THE DREAM OF THE RED CHAMBER

Zhuangzi said that the desire for money is difficult to overcome, but the desire for fame is more difficult. Well, how about love? <br /><br />Many believe that The Dream of the Red Chamber is emblematic of the climax of Chinese literature. I do think it is the best Chinese novel, but I wouldn't say it is the emblem because it departs greatly from the convention of Chinese literature and aims to reveal the hypocrisy of this convention which is its feigned integrity and disregard for love. It is through the lens of love that Cao Xueqin reveals to the readers the dilemma, tragedy, and general condition of human life. <br /><br />It is hard to describe how much this book means to me. It not only defines how I understand my national identity, but also serves as a foundation for my cognition and interpretation of almost everything. Many times when life tosses me a certain peculiarity or uneasiness, I would remember and contemplate on a scene, a prose, a quotation, or a general idea about the fate of one of the character in this book, and suddenly I would feel easier and say to myself: this is life. <br /><br />The Dream of the Red Chamber isn't very popular among Western readers, and most well-read people on GR have never heard of this book, and even those who appreciate Chinese literature ignore it, probably finding it too long, too difficult, too boring (someone even said it's unaesthetic). I've heard people comparing it to The Plum in the Golden Vase, or categorizing it as a book about teenage relationships. So, I find it necessary to clarify that The Dream of the Red Chamber is objectively the single most important literary work in the history of Chinese literature, or even one can say East Asian literature. It is more important to Chinese literature than Shakespeare is to English literature. It is ridiculous to think that you know Chinese literature/culture/philosophy without having read this book (even though I know that most people in China no longer read this). Hundreds and thousands of scholars have devoted their lives to the study of every single word of this work. For many admirers for Cao Xueqin, myself included, we would be willing to sacrifice many years of our lives if we could read the original ending of this work which has been unfortunately lost. <br /><br />I consider it beyond my ability to review this book, especially in the language of English, so all I can do is an advertisement. This is the book to read if you want to encounter Chinese mentality at its most powerful, intricate, insightful, and sincere form.

I hate this book, and I'm Chinese.<br /><br />Ok, hate is a strong word. I'm repulsed by this book which I viewed as close to godliness in my childhood. I hate 'em little balls of prudishness.<br /><br />Sorry about this, translator(s), because I think you did a nice job on this book and I'm still giving you two stars. If I rated on your technicality alone I would give you a solid 3 or 4. I do like the English version in some ways better than the Chinese version(s) because it's so much more 'normal' for lack of a better word. I felt that the prose style of the original was awkward and it somehow feels less distorted in the English version to a degree. This is because Xueqin used vernacular Chinese in composing his proses. Vernacular is straightforward, easily comprehensible, brash, raw, characteristic, and should remind me somewhat warmly of my Chinese neighbours.<br /><br />But Xueqin changed it all. He wrote in vernacular but all of his characters dialogues were so highly organized, so refined, so grammatically correct, it simply feels artificial as if he made several rough drafts of one conversation before inserting them into the characters' mouths. He 'eleganized' the beautiful, spontaneous street talk of vernacular. I hated that. It's like somebody decided to Shakespearize Dickens. <br /><br />English feels much more normal for some reason, bringing forthwith more unconscious magnitude in the dialogue. Then again, English also concealed the brilliancy of the original proses and descriptions, so there are wins and losses.