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Three Kingdoms (Four Volume Edition) #2
Three Kingdoms II of IV
In Chinese culture, the era of the Three Kingdoms (AD 168–280) has achieved the status of legend. Retold in novels, celebrated in operas and echoed in modern media, from television to video games, it permeates Chinese consciousness like no other. It was an era of chaos, of conflicts so bloody that the country’s population fell by almost 50 million. But it was also a time of ideological change, with the rise of Buddhist ideals and Taoist principles that rejected the tumult and violence of the warring dynasties. And it produced the country’s first professional painters, such as Cao Buxing, often called ‘the father of Buddhist painting’. It is from this rich strand of history that Luo Guanzhong’s Three Kingdoms emerged.
Written in the 14th century, this remarkable novel is one of the great classics of Chinese literature. It is among the most beloved works of literature in East Asia, with an influence in China comparable to that of Shakespeare in the British Isles. While attributed to Guanzhong, it is as much the product of 11 centuries of oral tradition as the fruit of one author’s labour, encompassing and cementing the quasi-mythical status of the era. Introducing this edition, Chinese author-in-exile Ma Jian describes Three Kingdoms as 70 per cent history and 30 per cent fiction.
With an intricate plot and almost 1,000 dramatic characters, it is a vast work, consisting of 734,321 Chinese characters. The story is one of ferocious battles, revolts and raids – of vengeance, murder and power struggles wrought as three powers fight for the rule of a divided land.
On and on the Great River rolls, racing east.
Of proud and gallant heroes its white-tops leave no trace,
As right and wrong, pride and fall turn all at once unreal.
Yet ever the green hills stays
To blaze in the west-waning day.
But this is not only the history of an embattled era; it is also an exploration of human behaviour, morality and the cyclical nature of Chinese civilisation. It reflects Confucian ethics, which confer on all relationships a set of roles and obligations. Respect for parents, loyalty to government and mindfulness of one’s place in society are paramount.
Encircling these values are the ideas of humaneness, kindness and love. As Ma Jian writes, while the novel has been used by some as a manual of war, its overriding message is ‘surely that leaders and oppressors who violate the moral codes of loyalty and benevolence sow the seeds of their own destruction’. Characters who use guile over force – such as Zhuge Liang, who bluffs his enemy into retreat by posing as a simple lute player perched on the battlements of his besieged city – are to be admired above those who rely on violence. Arguably the most widely read historical novel in late imperial and modern China, this extraordinary work is essential reading for anyone who seeks to understand Chinese civilisation.
Written in the 14th century, this remarkable novel is one of the great classics of Chinese literature. It is among the most beloved works of literature in East Asia, with an influence in China comparable to that of Shakespeare in the British Isles. While attributed to Guanzhong, it is as much the product of 11 centuries of oral tradition as the fruit of one author’s labour, encompassing and cementing the quasi-mythical status of the era. Introducing this edition, Chinese author-in-exile Ma Jian describes Three Kingdoms as 70 per cent history and 30 per cent fiction.
With an intricate plot and almost 1,000 dramatic characters, it is a vast work, consisting of 734,321 Chinese characters. The story is one of ferocious battles, revolts and raids – of vengeance, murder and power struggles wrought as three powers fight for the rule of a divided land.
On and on the Great River rolls, racing east.
Of proud and gallant heroes its white-tops leave no trace,
As right and wrong, pride and fall turn all at once unreal.
Yet ever the green hills stays
To blaze in the west-waning day.
But this is not only the history of an embattled era; it is also an exploration of human behaviour, morality and the cyclical nature of Chinese civilisation. It reflects Confucian ethics, which confer on all relationships a set of roles and obligations. Respect for parents, loyalty to government and mindfulness of one’s place in society are paramount.
Encircling these values are the ideas of humaneness, kindness and love. As Ma Jian writes, while the novel has been used by some as a manual of war, its overriding message is ‘surely that leaders and oppressors who violate the moral codes of loyalty and benevolence sow the seeds of their own destruction’. Characters who use guile over force – such as Zhuge Liang, who bluffs his enemy into retreat by posing as a simple lute player perched on the battlements of his besieged city – are to be admired above those who rely on violence. Arguably the most widely read historical novel in late imperial and modern China, this extraordinary work is essential reading for anyone who seeks to understand Chinese civilisation.
