Scan barcode
melspippin's review against another edition
adventurous
dark
funny
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
While fun in the beginning, the majority of the book's content was speed runs in kidnapping and Stockholm syndrome. It got repetitive and boring quickly. I didn't find the characters to be particularly virtuous as the book described them, especially when they killed people's children and lied just to get the result they wanted. I think I could have bumped this up 0.25 if Li Kui just didn't exist
Content Warnings
Minor: Sexism and Cannibalism
stjernesvarme's review against another edition
adventurous
challenging
dark
informative
mysterious
tense
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.5
sherwoodreads's review against another edition
Finally finished this four volume story. Typical of many early Chinese novels, there is debate about who the author really is, and there are differing versions of the text floating around. It does mention, once, the equally famous Romance of the Three Kingdoms, which I thought was an earlier work, but instead may have been written by the editor of this one.
The two have certain characteristics in common (I'm halfway through the first of three thick volumes of the Romance), but then all the Chinese novels I've read so far in translation are structured very differently than Western novels. Generalizing with leaps and bounds, Aristotelean structure is seeped into Western bones, whether Westerners have actually read any Aristotle or not. It's that three act form, with its attendant arcs, and built-in assumptions about what makes drama.
Spoiler Alert! The Chinese never read Aristotle. The novels I've read are structured like a flowing river, incident leading to incident, like streams feeding a river until it reaches its end. I imagine I can see the street storyteller experience underlying these novels, especially when the narrator abruptly appears to comment, and then recedes behind the characters again. Chapters end with foreshadowing, often a question, followed by, "Turn the page and you shall see."
This is a wuxi/xianxia novel in that it's about outlaws living on the margins of society--and, as in so many Jianghu tales, literally on the margin of a marsh. The generally accepted title means "on the edge of a marsh." The outlaws are assumed. Jianghu tales are far older than this one, which was written somewhere in the 1300s, about some actual incidents (rebellions) that happened a couple centuries earlier, about which many stories had become popular. One source I came across quoted a Chinese writer of a few centuries B.C. who complained bitterly about the popularity of Jianghu tales--how trite they were in his time!
The heirs of the Jianghu tale are the Hong Kong action movies, and the bones of some of the great series now, like Nirvana in Fire rely on these traditions. Think of them as the martial arts tradition, the wandering fighter who uses his weapon in defense of ordinary people--a Robin Hood.
Their persistent popularity has its own reflection in different types of tales in the West--at least, it seems to me, they rise out of that tension between the craving for order, which leads to a highly stratified society, which China tried to be in spite of its many internal struggles, and the stifling effect of the imposing of order, especially when distorted by greed and ambition. Deeply steeped in Confucian, Daoist, and also Buddhist thinking, Chinese government through the various dynasties strove to be orderly and benign, but we're talking about human beings here. (There are some who maintain that China is still an empire, despite the crashing end of the Qing in 1905: that Mao was an emperor, and Xi Jinping is one now, in spite of the Western suit and tie, and the various uses of "secretary" in Communist Party elite circles. The roots of these modest titles go straight back to the court titles in empire days.)
Anyway! What we have here is a scattershot narrative through the early volumes especially as the 108 outlaws of Song Jiang's group begin to accrete. Just about all of them are wronged by government officials or nobles (often the two combined into one), take to the outlaw life, and end up swearing allegiance to Song Jiang, who everyone has heard about as being righteous and loyal.
Song Jiang is an interesting figure. He actually doesn't fight all that much, in a four-volume novel that is 95% fighting. He doesn't even do most of his strategizing once the outlaws are forgiven and sent against enemies of the state, especially the tough and cruel criminal Fang La (who apparently really lived, and led a peasant rebellion--declaring himself a king). Song Jiang is praised for the fact that he never kills the innocent, and he respects men who are good to their mothers and fathers, yet when he goes after someone or other who kills or threatens his followers he is not satisfied to kill that man, but the narrative assures us that everyone in the enemy's household is slaughtered as well, "young and old," including servants and slaves, who had no say in anything. I'm guessing that this is the outlaw reflection of the imperial order to kill high level malefactors to the ninth generation.