<br /><br />Next, I have a problem with the central themes, which cannot be changed with translation. Due to its uncertainty of themes, the book can be read as a surreal, poetic metaphor or a realistic piece of fiction. But when you actually think about it, the plot boils down to this: rich noble bastards party hard. Party crashes. Go home.<br /><br />And it talks about this for roughly 80 chapters before we lose the original manuscript and read the flawed 40 chapters. This unfinished-ness added to the 'mysticism' surrounding the book and is a major topic still in modern Redology. Then this book is hailed as the height of Chinese literature.<br /><br />Dot dot dot. <br /><br />To be honest, the plot was good. It still is good. The ideas and philosophies are not. It stereotypes men and women to a huge degree with its kind of reversal sexism appeal. I especially had a problem with the author's 'ranking' of women in the 5th chapter (even if it is meant simply as a way of introducing dramatis personae, you can't ignore that Jing Huan Goddess proclaimed it herself that only the BEST women are recorded and the rest of the COMMON, VULGAR women are not. Who the hell does she or the author think they are?!). For some reason some see the book as a novel of feminism while it had minimum impact on the Chinese feminist movement. For another, they see it as a hidden way of expressing political satire. In this case take the book off the classics shelf now, why should we waste time on an author who doesn't even want to sit down and write a proper story? Another proclaim the book is mainly emphasizing the Buddhism idea of 'Kong Huan' in that everything, even the most beautiful, eventually amounts to nothing. The author does a bad job of this if that is the case, because his sadness, his losses and his flames are quite trivial and does not match up to the greater kindness and understanding of Buddhism. As I was reading it through in the future, I couldn't help but feel as if the author is writing these 80 chapters feeling narcissist-ly sorry for himself. There are a lot of unparalleled stories in the book, though, that outmatch the author's contemporaries. Unfortunately not every story is of equal quality, especially when you see how narrow the book's world really is. It's constraining to see these young people shut up in a false paradise wasting their lives away. Worst of all the author seems to take enjoyment in it too alongside his forgotten sadness. He beautified aspects of life that one would feel uncomfortable with--for example it's okay for young girls to throw temper tantrums because she's young &amp; beautiful, but apparently it's not okay for old women to throw tantrums because they're "inferior" to younger virgin girls. Whut. He also did not really show the intensity of corruptive activities in the families.<br /><br />Last of all comes the poetry. The poetry is greatly emphasized in this novel, but upon reading it, it becomes clear that Qing dynasty poems were on the decline. The poems in the novel are most elegantly and skillfully composed. Yet they lack creativity, originality, and sophistication. The poems are mainly concerning either of the emptiness of human life or mourning about the, again, most trivial things, such as flowers, plants, people etc. The grandeur, mysticism of Tang, Spring and Autumn and Three Kingdoms era poets are sadly failing in the hands of Qing poets, and only begins to revive a little within chapter 78 in which Bao Yu composes a Song and a mournful Rhapsody, which were the loveliest to read. Well, the author can't really make the poems great considering they come out of the hands of adolescents, and the poems are the best parts of the book, the main reason why I go back to read it today. <br /><br />Overall, technically speaking, this book is not bad standing alone. Yet it has achieved nearly national veneration in Chinese lit and I'm not quite sure if it should be. In terms of surreal and romantic aestheticism it does not match up to Genji (Japanese, but earlier than this book by 700 years! If Murasaki can do it why not Xueqin?), in terms of realism and plotting wobbles before Plum of the Golden Vase, in terms of philosophy and mysticism, I think loses to Journey to the West, 100 Strange Stories, the Carnal Prayer Mat, and Tale of Scholars, at the top of my head. The book's surpassing virtue is its delicate poetry, sense of dreaminess and scattered cryptic messages which no one will ever be able to sort. Nevertheless one does admire his strength of weaving stories, and feels sorry that they could not read the completed work, but it is not the best.

