The “talking about the ancients” mentioned here is not limited to storytelling in Hokkien, but extends to all vivid narrations of ancient people and past events. Specifically to Mr. Yan Shaochai (September 1940-August 2022), that is to tell the past events of the academic world and his own experiences vividly. Relative to his great contributions to comparative literature and overseas Chinese studies, this is of course just a “trail”. Professional contributions must be reviewed by experts, and that is enough weight. Although I have worked with him in the Chinese Department of Peking University for a long time, and occasionally participate in academic activities organized by him, I am only a “friend” of comparative literature research, so I can only “not virtuous”. know little”.
The last time I saw Mr. Yan was on the afternoon of June 9 last year. Taking advantage of the easing of the epidemic, Taikang Yanyuan opened for a short period of time. We went to visit Wang Dehou, Zhao Yuan and his wife, and Qian Liqun. We went downstairs from the restaurant and ran into Mr. Yan, so we rushed forward to greet him. We talked a few times, but unfortunately it was to no avail. Lao Qian had previously informed that Teacher Yan was in a bad mental state and often had hallucinations, always saying that someone was going to murder him. Seeing that Teacher Yan, who usually likes to talk very much, speaks very fast, and laughs loudly when he mentions his illness, has become more silent, and I feel very sad.
The day before yesterday afternoon, I was informed by the Chinese Department that Mr. Yan Shaodang passed away unfortunately at 12:00 noon. I immediately posted an article on the 110th anniversary of Peking University in my circle of friends. I miss the great academic tradition and the importance of this tradition. One ring of Mr. Yan! This article, entitled “My Teachers”, is included in the “Preface to Reading” in Volume 5 of “Anthology of Yan Shaochai” (Peking University Press, 2021), together with “The Station of My Life”. These two memoirs can both show Mr. Yan’s narrative ability. I have known each other for many years, and I have heard many things from him more than once, but every time I listen to them, I feel that there is something special about them; It is a pity that there are not many self-reported texts of Mr. Yan that combine knowledge and interest.
In March 2007, Hanban cooperated with Renmin University of China to host the 1st World Congress of Sinology, which included “Sinologists and the History of Sinology”. In terms of Peking University, Mr. Yan was naturally the best choice, and I was the only one. There have been many media reports about this conference, and the best one is “Southern Weekend” (April 5, 2007). Besides “It is better to read “Red Flag” than “Reading Zuo Zhuan”? ——Interview with Luo Duobi, “If Americans Know a Little Tang Poetry…”——Interview with Yuwen Suoan, “Relationship with Japanese Mythology in China-An Interview with Yan Shaochang”, and my special article “Vision, Mentality, Spirit” ——How to Dialogue with Sinologists.” Probably because Mr. Yan’s narration is too wonderful, in addition to the professional interviews, the newspaper on the same day also accompanied Yan Shaochai’s oral narrative and “Yan Shaochai’s Academic Records” compiled by Shi Yan/Zhang Lihong. That was the second time I heard him talk about “Reading the Japanese Version of Mao’s Selection on Liyuzhou”.
The first time was “Yan Shaochai: Pure Scholar in the Ivory Tower” published by China Reading News on February 28, 2007 (recorded by Chen Jie, this article will be included in “Yan Shaochai Academic Research – Mr. Yan Shaochai Seventh Edition” edited by Zhang Zhejun in the future The Memorial Collection of the 10th Hua’s Birthday”, Peking University Press, 2010), the oral history is more lifelike and can better reflect the expression of Teacher Yan’s speech:
At that time, there was only one foreign-language record, “Serving the People”, which was recited in English and Japanese. I bought it to listen to it for no purpose, just to get familiar with it. In 1969, when I went to the Jiangxi May Seventh Cadre School, I brought the Japanese version of Chairman Mao’s Quotations and the Selected Works of Mao Zedong. My wife said, others will scold you to death, when will you still learn Japanese. I said that the Japanese Mao elections are also Mao elections, the Red Books are the same, and they are all what Chairman Mao said, no problem. took it. Everyone is like this, there is nothing to ponder, and there is always something to do. Qiu Xigui, who was with him, brought a Xinhua dictionary with him. He memorized it by heart, and he marked the problem when he found it. Later, he became a philologist and had something to do with it.
