Abstract
Kam Louie’s new book is a long-awaited sequel to his Theorizing Chinese Masculinity: Society and Gender in China (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002). In that ground-breaking, and now seminal, work, Louie invokes the wen–wu (文武) dyad as the fundamental structure of Chinese masculinities. He does this in the context of masculinity studies dominated by Western experiences and conceptualizations – a fledgling field in which a different understanding of Chinese masculinities is needed. Drawing insights from two male icons in Chinese culture – Confucius and Guan Yu – Louie argues that the ideal Chinese man embodies a harmony of wen – literary and cultural capabilities – and wu – physical and martial skills. Historically, however, wen has been valued more than wu, at least by the elite.
Chinese Masculinities in a Globalizing World, as the title suggests, takes this theorization further in the current conjuncture where the ‘rise of China’ is impacting the world and Chinese men travel more; in short, Louie is interested in what he calls the ‘globalization of the Chinese male’ (p. 8). The central issue of the book is ‘seeing how wen–wu transforms as Chinese culture interacts with a Western one’ (p. 9). In addition to a response to the latest global developments, his emphasis is on transformations, the possibility of which is an acknowledgement of the critique levelled against his earlier book, namely, that the wen–wu ideal can be read as essentializing.
This book begins by revisiting wen–wu philosophically and culturally through an analysis of the multiple meanings and (ab)uses of Confucius in our time as well as that of the heroic figure in the international blockbuster Hero (英雄). Louie argues that while the martial aspects of manhood appear to be gaining appeal, the mental remains superior to the physical. The book then continues to trace the trajectory of wen–wu in the contemporary world.
The first part of the book takes as its main objects of study the creative works of four Chinese with overseas experience (three in Australia, one in the United States) to investigate how Chinese masculinities fare in diasporic life. Focusing on the film Floating Life by Clara Law, Louie demonstrates how insecure Chinese newcomers in Australia cling onto traditional family values, which are largely Confucian and patriarchal. Turning to the writings of Brian Castro, who is racially mixed, Louie elaborates on the oriental stereotypes of Fu Manchu and Charlie Chan, and shows how Castro breaks through fixed conceptions of Chinese masculinity in the West, and that of Australian men themselves. The poems by Ouyang Yu, on the other hand, form the voice of an ‘angry Chinaman’, angry not only because of the difficulty of expressing his masculinity in Australia but also, if not more intensely, when he returns to China. The identity crisis of the diasporic Chinese man heightens when he realizes his wen qualities no longer earn him better (economic) status back ‘home’. Louie follows this line and zooms in on the experiences of male ‘sea turtles’, the returnees, in the economically driven world of China by examining a popular fictional work, Taming the Chinese Fire (回国驯火记), by An Puruo. While wealth becomes synonymous with worth, wen has undergone a silent mutation to include monetary prowess.
The second, somewhat shorter, part of the trajectory covers the influence of Chinese, Japanese and Korean popular culture on Chinese masculinities. After a reprint of an introductory text in 2003 underwriting the urgency of studying Chinese masculinities in what Louie terms intra-Asian connections, he continues with an update in the current book. By way of Japanese manga, Korean boy bands and Chinese television shows, Louie outlines a series of new masculine ideals, including the metrosexual, the beautiful man, the feminine boys, and other versions of soft masculinity. Foregrounding the contemporary importance of women and youth in shaping Chinese masculine ideals, primarily through consumer power, Louie concludes that ‘the privileged classes will no doubt do all they can to continue to manipulate or reconstruct the composition of the wen–wu paradigm, and to continue to use it as an instrument of control’ (p. 136).
Here I would like to remark briefly on this excellent and very eloquent treatise on Chinese masculinities. First, while Louie is sharply aware of the ‘contradictory’ nature and ‘inconsistencies’ in Chinese masculinities (p. 121), I wonder why he still believes in the stamina of wen–wu. Or, more fundamentally, why reiterate the dyad, after all, if wen–wu is also understood as a discursive tool of control? Second, while Louie admits the importance of other social categories, it remains a pity that his analyses of Chinese masculinities have, by and large, not explicated their intersections with sexualities, age, class, ethnicity and so forth. For instance, how would Louie integrate into his analyses of the national hit film Love Is Not Blind (失恋33天) (2011) the ostensibly gay protagonist who stands by his woman friend-cum-colleague during her break-up? In a similar vein, given that Louie delineates his diasporic Chinese men as those who travel from China, the experiences of a large group of diasporic subjects born and bred elsewhere are omitted. Again, I wonder how films such as Baby (2007), billed as the ‘Asian-Americans’ Boyz n the Hood’, would feature in the wen–wu dyad. Finally, as mentioned earlier, the section on East Asian popular culture and Chinese masculinities is relatively brief. I would have liked to read the same nuanced and meticulous analyses on more recent popular cultural products, as in Louie’s examination of diasporic works.
These musings underline how little has been done on Chinese masculinities and how remarkable Louie’s work is. They also underline my wish to see another sequel soon. I recommend this book to any reader interested in gender studies and China studies, and for their interconnections, Asian studies in general.