<b>Η Λογοτεχνία σε ταξιδεύει.</b> Προτιμώ τα ταξίδια σε άλλες εποχές όπου συναντάς ανθρώπους από μια συγκεκριμένη οικογένεια, συνοικία, χωριό ή πόλη και αυτοί μέσα από τις συνήθειες τους, τους προβληματισμούς και τις ανησυχίες τους, σε συστήνουν με την καθημερινότητα εκείνης της εποχής. <br /><br />Έχω κάνει πολλά <i>Ταξίδια</i> σε επαύλεις ή Οίκους της Αγγλίας, διάφορες συνοικίες από πόλεις της Γαλλίας και σε χωριά ή επαρχίες της Ρωσίας. <b>Πρώτη φορά</b> όμως μου δόθηκε η ευκαιρία να ταξιδέψω και να παρακολουθήσω από κοντά την Καθημερινότητα μιας αριστοκρατικής Οικογένειας στην Κίνα του 18ου αιώνα. <br /><br />Μια πέτρα όπου παραμερίστηκε από τους θεούς συνδέεται με τον πρωταγωνιστή προκειμένου να γνωρίσει από κοντά τους ανθρώπους. Ο Αναγνώστης μαζί με την πέτρα θα παρακολουθήσει από κοντά τον πρωταγωνιστή και την Οικογένεια του και θα βιώσει μια σειρά γεγονότων όπου συνθέτουν την σταδιακή πτώση της Οικογένειας Τσία. <br /><br />Το όνειρο της Κόκκινης Καμάρας ή αλλιώς Η Ιστορία της Πέτρας, <b>Ένα από τα Τέσσερα των Μεγάλων κλασσικών Μυθιστορημάτων της κινέζικης Λογοτεχνίας</b> θεωρείται από πολλούς αυτοβιογραφικό βιβλίο καθώς υπάρχουν πολλές ομοιότητες με την ζωή του συγγραφέα.<br /><br />Χωρίς να υπάρχει βασική πλοκή, το βιβλίο αφηγείται μια σειρά διαφόρων περιστατικών της καθημερινής ζωής όπου κυριαρχεί ο ρομαντισμός, η αγάπη και η ζήλεια. Παράλληλα υπάρχει μια βαθιά και πλούσια περιγραφή των συνηθειών της εποχής χωρίς όμως να πλατειάζει η αφήγηση. Με πολύ όμορφο τρόπο χαρίζεται στον αναγνώστη μια ξενάγηση στην φεουδαρχική κοινωνία του 18ου αιώνα όπου απεικονίζεται η κινέζικη φιλοσοφία, η πολιτική της εποχής, οι θρησκευτικές πεποιθήσεις, οι προκαταλήψεις, τα ήθη και έθιμα, ακόμα και η Κουζίνα τους και η φαρμακευτική περίθαλψη. <br /><br />Πλούσιο το βιβλίο είναι και στα πρόσωπα που εμφανίζονται καθώς εκτός του πρωταγωνιστή, αριθμούνται επιπλέον 30 βασικοί ήρωες και πάνω από 400 δευτερεύων. Ο συγγραφέας έχει δείξει μεγάλη δυνατότητα στο να σκιαγραφεί χαρακτήρες και δεν νιώθεις ότι επαναλαμβάνονται παρά το μεγάλο τους πλήθος. <br /><br />Το μοναδικό μου και μεγάλο παράπονο όμως με το βιβλίο είναι η δυσκολία που συνάντησα στο να ξεχωρίσω <b>όλους</b> αυτούς τους χαρακτήρες. <br />Μη έχοντας συνηθίσει ονόματα αυτής της μορφής (Τσίαν Γιάν, Πάο-γιού, Τσία Λιεν, Τσία Τσού, Τσία Τσέγκ κλπ) μου ήταν αρκετά δύσκολο να τα απομνημονεύσω, κυρίως όταν δεν χρησιμοποιούταν συνέχεια το ίδιο αλλά πολλές φορές εμφανιζόταν περιγραφικά σαν η γυναίκα του νεαρού αφέντη του σπιτιού (Κού ναι-ναι) ή μητέρα του αφέντη του σπιτιού (Λάο τάι-τάι) ή στην επόμενη σελίδα με το χαϊδευτικό του (Φοινικιά, Μαύρη Νεφρίτη, Σκάκι, Λωτός, Καλοδεχούμενη Άνοιξη, Συμπονετική Άνοιξη, Αναζητούμενη Άνοιξη, Πρώτη Άνοιξη κλπ). Επομένως πολλές φορές χανόμουν στην προσπάθεια να καταλάβω ποιον ήρωα είχα μπροστά μου εκείνη την στιγμή αντί να <i>χαθώ</i> στις σελίδες του βιβλίου. <br />Μου πήρε πολλές σελίδες (πάνω από 300) για να συνηθίσω τα ονόματα και να μάθω να αναγνωρίζω και να ξεχωρίζω όλους τους βασικούς χαρακτήρες και αυτό το κατάφερα κυρίως από τις πράξεις τους παρά από τα ονόματα τους. Είναι ο λόγος που παίρνει τέσσερα αστέρια και ο λόγος που δεν το προτείνω ανεπιφύλακτα. <br />Εδώ να αναφέρω ότι στην παρούσα έκδοση περιλαμβάνεται αναλυτική λίστα με τα σημαντικότερα πρόσωπα του βιβλίου, γενεαλογικό δέντρο αλλά και γλωσσάρι για την βοήθεια του αναγνώστη. <br /><br />Γενικότερα η έκδοση είναι αναμενόμενα προσεγμένη με μια εξαιρετική μετάφραση, συμπεριλαμβάνοντας μια μακροσκελής εισαγωγή και πολλές σημειώσεις για την καλύτερη εμπειρία του Αναγνώστη. (Η σειρά Orbis Literae των εκδόσεων Gutenberg δεν απογοητεύουν ποτέ άλλωστε.) <br /><br />Με εξαίρεση λοιπόν την δυσκολία των ονομάτων, Το όνειρο της κόκκινης Καμάρας κατάφερε να με ταξιδέψει σε εκείνη την εποχή και να με γνωρίσει σε μια κουλτούρα και φιλοσοφία όπου δεν είχα συναντήσει άλλη φορά σε σελίδες βιβλίου. Χρειάζεται υπομονή και επιμονή ή αλλιώς να αγνοήσεις τελείως τα ονόματα για να το εκτιμήσεις. Για αυτό και το προτείνω με μεγάλη επιφύλαξη.

