A Nature Writer in Taiwan (Liu Kexiang)
In 1981 I first tried my hand at writing creative prose about birds; sometime later I became known as one of Taiwan’s earliest nature writers. Prior to all of this, it was largely as a writer of new poetry that I had plumbed the depths of literature.
Why did I suddenly start writing about birds?Perhaps it has quite a bit to do with my navy service; as our ship traveled along Taiwan’s coastal waters, we would occasionally come across large flocks of sea birds.I also recall that, when I started writing, Taiwan was pretty more or less bereft of experts in the botanical sciences and outdoor fieldwork.I often had to seek material in traditional Chinese literature and history. My sources of inspiration included: flora and fauna named in the Book of Odes, images of birds in Tang and Song Dynasty poetry, even traditional medical texts such as Li Shizhen’s Compilation of Herbal Remedies. That’s more or less how I finished my first collection of prose, Letters from Lodgings, a book centered on bird themes.
But this state of affairs passed by quickly.Every aspect of Taiwan’s environment was experiencing rapid transformation. Industrial development was bringing with it such pollution that there was no way I could continue to immerse myself in the refined atmosphere of classical poetry, or play the role of a traditional hermit-intellectual. While writing prose, I simultaneously metamorphosed into an ecological reporter with a thoroughly journalistic sensibility.
In actuality, prior to my becoming a writer, Taiwan readers had already warmly received the newspaper supplement series We Only Have One Earth, co-written by two women writers, Han Han and Ma Yigong. Their column is now commonly recognized as the origin of Taiwan ecological consciousness; it is also one of the primary sources of Taiwan nature writing.
Inspired by the heroic example of Han and Ma, in 1982 I dedicated myself to the long-term project of documenting the bird species of the Guandu plain.At the same time, I began writing a regular column, with hopes of turning this wetlands into a nature preserve.At the time, Taiwan had many writers and reporters who were similarly influenced, and began writing ecology-themed articles in newspapers and magazines.Environmental topics, especially instances of pollution posing threats to public health and safety, easily took center stage in these articles. In the 1980s, these types of articles and photojournalism often served as the main clues in revealing the extent of Taiwan’s ecological problems.As to whether these articles should be considered examples of nature writing, has not been determined. Nevertheless, they have since been unquestioningly recognized as an important stage in the development of Taiwan nature writing.
Other than the authors of such articles, numerous other types of nature writers appeared in Taiwan at that time.Without a doubt, the most acclaimed among them were Chen Guanxue and Meng Dongli. These two far more experienced literary predecessors of mine focused on natural themes, and both sought to recover possibilities from within traditional Chinese literature: they approvingly cited the “non-action” philosophic principle put forth by Lao Zi and Zhuang Zi, or they aspired to the natural landscapes and rural lifestyles portrayed in the works of Wang Wei, Tao Yuanming, and other literary forebears. In their works you can see the prototypical intellectual’s dissatisfaction with the social structure, abandonment to nature, and their devotion to the Chinese people’s natural perspective of “Unity of Heaven and Humans.” After them came writers like Li Yun, Ling Fuo, and others, who likewise drew from the essence of ancient Chinese literary tradition to create natural worlds from ink and paper.
What’s interesting about these writers is that their conviction to living things was (unintentionally) much like the ideas advocated by 19th-century American writer Thoreau in his Walden.The image of the hermit Thoreau living in seclusion at Walden Pond was rather popular in Taiwan during the last century, attaining the status of an unassailable environmental legend.
On the other hand, there were some creative writers, such as Hong Suli, Xu Renxiu, Chen Yufeng, Wang Jiaxiang, and others, who were trained in the natural sciences or in departments of Chinese literature. Based in their love for nature, these writers began to experiment, expressing their love for the environment in literary works.However, in these works the influence of western ecological trends far outstrips any stated conviction to traditional Chinese attitudes toward nature. Even though my own creative writings are of an even wider scope, breaking new ecological ground, whether in poems, fiction, or prose, I’ve still tried not to abandon the spirit and direction of inquiry undertaken by these writers.
Since the appearance of these Taiwan nature writers in the 1980s, one can see the development of distinct levels and types of creative writings with ecological subject matter. Nevertheless, Taiwan’s well-known cultural observer Yang Zhao has remarked that, in confronting the rapid changes in Taiwan’s environment, Taiwan nature writing on the whole represents a kind of “anxiety reflex” (phenomenon), and has yet to attain the status of a sustained and accomplished body of work.This is a trenchant observation, but not entirely justified. In actuality, this kind of unsettled and constantly developing aspect of nature writing bears witness to a necessary and intimate interconnectedness between nature writers and society.
For example in the 90s, because of the growing influence and prominence of environmental legislation, ecological enlightenment, and media images, news reports on toxic pollutants threatening public health are getting less attention from writers than in the past. Ecological protection issues are coming out of the woodwork, such as over cultivating of mountainsides, erosion, and endangered species.Such issues are receiving more attention than in the past. Meanwhile, conceptually naïve eremitism, with its deep roots in traditional Chinese intellectual’s esteem, has no latter-day descendants up to the task of contemporary ecological commitment. Encouraged by all types of conservation groups and grass-roots organizations, most writers who advocate pastoralism have yet to promulgate an environmental philosophy that appeals to people living in a society undergoing drastic changes.
Actually there continues to be no shortage of creative writers who have been influenced by the western natural sciences, forming a fairly important subcategory of nature writing. The younger generation of nature writings, such as Liao Hongji’s Whale writings, Wu Mingyi’s Butterfly narratives, Chen Shiyi’s Ecology travels, or Du Hong’s National parks ecological experiences, actually are works of exceptional brilliance.Although they exhibit an individual enthusiast’s love for nature, their creative and intellectual origins are nonetheless mainly grounded in a commitment to local reform.Take for instance Liao Hongji’s promotion of “ocean culture” guide to whale-watching, or something like Du Hong’s devotion to describing national parks, introspective ecological travels or other such endeavors, all of these are contributing to the breadth and scope of writings on nature.