This passage is so famous that I have repeated it many times in the future, adding fuel to it, and every time it makes the listeners mesmerized. There is no pejorative connotation for “adding oil and vinegar” here. Due to the changes of the times, there must be some explanation, otherwise the younger generation will not be able to enter the prescribed situation at all. In addition, I also chimed in how Mr. Yan told the same story at different times, and the subtleties are worth pondering seriously.
In 2007, Mr. Yan Shaochai was in high spirits. This year, Zhonghua Publishing Company released the “Books of Japanese, Tibetan and Chinese Books” edited by him. The three volumes contain more than 10,000 entries of Japanese, Tibetan and Chinese books. It is the first large-scale tool in the world to fully describe Chinese ancient books preserved in Japan. The book has high reference value for various fields of Chinese and Japanese cultural studies. In order to complete this masterpiece, the author has traveled to and from Japan more than 30 times for more than 20 years, researching books from ancient China to the late Ming Dynasty in various Japanese book collection institutions and private collections, and making careful records. There have been rumors about this set of books for a long time in the academic circles, and Peking University has also attached great importance to it. According to “My Teachers”, in the final sprint stage, Wu Zhipan, the vice president in charge of liberal arts work, asked him to hand over the work of the institute to the deputy director and go all out to do it well. I can confirm this, because at the forum on the publication of the book, Vice President Wu once again stated this point of view – the school should solve the problems for the big experts and let them concentrate on their research, so as to produce great results. As for Mr. Yan himself, he was very proud of the publication of this book. In an interview, he said: “This book is my epitaph.”
On January 30, 2008, “Guangming Daily” published a special report “Famous Scholars Call for a Solid Academic Atmosphere” (reporter Wang Qinghuan of this newspaper), saying: “Recently, Yan Shaochai’s Rare Books of Japanese, Tibetan and Chinese Books held at Peking University. At the academic symposium, Ren Jiyu, Jin Kaicheng, Tang Yijie and other famous scholars said that today’s academic circles should promote a solid academic atmosphere, and scholars should have a high-quality awareness of ten years of learning.” There is also this paragraph in the report:
Chen Pingyuan, a famous scholar and professor of Peking University, believes that only by starting from “stupid kung fu” can scholars make real knowledge. He said: “Professor Yan Shaochang’s achievements make us reflect on the current academic system. Looking at the good academic works in the past ten or twenty years, they are all related to the following factors: personal, long-term business, no or very little funding. The things that come out in a hurry are not very good. In contrast to our academic reward mechanism, among the three disciplines of science and technology, society and humanities, the humanities are the least suitable for this mechanism. At present, our academic reward mechanism is generally It is to use advance funding. In order to get funding, many scholars have to spend a lot of time in applying for projects and making project plans. If there is no project, they have to come up with a project. They are rushing to do scholarship. But there are other things in the humanities A kind of scholar, they do not have a subject in advance, they do it step by step according to their interests. For such relatively low-key and slow-burning scholars, our reward mechanism should consider giving material rewards after the fact, so that everyone can It may take 20 years to sharpen a sword, otherwise, everyone will be ‘short and smooth’. And Peking University has been able to do some things over the years, because Peking University has adopted a not very strict academic evaluation mechanism for the characteristics of the humanities.”
This is of course motivated, and I hope that by commending Mr. Yan’s great work, he advocates independent research and reverses the tendency of Chinese academia to be too eager for quick success. Afterwards, I was invited to rewrite this speech as “Who can “Sharpen a Sword in Twenty Years” in academia, which was published in the People’s Daily on February 18, 2008. Although it is said that people are light-hearted, and scholars’ appeals are basically ineffective, it at least proves that we have not fully agreed with this unreasonable academic system, nor have we completely given up rational resistance.
