Masculinity Besieged? Issues of Modernity and Male Subjectivity in Chinese Literature of the Late Twentieth Century (review)

This book examines male representations of men in contemporary Chinese literature. A thoughtful study that combines close readings of Chinese fiction with liberal doses of Western theory, it basically argues that male writers and critics in the post-Mao era are preoccupied with the notion of male weakness and that their work reflects a desire for a strong masculine identity. This thesis in itself is not all that new, having been articulated in various ways by such scholars as Wang Yue-jin, Zhu Ling, and Lu Tonglin, but Zhong Xueping's book explores the topic more fully than any other study to date.

In her opening chapter, Zhong places the Chinese male search for identity within the context of the quest by intellectuals for modernity, reviewing pre-1949 portrayals of the modern male self and noting the prevalence in China in the 1980s of the view that the gender balance had shifted—to men's disadvantage. In chapter 2, she asks: "Why does the subject of sex seem to fall naturally to male writers?" Drawing examples from the works of Zhang Xianliang and Liu Heng, she suggests that the answer has a lot to do with a preoccupation with male potency, "the male search for a more manly image of the self" (p. 71). Chapter 3 examines prevalent images of the "marginal man, a male figure who is portrayed as a misfit wherever he goes" (p. 87). With particular reference to stories by Yu Hua, Han Shaogong, and Wang Shuo, Zhong argues that male authors reveal an anxiety to move away from the margins, creating characters that ultimately transcend their marginal position "in hopes of being reestablished as archetypal figures with sublime and masculine qualities" (p. 117). Chapter 4, largely devoted to an analysis of issues raised by Mo Yan's novel Hong gaoliang (Red sorghum), looks in more detail at the male search for masculinity, concluding that the book's deployment of the sorghum metaphor ultimately "provides legitimacy to a bastard masculine identity, which in turn legitimizes male chauvinism, misogyny, and other embedded masculinist assumptions about what it means to be men and women" (p. 149). In the final chapter, Zhong turns to the xungen (searching for roots) phenomenon of the 1980s, seeing in it not only an intellectual movement in search of cultural roots, but also a male search for masculine identity. She makes the case that a kind of male-centeredness is fundamental to this enterprise, one that promotes the return of strong and potent men and positions women further toward the margins.

Judging from the back cover of Masculinity Besieged? where we see high praise accorded this volume by several scholars, Zhong's study is likely to find a receptive audience in some quarters. Even those not necessarily committed to a feminist or psychoanalytic approach to this material will welcome the attention she brings to bear on some notable works of contemporary Chinese fiction. While some of the discussion goes over familiar territory (Red Sorghum, for instance), Zhong also offers an interesting critical perspective on some less widely known novels and stories. Not all readers, however, may agree that the book deserves quite such lavish acclaim. While appreciating Zhong's sustained effort to examine a complex and important set of issues, I find that her presentation often leaves questions unanswered and objections overlooked.

As an example, let us consider Zhong's treatment of the post-Mao perception that the gender balance was shifting, with women assuming a more visible position. This phenomenon, summed up in the Chinese phrase yinsheng yangshuai , deserves a more thorough study than it is accorded here. Zhong asks, quite appropriately, "why after the Cultural Revolution was it women who came to be seen as (abnormally) stronger than men?" (p. 49). But her answer...