395 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1360
2 people are currently reading
35 people want to read
About the author
Luo Guanzhong
714 books180 followersLuo Ben (c. 1330–1400), better known by his style name Luo Guanzhong (罗贯中) (Mandarin pronunciation: [lwɔ kwantʂʊŋ]), was a Chinese writer who lived during the Yuan Dynasty. He was also known by his pseudonym Huhai Sanren (Chinese: 湖海散人; pinyin: Húhǎi Sǎnrén; literally "Leisure Man of Lakes and Seas"). Luo was attributed with writing Romance of the Three Kingdoms and editing Water Margin, two of the Four Great Classical Novels of Chinese literature.
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
June 7, 2019
This second volume of Romance of the Three Kingdoms, covering chapters 33 to 63, was just as awesome as the first. The breathless pace of the action seems to move faster than the story, as each chapter is still crammed with detail, and so it's often hard to judge how much time is passing within or between scenes, but the expansion of the storyline to include the real beginnings of the infamous division into three kingdoms unfolds in a logical and seemingly inevitable way, one stratagem, double-cross, and blood oath at a time. Despite the inclusion of the most epic battles yet, it's a study in decision and indecision as well, as more powerful warlords like Liu Biao and Sun Quan risk repeating the fate of Yuan Shao in the face of Cao Cao's relentless ambition. It starts off with Cao Cao consolidating the north, his son Cao Pi marrying Yuan Shao's widow Lady Zhen, and ends with Liu Bei riding off west into the Riverlands to found his own kingdom, but there's seemingly entire books in between.
This volume made me think more about the problem of leadership, specifically of how the characters attempt to enforce or encourage loyalty. This has been one of the underlying themes of the book from the very beginning, of course, but it's in this stretch of the story that the Emperor fades into the background and the three kingdoms begin to solidify, and loyalty is no less important in the destruction of one regime than in the creation of another. In an environment like the collapse of the Han dynasty, where there's a nominally all-powerful Emperor but in practice a nearly unlimited amount of autonomy for essentially independent petty warlords, individuals are confronted by an extra layer of moral choice that informs their actions. How should one balance allegiance to the sovereign with filial duties, and obedience to liege lords against an oath sworn to brothers? Watching the many characters grapple with their moral compasses in the face of all the momentous decisions they make in life-or-death situations each chapter is a real pleasure, even if they're unsure of the right course themselves, and even through Luo's determined editorializing between the Big Two. Liu Bei, the hero who, we're continually told, draws men to him through his virtuous nature and noble deeds, has the same problem of winning his own place in the world as his duplicitous antagonist Cao Cao, who's universally derided as a crafty yet corrosive force, yet it's often difficult to see a principled difference between them.
For example, towards the end of the volume, at a crucial moment in the balance of power between the north and the south, Zhang Song travels to Cao Cao near the end to offer him the vitally strategic area of the Riverlands, but he gives up because they're each too stubborn and prideful, and he simply offers the territory to Liu Bei instead. This momentous decision is presented as right and proper, a result of the magnetic attraction of Liu Bei and repulsion of Cao Cao, yet it's not so different than Pang Tong's disagreement and reconciliation with Zhang Fei, and in fact it's also quite similar to the many minor instances where a governor will surrender a town, or a general will defect at the end of a battle, and the decision to reward or execute them for their shift in fealty seems arbitrary rather than appropriate. There's probably literature out there on how Confucianist or Legalist ethics, or prestige and dominance leadership styles, could be formulated in game-theoretic terms, and how each individual conundrum of whether to keep an oath or do the most expedient thing fits into a coherent framework of morality; ultimately I decided to just sit back and enjoy my suspense and outrage cycles as the two decided whether the latest hapless provincial commander would be rewarded for switching sides or beheaded for his treachery as the circumstances above and beyond him shifted.