To be honest, I have no ability to judge in the face of these three volumes of “The Collection of Rare Books of Japanese, Tibetan and Chinese Books”. I like to read Mr. Yan’s “Research on the Spread of Chinese Books in Japan” (Jiangsu Ancient Books Publishing House, 2000) and “Tracking and Documentary of Rare Books of Tibetan and Chinese Books in Japan – Yan Shaochang’s Overseas Visiting Books” (Shanghai Ancient Books Publishing House, 2005) ——Especially the latter, he tells the story of his more than 30 trips to the Japanese archipelago to visit more than 80 book collections that collect and store Chinese books. In addition to introducing many rare Chinese books, he also tells about the difficulties and obstacles of visiting books. For a layman like me, those “explorations” about books, bookmakers, and bookstores are more interesting to read. Of course, this has a lot to do with Teacher Yan’s ability to “talk about the ancients”.
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In March 2009, on a whim, I wrote a letter to my colleagues in the Chinese Department of Peking University, saying that I was impressed by the changes in the living environment and cultural atmosphere, and wanted to compile a book for the soon-to-be-disappearing Tongzilou, and asked if you were interested. For scholars who lived in mainland China from the 1950s to the 1990s, “Tongzilou” was a typical living environment and way of life. Not only at Peking University, but most of the university teachers (and civil servants) who came from that era had similar life experiences. The reason why I cherish this historical memory is not all about “nostalgia” or “inspirational”, but because I believe that the daily life of an individual is subject to the changes of the times; and the way of living itself, in a sense, Influenced the knowledge, emotion and taste of a generation. It is difficult for future generations to understand and imagine the joy in hardships, self-improvement, and the warmth and friendship between neighbors. After the letter was sent, the colleagues responded enthusiastically, and the work progressed very smoothly. The first edition of Peking University Press in June 2010 and reprinted in May 2018, The Story of the Tongzilou, received a very good response after publication.
When I decided to compile this book, the first thing that came to my mind was Zheng Dongtian’s film “Neighbors”, and the other was Jin Kaicheng’s essay “Changes in the Study Room”. Jin Kaicheng (1932-2008), a senior who graduated and stayed at the school to teach in 1992, was transferred to the Central Propaganda Department and Vice-Chairman of the Jiusan Society since 1992, and published “Changes in the study” in Guangming Daily on February 13, 1988. Among them, in the late 1970s, he finally got a 10-square-meter room in Peking University: “There is also a double bed in the room, which sleeps three people at night, and it becomes my work place during the day. It is nothing more than moving a room. Sitting on a small bench in front of the bed, rolling up the quilt half the bed, and placing a glass plate without glass, you can read and write. Inevitably, I had to use a flash drill to go deep under the bed to find and check books. I dubbed it the ‘bed study’. There was a lot of work done in this study. I prepared two courses and wrote Two books and a few articles.” (See the preface I wrote for the book, “Missing My Brothers and Sisters in Tongzilou”)
Unexpectedly, Mr. Yan’s “The Station of My Life – 20 Years of Life in Peking University’s Tongzilou” has a more thrilling description of roughly the same life scene:
Since 1978, I have participated in the activities of the recently established “Research Office of Chinese Studies Abroad” of the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, and was assigned to compile “Japanese Chinese scholars”. The capital for the opening of this job was the more than 200 business cards that I got when I visited Japan in 1974. The materials stored in China were extremely poor. Of course, the first thing I used was the Beijing Library (now the national map). I set off and rode to Beihai around 6:30 in the morning, and came back after closing at 5:00 in the afternoon. No meals were allowed at noon. The problem is that all the cards are made during the day, and they need to be spread out and organized at night. The space of the three two-drawer tables is very limited, so I discussed with my son that he always sleeps first, so I asked him to lie down and I was there. Lay cards on the blanket or quilt he covers. The poor son was very obedient, lying there motionless, asking, “Is this okay? Is it okay?” The wife later said, “When I hear people say you are ‘what a researcher’, I want to cry, son What a price he paid for you! Now that he is 40 years old, I can see that he is still sleeping upright!” In this way, this work now called “engineering” is really a bit of “blood and tears”. Sometimes when the little guy moved, two or three rows of cards slid to the ground. The child was a little nervous and would say softly, “Dad, Dad, I didn’t mean it!” Mom immediately said, “It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, you turn over!” I picked up the cards and rearranged them. About a year and a half later, in Room 101, the cards laid flat on the table and son finally completed the first reference book of “International Chinese Studies” in the academic history of our country. This book contains more than 1,100 living “Japanese Chinese scholars”, with 640,000 words (Chinese Social Science Press, 1980 edition, reprinted in 1982, unified ISBN 171900-004).