Finisco un romanzo meraviglioso, 'Il sogno della camera rossa' (grazie, Ubu). Trattasi di mattonazzo di oltre 1.000 pagine, scritto intorno al 1760, che descrive minuziosamente la vita quotidiana di una grande famiglia nobiliare, nelle corti di Jung-kuo e di Ning-kuo. Incredibile mix di Recherche, Buddenbrook, Edith Warthon, Tolstoi, Calderòn de la Barca e naturalmente Beautiful, 'Il sogno della camera rossa' ha un andamento narrativo tortuoso e modernissimo, contrapponendo gli estenuati ed estenuanti riti quotidiani (lavarsi, scambiarsi visite, sedersi a mangiare, sorvegliare la servitù, organizzare feste e cerimonie) di una società prigioniera di se stessa, al grande vuoto tao-buddista, sola vera illuminazione contemplativa a fronte delle risibili pene umane. Confuso e infelice fra questi due estremi, il giovane Pao-yu è rebel without a cause secoli prima di Jimmy Dean e, naturalmente del giovane Holden. Grandezza e decadenza, ammore, intrighi, scenatacce e suicidi a volontà, il tutto descritto con tale delicata raffinatezza che al confronto Proust sembra un Hell's Angel californiano. Nota per eventuali aspiranti lettori: è doveroso avvisare che il libro ha tre grossi difetti, due non suoi. - Non è cucito ma incollato. Su un tomo di questo spessore vuol dire che una pagina su tre vi rimane in mano. Da denuncia penale. - Numerosi capitoli, in particolare gli ultimi quaranta, 'per esigenze di brevità' sono semplicemente riassunti. Il traduttore era stanco? L'Editore pensa forse che abbiamo fretta? Se mi annoio le pagine vorrei saltarle io, grazie. - Ora non è per voler fare del marketing di fronte all'Arte, ma differenziare un po' di più i nomi dei personaggi non avrebbe fatto un soldo di danno. Voglio dire, si chiamano tutti Chia Chen, Chia Cheng, Chia Ch'in, Chia Chu, Pao-ch'ai, Pao-ch'in, e così via per 450 personaggi. Poi non dite che non ve l'avevo detto.

One of the greatest masterpieces of literature, reading this was an incredible experience. Poignant, funny, metaphysical, tragic, allegorical, psychologically profound, and highly entertaining, it bridges the worlds of heaven and earth, dreams and "reality," and is a truly astonishing achievement. Reading does not get any better than this--it really is up there with Don Quixote, The Divine Comedy, War and Peace, Shakespeare, and anything else you might name. As one Western scholar on the work noted, to "appreciate its position in Chinese culture, we must imagine a work with the critical cachet of <a href="https://goodreads.com/book/show/338798.Ulysses" title="Ulysses by James Joyce" rel="noopener">James Joyce's Ulysses</a> with the popular appeal of Margaret Mitchell's Gone With the Wind – and twice as long as the two combined"...There is an excellent review here (<a target="_blank" rel="noopener nofollow" href="http://www.complete-review.com">http://www.complete-review.com</a>...) if you are interested (it's listed in an alternate translation as "Story of the Stone").

The copy I read was a downloadable Kindle version. I could not figure out the translator. The total location number was 36403. If I use a recommended page-equivalent converter number of 16.69, the page number comes to a little over 2100, which is close to the printed full version page number.<br /><br />At first, I couldn’t understand how this book became one of the four pinnacles of classical Chinese literature. – The other three are: The Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Journey to the West, and Outlaws of the Marsh; all may have various different titles depending on the translation. – It starts out like a rather dull, uneventful, linear diary spiced with an occasional mystical dream of the main protégé, Bayou, an early teenage boy growing into young adulthood during the story. The details of his days and the days of a host of other main characters, mostly his relatives, are given in obsessive, almost painful details.<br /><br />But dear Reader, don’t be fooled by this slow start! Perhaps the following statement will demonstrate how the book grew on me: completing the first 20 % of the book took me more time than the rest of the 80%. The reason I hung on during these critical early pages was a fascinating look into a long-gone culture; a culture that until this day has been reflected in the life and mentality of nearly a third of the World’s population – East and South-East Asia, to be exact -. If one has my kind of enthrallment with various cultures, the “boring” details throughout the book actually provide an exquisite opportunity to observe and learn. <br /><br />In sharp contrast to the first part, around 50% into the reading the story accelerated and I had hard time putting down my Kindle. From here on, the life events of a few dozen main characters and countless minor participants became compelling. The story branched out into several exciting subplots only to be masterfully reunited in the final chapters.