and son of an American junkyard owner-travels deeply into a vast, often hidden, multibillion-dollar industry that’s transforming our economy and environment.
Minter takes us from back-alley Chinese computer recycling operations to high-tech facilities capable of processing a jumbo jet’s worth of recyclable trash every day. Along the way, we meet an unforgettable cast of characters who’ve figured out how to build fortunes from what we throw away: Leonard Fritz, a young boy ‘grubbing’ in Detroit’s city dumps in the 1930s; Johnson Zeng, a former plastics engineer roaming America in search of scrap; and Homer Lai, an unassuming barber turned scrap titan in Qingyuan, China. Junkyard Planet reveals how ‘going green’ usually means making money-and why that’s often the most sustainable choice, even when the recycling methods aren’t pretty.
With unmatched access to and insight on the junk trade, and the explanatory gifts and an eye for detail worthy of a John McPhee or William Langewiesche, Minter traces the export of America’s recyclables and the massive profits that China and other rising nations earn from it. What emerges is an engaging, colorful, and sometimes troubling tale of consumption, innovation, and the ascent of a developing world that recognizes value where Americans don’t. Junkyard Planet reveals that we might need to learn a smarter way to take out the trash.
And more on Stig of the Dump (as it brought back memories of Jackanory)
Stig is a caveman. He lives at the bottom of the old chalk pit close to Barney’s grandparents’ house. Since the chalk pit is no longer used, people throw all their old junk away down there. So it is rather an interesting place to build a den. Barney falls over the edge of the quarry and tumbles down through the roof of Stig’s den. When he looks round, there’s Stig, with his shaggy black hair and bright black eyes. Barney and Stig get on rather well together. They have to manage without language, of course, but that doesn’t seem to stop them. Stig’s den is a brilliant place built out of discarded rubbish. Stig is Barney’s secret friend, not because Barney doesn’t tell anyone, but because no-one really believes that Stig is real. They have a great time, improving Stig’s den, collecting firewood, going hunting, and even catching some burglars who break into Barney’s grandparents’ house. It’s really a collection of short-story adventures. We know that Stig is a caveman, and really Barney hardly seems to give any thought to where Stig has come from until the end of the book. Then, during a very hot, sultry mid-summer’s night, when Barney and his sister Lou can’t sleep, they find themselves transported back in time and out onto the downs. To their surprise, they meet Stig, back with his own people, engaged in the construction of four gigantic standing stones. They spend a magical night camping out with the people of Stig’s tribe, and helping to shift the final stone into position before sunrise. Has Stig found a way to travel backwards and forwards in time, or is it as much a mystery to Stig as it is to Barney and Lou?
This piece in the LA Times about Thant Mint-u, a Burmese architectural preservationist, made me think it worth sticking up these old pics/postcards of glorious Rangoon buildings (which were all included in my early contribution to the growing bookshelf of Burma books from a few years ago)
Dalhousie Street, Rangoon