Many teachers of Peking University have faced such an embarrassing living situation, but Mr. Yan can write articles, and the details of the choices are very exciting. With the help of dialogue with his wife and children, this situation is brought to life. Based on this alone, I believe this article can spread for a long time.
“The Story of the Tongzilou” contains 23 articles, of which the longest is Mr. Yan’s article “The Station of My Life – 20 Years of Peking University’s Life in the Tongzilou”, a total of 23 pages, and more importantly, a lot of annotations have been added , involving time, place, characters, etc., at first glance, it is carefully prepared and managed as a “book”. One of the long notes mentioned Liyu Island in Jiangxi, which was a special memory of a teacher at Peking University during the “Cultural Revolution”.
Because many old teachers mentioned this memory and hoped to make persistent efforts, so I edited the “Carp Island Chronicle” which I thought was more valuable (Peking University Press, April 2012; [Revised Edition], May 2018) . In the introduction, “Looking Back at the Vast Space of Smoke and Waves”, I quoted a passage from Mr. Yan Shaochai, and in the “Additional Notes”, I mentioned that he “warned the possible major deviations in the style of the whole book”. Therefore, as soon as the book was published, sensitive reporters immediately asked: What warning did Mr. Yan have, why did he not submit the article? My answer is honest: Teacher Yan mainly reminds “not to write this book as an idyllic poem” and to “look at the past with the eyes of a historian, not just gratitude or lyricism”. In addition, “I had a long phone conversation with Mr. Yan, and he said that he planned to write a monograph on Liyuzhou himself” (see Xu Diye’s “Don’t Forget Suffering, Don’t Turn to Praise” – a dialogue with the Dean of the Chinese Department of Peking University Chen Pingyuan,” Oriental Morning Post, April 5, 2012). The last sentence, the reporter’s retelling is not accurate, I said that Mr. Yan is writing a book, which contains chapters on Liyuzhou, so it is inconvenient to contribute to the book I edited.
After the incident, I reread Teacher Yan’s long letter. I understand his grief and anger, respect his position, and know his long-term preparation for writing his memoir. The “Station of My Life” was only published ahead of schedule because of fate. Chatting with mentors, talking to students, giving media interviews, and constantly talking/honing/revising his story is actually preparing for a memoir that will probably never be finished. During a chat, I questioned someone and something he talked about. Teacher Yan said seriously: I have a diary. To be honest, there is no limit to learning from the sea. There are too many delays and traps faced by our generations. In the long academic history, we can only play the role of linking the past and the future. It may be more worth looking forward to and more valuable to carefully record our experience, observation and thinking in this changing and ups and downs era.
I know that Mr. Yan has this writing plan, but unfortunately, Mr. Yan, who is eloquent and eloquent in speaking about ancient times, has very little “self-report” in the five-volume anthology. I don’t know whether it was due to poor health in his later years, or due to some objective conditions. Anyway, Mr. Yan’s memoir was not completed and published before his death, which is embarrassing. Of course, “the articles of the ages have not exhausted their talents”, which has always been the normal state of history.
(August 8, 2022 at the Yuanmingyuan Garden in West Beijing)
(The author is a professor of Chinese Department of Peking University)
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