The real breakout star of this volume isn't Liu Bei or Cao Cao, however, but Kongming. The legends of his sagacity are so great that Liu Bei travels three times to convince him to come work for him, to the consternation of Guan Yu and Zhang Fei, whose jealousy at Kongming seeming to supplant them in Liu Bei's heart is a nice bit of character development. And the legends are true! If ever there was a character calculated to delight and entertain audiences, it would be the Sleeping Dragon, an impossibly clever advisor who can concoct ruses subtle enough to fool even Cao Cao and has a handy ability to summon up powerful winds to aid in battle. My favorite example of his ridiculous skill was the scene where Sun Quan's henchman Zhou Yu wants to offer Liu Bei a sham marriage to Lady Sun in order to take him hostage and force him to surrender the strategic province of Jingzhou, which Liu Bei was dragging his heels on relinquishing after the death of his kinsman Liu Biao. This is a dangerous trip for Liu Bei, but no worry: Kongming not only arranges matters so that Liu Bei keeps Jingzhou, but that he successfully marries Lady Sun for real, via the hilarious mechanism of literally giving general Zhao Zilong three sacks with instructions to open each one at the right time to get Liu Bei out of each of Zhou Yu's traps. The buddy comedy friendship between Kongming and fellow wizard Pang Tong is also a real highlight, as each occasionally drops in to make fun of the other before revealing their latest scheme.
Of course, Kongming is far more famous for his deceptive prowess at the Battle of Red Cliffs, which takes up a substantial portion of this volume. Once again I was left marveling at the skillful pacing and ingenious plotting: almost more space is devoted to the feints, deceptions, and betrayals leading up to the battle than to the action itself, and yet as Cao Cao's ill-fated expedition to conquer the south is left routed and shattered, thanks to Kongming's wheels-within-wheels ploys and last-minute conjuration of an east wind, you are never lacking for excitement. You're almost spoiled, too, since right before that is an equally-exciting chapters-long running fight as Liu Bei's retreating army and mass of villagers try to cross the Yangtze for safety in the south, and Cao Cao's forces are only barely held off in the Battle of Changban, where the (in my opinion underrated) Zhang Zilong makes one of his many clutch saves by rescuing Liu Bei's son against great odds (and not for the last time). The heroism and dramatic tension don't let up for a bit, and while there are many points where the ratio of clearly fictional "how could he have known?" strokes of impossible genius against more plausible Nth dimensional chess moves that real people might make gets a bit much, it's all so much fun you don't mind for a minute.
Now's no time to stop reading.
This volume made me think more about the problem of leadership, specifically of how the characters attempt to enforce or encourage loyalty. This has been one of the underlying themes of the book from the very beginning, of course, but it's in this stretch of the story that the Emperor fades into the background and the three kingdoms begin to solidify, and loyalty is no less important in the destruction of one regime than in the creation of another. In an environment like the collapse of the Han dynasty, where there's a nominally all-powerful Emperor but in practice a nearly unlimited amount of autonomy for essentially independent petty warlords, individuals are confronted by an extra layer of moral choice that informs their actions. How should one balance allegiance to the sovereign with filial duties, and obedience to liege lords against an oath sworn to brothers? Watching the many characters grapple with their moral compasses in the face of all the momentous decisions they make in life-or-death situations each chapter is a real pleasure, even if they're unsure of the right course themselves, and even through Luo's determined editorializing between the Big Two. Liu Bei, the hero who, we're continually told, draws men to him through his virtuous nature and noble deeds, has the same problem of winning his own place in the world as his duplicitous antagonist Cao Cao, who's universally derided as a crafty yet corrosive force, yet it's often difficult to see a principled difference between them.
For example, towards the end of the volume, at a crucial moment in the balance of power between the north and the south, Zhang Song travels to Cao Cao near the end to offer him the vitally strategic area of the Riverlands, but he gives up because they're each too stubborn and prideful, and he simply offers the territory to Liu Bei instead. This momentous decision is presented as right and proper, a result of the magnetic attraction of Liu Bei and repulsion of Cao Cao, yet it's not so different than Pang Tong's disagreement and reconciliation with Zhang Fei, and in fact it's also quite similar to the many minor instances where a governor will surrender a town, or a general will defect at the end of a battle, and the decision to reward or execute them for their shift in fealty seems arbitrary rather than appropriate. There's probably literature out there on how Confucianist or Legalist ethics, or prestige and dominance leadership styles, could be formulated in game-theoretic terms, and how each individual conundrum of whether to keep an oath or do the most expedient thing fits into a coherent framework of morality; ultimately I decided to just sit back and enjoy my suspense and outrage cycles as the two decided whether the latest hapless provincial commander would be rewarded for switching sides or beheaded for his treachery as the circumstances above and beyond him shifted.