Kinship is integral to Chinese society. Ancestor worship was, and is now, I gather, in spite of the cultural revolution, deeply embedded in its society. The names for different kin connections are complicated, part of one's identity. And in the Jianghu world, the outlaws address one another as brother, and Song Jiang as Big Brother. To the outlaws, staying true to one another is an admirable quality.
One of the interesting aspects of the story is the shifting loyalties--who switches sides and why. Song Jiang stays loyal to his band until the very end; when he is poisoned at the last by evil officials, he poisons his most faithful follower, the horrible yet somehow entertaining killer Black Whirlwind Li, knowing that the man would go on a killing spree following his death. And he tells him, and Li thanks him, loyal to the last. In spite of the fact that a goodly portion of the slaughtering in all four volumes was done by the whirling of his two axes.
Another aspect that I've observed in the older Chinese novels I've read in translation so far is that no one criticizes the emperor. If he does something stupid or evil, it was because he was led astray by evil ministers. When speaking to him, everyone assures him that any good deed or triumph is due directly to the emperor's personal good fortune or . . . we don't really have a word for it in English, but it seems integral to the shared agreement between subject and ruler that said ruler is chosen by Heaven.
There aren't many women in these books. And those few are, for the most part, negligible, or evil--especially the pretty ones. And yet not all. Ten Feet of Steel is a total badass, who Song Jiang rescues from the otherwise total slaughter of her family when they go against Song Jiang. One of Song Jiang's cruder outlaws, Stumpy Tiger, wanted a wife, so Song Jiang gives her to him. And apparently she stays loyal to him all the way through, fighting by his side, when she isn't in command of her own forces. I wish we could have seen her point of view even briefly, about all these events.
These brief glimpses of women, even the evil ones, furnish an idea of how women coped in such a society. Their lives are so easily disposed of by the men around them. It took machinations just to survive, much less to find happiness of their own. The author doesn't quite understand that, but he does feel, as Western knights did, that staying loyal to your brethren was good, and getting involved with women was a sure road to hell. Maybe it was the sure road to emotional hell? Or it split loyalties--you don't want to go out fighting when you are happy at home.
It took me a long time to read all four volumes, partly because of the scattered nature, but also the casual cannibalism. And the occasional vividly described torture. As we can get in Western medieval writings.
Overall it's entertaining, and many of the characters stick in the mind. There's also that sense of bonded brotherhood in the long, desperate campaign against Fang La, when roughly three-quarters of the band die by violence. The aftermath is interesting; so is the interweaving of magic into the fabric of the story, the ghosts. At one point one of the outlaws, having been killed, possesses his brother's body in order to finish off a foe.
The two have certain characteristics in common (I'm halfway through the first of three thick volumes of the Romance), but then all the Chinese novels I've read so far in translation are structured very differently than Western novels. Generalizing with leaps and bounds, Aristotelean structure is seeped into Western bones, whether Westerners have actually read any Aristotle or not. It's that three act form, with its attendant arcs, and built-in assumptions about what makes drama.
Spoiler Alert! The Chinese never read Aristotle. The novels I've read are structured like a flowing river, incident leading to incident, like streams feeding a river until it reaches its end. I imagine I can see the street storyteller experience underlying these novels, especially when the narrator abruptly appears to comment, and then recedes behind the characters again. Chapters end with foreshadowing, often a question, followed by, "Turn the page and you shall see."
This is a wuxi/xianxia novel in that it's about outlaws living on the margins of society--and, as in so many Jianghu tales, literally on the margin of a marsh. The generally accepted title means "on the edge of a marsh." The outlaws are assumed. Jianghu tales are far older than this one, which was written somewhere in the 1300s, about some actual incidents (rebellions) that happened a couple centuries earlier, about which many stories had become popular. One source I came across quoted a Chinese writer of a few centuries B.C. who complained bitterly about the popularity of Jianghu tales--how trite they were in his time!
The heirs of the Jianghu tale are the Hong Kong action movies, and the bones of some of the great series now, like Nirvana in Fire rely on these traditions. Think of them as the martial arts tradition, the wandering fighter who uses his weapon in defense of ordinary people--a Robin Hood.
Their persistent popularity has its own reflection in different types of tales in the West--at least, it seems to me, they rise out of that tension between the craving for order, which leads to a highly stratified society, which China tried to be in spite of its many internal struggles, and the stifling effect of the imposing of order, especially when distorted by greed and ambition. Deeply steeped in Confucian, Daoist, and also Buddhist thinking, Chinese government through the various dynasties strove to be orderly and benign, but we're talking about human beings here. (There are some who maintain that China is still an empire, despite the crashing end of the Qing in 1905: that Mao was an emperor, and Xi Jinping is one now, in spite of the Western suit and tie, and the various uses of "secretary" in Communist Party elite circles. The roots of these modest titles go straight back to the court titles in empire days.)
Anyway! What we have here is a scattershot narrative through the early volumes especially as the 108 outlaws of Song Jiang's group begin to accrete. Just about all of them are wronged by government officials or nobles (often the two combined into one), take to the outlaw life, and end up swearing allegiance to Song Jiang, who everyone has heard about as being righteous and loyal.
Song Jiang is an interesting figure. He actually doesn't fight all that much, in a four-volume novel that is 95% fighting. He doesn't even do most of his strategizing once the outlaws are forgiven and sent against enemies of the state, especially the tough and cruel criminal Fang La (who apparently really lived, and led a peasant rebellion--declaring himself a king). Song Jiang is praised for the fact that he never kills the innocent, and he respects men who are good to their mothers and fathers, yet when he goes after someone or other who kills or threatens his followers he is not satisfied to kill that man, but the narrative assures us that everyone in the enemy's household is slaughtered as well, "young and old," including servants and slaves, who had no say in anything. I'm guessing that this is the outlaw reflection of the imperial order to kill high level malefactors to the ninth generation.
Kinship is integral to Chinese society. Ancestor worship was, and is now, I gather, in spite of the cultural revolution, deeply embedded in its society. The names for different kin connections are complicated, part of one's identity. And in the Jianghu world, the outlaws address one another as brother, and Song Jiang as Big Brother. To the outlaws, staying true to one another is an admirable quality.
One of the interesting aspects of the story is the shifting loyalties--who switches sides and why. Song Jiang stays loyal to his band until the very end; when he is poisoned at the last by evil officials, he poisons his most faithful follower, the horrible yet somehow entertaining killer Black Whirlwind Li, knowing that the man would go on a killing spree following his death. And he tells him, and Li thanks him, loyal to the last. In spite of the fact that a goodly portion of the slaughtering in all four volumes was done by the whirling of his two axes.
Another aspect that I've observed in the older Chinese novels I've read in translation so far is that no one criticizes the emperor. If he does something stupid or evil, it was because he was led astray by evil ministers. When speaking to him, everyone assures him that any good deed or triumph is due directly to the emperor's personal good fortune or . . . we don't really have a word for it in English, but it seems integral to the shared agreement between subject and ruler that said ruler is chosen by Heaven.
There aren't many women in these books. And those few are, for the most part, negligible, or evil--especially the pretty ones. And yet not all. Ten Feet of Steel is a total badass, who Song Jiang rescues from the otherwise total slaughter of her family when they go against Song Jiang. One of Song Jiang's cruder outlaws, Stumpy Tiger, wanted a wife, so Song Jiang gives her to him. And apparently she stays loyal to him all the way through, fighting by his side, when she isn't in command of her own forces. I wish we could have seen her point of view even briefly, about all these events.
These brief glimpses of women, even the evil ones, furnish an idea of how women coped in such a society. Their lives are so easily disposed of by the men around them. It took machinations just to survive, much less to find happiness of their own. The author doesn't quite understand that, but he does feel, as Western knights did, that staying loyal to your brethren was good, and getting involved with women was a sure road to hell. Maybe it was the sure road to emotional hell? Or it split loyalties--you don't want to go out fighting when you are happy at home.
It took me a long time to read all four volumes, partly because of the scattered nature, but also the casual cannibalism. And the occasional vividly described torture. As we can get in Western medieval writings.
Overall it's entertaining, and many of the characters stick in the mind. There's also that sense of bonded brotherhood in the long, desperate campaign against Fang La, when roughly three-quarters of the band die by violence. The aftermath is interesting; so is the interweaving of magic into the fabric of the story, the ghosts. At one point one of the outlaws, having been killed, possesses his brother's body in order to finish off a foe.
nataalia_sanchez's review against another edition
adventurous
informative
inspiring
lighthearted
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.5
sillyman2453's review against another edition
adventurous
dark
tense
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.5
talentedcain's review against another edition
adventurous
dark
emotional
funny
relaxing
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.0
nocario's review against another edition
adventurous
funny
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
5.0
steven_v's review against another edition
4.0
The Water Margin is a classic of Chinese literature. Written centuries ago and set during the Song dynasty, it is the story of 108 heroes who disobeyed the local and national political authority because it was corrupt. Through 70 chapters, one by one these wronged heroes gather at Liangshan Marsh, and from there they sally forth to mete out justice against the dishonorable government officials in various provinces around the area.
This particular edition is a translation, originally rendered in the mid-20th century, and now updated with modern spellings of the Mandarin language. It was admittedly difficult to get through, as there are so many different characters (108 protagonists, and probably nearly as many villains and a huge supporting cast), many with very similar (to an American reader) names, such as Shi Jin and Shi Qin. Characters may appear for a few chapters and not be seen again for 200 pages. More than once I had to go back and re-read a few pages to figure out who we were talking about.
However, the unifying character is the main leader of the bandits, Song Jiang, and by around the middle of the book, it clearly becomes primarily his story. He is a very interesting character, as he repeatedly offers to resign his post in favor of other bandit leaders, but stays on because they beg him to do so. He often releases his enemies and offers to let them join him, which they frequently do due to his honorable behavior. And there are a number of other interesting bandit leaders, such as Lu Da, who have important parts to play at various junctures.
The primary significance of this work, however, is not its entertainment value, which frankly waxes and wanes throughout (hence why it took me several months to finish), but rather, its insight into the culture of ancient China. Although the events are fictional, we see clear indications of the values and mores of Chinese culture at the time of the novel's writing (which was not during the Song dynasty but several centuries later). For a person seeking to gain insight into the Chinese culture of the past, this book is a valuable read.
This particular edition is a translation, originally rendered in the mid-20th century, and now updated with modern spellings of the Mandarin language. It was admittedly difficult to get through, as there are so many different characters (108 protagonists, and probably nearly as many villains and a huge supporting cast), many with very similar (to an American reader) names, such as Shi Jin and Shi Qin. Characters may appear for a few chapters and not be seen again for 200 pages. More than once I had to go back and re-read a few pages to figure out who we were talking about.
However, the unifying character is the main leader of the bandits, Song Jiang, and by around the middle of the book, it clearly becomes primarily his story. He is a very interesting character, as he repeatedly offers to resign his post in favor of other bandit leaders, but stays on because they beg him to do so. He often releases his enemies and offers to let them join him, which they frequently do due to his honorable behavior. And there are a number of other interesting bandit leaders, such as Lu Da, who have important parts to play at various junctures.
The primary significance of this work, however, is not its entertainment value, which frankly waxes and wanes throughout (hence why it took me several months to finish), but rather, its insight into the culture of ancient China. Although the events are fictional, we see clear indications of the values and mores of Chinese culture at the time of the novel's writing (which was not during the Song dynasty but several centuries later). For a person seeking to gain insight into the Chinese culture of the past, this book is a valuable read.
saralynnburnett's review against another edition
4.0
It has always bugged me to no end that the classics in Chinese lit never make the 'longest books' lists in the Western world (though I did come across a Wiki article that had Romance of the 3 Kingdoms on it)... not because they aren't long enough (this one at 2149 is like reading War and Peace, twice) but because no one over here reads them. They're good! Seriously - no one does drama (especially family drama) quite like Chinese lit.
With that said Outlaws of Marsh (aka: Water Margin) was totally different than a lot of other Chinese lit. It reads more like a ton of little tales all loosely woven together. There are 108 main characters (the outlaws) and loads of villains and other characters - a lot to keep track of but some of the main outlaws and villains reappear throughout which gives it its continuity. The biggest adjustment for me was the way it's told / written. It's SO straightforward and lacking in descriptive beauty. Sentences like 'they rode to the inn and had a conversation. They stopped their conversation and tied their horses." - If you can look past that and read the tales for what they are you'll like it.
A common thread it has with other Chinese lit books I've read is the inclusion of magic. The outlaws are reincarnations of demons let loose by a corrupt official (the underlying theme of the entire work is men battling the corruptness of the government & other men) and of course there are magical feats of strength, weird dreams, and leg scrolls that make you run super fast (< totally want some of these for myself).
All in all - this is essentially a book about guys, martial arts, and drinking (seriously omg I wish it came with a key for measurements of liquid back in 14th century China because these outlaws drank a ton every other page) but I really enjoyed all the tales (especially those of the 3 lady outlaws) a lot.
With that said Outlaws of Marsh (aka: Water Margin) was totally different than a lot of other Chinese lit. It reads more like a ton of little tales all loosely woven together. There are 108 main characters (the outlaws) and loads of villains and other characters - a lot to keep track of but some of the main outlaws and villains reappear throughout which gives it its continuity. The biggest adjustment for me was the way it's told / written. It's SO straightforward and lacking in descriptive beauty. Sentences like 'they rode to the inn and had a conversation. They stopped their conversation and tied their horses." - If you can look past that and read the tales for what they are you'll like it.
A common thread it has with other Chinese lit books I've read is the inclusion of magic. The outlaws are reincarnations of demons let loose by a corrupt official (the underlying theme of the entire work is men battling the corruptness of the government & other men) and of course there are magical feats of strength, weird dreams, and leg scrolls that make you run super fast (< totally want some of these for myself).
All in all - this is essentially a book about guys, martial arts, and drinking (seriously omg I wish it came with a key for measurements of liquid back in 14th century China because these outlaws drank a ton every other page) but I really enjoyed all the tales (especially those of the 3 lady outlaws) a lot.
snappydog's review against another edition
3.0
The story’s worth reading, but this translation isn’t the greatest.
I really would recommend Water Margin, ‘cos there’s a lot to enjoy about it. It’s hard to tell how much of this is the style of the translator and how much is the original narrator, but there’re a lot of really idiosyncratic and interesting things about both the story itself and the character of the prose: it’s very much reminiscent of someone telling a story to a captivated audience, ending each chapter on a cliffhanger and promising to answer the mysteries next time.
It’s also fascinating to see the difference in moral values between those of the old Chinese culture and those of a modern reader. I suspect many of the acts carried out by the ‘heroes’ of the story will not seem very heroic at all to most readers, although it is interesting to try to reconcile their more vicious crimes with the values the narrator clearly thinks they’re exhibiting. It’s occasionally laugh-out-loud funny, sometimes deliberately and sometimes probably not.
So that’s the tale itself; as for this version, I’m not sold on it. I don’t have any other translations to compare to, but based on synopses I’ve read elsewhere it seems that there might be a few bits missing, with a big chunk of story that I was expecting to find at the end simply not there. This edition is weighed down by typos and frequent awkward phrasings and punctuation, which I don’t think can be attributed to staying true to the original. I would suggest reading Lowe’s foreword and introduction, although I’d probably read it after reading the rest of the book rather than before, since it’s much more interesting once you have more context about the events of the story.
I really would recommend Water Margin, ‘cos there’s a lot to enjoy about it. It’s hard to tell how much of this is the style of the translator and how much is the original narrator, but there’re a lot of really idiosyncratic and interesting things about both the story itself and the character of the prose: it’s very much reminiscent of someone telling a story to a captivated audience, ending each chapter on a cliffhanger and promising to answer the mysteries next time.
It’s also fascinating to see the difference in moral values between those of the old Chinese culture and those of a modern reader. I suspect many of the acts carried out by the ‘heroes’ of the story will not seem very heroic at all to most readers, although it is interesting to try to reconcile their more vicious crimes with the values the narrator clearly thinks they’re exhibiting. It’s occasionally laugh-out-loud funny, sometimes deliberately and sometimes probably not.
So that’s the tale itself; as for this version, I’m not sold on it. I don’t have any other translations to compare to, but based on synopses I’ve read elsewhere it seems that there might be a few bits missing, with a big chunk of story that I was expecting to find at the end simply not there. This edition is weighed down by typos and frequent awkward phrasings and punctuation, which I don’t think can be attributed to staying true to the original. I would suggest reading Lowe’s foreword and introduction, although I’d probably read it after reading the rest of the book rather than before, since it’s much more interesting once you have more context about the events of the story.