<br /><br />The Jia is an old, noble family in the middle period of the Qing-Dynasty China. One of their greatest social achievements came when the Emperor chose their oldest daughter as a favorite concubine. When the family learned that their daughter had gotten permission from the Court to visit her parents, for her welcome they built a magnificent garden with several living quarters. The rest of the story took place mostly in this garden and the surrounding two mansions belonging to two branches of the Jias. <br />The main storyline focuses on the slow decline of this huge, influential family. However, there is an equally important second storyline running parallel with the first one as an organic component of it: Bayou’s somewhat mystical spiritual awakening. <br /><br />Most characters have multidimensional flesh-and-blood personalities without a hint of dogmatic profiling. The good, bad, and the ambiguous features are distributed among them with good sense, letting their vivid individualities shine through.<br /><br />Poetry is an important part of the characters’ lives. The book presents a good number of poems written by a few gifted family members. Although intellectually these poems gave me very little to hang on to, their moods nonetheless helped me understand the state of mind of those who wrote the poems and even the times they lived in. <br /><br />Not unlike James Joyce’s with his “stream of consciousness,” the author gives the reader free access to the most inner thoughts of several major characters, most notably to Bayou’s. This extra dimension of their personalities makes these characters even more intimate and accessible to the reader.<br /><br />One thing I especially enjoyed in the book was learning about the multiple elements of the Qing Dynasty China interwoven in the story: the arranged marriages; concubines; the “dowager” cult – incidentally this latter largely contributed to the fall of China during Emperor Dowager Cixi’s regency -; the bizarre look at suicide as an accepted and in fact frequently expected solution to life’s problems; Chinese Medicine with its reliance on pulse evaluation; the system of feudalistic servants whose status was not much different from slaves but who could become highly valued members of the families – in the book represented by Xiren and Pinger -; the influence of Buddhism, Taoism, and Confucianism on every day life; the role of Chinese Opera in Chinese culture; the importance of jade in Chinese spirituality; etc.<br /><br />One peculiarity that stood out for me in the book is the physical and psychological fragility of the Jia clan members. Frequent crying, mental derangement, suicide, and consumption – i.e. tuberculosis – abounded in this wealthy family. I could not find any historical information regarding the incidence of mental disease and tuberculosis in 18th century China but based on the story it surely seemed high. Or, was this family struck by an unusual genetic burden due to intermarriage? As an example, Bayou, who himself acted at times as a schizophrenic, other times as a depressed or autistic youngsters, married his first cousin.<br /><br />In summary, this is a remarkable book for its documentation of an obscure historical time hardly accessible for most Westerners. It has a rich character set, the theme is timeless, and the intriguing subplots make it a persuasive reading. The book’s length is due to exquisite details. On one side, these seemingly unnecessary details don’t help much with the modern concept of story development yet, I would submit that they have other literary values. I can see that many potential readers will get discouraged to start or continue reading the book even after overcoming their reluctance due to the formidable page number. To such potential readers I would recommend reading one of the abridged versions readily available in popular bookstores.

Given the entire China is learning English as a second language, it's hardly necessary for people in the western countries to study the notoriously difficult Chinese language, for business or travel purposes. <br /><br />However, if there is one reasonable cause to learn Chinese, it would be to appreciate this book in its original language, which could be the greatest privilege for anyone who speaks Chinese.<br /><br />What about translations? One might ask.<br /><br />My answer would be: Given the chance, I will probably get rid of every last copy of the translated “A Dream of Red Mansions”. Because this legendary masterpiece, with its profound beauty and delicate language, is fundamentally untranslatable.<br /><br />

The mid-eighteenth century novel 《紅樓夢》(“red | building | dream”) has been the subject of so much scholarship that the study of the novel has itself been considered a separate field of study since the late nineteenth century:《红学》(“red | study,” or “redology”). Critical commentary on the novel, mostly marginal commentary 評點 (“comment | point”) began while it was still being written, but scholarship only expanded outside of the Sinosphere in the late twentieth century. There’s <a href="https://www.oxfordbibliographies.com/view/document/obo-9780199920082/obo-9780199920082-0131.xml" title="here’s a pretty comprehensive summary of the novel’s critical reception over the centuries" rel="nofollow noopener">a lot</a> of scholarly interpretation and criticism, but who cares about that, right? We’re here for the translation talk.<br /><br />There are two titles of the novel in Chinese:《紅樓夢》(“red | building | dream”) and《石頭記》(“stone | [noun suffix] | chronicle”), both of which have been translated into English in various ways. The latter 《石頭記》is usually translated as “The Story of the Stone,” but the former《紅樓夢》has become everything from “A Dream of Red Mansions” to “The Dream of the Red Chamber.” The character 樓 (“edifice”) is, apparently, particularly tricky for most translators; so too is the fact that plurals are not typically clearly marked in Chinese, hence the discrepancy between the single “chamber” and the multiple “mansions.” Neither is technically more correct.<br /><br />There are a handful of popular English translations, spanning around a century.<br /><blockquote><strong>HENRY BENCRAFT JOLY</strong> (1893) — “<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/4585189134" title="my review" rel="nofollow noopener">The Dream of the Red Chamber</a>”</blockquote>Although the first known attempt at translating part of the novel into English was in 1812 when Robert Morrison translated part of a single chapter (the 4th), and the second was in 1868 when Edward Charles Bowra translated the first eight chapters, it wasn’t until 1893 that a translation of the complete work was attempted. Cao Xueqin’s prose is notoriously difficult to translate even amongst experienced Chinese–English translators, as it incorporates various forms of classical poetry, classical and vernacular language, and culturally specific references, almost all of which are crucial to the understanding of the story itself. Of the original 120 chapters, H. Bencraft Joly, who studied Chinese in Beijing as a representative of the British government, translated 56 before his early death in 1894. This truncation is perhaps ironically appropriate, given that it’s generally believed that the author of the first eighty chapters, Cao Xueqin (曹雪芹), did not write the last forty chapters but rather left the task to Gao E (高鶚).<br /><br />The major bonus of this version is the fact that it’s in the public domain and thus the most easily accessible. The major drawback is the fact that it is very much a product of its time, adhering to the Victorian-era sensibilities and conventions. Although the translation is indeed meticulous, it is severely hampered by the mores of the time. Although Joly’s translation does not necessarily “domesticate” culturally Chinese elements of the original work (meaning certain parts are bound to be inscrutable to the average anglophone reader), it also does not hesitate to “Victorianise” much of the most interesting parts, with the result being some sort of Frankenstein’s monster of a dual-cultural novel in which very little is explained and everyone talks like posh old British chaps. It’s certainly amusing if you’ve read other versions and are aware of what is warped, but I wouldn’t recommend this as a first venture to anyone not already familiar with the story and/or the process of English translation in the nineteenth century.<br /><br />Later editions of this translation have slightly updated the text, correcting minor errors and changing the romanisation from Wade–Giles to pinyin. The version published by Tuttle Publishing includes a foreword and introduction by John Minford and Edwin Lowe, respectively. If reading Joly’s translation, I would strongly advise selecting the Tuttle edition if possible, and avoiding the older editions.<br /><blockquote><strong>WANG CHI-CHEN</strong> (1929, 1958) — “<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/4585185993" title="my review" rel="nofollow noopener">Dream of the Red Chamber</a>”</blockquote>Wang Chi-Chen, a Chinese-American academic, author, and translator, first published an abridged version of the novel in 1929, then later an expanded version in 1958 (sixty chapters, around half the length of the original). Both versions of Wang’s translation used Wade–Giles romanisation and emphasised the central romance over the rest of the novel, although the majority of the poetry, poetics, and plot were lost in the heavy abbreviation. The page length barely exceeds three hundred; in terms of accuracy Wang’s translation is only slightly less conservative than Joly’s, although it unfortunately lacks much of the meticulosity clearly visible in Joly’s efforts. Wang also translated into English various other famous Chinese literary works, including Lu Xun’s 《<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/4371655087" title="my review (of a different translation)" rel="nofollow noopener">阿Q正傳</a>》 (“real story of Ah-Q”).<br /><blockquote><strong>FLORENCE &amp; ISABEL McHUGH</strong> (1958) — “The Dream of the Red Chamber”</blockquote>This abridged translation was based off a 1932 German-language translation by Franz Kuhn (see honourable mentions). Pivot language translations are embarrassing. Don’t read it.<br /><br />(There’s also a 1957 French translation by Armel Guerne that also used the Franz Kuhn version, and it is similarly embarrassing.)<br /><blockquote><strong>GLADYS YANG &amp; YANG XIANYI</strong> (1978–1980) — “<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/4369498458" title="my review" rel="nofollow noopener">A Dream of Red Mansions</a>”</blockquote>The first complete English translation (all 120 chapters) was done by noted power couple Gladys Yang and Yang Xianyi (also credited as “Hsien-yi Yang,” the Wade–Giles rendering of his name), married translators working with the Foreign Languages Press in Beijing. Their original translation used the Wade–Giles romanisation system, although there have been abridged versions, which I haven’t read, so I don’t know if they’ve been updated to pinyin. The Yangs’ translation is by far the most literal version available, transliterating culturally specific terminology such as characters’ names and explaining in annotations and/or footnotes any homonyms, allusions, puns, or innuendoes that might not be obvious to an anglophone reader.<br /><br />For example, the main family’s surname, 賈 [jiǎ], is homophonous with 假 [jiǎ] (“false”). Another family’s surname, 甄 [zhēn], is homophonous with 真 [zhēn] (“true”). The main character, Jia Baoyu (賈寶玉), has a counterpart in the Zhen family, Zhen Baoyu (甄寶玉), i.e., “false” Baoyu and “true” Baoyu. Another example is the character Zhen Shiyin (甄士隱), whose name literally means “mould | warrior | hidden” but is homophonous with 真事隱 (“truth | thing | hidden”); at the beginning of the novel, Zhen Shiyin conceals the truth of something that has happened. The Yangs note the majority of these puns in footnotes.<br /><br />Another of the many difficulties in translating the novel is the register. I’ve talked before about how it’s functionally impossible to translate things like register, dialect, and colloquial speech from one language to another, particularly when in the context of a Sino-Tibetan language and a cannibalistic Germanic language. Cao Xueqin was well-versed in classical Chinese poetry and prose, having previously written in the more “refined” style, although the novel was written in vernacular 白话 [báihuà] rather than classical 文言 [wényán] Chinese, and would later help to establish the legitimacy of written vernacular Chinese. The dialogue, however, is written in the eighteenth-century Beijing dialect with influences from the eighteenth-century Nanjing dialect; Beijing Mandarin is, admittedly, the basis of modern spoken Chinese in the mainland, kind of how British English is considered “standard” (and/or “proper”) English.<br /><br />Not all of the translation details are good, however. The Yangs chose to translate 道人 (“dao | person”) as “reverend,” instead of the more accurate “Daoist priest” or simply “Daoist.” On the other hand the Yangs correctly translate 神仙 [shénxiān], an extremely important aspect of Chinese Daoist thought, as “immortal(s),” while the other complete English-language translation, by Hawkes and Minford, translates the same word as “salvation” for reasons unknown. The concept of “salvation” in this context, apart from being just plain inaccurate, evokes Western Christian thought, not Eastern Daoist; “salvation” is therefore not only a less <i>literally</i> accurate translation but also a less <i>culturally</i> accurate translation.<br /><blockquote><strong>DAVID HAWKES &amp; JOHN MINFORD</strong> (1973–1986) — “<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/4585184532" title="my review" rel="nofollow noopener">The Story of the Stone</a>”</blockquote>The second of two complete English translations was done by David Hawkes and John Minford, both British translators who studied in China. Hawkes had already spent quite some time studying the novel (“红学”) when Penguin Classics hired him to translate the novel. The first eighty chapters of the novel, those written by Cao Xueqin, were translated by Hawkes, with the final forty, those written by Gao E, were translated by Minford. The five volumes of the Hawkes–Minford translation approaches three thousand pages, with the estimated word count at nearly one million.<br /><br />This translation, which thankfully uses pinyin, is probably the most readable for an anglophone audience. The major drawback, in my opinion, is the lack of nuance: despite a lengthy introduction and appendices, almost all of the more subtle meaning in the novel is entirely lost. One example would be the communicative function of characters’ names—many names are homonyms or homophones with words which either enhance or contradict their personalities and/or allegorical significance, i.e., the character Huo Qi 霍啟 (“sudden | begin”), whose name is homonymous with 禍起 (“disaster | commence”) and/or 火起 (“fire | start”). While the Yangs’ translation transliterates the name as “Huo Qi” with an explanatory footnote, Hawkes and Minford render the name as “Calamity.”<br /><blockquote><strong>SELECTED HONOURABLE MENTIONS</strong> (other languages than English)</blockquote>For German, there is <a href="https://goodreads.com/book/show/7665953.Der_Traum_der_roten_Kammer" title="Der Traum der roten Kammer by Cao Xueqin" rel="noopener">Der Traum der roten Kammer</a>, translated by Franz Kuhn (1932); I have not read this translation, but I’ve heard from some German friends that it’s quite good and accurate. For Russian, there is <a href="https://goodreads.com/book/show/41566621.____________________" title="Сон в красном тереме by Cao Xueqin" rel="noopener">Сон в красном тереме</a>, translated by Vladimir Panasyuk (1958); I have not read this translation, but I’ve heard from some Russian friends that it’s also pretty decent. For Italian, there is <a href="https://goodreads.com/book/show/10154722.Il_sogno_della_camera_rossa" title="Il sogno della camera rossa by Cao Xueqin" rel="noopener">Il sogno della camera rossa</a>, translated by Edoarda Masi (1964); I have not read this translation. For Vietnamese, there is <a href="https://goodreads.com/book/show/14938900.H_ng_L_u_M_ng" title="Hồng Lâu Mộng by Cao Xueqin" rel="noopener">Hồng Lâu Mộng</a>, translated by Vũ Bội Hoàng, Nguyễn Doãn Địch, and Nguyễn Thọ (1969); although I have not read this translation, I’ve heard from multiple sources that it is highly accurate to the original, given the similarities between Chinese and Vietnamese—meaning that, for example the puns are all preserved. For French, there is <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/4524479074" title="my review" rel="nofollow noopener">Le Rêve dans le pavillon rouge</a>, translated by Jacqueline Alézaïs, André d’Hormon, and Li Tche-houa (1981); I have actually read this translation, and it’s... okay, I guess? I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone who can also read English, but it’s not <i>bad</i> or anything, comparatively speaking. For Czech, there is <a href="https://goodreads.com/book/show/27173530.Sen_v__erven_m_dom__I" title="Sen v červeném domě I by Cao Xueqin" rel="noopener">Sen v červeném domě</a>, translated by Oldřich Král (1986–1988); I have not read this translation. For Slovak, there is <a href="https://goodreads.com/book/show/27829855.Sen_o__ervenom_pavil_ne_I__Sen_o__ervenom_pavil_ne___1_" title="Sen o Červenom pavilóne I (Sen o Červenom pavilóne, #1) by Cao Xueqin" rel="noopener">Sen o Červenom pavilóne</a>, translated by Marina Čarnogurská (2001–2003); I have not read this translation. For Dutch, there is <a href="https://goodreads.com/book/show/59602999.De_droom_van_de_rode_kamer_of_het_verhaal_van_de_steen" title="De droom van de rode kamer of het verhaal van de steen by Cao Xueqin" rel="noopener">De droom van de rode kamer of het verhaal van de steen</a>, translated by Silvia Marijnissen, Mark Leenhouts, and Anne Sytske Keijser (2021); I have not read this translation. I have an ongoing feud with the entire Dutch language (long story), so I probably never will, to be honest.<br /><blockquote> <strong>CONCLUSION</strong> </blockquote>I’m not really one to say which translation is <i>best</i> per se, especially not when dealing with highly stylised fiction where translation is often subjective, so I can only speak for myself personally. I would recommend the Yangs’ translation as the best and most literal English-language translation available, although it is admittedly far more difficult to read than the Hawkes–Minford translation, which I believe is the most accessible complete English-language translation. I don’t recommend reading an abridged translation; if you only want to know the story, the Wikipedia page (perhaps unsurprisingly) has a summary of the plot. If you want to read the actual novel, however, and aren’t fluent in Chinese—to be fair, the novel is challenging even for native speakers due to the style of prose and frequent period-specific political references—you can’t find a better or more complete English-language translation than Gladys Yang’s and Yang Xianyi’s.<br /><br />In short: Hawkes–Minford domesticate; the Yangs foreignise.

<i>Introduction, by Shi Changyu<br />Chief Characters in the Novel and Their Relationships</i><br />--A Dream of Red Mansions, Volume I<br /><i>Notes</i><br /><br />--A Dream of Red Mansions, Volume II<br /><i>Notes</i><br /><br />--A Dream of Red Mansions, Volume III<br /><i>Notes</i><br /><br />--A Dream of Red Mansions, Volume IV<br /><i>Notes<br />About the Translators</i>

حلم الغرفة الحمراء<br /><br /> في السيرة الذاتية ليونغ تشانغ (بجعات برية)، تلتقي والدتها في شبابها بشاب وسيم ومن عائلة غنية، ولكنها ترفضه بسبب غبائه، تقول والدتها مستنكرة: إنه لم يقرأ (حلم الغرفة الحمراء) حتى!!<br /><br /> كتبت هذه الرواية الكلاسيكية، والتي صارت رمزاً لثقافة الشباب الصيني في القرن الثامن عشر، واعتبرت من أهم أربعة روايات كلاسيكية صينية، كما وصفت بأنها روميو وجولييت الصين.<br /><br /> ولكن للأسف وعلى نقيض الروائع الإنسانية الأخرى والتي يمكن لكل الشعوب قراءتها والتفاعل معها، تبدو (حلم الغرفة الحمراء) مغرقة في صينيتها، فصول متوالية من علاقات الأسياد والخدم، والأسياد والأسياد، يتوه الإنسان مع الشخصيات الكثيرة وأسمائها المربكة، على أي حال حظي الكتاب بترجمة جيدة، وإن مختصرة فالنص الأصلي يتمدد على ألف صفحة.<br />