Taken as a whole, we could perhaps say that these works actually multiply and complexify the one-dimensional assessment of “anxiety reflex” observed by Yang Zhao. They are all indicators of and responses to the island of Taiwan’s overpopulated and cramped environment, as well as the drastic changes in Taiwan’s social structure. Also, the awakening of Taiwan’s ecological consciousness has coincided with the “lifting” of martial law, resulting in the entire society entering a state of long-term disintegration and reorganization. The “Lifting of Martial Law” has allowed the people to freely form all types of ecological organizations, and to freely travel inside and outside of the country.At the same time, our knowledge of the natural sciences is increasingly more rich and varied, all types of scientific books are being introduced from outside, lovers and observers of nature are on the rise, and inquiries into the interrelations and mutual influences of nature and actual social life upon one another are constantly appearing.
The above-mentioned variety of changes has helped to stock the lively storehouse from which nature writers can draw materials.Earlier writers of nature books can no longer sustain their creativity through reliance on the ideas of Lao Zi and Zhuang Zi or other naïve modes of thinking. In similar fashion, their descendants [, confronted as they are with such a diversity of issues and rapidly changing environment,] find little sustenance in traditional Chinese pastoralism and ecological views.
In response to such turbulent change, in the 90s my own writings shifted abruptly away from the style of my earlier works.During this time, the content of my prose narratives and articles was no longer strictly limited to birds or other animals.Instead, I began to focus more on ecological education, localized field studies, and ecotourism.Just as with my younger nature writing colleagues, this change reflected a change in consciousness and content, an unambiguous move closer to “the real world.”
Generally speaking, other than the clumsy first steps and adaptations made during the early years of our ecological enlightenment, during this current stage of Ecological protection, Taiwan’s nature writers have rarely had the opportunity to explore the possibilities that might arise from a suitable dialogue between western ecological thought and traditional Chinese views of nature. Nevertheless, because of the plurality of Taiwan society, it has subsequently generated an unwieldy number of ecological and environmental views, each choosing to align with its favorite ecological organization.These organizations, such as the “Nature’s Footpaths Association,” are concerned with urban forest slopes below sea level; the “Wilderness Protection Society”’s goal is to formulate a ‘wilderness culture’; the “Earth Ethics Organization,” on the other hand, focuses on the interaction between real estate development and nature.These ecological platforms each have their own agenda, but each has obviously been influenced by western ecological thought.
I make no bones about it: we are witnessing a trend that can best be summarized as the power fashioned out of a newly formed middle-class ecological awareness.And, we nature writers know that we can’t imitate traditional Chinese intellectuals of earlier years, ensconced as they were in their private social circles, immersed in their own private worlds; there’s little common ground between us.We have to make concessions to this narrow little urban island culture, grope about for an appropriate new way of understanding.
A nature writer who wishes to join an ecological organization or a grass-roots movement must have this kind of awareness about his social role.With such a short history of ecological awakening, we shouldn’t anticipate the appearance of a Henry David Thoreau anytime soon; nor should we wait for a pastoral hermit recluse to bring forth some other type of profound natural philosophy. The social milieu has changed too much; under such high population densities and the cramped living conditions they produce, interrelated with the pressing issues of industrial and commercial social relations, a new ecophilosophy must meet an urgent need --to be endowed with real-life applicability.
This method of confronting our social fears represents an unprecedented conservation trend in contemporary Taiwan, and it has great bearing on the concepts and subject matter of creative writers in the midst of writing.In Taiwan, it’s difficult for a nature writer to simply focus on his own self-edification.When he’s observing a single bird, he can’t help but see the environment surrounding its perch, including the ever-present throngs of people, urban life and its pressing issues.
When the criteria for observation are so complex, perhaps we must recognize that the so-called “anxiety reflex” exhibited in a nature writer’s works is an immanent principle; peaceful quietism is a castle in the air, a disavowal of and escape from reality.
Naturally, sometimes even I hesitate; as I grow old I wonder if I shouldn’t put all my efforts into extracting knowledge from the experience of the ancients, searching for possibilities in their natural knowledge.Like the American mountain poet Gary Snyder, combining the spiritual and mundane traditions, finding a spiritual compass in the works of the Tang Dynasty recluse and disciple of Buddhism, Han Shan.This would at least provide temporary escape.But I’ve yet to find even the trace of a possible spiritual compass [for myself] in the works of any other nature writer.
Translated by Nick Kaldis
Selected English Translation of writings by Liu Kexiang:
Natural Science Teacher ( page 116)
Finally I spy that bundle of light, slowly flowing into the woods.Like a silent stream, leaving a waterfall, myriad specks of dust, like spores, float among the beams, exploring, or aimlessly wander off.
They enter the woods.There’s a child fascinated by insects, going on and on about plants with me. There’s a youngster who loves climbing mountains and fording streams, who will someday trace every range I’ve crossed.As for that girl who writes like a poem, she’s never grown up, still that same likeness of an 11-year old I dote on.
They’ll come across my death, in different places.It might be like the shards of a beetle shell, or possibly a rotting, withered tree.
And, by chance, they’ll encounter my birth, a kind of essence even more concrete than tender shoots and new leaves, sitting by their side in lonesome moments.
They continue going into the woods.Inside my aged sea-turtle’s body they squirm about, vexing me, tiring me, harassing me.It’s always been my living question mark, my uncertainty.
2000.12.4
(Translated by Nick Kaldis) |