The real breakout star of this volume isn't Liu Bei or Cao Cao, however, but Kongming. The legends of his sagacity are so great that Liu Bei travels three times to convince him to come work for him, to the consternation of Guan Yu and Zhang Fei, whose jealousy at Kongming seeming to supplant them in Liu Bei's heart is a nice bit of character development. And the legends are true! If ever there was a character calculated to delight and entertain audiences, it would be the Sleeping Dragon, an impossibly clever advisor who can concoct ruses subtle enough to fool even Cao Cao and has a handy ability to summon up powerful winds to aid in battle. My favorite example of his ridiculous skill was the scene where Sun Quan's henchman Zhou Yu wants to offer Liu Bei a sham marriage to Lady Sun in order to take him hostage and force him to surrender the strategic province of Jingzhou, which Liu Bei was dragging his heels on relinquishing after the death of his kinsman Liu Biao. This is a dangerous trip for Liu Bei, but no worry: Kongming not only arranges matters so that Liu Bei keeps Jingzhou, but that he successfully marries Lady Sun for real, via the hilarious mechanism of literally giving general Zhao Zilong three sacks with instructions to open each one at the right time to get Liu Bei out of each of Zhou Yu's traps. The buddy comedy friendship between Kongming and fellow wizard Pang Tong is also a real highlight, as each occasionally drops in to make fun of the other before revealing their latest scheme.
Of course, Kongming is far more famous for his deceptive prowess at the Battle of Red Cliffs, which takes up a substantial portion of this volume. Once again I was left marveling at the skillful pacing and ingenious plotting: almost more space is devoted to the feints, deceptions, and betrayals leading up to the battle than to the action itself, and yet as Cao Cao's ill-fated expedition to conquer the south is left routed and shattered, thanks to Kongming's wheels-within-wheels ploys and last-minute conjuration of an east wind, you are never lacking for excitement. You're almost spoiled, too, since right before that is an equally-exciting chapters-long running fight as Liu Bei's retreating army and mass of villagers try to cross the Yangtze for safety in the south, and Cao Cao's forces are only barely held off in the Battle of Changban, where the (in my opinion underrated) Zhang Zilong makes one of his many clutch saves by rescuing Liu Bei's son against great odds (and not for the last time). The heroism and dramatic tension don't let up for a bit, and while there are many points where the ratio of clearly fictional "how could he have known?" strokes of impossible genius against more plausible Nth dimensional chess moves that real people might make gets a bit much, it's all so much fun you don't mind for a minute.
Now's no time to stop reading.
March 11, 2023
This volume started off a tiny bit slower than the first, however, the chapters contained here are amazing. Once it starts going, it doesn't stop. Some of the most iconic characters in Three Kingdoms are introduced here like Zhuge Liang (one of my favorites) and Zhou Yu. And some of the most iconic battles and events take place, my favorites being the Battle of Changban and the Battle of Red Cliffs. Reading Three Kingdoms is worth it just to get to these chapters alone. I recommend this large unabridged book for fans of history and epic fantasy alike, as even Tolkien and Martin would be impressed with some battles here.
April 13, 2019
The rise of ones (Cao Cao) the fall of others ( Lu Bu)
El alzamiento de unos ( Cao Cao ) la caída de otros ( Lu Bu)
Tengo muy claro que está saga de libros tendré que leerla de nuevo tomando apuntes de los pjs
Interesante segunda parte que cuenta la historia de la caída de los usurpadores del trono del emperador , El alzamiento de Sun Ce y por último el conflicto entre Cao Cao y el temible Lu Bu
Con ganas de adquirir el resto de volúmenes
El alzamiento de unos ( Cao Cao ) la caída de otros ( Lu Bu)
Tengo muy claro que está saga de libros tendré que leerla de nuevo tomando apuntes de los pjs
Interesante segunda parte que cuenta la historia de la caída de los usurpadores del trono del emperador , El alzamiento de Sun Ce y por último el conflicto entre Cao Cao y el temible Lu Bu
Con ganas de adquirir el resto de volúmenes
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews