The book is called Lady Tan’s Circle of Women. The description says it’s about women in the Ming Dynasty practicing traditional Chinese medicine, treating patients, and eventually leaving behind a medical manuscript. I'm quite looking forward to it. Medical dramas or profession-based stories set in historical contexts can be engaging; they aren't as dry as non-fiction historical reads and often include interesting historical events.
However, I didn't even finish the first chapter before I realized Lisa See was trying hard to find a new book theme. She meticulously researched and highlighted all the male-dominated, oppressive customs accumulated over thousands of years in Chinese feudal society. It's like picking at scars, and scars need to be viewed rationally; they exist objectively and must be voluntarily examined, often reflected upon, to be the best version of oneself. But the tricky part is that the truth behind scars is very complex. If not handled well, it becomes overly simplified into black-and-white stereotypes. Nowadays, there’s a term called "political correctness" - if you’re depicted in a negative light and aren't bad, it's considered incorrect.
To start with, this book begins with some criticism, directly addressing the most brutal practice towards women in Chinese feudal society - foot binding. The beginning is decent; foot binding is gruesome, and many male literati across dynasties romanticized it with beautiful words. Lisa focuses on it, describing the entire process in meticulous detail like product manufacturing. It's horrifying to read, and the truth of the matter is gut-wrenching. Foot binding's perversion left a bloody scar on Chinese women's souls in this male-dominated society, and this grotesque aesthetic is worth digging into.
But as the story progresses, it starts to lose its flavor. Despite being titled after Lady Tan Yunxian, it should have enriched her story as a rare female doctor in Chinese history. In a strictly patriarchal and absolutist era, a renowned Ming gynecologist with a work that survived through time must have had an extraordinary upbringing, flying against the wind. Globally, even well-known figures like Marx faced similar struggles. After his father's early death, his mother in 19th-century Germany couldn't manage the family's finances independently and had to rely on male relatives.
However, Lisa uses Tan Yunxian's name as a front, misleading readers. She weaves all the scars of feudal society into her family's story - foot binding from birth, almost perverse family conditions in childhood, grandfathers and fathers taking concubines, uncles and husband arranged in feudal, anti-human child marriages. This literary technique of using a protagonist to critique the "3 mountains" (feudalism, imperialism, bureaucratic capitalism) becomes nauseating over time. In the past, limited propaganda channels required novels, operas, and plays to make the oppressed understand their plight, sometimes leading to violent revolutions.
Now, it's commercial fiction seeking sensational themes to drive sales. The story is written for foreigners with little to none knowledge of another culture, hitting all the shocking points - wet nurses, child brides, human trafficking, alluring concubines, multiple wives. Watching out of curiosity, I can predict the next outlandish twist as the female lead repeatedly gives birth to girls without a male heir, leading to secondary persecution. Skimming through some parts, if dialogues, descriptions, and characters only string together a critique, it's easy to read at a glance. I wonder if Lisa got too excited while writing, suddenly sending Lady Tan to the Forbidden City for an absurd childbirth scene involving the crown prince, bringing in palace maids and eunuchs. The emperor's appearance made me laugh angrily.
The medical aspect is even harder to write. Growing up in a family of Chinese medicine practitioners in a grand mansion, surrounded by women striving for continuation of the family line, with hormonal needs throughout life, she gradually becomes a gynecologist. That’s good, but the book mixes Chinese medicine with folk superstitions, prescribing like a quack. Lisa loves borrowing folk sayings like "you are what you eat" - afraid of difficult labor, eat rabbit meat because rabbits run fast. Famous doctor, quack, charlatan - it's surprising Ming people didn't die from this. Ironically, she occasionally inserts Confucian quotes, creating a cultural tabloid effect.
Every country has mainstream culture with universal values. Curiosity seeks pain points globally, but palace dramas always sell, providing dinner conversation. On reflection, people of any nation should first learn orthodox knowledge systematically to avoid being controlled by commercial, cult, revolutionary, or erroneous forces. A clear understanding allows discerning what to laugh off.
Here are a few points that made me feel awkward and disconnected while reading:
1. Lisa translated life stages as "milk days" and "rice-and-salt days," which are hard to understand. Additionally, there are some invented idioms and metaphors like "Don't allow yourself to become a jade hairpin that falls in the mud" and "A snake always sheds its skin," which are very unfamiliar and difficult to understand for someone who knows Chinese culture.
2. In the book, a woman calls the founding emperor Zhu Yuanzhang by name and says things like "How lucky we are to live during the age of the Great Ming," Miss Chen, Master Yang's concubine, comments. "Our country suffered through centuries of Mongol rule, but Zhu Yuanzhang drove them out, and became the first Ming emperor. Even the word itself—ming—tells of light, brightness, and the radiance of virtue. May the first hundred years of the Great Ming continue for a thousand years and gloriously on to the end of time." Moreover, the empress says to the protagonist, "When my husband was a boy, his father kept thousands of concubines." This kind of statement is historically inaccurate. The empress wouldn't refer to the emperor as "my husband," and it's impossible for ancient Chinese emperors to have "thousands of concubines" in their harem.
3. The descriptions of old Chinese households are also inaccurate. For example, the book describes the protagonist "reclining on a kang" (a heated brick bed typical of northern China), while the protagonist lives in Wuxi, where such heated beds wouldn't exist. Additionally, after the protagonist gives birth to a daughter, she personally breastfeeds her child without a wet nurse, which would be uncommon for a wealthy family in ancient China (Poppy brings her to me, and I open my gown so my baby can nurse).
4. Regarding the "female friendships" depicted in the book, although Lisa wants to show how women in feudal society supported each other, the deep bond between the protagonist and her father's concubine, Aunt Zhao, seems exaggerated. Aunt Zhao is a "thin horse" bought from Yangzhou, usually dancing for the father's and guests' entertainment (Miss Zhao, my father's concubine, must be entertaining my father and his guests.). However, she is also someone who "can read and write, having studied the classics" (I can read and write. I've studied the classics.). Such a concubine is very rare and feels unrealistic to me.
Overall, while the story is set in the Ming Dynasty, Lisa’s understanding and depiction of Chinese culture have serious shortcomings. Therefore, if you want to gain an in-depth understanding of Chinese culture and society during the Ming Dynasty, I recommend supplementing your reading with other historical sources. Other wise, it can be a “fun” read.
2.6 / 5 stars